CHAPTER 10 The Falling Out

 

Later in the week, Mary got a phone call from Jock informing her that he was on standby duty from next weekend and that he was on guard duty on Christmas day and Boxing Day. The next time he would see her would be Boxing day afternoon. Mary was so disappointed that she could feel tears welling up in her eyes. She had been so looking forward to a skiing holiday in the Alps.

Jock phoned her every evening that week, but then the phone calls ceased. After several nights without a call Mary phoned the Barracks at Pirbright and was told that Jock was on active service and would be unable to contact her. Perplexed by the secrecy of the army, Mary had an uneasy feeling that all was not well.

About ten days later, she got a phone call from Jock to say that he was in Northern Ireland. He told her that he was in good health, missed her a lot and that he would be returning to Pirbright the following week.

The knot of anxiety in Mary’s stomach unfolded just to hear his voice, assuring her that everything was all in order.

The following week, Jock phoned to say he was back in camp and that he would see her on Boxing Day afternoon. He telephoned every alternate evening and on Christmas Eve he phoned to wish her the compliments of the season. Mary longed for his company and promised herself that she would make this festive holiday extra special so that they would always remember it.

Christmas Day, she spent decorating the flat and preparing a meal for Jock when he arrived next day.

About noon on Boxing Day, the doorbell rang and there stood Jock, still in army uniform, carrying his huge Bergen rucksack. Mary was shocked at his ashen complexion and the lines of fatigue across his face.

“I’ll tell you all about what’s been happening later,” explained Jock as he dumped the big rucksack in the hallway, “but I need to have a shower and crash out on the bed first.”

Mary made a Gaelic coffee and brought it through to the bedroom but Jock was already sound asleep. Mary sat on the side of the bed and sipped the coffee. “So much for a hero’s welcome,” she mused.

That evening she slipped into bed and could smell the body lotion from Jock’s naked body and feel the heat coming from him. He was like a huge hot water bottle. Although her body ached for Jock’s touch and embrace, she resisted the urge to wake him.

Mary woke as normal at seven o’clock next morning but Jock was still asleep. She slipped out of bed quietly so as not to disturb him and was in the kitchen making coffee when a pair of hands pulled her back into a warm embrace. She felt Jock kissing the nape of her neck. “Make that for two and can I have a bit of toast,” came the unromantic request.

Mary smiled and turned around, kissing a stubbled Jock. “Sit over there on the couch and your request will be granted,” came her reply.

Coffee and toast consumed, Jock began to apologise for spoiling their plans for the festive season. While on the last day of standby, they had got a mission in Northern Ireland. It was very covert but highly successful. It took almost ten days to return to Pirbright as they had to debrief the mission to the army, police and anti-terrorist squad.

When he got to Pirbright, he had drawn the short straw and was detailed for a forty-eight-hour guard duty over Christmas and Boxing Day. On patrol over Christmas Eve, they caught several men stealing coal. It eventually turned out to be new age travellers but they thought it was an attack by the IRA. The whole barracks was searched for bombs. Police, military and anti-terrorist branch were involved, searching the travellers’ site and questioning potential culprits. As Guard Commander, he hadn’t got any sleep and after he came off duty he came straight to the flat.

Mary sat spellbound, listening to Jock’s adventures and after he was finished talking she made to snuggle up to him on the couch but he got up, went over to his big rucksack and produced three presents for her. An Irish doll in a clear plastic box, a big bottle of perfume and an expensive looking box.

“Merry Christmas darling,” he said, as he handed over the presents.

Mary smiled at Jock’s laissez-faire attitude to the festive season. Delighted with the doll and perfume she was curious as to what was inside the box. When she opened it, she gave a gasp of admiration and took out a solid pewter Scots Guardsman in ceremonial dress, about three inches high. Mary was overjoyed and thought that no-one had ever given her such lavish gifts at Christmas.

