War Torn

Chapter Sixty-nine

DAVE WENT TO 1 SECTION’S TENT TO CLEAR JAMIE’S THINGS AND found Binns and Bacon already hunched over them. Anger rose up inside him as if it had just been waiting for an excuse.‘What the fuck do you two think you’re doing!’They looked up guiltily.‘We’re just sorting something out, Sarge,’ said Binman.‘Sorting what out, exactly?’Streaky was embarrassed: ‘Something we were doing with Jamie, Sarge . . .’Dave could hardly contain his anger. ‘You don’t go through his things! I do that! You’ve got no right to sift through a dead man’s stuff!’Binman looked too shocked to speak. Bacon said: ‘Sarge, we were making a story with Jamie for his kid, see, so his baby wouldn’t forget his voice. And it was almost, almost done. And we wanted his babymother to have it all finished off so . . .’‘See,’ said Binns, ‘we didn’t want it to end suddenly. If it ends nicely his kid can listen to it over and over . . .’‘That’s right, Binman’s right,’ said Streaky. ‘If it’s finished they’ll be able to listen to it and he’ll always have his daddy speaking to him . . .’Dave felt his angry heartbeat slow.‘So, what is this story?’Bacon produced a small digital recorder. He flicked a switch. Suddenly the tent was filled with Jamie’s voice.‘And so the little frog hopped towards the place where he knew his mum and dad were waiting for him and would wait for ever if they had to. Just one more mountain to cross and he would be there.’Dave sat down on the nearest bed and put his head in his hands. Binns did not move. Streaky turned away, his arm across his face as though shielding himself from a blow. There was a long silence.At last Binman said, his voice hoarse: ‘See, we do the sound effects and we thought we could finish it by . . .’‘All right, all right, lads,’ said Dave, getting up. He had to cough to clear his voice and then cough again. ‘You do that. You finish it. I won’t interrupt you. I’ll just take the rest of Jamie’s stuff.’He left the tent as quickly as he could.He wanted somewhere private to open Jamie’s personal things. It was an unpleasant but necessary job to remove any letters from girlfriends or pornography or anything else a bereaved widow might not want to see. Not that there would be anything like that here. Jamie had loved Agnieszka and only Agnieszka.There were letters and photos and a notebook. Dave felt intrusive looking through the notebook. It contained lists and a few sketches: of Luke, of some trees by a river and one of a GPMG. And there was a bit of poetry, love poetry, which he had written or copied from a book.He delved a bit further in the bag and found some more pictures of Agnieszka. And then something small and hard. Another iPod? It felt like a phone but it couldn’t be. He pulled it out. It was. It was a cellphone.Dave was shocked. Someone else must have put it there! Jamie, of all people, would never sneak in something that threatened everyone’s safety. Except here it was.He switched it on.There were messages to Agnieszka and from Agnieszka. The last one had been sent a few days ago.He read: I love another man now.