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Afterwards, Laurie was never sure at what point he woke up to hear the two men coming down the corridor, occasionally colliding playfully with each other and talking in accented voices. He opened his eyes in time to see the taller, red-haired one pull his friend against him, murmuring something in his ear that made the other splutter, ‘Are you insane, Dick? It’s the middle of the day, for Christ’s sake! Anyone...’ He stopped talking abruptly and planted his head against his taller friend’s chest with a groan, at which point Laurie started to feel very uncomfortable. Apart from Miss Haliburton’s surgery, this floor of the hospital was empty of patients due to some sort of problem with the decrepit building’s water supply: there was no good reason for two spruced-up American officers to be here unless they were looking for a little privacy. Although the alcove where he was sitting combined with the dim institutional lighting had concealed him so far, it couldn’t possibly do so much longer. He was about to announce his presence when the taller man apparently won the argument and dragged his friend into one of the empty wards, the door shutting abruptly enough to suggest a firm impact on its inner side.
Reprieved, Laurie blinked and grinned to himself, with a twinge of longing as he briefly imagined himself and Ralph in a similar situation. He momentarily considered staying to act as unofficial sentry for the pair inside the room, but decided they weren’t likely to thank him for his interference. In any case his bus was probably due soon. He levered himself carefully onto his feet, the temporary easing to his leg caused by Miss Haliburton’s manipulations already fading into a raw, hard-worked feel that would only slowly fade as the joint continued its slow healing. He had just taken his first step along the worn linoleum when, to his horror, the side door burst open again and the shorter black-haired officer hurried out, fully dressed but with his hair noticeably mussed. Luckily with his back to Laurie, the American headed hastily towards the row of chairs lining the corridor, and Laurie guessed he was planning, with typical military ingenuity, to borrow one to wedge the door shut from the inside. At that moment, the elevator doors creaked open at the far end of the corridor and a stout middle-aged nurse stepped out, her eyes immediately fixing on the dishevelled-looking stranger. With an inward groan, Laurie recognised her from his stay in one of the wards below: a woman notorious even among the other staff for her nosiness and strict enforcement of hospital rules. Her voice was pitched to carry as she snapped, ‘What on earth are you doing here, Captain? This area is out of bounds.’
The American Captain seemed to have frozen, despite Laurie’s silent prayers for him to save himself. He had just begun to stammer something, the Sister’s eyes narrowing in suspicion, when Laurie limped forward and spoke up, trying to ignore the American’s galvanic start as he belatedly noticed him. ‘It’s alright, sister, Captain– the Captain kindly offered to give me a lift back to the village after my appointment. I’m afraid I must have dozed off, so he had to come and fetch me.’
There was a rather pregnant pause: fixing the woman with his most appealing look, Laurie couldn’t help but see the spots of colour appearing on the American’s dead white face out of the corner of his eye as the man stared blankly at him. Nosy or not, though, the nurse obviously remembered Laurie and huffed with evident satisfaction at finding a fresh target. ‘I should have known you’d be mixed up in this somewhere, Odell.’ Her manner thawing a little, she turned back to the American, who had thankfully by this time managed to re-arrange his face into something resembling an apologetic smile. ‘Well, I’m sure it’s very kind of you, Captain. I’ll just be getting on: Miss Haliburton will be needing these records for her next appointment.’ She bustled off, but at her expectant glance Laurie obediently began to make his way towards the elevator, glancing uncertainly at the now grim-faced officer at his side. As soon as the nurse was out of earshot, he turned to Laurie with a rather unconvincing smile and said, ‘I suppose if I’m driving you back to the village you ought to know my name at least: Lewis Nixon.’ He offered his hand. Taken aback, Laurie shook it automatically, saying, ‘Odell – Laurie.’ He hesitated. ‘But I wasn’t serious about the lift, you know: you just looked rather as if you needed a good excuse to get out of there.’
‘Nonsense, it’s a good four miles to the village, and if English buses are anything like I imagine you could be waiting in the cold all afternoon.’ By now they had reached the elevator, and Captain Nixon was pressing the button. ‘But – what about your friend?’ Laurie asked, puzzled.
He realised his mistake when Nixon whirled round and took a threatening step towards him, fists clenching: for a moment, he thought the man meant to hit him. ‘What exactly did you see?’ Nixon growled.
Standing his ground with an effort, Laurie lifted his chin. ‘As I said, I dozed off: you and your friend woke me when you went into the room. You’d have seen me in another moment.’ (If you hadn’t been so wrapped up in each other, he didn’t say.) Unable to bear the white, fixed expression on Nixon’s face, he burst out, ‘Look, you don’t need to worry! It’s none of my business and-’ ingrained caution struggled briefly with his sense of justice, before giving way – ‘it would be pretty hypocritical of me to say anything, all things considered.’ He shut his mouth abruptly and stared up into Nixon’s eyes, willing him to understand. After a frozen moment, the American relaxed, sweeping a hand automatically through his untidy hair as he stared into space.
