A Christmas Wish by Amanda Prowse Page B

National Geographic , when one breaks a leg and the other feels the pain even though they are hundreds of miles apart. Poppy thought it might have been like that, but it hadn’t. She hadn’t felt a thing. Instead, she’d been perusing the three-for -two offers, trying to choose between pepperoni and Hawaiian, while her man was being killed, going missing.
    â€˜What was he doing in that Helmans province, or whatever it’s called? I thought he wouldn’t be in any danger.’
    The major piped up, ‘You should be very proud of him, Poppy. He had been selected to aide an American patrol as part of a special task force.’
    She looked at him long and hard. Her thoughts went briefly to what her husband had put up with every day of his childhood , how he had joined up to give them a better life.
    When they were little, Martin would knock for Poppy after school and the two would head to the Recreation Area, a rather grand term applied to the dilapidated swings in the central courtyard next to the car park. There, they invented games like collecting a stick off the floor while swinging, or daring each other to shout things out. It used to feel really brave when it was cold, dark and everyone else was inside safe and warm, having their tea. They would take it in turns to shout out ‘BUM!’ louder and louder until someone would hang over a balcony and tell them to ‘Shut it!’ That used to make them laugh even more. Poppy’s mum never came to check that she was OK, if she was warm enough, where she was or who she was with. Sometimes it got really late, but still she never appeared. Martin’s mum never came to find him either, she probably thought he was safer out on the streets, taking his chances with the paedophiles and pushers than he was in his own house.
    Poppy and Martin thought about it sometimes and agreed that if they had a little girl, or a little boy for that matter, theywouldn’t let them wander about with no idea of where they were for hours on end. They would instead have them safe by their side or they’d be outside with them, teaching them the pick up the stick or the shout out ‘bum’ game.
    â€˜Oh I am proud of him, very proud, but not because he was helping some Americans doing God knows what, God knows where. And what do you mean special task force? He only finished his training five minutes ago!’
    Major Helm smiled, but kept his eyes downcast, making it hard for Poppy to read his expression. ‘They only select the best. He was a very good soldier, Poppy.’
    â€˜Was? So you think he’s dead too?’
    â€˜No… I… Is… He is a good soldier.’ He was scarlet.
    Poppy didn’t wait for the major to start uttering further clichés. ‘I haven’t got any more questions right now.’ Her voice sounded sharper than intended, like she was conducting an interview and didn’t know how to wrap it up. It was her polite way of saying go. Please go now. She wanted to be by herself; well, she did and she didn’t.
    The silent tableau was fractured as Poppy leapt from the sofa, alerted by the acrid scent of burning. ‘Oh shit!’ She ran into the kitchen. Pulling the grill pan from the cooker, she watched the tray and its blackened content clatter into the water-filled sink and then, almost instantly, was sick on the floor, retching until her gut was empty.
    Sergeant Gisby’s voice came from the doorway, ‘Can I call anyone for you, Poppy? Is there someone that can come and sit with you?’
    Poppy shook her head, no on both counts. She remained at a right angle, trying to free strands of hair that were glued to her face with vomit. There was only one person she wanted and he was missing, probably dead, in some dusty landscape on the other side of the world. ‘I don’t even know what he is doing outthere. It’s so far away.’ She addressed the black and white chequered