War Torn

Afterwards, Steve held Leanne so tightly that it crossed her mind he was trying to kill her. It was a moment before she realized he was trying not to cry. The thought that this big man had been moved to tears by having sex with his wife brought tears to her own eyes.‘You can cry if you want, sweetheart,’ she said. ‘I am.’As soon as she had spoken, his entire body was shaken by the immense sob that followed. He held her as he cried and cried. When she looked at his face she saw the pain there. The pain of the leg he had lost, the pain of the new reality, the pain of all the hopes and possibilities that had been exploded in a few seconds under the hot Afghan sun. She cried too, as though she could carry some of his pain and save him some tears.‘Life’s going to be different now, love,’ she said at last, passing him a third wad of tissues. ‘But that doesn’t mean it’s going to be worse.’He nodded and put an arm around her. ‘I still love you. I don’t always show it but I do.’She smiled.‘And,’ he added, ‘thank God I can still do it.’‘Oh, you can still do it all right.’When she stood up to go and make them a sandwich she realized that she felt relaxed for the first time in months. If she fell asleep now she would sleep for the rest of the day and the whole of the night. Instead of waking up and tossing and turning for hours and then sneaking down to the fridge as though it was her secret lover.‘Turn on the TV, sweetheart, it’s time for the news,’ said Steve. He sounded like his old self again.She switched on and went into the kitchen. She didn’t feel hungry! She decided to go without a sandwich and just make one for Steve. She was reaching for the bread when she heard shouting.‘Bloody fucking stupid bitch!’She ran back to the living room.‘You left the zapper over there, fat cow! Look, there’s something about the lads and I can’t reach the zapper to turn it up!’He was roaring. His eyes were bulging with fury, his face was angry black lines.She rushed to the zapper and dropped it.‘For fuck’s sake!’ he screamed. She picked it up and hastily turned up the volume. His eyes blazed as he turned away from her. He was intent on the screen.Leanne sat very still. She watched the newsreader without listening.‘. . . now made a ransom demand for the safe return of the American hostage, oil exploration expert Martyn Robertson. The Foreign Office has refused to comment on reports that his kidnappers are demanding as much as thirty million dollars, as well as the release of a number of Taliban detainees.‘Martyn Robertson was kidnapped by insurgents in Helmand Province while under the care of a British Army escort. The army has issued a statement saying that every effort was made to keep Mr Robertson safe but members of his family are calling for a full inquiry into how the Taliban slipped through the army’s security net.‘The kidnappers are rumoured to have set a two-week limit for the delivery of the ransom. They are unlikely to let the hostage live past that deadline.’The picture changed, the story changed, a different reporter appeared on the screen. Steve and Leanne continued to watch, mute and motionless, from separate chairs.

Chapter Sixty-three