‘Fair enough,’ he said at last: Laurie stifled an impulse to come to attention. ‘But Dick’s no fool and that door wasn’t exactly soundproof. He’ll lay low for a while and follow when it’s quiet.’ They stepped into the rickety elevator together, Nixon unexpectedly giving Laurie a more genuine smile. In the close confines of the rattling elevator cage, Laurie was uncomfortably aware of the impression of careless, athletic health and vitality Nixon gave, making him feel shrunken and dowdy by comparison. He had noticed the paratrooper badge on the other man’s uniform: even as quietly as they were living he had heard of the ‘secret weapon’, the new elite troops who would supposedly win the war at last. ‘Do you have time for a quick drink in the pub? Seems it’s the least I can do.’
Laurie blinked, then smiled. ‘Alright.’ They emerged and headed for the front desk, Nixon automatically setting a brisk pace but dropping back quickly enough to match Laurie’s limp. Passing a nurse, he turned a charming smile on her and said, ‘Excuse me, ma’am? Do you remember the other fellow I arrived with – about so high, red hair?’ The nurse smiled in return, apparently involuntarily: Laurie imagined the two handsome officers had made quite an impression, if not exactly the same one they had made on him. She nodded. ‘Would you mind giving him a message for me, if you see him? Tell him I can’t wait around any longer and I’ll see him in the village – he’ll know where.’
‘I’ll pass that on, Captain.’
‘Thank you ma’am, I appreciate it.’
They emerged into the weak sunlight and Nixon helped Laurie into the passenger seat of the glossy staff car with a firm and refreshingly unapologetic grip on his elbow. As they pulled away, Laurie ventured, ‘I don’t think I’ve driven once since I left the army, you know. Hopefully by the time the war’s over I won’t have forgotten how.’
For any civilian this would have been a reliable opening to shared commiseration about the scarcity of petrol coupons: Nixon only glanced at him with a preoccupied half smile. He was a good if rather aggressive driver, like Ralph. Laurie tried again: ‘Were you visiting someone at the hospital, Captain? I thought all the American casualties had been moved somewhere else after the pipes burst – lucky them.’ At that Nixon gave a short unamused laugh. ‘Typical. I don’t know why I even bother to listen to the official story: I should just rely on the grapevine. Yes, we discovered that when we arrived: the man we came to see is somewhere near Cardiff by now.’ He showed signs of lapsing into silence again and Laurie was inwardly bracing himself for a dull afternoon when he added, ‘That’s why we were up there, you know. Dick – Captain Winters, that is, he’ll introduce himself shortly, I hope – thought I was expressing myself a little too forcefully and dragged me upstairs to cool down. We’d been wandering around there for ages.’
By this time they were pulling up in front of the Coach and Horses. Curious, Laurie asked, ‘Have you been here before then, Captain? I thought all the paratroopers were training over near Slough.’ Seeing Nixon’s glance and aware he was asking rather a lot of questions, he added hastily, ‘Not that I’m asking. I live with an ex-Navy man, I know all about ships and loose lips. It’s just that when you spoke to the nurse you seemed to think Captain Winters would know to find you here.’
Nixon shrugged, opening the car door. ‘It’s not like our billet is the best kept secret.’ Laurie noticed he didn’t reply, though, instead continuing, ‘No, I’ve never been here before, but Dick knows me well enough to look for me in the nearest place serving alcohol. On that subject, I suppose you’ll be wanting some of that warm swill that passes for beer around here?’ He headed purposefully for the bar and was soon deep in discussion with the landlord about different brands of whisky. Slightly bemused, Laurie chose a table with a good view of the door and carefully eased himself down, stretching his leg out and taking the opportunity to massage it where the joint had stiffened during the drive. He looked up as Nixon set a pint glass in front of him and stood for a moment holding his own half-full tumbler. Laurie smiled in thanks and lifted the glass in a toast: ‘To international relations.’ Nixon finally sat and he added, ‘I should be buying these, really, but thank you, Captain.’ Nixon grimaced. ‘You must get that all the time.’
‘I don’t mind that. You can stop calling me Captain, that’s all: you’re not in the army anymore.’
Laurie laughed. ‘I was a corporal: if I was still in the army I’d be calling you Sir or, more likely, keeping my mouth shut until spoken to.’