“Before you and I go back to bed soldier boy, just listen to what I have planned for your Christmas. On the twenty-eighth you and I are going to the biggest sports shop to buy ski mitts, hat, socks and thermals and that evening we are taking the sleeper to Aviemore to stay in the Four Seasons Hotel until the return journey on the third of January next year. Highlight of the trip is a gala dinner on Hogmanay at the hotel. All has been paid for by my Christmas bonus, so that’s my Christmas present to you.”

Jock said nothing, a bemused expression on his face and began stroking his chin with his forefinger and thumb. “All I can say is thank you. I am just lost for words,” was his grateful reply.

With that he went back into the bedroom and got into bed. Mary decided to wash the coffee cups and plates and tidy the kitchen. By the time she got to the bedroom Jock was once again fast asleep, deep breathing indicating just how tired he was. Mary smiled, kissed him gently on the forehead and got dressed, then started to prepare the Christmas dinner.

Next day, as they were about to leave the flat to go shopping to the sports shop, Jock went to his rucksack and produced a bottle of Bushmills whiskey and a large carton of cigarettes. Mary gave him a quizzical look and Jock, smiling, answered, “Just a belated Christmas present for your favourite concierge Dusty Miller, courtesy of the IRA.” On the way out they handed them over to a delighted Dusty.

Like any young couple in love, the day passed quickly between shopping, coffee breaks, lunch and packing for their skiing holiday. Before they knew it, they were leaving Euston station on the overnight sleeper for Aviemore.

Just before eight o’clock next morning, they arrived in Aviemore which was covered in a fresh fall of snow, at least six inches deep. Jock attached Mary’s suitcase to his huge rucksack and they walked up the steep hill to the Four Seasons Hotel from the station.

After checking in at the hotel they ate a good breakfast, unpacked quickly and were then issued with all the ski equipment. They took a bus from the hotel to the ski slopes and by eleven o’clock, were ready for their first run. Conditions were good and they spent the day doing all the runs several times, their only break was for a bowl of good, hot soup and a coffee at the ski centre. The bus dropped them off back at the hotel at half past four and they spent over an hour enjoying the hotel’s swimming pool, spa and steam room.

Mary was physically tired but mentally stimulated in Jock’s company. Indeed, she had never felt so happy and content. Over dinner they talked about their day’s sport and decided to have a game of chess before an early night.

They awoke next morning to a heavy fall of snow that had come during the night. As downhill skiing was out of the question, they went cross-country skiing from the hotel, around Loch Morlich, Glenmore and Loch Einich. There was no wind and the bright sunshine on the reflective snow tanned their faces.

Back at the hotel in the late afternoon, they spent over two hours in the pool, spa and sauna. Again, they had an early night as they had both found the exertion of cross-country skiing really tiring.

Next morning it was extremely cold but conditions for skiing were almost perfect. Catching the first bus to the ski slopes, they had an ideal morning as there was not a cloud in the sky.

During lunch at the ski centre, a military helicopter arrived at the bottom car park. After their break, Mary and Jock were collecting their skis when a voice called out, “Jock Stewart! What are you doing up here?”

Jock looked around and went over and shook hands with a man in flying gear who was the pilot. After a conversation with him, Jock came back over to Mary and informed her that if they came immediately, they could get a lift to the top of Ben Macdui, the second highest mountain in Britain. They could then ski down to the ski centre and catch the bus to the hotel.

Mary agreed instantly and was extremely excited at the prospect as she had never been in a helicopter. What surprised her was the noise and how cold it was. In a few minutes they were dropped off at the summit where they crouched and ran under the helicopter blades. When it took off, the draught from the blades nearly swept Mary off her feet.

“Look at the view!” exclaimed Mary. It was awesome. The bright afternoon sunshine made the snow-capped peaks easily recognisable. Mount Keen and Lochnagar to the east, the Mamores and Ben Nevis to the west, the Lomonds in Fife to the south and the hills of the Black Isle and Moray Firth to the north.

It was awe-inspiring and they stood together, drinking in the view like a vintage wine.

