The Songbird and the Soldier

The Songbird and the Soldier by Wendy Lou Jones Page B

Book: The Songbird and the Soldier by Wendy Lou Jones Read Free Book Online
Authors: Wendy Lou Jones
“I’m sorry; I talk when I’m nervous.”
    “I noticed.” Andy smiled and let his hand fall away. Sam smiled back awkwardly. “Come on, let’s get that tea poured. I’m parched.” He helped Sam with the drinks and the two of them walked into the living room.
    “I’m afraid there isn’t much to sit on yet,” she said. “I’ve only been in a couple of weeks. Do you want the futon or the beanbag?”
    “The futon, I think,” he said.
    They sat down on the shabby old futon facing each other and started to talk and Humphrey settled down at Sam’s feet.
    They were still talking when Sam became aware of Andy’s stomach rumbling. Sam looked at her watch. “God, it’s gone five, you must be starving.”
    “What about you?” he said. “Your stomach’s been gurgling for hours.”
    “Has it?” she asked. “I hadn’t noticed. I’ll have to find you something to eat before you waste away. I’m afraid it might have to be a bit creative; there isn’t much in the house. I hope that’s all right?”
    “No,” Andy said. “It’s not all right. I’m taking you out. I can’t have you scurrying around waiting on me when I’ve turned up two days early. No, come on, we’re going out. What do you fancy?”
    “I thought you were dying for fish and chips?” she said.
    “Yes, I was, but don’t worry, I had that on my first night back at Mum and Dad’s. It was the highlight of my visit there.”
    Sam gave him a chiding look.
    “I don’t mean it… much.”
    They caught the bus to the other side of town, to a little pub called The Dog and Duck. It was a quiet pub with a nice garden and good food, and there they talked some more. When the night’s chill settled in, they went inside to a settee by an unlit fire and ordered another drink.
    Little intimacies punctuated the conversation, like the touch of a hand, or one limb resting against another. Before Sam knew it, time had been called at the bar. She looked at her watch. “Good grief, we’d better get going if we’re not going to miss the last bus.”
    On the way back to the bus stop, Andy reached for her hand and Sam gave it willingly. But when they arrived home, Sam began to talk faster again. She rabbited on about where they’d been and what Andy had been used to eating, while making them some more tea.
    “Thank you for tonight,” Andy said from his perch beside the door. Sam stopped and looked at him, her nerves jangling.
    “I’ll crash out on the futon, if that’s all right with Humph?” he said. “You wouldn’t happen to have a spare blanket or something, would you?”
    Sam snapped into action. “Yes, of course. I’ll get you some things.”
    Andy picked up her cup and handed it to her. “In a bit.”
    They finished their tea and Andy looked at her. “You look tired; beautiful, but tired. Perhaps we should hit the sack?” He took her cup and washed them both up. Then he walked out to get something from his bag in the hallway and came back in with a toothbrush, toothpaste and a small towel.
    Sam locked up the house and nervously led the way upstairs. She found a spare pillow and a big blue blanket in a box in the study and took a sheet out of the drawer in her bedroom. She handed them over apologetically. “Are you sure you’ll be all right on that old thing?” she asked.
    “Absolutely fine. Don’t worry about me. I can sleep on anything. I told you in my letter, didn’t I?” He rested the bedding on the banister rail of the landing and went into the bathroom.
    Sam walked into her bedroom and shut the door. Frantically, she got ready for bed. She waited until she heard the bathroom door open and then went out. It was a warm night, so Sam was wearing her short, white, cotton pyjamas and her hair was loose.
    Andy stopped and looked at her. He took a deep breath. “Goodnight, Sam,” he said. Their gazes held each other for a moment, Sam’s heartbeat pounded in her head. Then he turned and walked away down the stairs.
    Sam watched

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