Nixon gave him a somewhat quizzical smile, but the conversation came more easily after that. Laurie described Miss Haliburton: ‘someone who a hundred years ago would be a wise woman, laying on of hands, you know?’, which resulted in a lively description of a medic in Nixon’s company who supposedly came from a line of Cajun faith healers. Talking of Laurie’s plans to start his course at Oxford led to another man who was at Yale. In it all Laurie noticed there was very little about Nixon’s own life and background, but he felt no urge to pry. It was obvious the extensive training he had heard about had left this group of men very close to each other, which he found oddly warming while at the same time leaving him nostalgic for the almost-forgotten camaraderie he had felt with the men in his own unit. He doubted he would stay in touch with any of the survivors for long.
After an hour or so of small talk, Laurie had mentally classified Nixon as a rather morose, cynical man, though good company in his intelligent, sharp-tongued way. It was startling, therefore, to see his face light up at the sight of another man entering the pub, stooping slightly under the low doorway and pulling off his cap to reveal tell-tale red hair. ‘Dick!’ The American waved his friend over. Laurie rose to his feet uncertainly, feeling like an intruder and hoping Nixon and Winters were normally more discreet in the way they looked at each other. Winters’ quiet warm smile faltered on seeing Laurie and he looked briefly wary, glancing at Nixon who quickly introduced him: ‘Dick, this is Laurie Odell: he’s the one who covered our retreat back there.’ Laurie saw Winters process this, and then he was stepping forward to shake Laurie’s hand firmly, looking unhesitatingly into his eyes. ‘It’s a pleasure, Mr Odell.’ Laurie found himself unaccountably flushing and thought briefly that if Winters was as good a leader as he was charismatic he must be a popular commander indeed. He smiled and gestured to the table. ‘Same here. Are you joining us? It must be my round.’
He saw the refusal in Winters’ eyes a moment before he heard Nixon chuckle from behind him. ‘You’ll need to try harder than that to drive Dick to drink, Odell: believe me, I’ve tried. Finish your pint, and then I’m afraid we’ll have to be going.’ Laurie turned to see him holding out the nearly empty glass, absently swirling the dregs around as he drained his own tumbler. Missing Winters’ sharp glance, Laurie obediently finished his drink, grimacing at the unexpectedly strong bitter aftertaste. He felt foolish: naturally the two Americans would want to be alone together as soon as possible, not least to talk about his own role in their narrow escape. He shrugged on his coat and gave the landlord a nod in farewell, repeating, ‘It was a pleasure to meet you both. Or I can offer some tea in the room where I’m staying, if you like?’ He was asking mostly out of politeness and was a little surprised to hear Nixon reply, ‘We’ll walk you there, at least, it’s only round the corner.’
They set off three abreast, Laurie feeling predictably dwarfed by the two tall officers on either side, though they held politely to his own slow pace. Winters seemed completely fresh and unaffected by what must have been a very brisk four mile march. It was only a few minutes’ walk to the bed-and-breakfast place where Laurie was staying, but almost immediately he realised to his surprise that the drink was affecting him more than he’d thought. He tried to remember exactly how many pints Nixon had bought him – neatly evading Laurie’s efforts to pay his way – but they had surely been in the pub less than an hour. Humiliatingly, though, he could feel himself becoming increasingly woozy, at one point stumbling so badly that both Americans had to seize an arm to keep him on his feet. Neither of them had said a word since leaving the pub, and when he looked up to try to apologise he saw Winters staring rather grimly at Nixon, who was avoiding his eyes. ‘It’s not his fault,’ Laurie said hastily. ‘I’m so sorry, I’m afraid I’ve got out of the habit of drinking in the afternoon. More than I thought, by the looks of it.’
Winters only smiled down at him reassuringly, releasing his supporting grasp as soon as Laurie had regained his balance. In a moment more they were at the cottage and Laurie fumbled for his key, grateful for once for his lameness, which had persuaded the landlady to give him the downstairs front room, a few steps from the door. It was humiliating enough to be stumbling in completely smashed in the middle of the afternoon without any extra witnesses. With his hand on the door to his room, he greyed out completely and the two Americans had to half-carry him inside. For an instant he felt a tiny spike of alarm, but dismissed it at the memory of Winters’ smile: ridiculously, he instinctively felt he was a man to be trusted. He was vaguely aware of them setting him down in the room’s only chair, and tried for a moment to rouse himself enough to make some effort at hospitality. His last coherent thought was that at least these two particular guests wouldn’t mind sitting next to each other on the bed.
Lewis checked Odell’s pulse, frowning: the man was almost completely out of it. ‘Odell, hey. Odell. Wake up.’ He could hear Dick pacing furiously behind him, a few long strides taking him from end to end of the poky little room. Slumped in the battered, oversized armchair, Odell looked hardly old enough to shave, while at the same time the dark shadows under his eyes and faint lines of pain around his mouth were much more obvious. Halfway through his latest stalk across the room, Dick whirled to face him and hissed, ‘Sometimes I can’t believe I even know you, Nix. What did you give him?’