Jock put his arms around Mary’s shoulder and said in a very hushed tone, “You know, not many people are privileged to see almost the whole of Scotland in such splendour and for that I am very grateful. I am also incredibly grateful that I met you and that you brought me on holiday here. So, all I can say is that I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, that I want to marry you as soon as it can be arranged. So would you like to be my wife?”

Mary started to cry with happiness and mumbled, “Of course, yes,” several times as she held Jock in a tight embrace.

“With that decided then,” declared Jock, “We had better get these skis on and get the hell off this summit before it gets dark and we end up in all sorts of trouble.”

Mary had really wanted to savour this romantic proposal but as usual Jock was being his usual practical self and it was time to go. Slowly and surely, they skied off the summit, coming to the large snow field between Macdui and Cairngorm where a big herd of reindeer were foraging in the snow for the lichen that they enjoy.

Passively and undisturbed, the deer disdainfully watched the two skiers make their way to the shoulder of Cairngorm. During that last ski down, Mary’s mind was in a whirlwind, thoughts and plans circling around her head. As they reached the car park, the bus drew up and they joined the queue. The bus was so crowded that they had to sit in separate seats. Mary was desperate to ask Jock a hundred questions but sat there like the proverbial cat that had just got the cream.

When they reached the hotel, they were pleasantly surprised that they were the only guests in the pool. Sitting in the steam room they made plans, albeit preliminary, for the wedding. It was in the hot spa that they agreed to marry in the Guard’s Chapel in Wellington Barracks and go on a honeymoon to New Zealand, hire a campervan for as long as they both could get leave of absence and stay in Dubai on the way out and Bangkok on the return journey. Their conversation and plans were interrupted by the pool attendant who said the pool was closing. So rapt and intense was their conversation that they had lost all track of time and it was a scramble to get dressed in time for the gala dinner.

When they entered the dining room, they were seated at a table for eight people. Four bottles of white wine and four of red wine were placed there, as well as a bottle of Strathspey malt whisky. There was a quick round of introductions to the other three couples who were in another age group to Jock and Mary.

The conversation at the table was good, light-hearted and entertaining. After the meal there was Scottish Country Dancing and modern music and Mary and Jock danced with various partners from their table. At midnight they all gathered in a circle and sang Auld Lang Syne. Mary thought what a year that had been and she was looking forward to the year coming.

Once they were back in their room, they spoke again about their future plans. Mary realised that she had indulged in too much alcohol and that she was dominating all the dialogue between them. She also wondered if there would be another night of torrid passion like there was at Windsor.

“You can leave the army and come to work for Campbell Holdings, then after a period of time we can buy a good house on the outskirts of London.”

“Hold on, not so fast,” said Jock. “No-one said anything about me leaving the army. I thought I could get an army house at Pirbright.”

“No way!” exclaimed Mary, “Do you think I am going to live in a grubby little barracks flat, with second hand furniture, surrounded by gossiping neighbours.”

“It’s not like that,” replied Jock.

“Another thing, if you think I am going to give up my good, well-paid position in Campbell Holdings, one that I have studied for and have worked extremely hard to get, in exchange for being a housewife, then you can think again.”

“You’re getting a way beyond what you are trying to achieve,” replied Jock as he was getting into bed.

“Another thing, I earn almost three times more money than you so that is all there is to be said on the subject,” retorted Mary, who began to feel her head going round and round as she laid on the bed. Why am I being so arrogant she thought, causing our first argument on what should be a joyous occasion. She felt Jock’s hand on her shoulder but shrugged it off, turned her back on him and fell into a deep slumber.

Next morning, she woke at ten o’clock with a splitting headache. No more alcohol for me ever again was her immediate thought. She got out of bed, put on a bathing robe and made herself a cup of coffee. No sign of Jock she thought. He’s either out running or having a gym and swim workout, so I’ll make it up to him in the shower and apologise for being so spiteful with my words. Our first argument and I was out of order, although right with what I said. It was the way that I said it that was wrong.

