We found a table in an old neglected pub. A handful of locals crowded around the bar. The landlady, brisk and efficient, lacked charm, but in the absence of music or slot machines, it was quiet, and so for me an easy choice.
‘The corporal, he’s out to get you,’ said Adrian, draining half his pint in one long glug. His glass returned to the table with a click.
I turned my full glass between my fingers on the scratched wooden table. ‘It’s normal, I bet there’s always one he singles out. It’s psychological.’
Adrian drank the remainder of his pint and then belched.
‘It makes the whole company work harder,’ I added.
‘I think it’s because you’re a Paki.’
I shook my head. I put my glass to my lips and tried to drink as much of it as I could in one go. It rose quickly up my throat and behind my nose, stinging where the gas had earlier, and I put it down.
‘As far as he’s concerned it’s his army,’ said Adrian. ‘He’s just like my dad. Why does every fucker think he owns England?’ He stood up. ‘Another? Or shall we go?’
‘Steady, we’ve got all night.’
‘Yeah, but we’ve got to get in the mood.’ Adrian did a little bicycle motion with his arms. As he loomed over me across the table, his number one haircut made him look like his dad.
‘If I have to fight him I’ve got a secret weapon,’ I said.
He put down his empty glass and looked at me. ‘Dax?’
I shook my head. ‘You, you cunt. You’d jump in if he was killing me!’
‘Won’t need to. Throat. Just remember one word: throat.’
In the next pub there was nowhere left to sit, but we found space by the bar and leant against it. I looked around for black faces but saw none. A troop of squaddies at the far end were raucously singing an army song, and girls dressed in tight, brightly coloured frocks were sitting at a bench against the rear wall, looking on bemused. Sergeants or sergeant majors, distinguishable from the men by their age and handlebar moustaches, drank quietly with their wives.
‘We should chat up some girls,’ said Adrian, shouting to be heard over the din of conversation and music. I looked around. There were boys with girls, girls with girls, many in groups, some laughing, some leaning into each other in conspiratorial conversation. A clutch of the girls were dancing on the spot, their wine glasses swaying carelessly, while men looked on. It was difficult to tell who was with whom.
Adrian kept his eyes on the entrance. After some time, two girls walked in and stood by the door, scanning the room as though wondering whether to come in further.
‘Dare you,’ said Adrian, staring at the girls. Before I could answer he was making his way towards them. I could only follow.
‘Hey,’ he said, ‘I’d love to buy you a drink. Let me guess, wine? White wine?’
The girls looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders, but they didn’t say no. Not waiting for a refusal, Adrian headed to the bar, leaving me with them.
‘Hello.’ I extended a hand. ‘I’m Akram, we’re recruits at—’
‘You look like it,’ one of the girls said.
‘We’re not desperate, you know,’ said the other.
I offered my best smile. ‘I’m harmless,’ I looked over one shoulder, ‘but my mate, I can’t vouch for him.’
They laughed and introduced themselves as Wendy and Dawn. They seemed surprised when I again offered to shake hands. Wendy was blonde and taller than her friend, with a thin face. She wore a short yellow skirt and cropped red top. As though in deliberate contrast, Dawn had short dark hair and wore a plain green dress that covered her arms and buttoned to the neck. She had small eyes and a freckled button nose that made her look the friendlier of the two. Unsure what to say, I shuffled awkwardly on my feet, and put away my unshaken hand. Hoping that Adrian would be back quickly, I glanced over at the bar and spotted him waiting to be served.
Dawn bent towards me to make sure she was heard. ‘What’s it like?’ The soft satin of her sleeve brushed lightly against the back of my hand, and the scent of her perfume lingered around me.
I shrugged my shoulders. Catching myself in a mirror fixed to the wall, I straightened. ‘I was gassed at thirteen hundred hours.’
Wendy and Dawn looked at each other and giggled. ‘Your friend, him too?’ asked Wendy.
I nodded. ‘But I was in for a minute longer.’
‘Was it a competition?’ said Wendy, laughing.
I shook my head. ‘I got singled out.’
Dawn leant in and briefly clutched my wrist. ‘You be careful, this here is Yorkshire.’
I was startled to be touched by a girl. Although she held my arm for only a second, it had left a faint tingling sensation. I nodded. ‘It’s beautiful, what I’ve seen of it, and posh.’
‘Posh?’ The girls looked at each other again and laughed.
‘You haven’t seen where we’re from,’ I said.
Adrian returned from the bar balancing drinks on a tray. ‘What was that?’ He dispensed the drinks and stowed the tray on the floor against the wall.
‘Your friend Akram was telling us where you’re from,’ said Wendy.
‘Least said,’ he said.
‘Where’s Ripon in relation to here?’ I asked, changing the subject. ‘A friend once told me it was the best place in England.’
‘What was your friend doing up here?’ said Dawn.
‘He was fairground,’ I said.
‘Cogger’s Funfair. Next to the fête it’s about the most exciting thing that happens around here,’ said Wendy drily. ‘Stays for a fortnight.’ She turned to her friend. ‘Camps on Burnham’s fields.’ Dawn nodded.
‘That’s it!’ I cried excitedly. ‘Dax Cogger.’
‘Well, if you want to see Dax I expect Cogger’s Funfair will be Yorkshire-based about now,’ said Dawn.
Adrian opened his mouth to say something. I silenced him with a glance and said to Dawn, ‘How would I get there?’
‘She’ll take you,’ said Wendy, nudging Dawn with her elbow. ‘Won’t you, love?’
Dawn looked at her friend and blushed. She turned to me and smiled nervously. I felt myself redden too.
‘He’s free Sunday,’ said Adrian.
‘Go on,’ said Wendy to her friend.
‘Just the two of us?’ said Dawn, looking put upon. ‘This weekend?’
The girls finished their drinks and left soon after, saying they had to meet friends. Dawn gave me her mother’s telephone number on a slip of paper, in case I was put on a charge and prevented from going. It seemed quite a precise thing to do and I wondered if she had previously known a recruit, perhaps a former boyfriend. She said she’d borrow her mother’s car and agreed to pick me up outside barracks on Sunday at noon.
‘You got a date,’ said Adrian, breaking the silence that fell upon their departure, ‘and she drives a motor.’
‘It was when she mentioned the field. Dax was mad about this girl whose dad owned the field. I just want to go, see the field and that. It seems right.’
Adrian shook his head. ‘You’d better do that for me when I’m gone.’
‘I’ll pay homage to Old Hill tower blocks,’ I said.
‘I hope I’ll have staked a claim somewhere better by then.’
‘Trick is,’ I said, ‘never to go backwards.’
After we’d had a few more drinks, each one at a different pub, last orders were rung. Not wanting to join one of the queues outside the many nightclubs, lines of rowdy squaddies with disappointingly few girls breaking up their number, we flagged down a taxi and rode through the dark rural night back to the Navy, Army and Air Force Institute on base. Like prisoners, we had been allowed into the NAAFI only once previously, to purchase sweets, chocolates and, for those who wanted them, telephone cards and cigarettes. There might be army girls at the NAAFI; if not, at least it had a late licence and the beer was cheap.