Lewis frowned up at him from where he was crouching in front of the chair. ‘Just a couple of tranquilizers. Jesus, Dick, I know Brits who eat these things like candy, and I’m not talking about the ones straight out of hospital.’ He turned back to the apparently comatose Brit. ‘Not this one though, by the looks of it. Hell, I may have done him a favour: I think this leg’s been keeping the poor guy up at night for a while. I might just leave him a few spares as a present.’ He leaned forward and gently slapped one pale cheek. Suddenly remembering one of a very few personal pieces of information the man had volunteered, he added, ‘Spud. Wake up.’
Odell smiled sleepily. ‘Lanyon?’ He opened his eyes, and looked disappointed. ‘Oh, it’s you.’
‘And who am I?’ Lewis asked encouragingly. Odell blinked at him for a bit, but answered obediently: ‘You’re Nixon. American secret weapon... paratrooper. And your friend.’ He looked up at Dick with a hazily good-natured smile, but faltered when he saw Dick’s expression. He looked between the two of them anxiously. ‘Did I... do something wrong?’
‘No, nothing’s wrong,’ Nixon soothed him. ‘Just wondering something.’ Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dick start to pace again. ‘When you saw us in the corridor back there, what did you think?’
‘That you need to be more careful.’ Suddenly Odell’s face was completely serious. ‘I’ve seen the way you... look at him, Nixon. You don’t know. It can be something... someone... innocent.’ He seemed to be struggling for coherence. ‘It’s so easy, you don’t know. And afterwards they, the others, they never look you in the eye again.’ Fumbling, he raised a hand: Lewis grasped it firmly, feeling the bones shifting in the narrow wrist. Odell was leaning forward slightly, staring intently at him: his eyes were a muddy greenish hazel, just as his hair was a darker, duller auburn than Dick’s, but Lewis still felt a momentary sense of likeness. ‘You need to protect him, Nixon. Your Quaker friend. You have enough to deal with without- that behind your back. Promise me you’ll protect him.’ Lewis was distantly aware that Dick had paused and was staring down at them both in astonishment. He coughed, reflecting that Dick would probably never shake off the Quaker thing as long as he lived. ‘Yeah, I promise.’
Odell sank back, releasing Lewis’ hand. ‘That’s all right, then.’ His eyes started to drift shut again. ‘Silly. I’m pretty... new to all this, you know. Lanyon is the one who knows the ropes. You’d like him.’
Lewis suspected that if Lanyon – presumably the ‘ex-Navy man’ Odell lived with – was here he would be doing his best to beat Lewis to a pulp. Worse, he had a sinking feeling he would let him. ‘Odell, you’re not going to tell anyone about us, are you?’
Odell yawned, then focused with an effort. He looked a bit disappointed. ‘I suppose not. No, safer not, you’re right. Don’t worry.’ He closed his eyes. After a moment, when it became clear he wasn’t going to say anything else, Lewis got up, dusting off the knees of his pants and avoiding Dick’s eye. ‘Let’s get him on the bed. Up you get, soldier.’ With Dick’s help, he scooped up the unconscious Brit and laid him down on the narrow hard cot, careful of his bad leg. Lewis even took his shoes off, which was more than anyone usually bothered to do for him. The ugly medical-looking shoe took him a while to unfasten: he turned back to see Dick writing something on a scrap of paper, which he put by the pillow. Lewis hoped it wasn’t a signed confession of conduct unbefitting, but thought better than to ask.
They left as quietly as possible, but Dick spoke as soon as they were out of earshot of the house. ‘That was a pretty unscrupulous thing you did there, Nixon. That man helped us, for Pete’s sake: what can he possibly have said to make you so suspicious?’
‘It’s more what he didn’t say. I just spent an hour talking to the man without getting any further than the rules of cricket and the differences in the English syllabus between Yale and Oxford.’ He risked a glance at Dick, but he was still looking pretty serious. ‘Look, normally I’d have just got him liquored up, but we didn’t have time. I just thought this would be an easy shortcut past all that British reserve. I screwed up, I know: but Dick, this is too important to leave to chance, or trusting to people’s good nature. I had to be sure.’
By this time they were back where he’d left the car. Dick looked at him finally, and he felt a spurt of relief: he wasn’t forgiven yet, but he would be in time. Dick always forgave him eventually. ‘Fortunately, it sounded like Odell thinks exactly the same. I’m driving.’
Laurie saw the note as soon as he woke up. Written in a clear legible hand, it said only, ‘Thank you for your help. I hope we meet again.’ It was signed with Winters’ name, rank and full regimental details, and also had an address in Pennsylvania.