Chieftains

Jane…God, dear Jane. For twelve years they'd loved each other. It was hard to know exactly when it had all begun, or even how it had started. There wasn't a particular hour or even day when he'd suddenly thought he loved her, wanted her. There had been mess dinners, mess balls; the three of them always seemed to to together. Sometimes he took a lady guest with him, but it wasn't too easy to meet single women as you got older. Sometime during the evening he would find himself dancing with Jane; Max preferred to remain near a bar. The number of dances seemed to grow…the number of times she was in his arms. Even then, neither of them had said anything nor made a positive move. It was just that somehow over the years it changed; the way they held each other while they danced…the way their arms had linked as they walked from the floor.

One night they had stood together on the mess terrace; it had become too hot inside, after midnight. It had been the summer ball, and quite a grand affair…three bars, a disco for the younger officers, the regimental band in the main hall. He and Jane were close enough for their bodies to be touching and he had automatically put his arm around her waist. He felt at the time it had been a protective movement, not suggestive. She moved even closer and he had felt the firmness of her hip against his thigh, and known at that second they both wanted each other desperately. Jane had felt the same, he knew, for instinctively their eyes had met and he had seen her quickly hide the emotion.

'Let's go and have a drink. I'm very thirsty…something long and cool.' Her voice was over-flippant, sounding very young, uncertain. He noticed she avoided his eyes now and shook her dark hair back over her shoulders, nervously. She and Max had married young. Paul had been born before she was twenty, he was seven only a few weeks before the ball.

'I don't know if I can face the crowd for a few minutes.' He intended it as an excuse to delay her, but she had misunderstood him.

'I can't either.' Her voice had been flat, weary. 'Sometimes I think they're watching us…their eyes following us everywhere. Sometimes I think they can read my mind.' She became angry. 'I hate these evenings. I hate the dressing up, all the gold braid, the artificial camaraderie and the inane conversations…I hate anaesthetizing myself with gin and tonics so I've got the guts to dance with you all night in front of them, and the courage to let you leave me at the end.' She had turned away from him and stared across the dark lawns and rose beds. She was gripping his hand tightly.

'What can we do?' Her outburst had startled him, forcing him to acknowledge his own feelings.

'Nothing! If I'd once loved Max and now I hated him, it would be easy; I'd be strong enough to leave him. But I never loved him, so my feelings haven't changed. I've always liked him, and I still do. And you can't hurt someone you like so much.'

They avoided each other during the following weeks, until it became obvious to Max. 'You and Jane had a fight?'

'Jane? Good heavens, no!'

'We haven't seen much of you.'

Studley had lied. 'It's not been deliberate, Max. I just don't seem to have got around to socializing lately.'

'Dinner, Saturday evening then? Drinks about eight. Bozy and Felicity will be along. Jane and I thought we should invite Challace, introduce his wife to some of the other ladies of the regiment. It's never easy for a new officer's missus.'

Max, always friendly, concerned and dependable. He wasn't even built like a soldier, stocky, rounded. Gieves and Hawkes found it difficult to get a military cut to his suits. In civvies he always managed to look like a contented country vicar; perhaps he should have been, it would have suited his easy-going temperament. 'Thanks, I'll be along.'

There was another evening, later, in the mess. He and Max were alone. 'Ever think of getting married, James?'

'Thought, once or twice.' He had attempted to change the subject, but Max persisted; he had downed several drinks.

'You should look around.'

'It's hardly possible here in Germany.'

'When we're in Ireland then. Daughter of a wealthy Irish landowner.'

'For God's sake, Max…what opportunity do we get for socializing in Ireland?'

'The Queen Alexander's Nursing Corps; there are some smashers amongst the nurses. Point one out to me and I'll get Jane to invite her to dinner. Being a batchelor is no life for you, James.'

'It suits me.'

'It'll make you sour. You need a wife and a couple of kids.'

'Something I wanted to mention; the MT, sheds…there's a hold-up with…'

'Have you ever met Charlesworth's daughter? I know she's quite young, but…'

'Max!'