AUTHOR'S NOTE

Sorry this is a few days late, but it's a nice long chapter. Reviews are always appreciated!

Chapter 22

Earth, Kabul, Afghanistan, British Army headquarters, 29 January 2013

Captain Nicholas Dunbar swung by the canteen on the way back to his office after the planning meeting. It was a tense one, with discussion of the impending draw-down and the varied and often conflicting priorities represented within the Allied High Command.

At any rate, it was worth a stop for tea and biscuits. He'd run five miles before dawn this morning and never had any breakfast. He found a small table in the corner and worked on clearing his In box while eating his meal.

Fully immersed in the task at hand, he was startled when someone cleared their throat loudly and discovered he had been joined by a Lieutenant in the Scottish division, armored infantry, from the uniform.

He didn't try too hard to hide his annoyance at the intrusion. Scowling, he peered at his unwelcome guest's ID badge.

"Lieutenant Basil Smith at your service, Captain Dunbar. Hi there!" The Lieutenant smiled brightly and saluted. He was an older man, very thin, with a pale complexion.

"You're a bit old for that rank, aren't you?"

Smith looked away briefly and then returned his gaze.

"Well, third time's the charm, right? It's good to run into you! I'm just in from Kandahar, and one of the English soldiers I served with spoke very highly of you. Lance Corporal Danny Pink?"

The name disarmed Dunbar. He had a meeting with Pink later in the afternoon.

"So, you served together, then? Tell me, what do you make of him?"

Smith cut his eyes away again. Dunbar ascertained that this was not a chance meeting. Smith had sought him out.

"He's a good soldier, Danny Pink. He handled himself well in the field, until…well we all have a breaking point. Have you seen him since he returned to Kabul? How is he?"

Smith clearly knew about the unfortunate situation that led to Pink's breakdown.

"Not yet. We're meeting later today. I was hoping to convince him to re-up and stay in Afghanistan. He's established some good relationships with the locals, and he knows how to get things done."

The truth was, Dunbar was very interested in Pink. Pink's commanding officer said he was a natural leader with a strategic mindset, who had proven himself in the field time and again.

Trauma in the field was an unavoidable reality, and Pink handled himself well under the circumstances. By all reports, he had taken advantage of the available resources, and was recovering from the trauma. Dunbar scheduled the meeting with Pink to see for himself how he was doing and discuss the possibility of officer training.

Smith leaned forward; concern written across his features.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that, sir, with all due respect."

"Why not?"

"Well, Danny's time here is up, and his head's not in the game anymore. If you ask him about it, he will tell you he's fine, but that's not accurate. In truth, he's lost his nerve.

"I've seen it before I'm sure you have, too.. A good soldier goes through something like that, and it changes them. Sometimes they decide to stay in the field but once they've lost their nerve they become a liability, either too risk-averse to act or so rash they take crazy risks and get other people hurt or worse. I'd hate to see something like that happen to Danny Pink."

"What do you propose I do, then?"

"Ask him what he wants to do. Ask if he's considered what he'd like to do in civilian life. And then help him make that transition. I think he'd make a brilliant teacher. He's very good in maths."

With that pronouncement, Smith thanked him for the chat, saluted him and made his exit.

Dunbar knew the stressors involved with the NATO peace-keeping mission in Kandahar. While Smith was in no position to tell him what to do, Dunbar found himself receptive to the idea.

Earth, London, England, 31 August 2014

Vivian Oswald paused at the water fountain in the park on her way home from the Tesco. She liked to do her errands on foot when the weather permitted, but she'd underestimated the humidity and overestimated her energy today. It was a hot day, and she was in her seventies.

She had a full cart of groceries because her granddaughter was coming for dinner. That was a rare enough occasion these days to warrant a modest feast. Vivian so looked forward to their visits.

She used a handkerchief to pat her face dry. Just as she returned to her cart someone called out to her.

It was a handsome gentleman sitting on a nearby park bench with a young boy. Vivian's heart broke when she saw the boy was missing an arm. Poor dear. They made their way over to her.

"You are Vivian Oswald, right?" The man asked.

"Yes, that's me. And who might you be?" She smiled at the boy, who smiled back.

The man offered his hand, which she accepted. He had a gentle grip. His hand was dry and oddly cool on such a warm day.

"I work with your granddaughter, Clara, at Coal Hill school. She has a picture of you in her classroom and speaks of you often. All good, of course! Peter, help Mrs. Oswald with her groceries."

A little surprised, Vivian surrendered her cart to the boy, who managed it well even short an arm.

"Well, that's sweet of you. I'm just two blocks up. Nice to meet you, Peter. And you, I don't think I caught your name?"

"He's my grandfather," the boy answered.

"Basil Smith. Nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Oswald."

"Please, call me Vivian, Basil."

"We're all very fond of Clara at Coal Hill. Such a nice young woman, and a good teacher!"

Vivian smiled.

"Yes, she is. Her father and I are very proud of her."

"She really has made quite a good impression. Her students love her. She's so confident and outgoing."

Vivian smiled. While she knew Clara would make a fine teacher, it was nice to get confirmation from an outside source. Mr. Smith seemed like a nice man. Vivian noted the ring on his finger. All the good ones are taken, she thought. But then again, he was much too old for her Clara.

"I'm surprised she's not seeing anyone."

That was disappointing to hear. Vivian had hoped that the reason she didn't see much of Clara anymore was because there was a new man in her life.

"Clara is her own person. I'm glad she's so self-sufficient, but I do wish she'd get on with it and find someone and settle down. I'm ready for some great grandchildren."

"What's she waiting for?"

"I'm not sure. She was seeing someone, a very odd fellow, but nice. He came for Christmas dinner, and – well never mind. Anyway, that ended, apparently. When I asked after him Clara told me he moved away."

