The Wait of the Soul

Part 19

Adam sat perched on the roof of the laundry block lifts. It was the highest spot he could find. Not as high as once he would have chosen, but it would suffice.

He wore a borrowed coat pulled about him against the cold wind. The thin stuff of it was warmer than he imagined it would be.

More marvels, he thought drearily.

In truth, the 'marvels' palled now. Things moved more rapidly, 'twas sure, but life was still clogged with missed opportunities and broken dreams. Machines made machines that made the goods of life, but this left men without ways to earn their bread. So now, those men served the machines.
A pretty turn-a-round if you please.

Remedies were available to cure most of the ills known in his own time, but now new infirmities occurred that could not be healed by old means. Sums of money that went beyond his comprehension were spent to discover cures for these new illnesses. There seemed no end to it.

The methods and compounds changed, but all else endured.

He pulled a creased envelope from the borrowed pocket, turning it idly in his hand.

All his hope lay in his love for Arlette, the life they might have together. And all could be dashed by the same man who had dripped poison into that love so long ago.

How could this happen even now?

'Cos you let him in. You're a soldier, remember the rules, identify the threat, mark its strengths and weaknesses. Exploit both and make safe. Straightforward textbook stuff.
The old Adam still offered advice.

Make safe the cursed fiend? He is dead; I cannot make him more dead! Understand this; there is no equation, no formula that will see him gone. He wants life.

Adams's eyes wandered up to watch the crisscrossing of vapour trails above his head.

He drew the letter from its home, unfolded it and reread its contents.

It seemed Sergeant Adam Bourne was ordered to a Rest and Recuperation Centre in Norfolk. He was to make himself ready for 15.00 hours Tuesday...

Looks like Her Majesty wants me back!

###

"Robert, I want to meet my great-granddaughter and her mother." Lady Locke's soft tone belied the steel she was constructed of. "Tomorrow afternoon, we can have tea. Cook can make those ginger things you're so fond of."

Rob worried at a hangnail on his thumb. "Not too sure about tomorrow Grams, I'll have to talk to Letty first. I can't..."

"Tomorrow Robert, four o'clock. You can show her around the gatehouse, see if she thinks it's suitable."

Christ, how was he going to get Letty to agree to this? He needed more time to work on her.

###

The dreams were coming thick and fast now, and not just when she was asleep. Finding herself standing outside the main entrance of ENT with no idea how she got there was bad enough, but thinking she was waiting for the sound of a horse and rider, was worse. She had looked around convinced her husband was coming home. She must wait, tell him her news...

Letty pulled herself together, went back to A and E and finished her shift, trying not to think about the images in her head.

Avoiding Adam was a problem. She ached to see him, but daren't. It was all connected with him, though her dreams only showed her the wiry young man with eyes that begged her to remember.

Then there was the uneasy feeling she had in her own home now. Every time she turned, she expected to see that grey offensive mist.

It was getting ridiculous.