Mary was on her third cup of coffee when she noticed that the big rucksack had gone. A quick check revealed that all his shaving gear and clothes had also disappeared. Mary felt as though she had been punched. There was no note of explanation to be seen. She dressed quickly and went down to reception but the girl on duty could tell her nothing as she had just started her shift an hour earlier. A quick check at the railway station, bus stop and taxi rank proved equally fruitless.

In despair, she returned to the hotel and spent the rest of the day in the swimming pool and sauna. At the evening meal she sat alone, quite dejected and when other guests asked about Jock, she put on a brave face to say he had been called back on duty.

The next day Mary decided to go skiing herself but because of an unsettled night’s sleep she was tired and did not enjoy it.

On the day of her departure, the weather was inclement so after a stroll around Aviemore she spent the rest of the day at the gym and the pool.

She was glad when she boarded the sleeper train that evening and as the train sped south through the night she lay on her bunk and thought how the holiday had gone from the heaven of pleasure to the hell of despair because of a stupid argument. Mind you, she told herself, it takes two to quarrel.

On arrival in London, she went straight to her office, although she was a day early. She asked if there was a vehicle and driver available but they were not on duty until the next day. The only vehicle to be had was the janitor's small van but he was most willing to drive her any place.

They arrived outside Pirbright Camp at ten o’clock the same morning and Mary spoke to the Guard Commander who informed her that Jock was in close arrest and would be appearing on Commanding Officer's orders very shortly. Under no circumstances could she have a conversation with Jock.

Close to tears, Mary was driven back to London where she was dropped off at her flat. Enquiry revealed that Dusty Miller would be on duty at seven o’clock the following morning.

Next morning, she got up early for work and told Dusty everything that had taken place. He promised to try and find out what had happened. All day at work, no matter how hard she applied to her duties, her mind kept returning to Jock.

Finishing at the office, she took a taxi home and as she entered the building, Dusty Miller ushered her into his office, made her sit down and put a cup of coffee in her hand. “I did what you asked Miss Stuart and don't interrupt me while I tell you all that took place.”

He went on to say, “After Jock came down from Aviemore, he met up with Sergeant Jim Harkness and they went for a drink and a pub meal at The Castle Bar in Windsor. While they were having their meal in the lounge bar, it appears that a fight broke out in the public bar between a crowd of motor cyclists and the bar staff. Two police officers attended and they were assaulted, one severely. A barmaid went into the lounge bar and screamed for assistance. The two guardsmen responded at once and got involved in helping the police officers and the bar staff. By all accounts it was like something out of a Western movie with Jock and Jim standing back-to-back taking on all-comers. When a large police reinforcement arrived, Jim and Jock were arrested, locked up and their respective superiors were informed. All hell was let loose. When Jock and Jim appeared on CO's orders they were reduced to the ranks, fined three months’ wages and given a fourteen-day prison sentence. However, that afternoon a police superintendent arrived at the barracks with a commendation for Jock and Jim. A statement from the bar staff and the two injured police officers praised the two soldiers for their help in preventing a more serious incident taking place and saving the injured from more serious injury or even death. The army doesn’t relish being seen to make mistakes, so Jock and Jim were recalled in front of the commanding officer and promoted in their ranks. Sergeant James Harkness was promoted to drill sergeant at Sandhurst College, which is one of the best posts in the British Army, and Jock was promoted to full sergeant and dispatched to Winter Warfare School in Canada, leaving Brize Norton this morning. As we speak, he should be arriving in the barren wastes of Northern Alberta. This posting earns a lot of money and one can save quite a bit as there is nowhere to spend it. So, if you want to get in touch with Jock, the best way is by letter addressed to The Guards Independent Parachute Company.”

Mary was astounded and, after thanking Dusty for all his help, she went into her flat where she burst into tears.

Lying in bed that night, she resolved to concentrate on her work and her fitness, have a run in the morning and a gym and swim at her club in the evening and avoid alcohol and men at all costs.