Basil studied the ground. They walked in silence for a bit. Peter seemed to be in his own world while he pushed the grocery cart. Vivian considered asking Basil how he'd lost the arm but thought better of it.

"Do you think she's still holding a torch for him? The man she brought to Christmas dinner?"

"Who knows? Maybe." Vivian resolved to raise it with Clara that night. She tried not to meddle in her granddaughter's affairs, but if she was pining, Vivian wanted to encourage her to move on. Life was too short for such things.

They arrived at the entrance to Vivian's flat. She thanked Peter for his help and his grandfather for the company.

While on the way to the lift she was approached by another man who said he was a friend of Clara's. He was an American named Jameson Starck ("that's spelled S-T-A-R-C-K!") who apparently met her through a mutual friend at Coal Hill.

While Vivian had liked Basil Smith and his grandson on sight, this man seemed odd and out of place. When he asked after Clara Vivian said she was in a hurry and excused herself.

Once in the safety of her flat, Vivian rang Clara and got her voicemail. She considered asking Clara to call her but didn't want to worry her. She'd see her soon enough and could tell her about meeting the Smiths and then that odd Starck fellow. Setting aside her worries, she put her energy into preparing a nice feast for Clara's visit.

Earth, London, England, Coal Hill School, 1 September 2014

Nigel Armitage relaxed back into the comfort of his desk chair. It had been a long morning of meetings with teachers old and new. The day before start of term was always a bit chaotic, and this year he also had four new teachers joining the ranks.

A silver-haired man poked his head in the door.

"Ah, Armitage, you're in! Do you have a minute? I brought tea."

"How nice. Thanks!" Armitage responded automatically, though he wondered why a man he'd never met would bring him tea.

The man set down two paper cups on the desk and extended his hand.

"Basil Smith. Pleased to meet you."

Smith seated himself in one of the visitor chairs and slid one of the cups towards Armitage.

"And to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Armitage took the lid off the cup and sampled the tea. It was a strong Earl Gray with plenty of cream, just the way he liked it.

"I'm a counsellor with the British Army. I work with soldiers during their transition to civilian life."

"You're here about Mr. Pink."

"Yes, Danny Pink. Excellent fellow. You've made a good hire. He's looking forward to the start of term and speaks highly of you. What are your impressions so far?"

"He was a strong candidate, and I think he'll be a good fit for Coal Hill. You say you work with soldiers as they transition. In what way?"

Mr. Smith looked up from his tea and made eye contact. Suddenly Armitage had the strongest sensation that he knew Smith from somewhere.

"Well, in whatever way they need. Everyone is different. Have you served?"

Armitage blushed a little.

"No, I didn't have the opportunity."

"Well, if you had, you'd know how difficult it can be to settle back into things after the rigors of service life. Sometimes, soldiers need help translating their military experience into marketable skills back home, or getting connected to support services, or getting a job. In Danny's case, it was just helping him work out what he wanted to do and how to go about doing it.

"I make a point of following up on the soldiers I work with as they enter civilian life. I like to keep tabs on their progress."

Smith drew a card from his wallet and handed it to Armitage.

"Is it okay if I call on you from time to time to see how he's doing? And, of course, if you ever want to get in touch with me, please give me a call."

When Smith rose to leave, he suddenly blanched and swayed a bit. He grasped the back of the chair and breathed in sharply.

Armitage was around his desk in an instant.

"Are you alright? You've gone pale." His own pulse was suddenly racing.

Smith seemed to recover. He found a handkerchief in an inside pocket and blotted his brow.

"Sorry about that. I'm fine. Just stood too fast. Really, I'm alright."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm fine." He collected his cup of tea and turned to leave. He was still very pale.

"I hope all goes well tomorrow, and I hope Pink works out."

"Is there anything else I can do to support him?"

Smith turned back from the door, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Well, this might be a little out of bounds, but since you asked…Pink's a terrific guy, but he can be a bit awkward with the ladies. I bet you have some nice single teachers you could introduce him to. I mean, you don't have to play cupid or anything, but if there's someone you can think of,"

Armitage chuckled. He only had one teacher that fit the category, but it could be a good match.

"Of course! Enough said. Thanks for your visit, Smith, and please do take care. You don't look well."

Earth, London, England, Coal Hill School, 2 September 2014

Arthur Fleming eyed the clock and groaned inwardly. There were four minutes before the bell, and he had to pee like a racehorse. Mr. Pink was recapping the problems they'd just covered when Arthur felt a poke in the back. Turning, he saw the ginger-haired kid with one arm he'd noticed in the lunchroom. The boy nodded and held out a folded-up note.

Mr. Pink's back was turned, so Arthur took the note and opened it under his desk.

Ask Mr. Pink if he's ever killed a man.

Arthur, who was more focused on holding his bladder than questioning why the kid wanted him to ask instead of asking for himself, raised his hand when Mr. Pink asked for questions.

"Yes, Fleming?"

"Sir? Have you ever killed anyone?"

The rest of the class groaned. Arthur became aware that the ginger kid set him up. Mr. Pink went silent. His face was unreadable.

"I was a soldier. There were other soldiers and some of them weren't on our side. I shall leave the rest to your imagination. And please, think of another question?"

But now Arthur was curious, his full bladder forgotten. He liked Mr. Pink and wanted to know more about his time as a soldier.

"Okay. Have you ever killed anyone who wasn't a soldier?"

Now Arthur saw that Pink was trying to manage his response. He immediately felt bad for asking the question. It was really none of his business.

"Just to repeat, that's all the questions on page 32, except the last one and then everything on page 33. All that in for Thursday. Is everyone clear?"

When Arthur looked for the ginger boy after class he was nowhere to be found.