6
It was eventually decided that Miles was not to be trusted, and Tom would go instead, but since Miles had then moped around with a dejected frown on his face, Matron had resentfully allowed him to go on the strict understanding that Tom would keep him well away from the absinthe.
We crammed into two cars – Miles driving John, Simon and Ed, and Tom driving the smaller car with me lounging in the passenger seat and Luke sitting in the back.
"Is it safe letting Miles drive?" I raised my eyebrows as the car we were following swerved dangerously to one side, eliciting yells from its three passengers.
Tom laughed. "That's why you're in this one; the rest of them can get out and run."
I smiled to myself, letting the cool breeze flow over me.
"So, Jo, how's your week of being an invalid gone?" Luke stuck his head through the partition, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. "John told us one of the docs was... very appealing." His grin spread from ear to ear as I elbowed him in the chest.
Tom let out a snort from beside me and I glared at him.
"I'm actually going to kill him," I complained, knowing that Luke's smile only got bigger.
He rested his head on my shoulder. "Now what sort of brother would you be if you did that?" He teased.
"Well, joke's on you," I jabbed his forearm. "Because I'm not his brother am I?" I twisted my head to look at him and stuck my tongue out.
Luke glanced at Tom for a moment.
"Oh, don't worry, he knows," I clarified. "After that bastard left me I had to tell someone. Otherwise they'd have got a bit of a shock in the operation." I grinned. "Though I think it's safe to say it was still fairly shocking."
Tom's eye roll confirmed this. "Just a bit," the sarcasm dripped from his tone. "You've got to get points on originality though." He smiled to himself.
Luke ruffled my hair so that it stuck up in every direction. "That's our Jo."
Tom began to ask a question about something before the war but, before we could answer, the cars turned into a street and the lads all started jumping out.
"Come on Joe!" Miles shouted as he jumped out of the car in front. "Drinks are on me, remember!"
Tom rolled his eyes. "For all it's worth, if he knew you were a girl, he'd be singing love songs by now and you'd be sick of the sight of him."
I threw him a small smile. "I'm doing the right thing, aren't I – by not telling him?"
"I wish I could say," Tom pulled his mouth into a sympathetic expression.
I nodded and manoeuvred myself carefully out of the seat. I knew Tom had a pack of morphine in the back, just in case, but I didn't want to need it.
..
French chatter filled the pub as we ducked through the narrow doorway; we were greeted by a cheer and a drunk Frenchman pulled Tom into an embrace, kissing both his cheeks.
"Why's he kissing him?" Luke whispered to Miles, eyeing them weirdly.
"It's a French thing," Miles explained, grinning at Tom's expression. "Don't ask me why, but just trying to leave a room takes twenty minutes once everyone's gone round and kissed everyone else." He smirked. "They always insist that as it's their country, we should be the ones to follow their customs." He turned his attention towards the bar. "Sept pintes s'il vous plait."
"Didn't know you could speak French," I nudged him; I was honestly impressed.
"I am a man of many talents," he replied in his usual modest way. "And being able to order a round is certainly a lot easier when you don't have to hold up seven fingers and point."
I laughed. That was definitely true.
The beers were slid along the bar towards us and we retreated to a vacant corner to sit.
Simon and Ed were already stripping their jackets as they thrust their pints into empty hands and leapt at each other, just as they'd done ever since they knew what boxing was.
I watched them fondly; I'd never gone more than a day without seeing them all – Simon, Ed, Luke and, of course, John. We'd all grown up together, and all joined up together. It was always the five us, and as the only children in our tiny village we had been inseparable. My trip to the hospital was the first time we'd ever really been apart.
..
"Un autre pour le table s'il vous plait!" Miles waved a hand at the barman.
I'd lost count of how many drinks we'd had after the fourth round but, slouched into the seat with Miles' arm draped casually over my shoulders, I really didn't care. It had been far too long since we could all just relax without fritz trying to join the party.
Luke was loudly explaining to Miles and Tom about the time I managed to fall in a river while trying to steal apples from the manor house and had ended up with a fishing hook in my leg and confined to bed for a week with some horrible illness. Of course they'd all ignored the fact that I was supposed to be quarantined and climbed through my window every night until they all came down with it too.
After another three pints I found myself perched on Tom's lap, talking to an old Frenchman as we discussed something futile with so much vigour it may as well have been the latest war plans.
Miles appeared at my side, swaying slightly on his feet. He laid a hand on my shoulder to balance himself. "I'm afraid to spoil your fun, but we should probably be getting back soon," Miles grinned, clearly proud of himself for still being in control of his feet.
Tom let out a laugh, "I suppose you're still conscious, and still standing – and still speaking English – so that's a three hundred percent improvement on last time."
"I'm fine!" Miles declared, flinging his arms open to emphasise his point but forgetting about the drink he held in his hand which he threw over the poor man stood behind him.
"You're not driving though," Tom stood up, tipping me off his lap. "You're dangerous enough completely sober." He steered Miles into the chair and took the, now empty, tankard from his hand. "I'll drive you both back. Then you can come collect the other car in the morning," he grinned. "You'll enjoy that. Especially if Matron catches you drunk," he added.
"What about all of you?" I looked to John, ignoring Miles' grumbling about being sober. "Where are you staying?"
"We've got some rooms nearby," John replied with a lopsided smile. "The Cap'n is welcome to stay there till he's sobered up."
"That's probably a good idea; Colonel'll never let him out again if he comes back drunk. Again."
Luke staggered over to us and pulled me into a hug. "You stay safe Jo-Jo, and we'll come visit again tomorrow before we're moving out."
I hugged him back, and before long everyone was piled on top of us. It took a good five minutes for the hug to finish until we all finally staggered back from each other, laughing.
"No, no, no," a French accent tutted us. "You are in France now, you must give the bisous. It is how it is done." The old man Tom and I had just been talking to pulled Luke to him and planted a kiss on both of his cheeks to demonstrate. "You don't want to offend an old man, do you?" His accent made it hard to tell whether he was joking or not.
Luke just grinned at me, "Get here you," he laughed, taking my shoulders and kissing my cheeks then, after a glare from the Frenchman, he and Tom awkwardly touched cheeks. It took the best part of six minutes until the old man's glare landed on Miles, who lifted himself out of the chair with some difficulty.
"Come here Jo-Jo," he grinned, using his new favourite nickname. He took my shoulders and pressed a kiss to my cheek but, as he moved to kiss the other cheek, he tripped over his own feet and ended up planting a kiss on the corner of my mouth.
My heart stopped. I opened my mouth to say something just as he had the same idea. Our lips brushed together and I felt static run down my spine. Kissing him then was just a reflex. So that's what I did.