Cat O'Nine Tales and Other Stories - Jeffrey Archer [3]
“Hello, Chris,” Mrs. Smart greeted him as he joined his mother on the platform. “Was Sue on the train with you?”
“I didn’t notice,” said Chris, as Sue walked up to join them.
“I expect you see a lot of each other now you’re based at the same camp,” suggested Chris’s mother.
“No, not really,” said Sue, trying to sound disinterested.
“Well, we’d better be off,” said Mrs. Haskins. “I have to give Chris and his dad dinner before they go off to watch the football,”
she explained.
“Do you remember him?” asked Mrs. Smart as Chris and his
mother walked along the platform toward the exit. “Snotty Haskins?” Sue hesitated. “Can’t say I do.” “Oh, you like him that much, do you?” said Sue’s mother with a
smile.
When Chris boarded the train that Sunday evening, Sue was already sitting in her place at the end of the carriage. Chris was about to walk straight past her and find a seat in the next carriage, when he heard her say, “Hi, Chris, did you have a nice weekend?”
“Not bad, Corp,” said Chris, stopping to look down at her. “Grimsby beat Lincoln three-one, and I’d forgotten how good the fish and chips are in Cleethorpes compared to camp.”
Sue smiled. “Why don’t you join me?” she said, patting the seat beside her. “And I think it will be all right to call me Sue when we’re not in barracks.”
On the journey back to Mablethorpe, Sue did most of the talking, partly because Chris was so smitten with her—could this be the same skinny little girl who had handed out the milk each morning?—and partly because he realized the bubble would burst the moment they set foot back in camp. Non-commissioned officers just don’t fraternize with the ranks.
The two of them parted at the camp gates and went their separate ways. Chris walked back to the barracks, while Sue headed off for the NCO quarters. When Chris strolled into his Nissen hut to join his fellow conscripts, one of them was bragging about the WRAF he’d had it off with. He even went into graphic detail, describing what RAF knickers look like. “A dark shade of blue held up by thick elastic,” he assured the mesmerized onlookers. Chris lay on his bed and stopped listening to the unlikely tale, as his thoughts returned to Sue. He wondered how long it would be before he saw her again.
Not as long as he feared because when Chris went to the canteen for lunch the following day he spotted Sue sitting in the corner with a group of girls from the ops room. He wanted to stroll across to her table and, like David Niven, casually ask her out on a date. There was a Doris Day film showing at the Odeon that he thought she might enjoy, but he’d sooner have walked across a minefield than interrupt her while his mates were watching.
Chris selected his lunch from the counter—a bowl of vegetable soup, sausage and chips, and custard pie. He carried his tray across to a table on the other side of the room and joined a group of his fellow conscripts. He was tucking into the custard pie, while discussing Grimsby’s chances against Blackpool, when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He looked round to see Sue smiling down at him. Everyone else at the table stopped talking. Chris turned a bright shade of red.
“Doing anything on Saturday night?” Sue asked. The red deepened to crimson as he shook his head. “I was thinking of going to see Calamity Jane” She paused. “Care to join me?” Chris nodded. “Why don’t we meet outside the camp gates at six?” Another nod. Sue smiled. “See you then.” Chris turned back to find his friends staring at him in awe.
Chris didn’t remember much about the film because he spent most of his time trying to summon up enough courage to put his arm round Sue’s shoulder. He didn’t even manage it when Howard Keel kissed Doris Day. However, after they left the cinema and walked back toward the waiting bus, Sue took his hand.
“What are you going to do once you’ve finished your National Service?” Sue asked as the last bus took them back to camp.
“Join