CHAPTER 3
Nikoli had been dropped off outside 13 Kensington Palace Gardens, W8, the Russian Federations London Embassy.
Constantine had briefed him on the events that had caused him to desert his position at the Embassy and alert the West. Constantine had banked on the fact that the British military would not immediately inform the Russian authorities that they had ‘mislaid’ one of that countries servicemen. So far as Constantine knew there was nothing in official records connecting his second cousin removed, with himself. If there was then he had put his cousin in danger. Once Nikoli was conversant with the facts he had been allowed to make up his own mind, whether to go into hiding himself or return to his unit, the airborne division of the 6th Guards Shock Army.
Constantine had only nodded his head in understanding as Nikoli chose the latter.
Apart from being introduced to him as simply Svetlana, nothing more was offered to explain her presence with Constantine. Nikoli had picked up on the subtle body language hints that his cousin and she were ‘together’, he had nonetheless teased his older cousin by flirting outrageously with this beautiful girl on the long journey south.
The Embassy staff had accepted his story of charming the beautiful Military Police captain into dropping him outside rather than into temporary detention at Wellington Barracks.
Unlike his compatriots who had been with other British units elsewhere in the country, Nikoli was delivered to Heathrow airport in an Embassy hired coach along with all unnecessary Embassy staff and dependants. The British bussed the Russians in their care to the airport in Army four-ton trucks.
As the Aeroflot flight had left the runway Nikoli took a last look at the British Isles through the window beside his seat and silently wished his friends in its Army, good health and a long life.
The grey light of pre-dawn greeted Colin’s opening eyes. He looked across at his sleeping wife, stroked her dark curly hair tenderly and reached over to cancel the bedside clocks alarm before it had chance to sound.
His head contained a dull ache, a legacy of their pre-deployment tradition of polishing off a bottle of bubbly and making out like teenagers. On the first occasion it had been a bottle of cheap pseudo champagne in a B&B before the invasion of Iraq. Janet’s surname had not been Probert at that time, it had become that within a month of his return, stood before the alter of her families local church, he in a scarlet tunic carrying brand new stripes and she in a catalogue bought dress carrying their first child, Karen. She hadn’t ‘shown’ on that occasion but her mother even now managed to serve up the shame that he had nearly caused her and the rest of her family. Fortunately Colin had always got along well with Janet’s father and brothers, so her Mum’s continued disapproval was easy to bear.
Young James had been conceived the night before Colin had left for Afghanistan. The genuine item had been the catalyst that had caused them to throw caution to the wind that night, not that Jimmy was a mistake of course, far from it, but before further tours Janet had ensured her diaphragm was in place before the cork popped.
Since his posting to Brecon Colin had made it home twice a month for long weekends, it didn’t count as being wholly in the loop on the parenting side and he was aware that Janet was doing more than her fair share. A year before she had landed a good job as a secretary for a law firm at Lincoln’s Inn Fields. The firm had moved chambers to a plush office in Canary Wharf the previous January and Karen had become PA to one of the junior partners at the same time. She was now the highest earner in the household and the principle parent. Even had this possibility of war not raised its head he would not have sought a second term at the School of Infantry, Brecon.
He was about due for a promotion to WO1 slot, RQMS, QM (Tech) or that prime job within an infantry battalion, RSM, when Barry Stone eventually took over the job of GSM, Garrison Sergeant Major of London District. It would mean he was home each night but one step removed from what he loved most, being out in the weeds playing soldier. It was time he accepted that it was no longer fair on the family though.
Karen was entering that awkward stage in life, that of being a teenager and therefore susceptible to peer pressure and raging hormones.
He did not like her taste in boys or music (Janet had not revealed to him his daughters taste in skimpy ‘boy bait’ outfits. He still had that discovery to make all by himself),
Colin was honest enough to know he could easily sound like his own father had and accordingly he tried to curb the urge to lecture. He wasn’t entirely successful in masking his feelings, describing the boy band his daughters current heart throb sang with as a bunch of choreographed karaoke singers incapable of writing any of their own material or playing an instrument, which may have been true, but that had not earned him very much in the way of affection points.
Jimmy was still very much ‘all boy’, coming home with muddy knees and torn attire from climbing trees and playing with his friends in the nearby park. They had a few years breathing space before he entered the terrible teens.
Colin slipped from between the sheets and trod lightly around the bed to collect his towelling robe. Having slipped it on he bent down to check Janet still slept and satisfied, quietly left the bedroom.
At the faint sound of a shower Janet judged it safe to open her eyes. She had feigned sleep for much of the night, as she had done every single night before her husband left for active service in one part of the world or other.
She both welcomed, and hated this moment. The long hours’ laying there with pictures filling her imagination, none pleasant, were now past. She could lose herself in the domestic business of getting him fed, getting the kids up, breakfasted and ready for school.
She was exchanging the images for a countdown. The clock was running now to the moment he would step through the door, back into the military world that he loved so much and she so feared.
He’d always come back without a scratch before, maybe this time it would be different, maybe this time it would be her turn to try and look brave at the graveside, to try not to flinch but when the riflemen fired the salute over her soldiers grave.
She forced the thought away, dressed and went downstairs.
By the time Colin had showered, shaved and dressed the breakfast was on the table. He was seated before Karen appeared, looking rather sulky and put out, a clone of all teens at that time. The sulk deepened when her mother made her eat more than the half slice of toast she insisted was all she needed for the sake of her figure. Colin felt guilty about not being the one to make that move but he did not want his last day at home to be a quarrelsome one.
When Jimmy arrived it was in a rush, mimicking an aircraft engine and holding aloft a slightly battered Harrier jump jet he had made from a plastic construction kit. Colin caught him as he passed, sweeping him up and over before depositing him in his chair with a final ruffling of the permanently untidy mop of hair.
Jimmy shovelled breakfast cereal into his mouth and pulled a face at his sisters look of disdain at his table manners. He was considering flicking milk soggy sugar puffs at her when his father spoke.
“Sit up straight and mind your manners Jim, you’re not in a farmyard.”
“Yet.” Whispered Karen, loud enough for her brother to hear but he didn’t take the bait, he’d remembered something his friends had been talking about.
“Dad, are you going war fighting against the Germans” A diet of his dads old collection of boys comics had ensured that the bad guys were always the Jerries’ although sometimes it was the Japs in Jimmy’s young mind, not that he really knew where either ones country lay if you showed him a map of the world.