Declan (3 page)

I’m nearly in the city when the phone rings. I almost ignore it but see Georgia’s name on the display so hit the hands free button.

“Hey, Georgia. How’s our guy?” I try to sound cheerful for her sake.

“Not good, Declan. That’s why I’m calling.” She sounds like she’s about to break into tears. “I let slip you guys were coming over when we get home and he went off on one.” She pauses and I’m sure I hear her holding back a sob. This is the side we never think about when we’re on tour. The family back home, and how it affects them. I guess we have to be fairly selfish to do the job we do. It’s only now that one of us has been seriously injured that I’m seeing it.

“He… he said you can’t come round.” It’s obvious she’s embarrassed telling me this.

“It’s okay, we’ll give him some time, let him settle in.” I offer. “Just let us know how he’s doing and we’ll sort out another time to come see him.”

“You sure?” She sounds so relieved. I can’t imagine the pressure she’s been under. Max isn’t the easiest guy to get on with when he’s fit and well, I can’t imagine what it’s like for her now he’s incapacitated.

“Course. I’ll let the guys know. I’m almost in the city now anyway so I’ll just meet up for a drink with them instead.”

“Thanks, Declan.” Her voice is a little calmer now that the pressure of our visit is off the horizon.

“Promise you’ll let me know if you need anything?” I tell her.

“I promise, and thank you Declan.” Before I can reply the phone has gone dead.

Part of me is pissed off at the wasted journey, but I suppose it gives me chance to restock the booze cupboard if nothing else. I’m not sure I’m happy about meeting up with the guys, which is scary. They’re like brothers to me. I just can’t face them truth be told.

For fucks sake, I’m in the SAS, I can face terrorists, war zones, and a gun in my face. I need to man the fuck up here and get on with it. It’s probably going to be like most things in life, a damn site easier than you anticipate. All too often we build up scenarios in our head, make them into some big thing that stop us doing things or moving forward out of fear, when in reality there’s nothing to be worried about at all.

I hit the speed dial on the phone for Cameron. He can tell the rest of the guys. The whole conversation I find myself second-guessing him, is that a different tone I hear in his voice? Is he really as pleased to hear from me as he sounds? I’m imagining things that aren’t there I’m sure. Fuck, I’m seeing things that aren’t there and hearing things that don’t exist all the time. Every corner I turn, every shadow I see out of the corner of my eye takes me back there.

I can finally see the sea ahead of me. I’ve got an hour before we’ve arranged to meet up. I prescribe myself some time on the beach, maybe if I walk through the surf it will help remind me that I’m back home, away from that hell hole.

I indicate to move into the lane for the coastal road, winding the window down and turning the air con off. I can taste the tang of the salt from the ocean. I am home, I can feel it, I just wish my brain would accept it.

The walk on the beach was just what I needed. I’ve stopped second guessing the conversation with Cameron and tried thinking about what my Gran said this morning. I’m no closer to a solution other than knowing she’s right. I’ve got to start living again.

The bar is crowded and noisy when I arrive, most of the noise coming from a table in the far corner. As I suspect that’s the table full of my guys. As nervous as I was about meeting them a huge grin breaks out on my face when I see them. Cameron stands when he sees me, shouting and gesturing me over to their table. As if I’d have missed them with the noise they’re making. They all seem to be in good spirits, no one gives me any indication that our friendship has changed in any way, just the opposite. I’m greeted as warmly as ever. Cameron even tells me how much he’s missed me.

Looking at the guys you can’t tell that just a short time ago we were all in a war zone, trapped in a vehicle that had been blown up. They all look carefree and untroubled. I don’t understand why they look so normal and I feel so far from it.

Jacko is moaning about having to enrol back in college to complete his veterinary training. He’s found a job as an assistant at a practice in Perth and they’re sponsoring him becoming qualified. He’s also found a hot vet nurse that he’s spending a lot of time with from the sounds of it.

Cameron is on a self confessed holiday. Like me he doesn’t know what he wants to do, he just wants to kick back for a few months and see what takes his fancy.

Luke is still the silent, brooding one. With his sniper skills I wouldn’t be surprised if he signed up for private security work, but when Cameron suggests it he quickly shoots the idea down.

“I’ve had enough of that life for now. I think I may go into property renovation instead.” He tells us. That surprises us all, but then he has always been a pretty good handyman, always fixing the broken kit and equipment without complaint. He goes onto explain that he’s been saving his cash and found a property he’d like to buy and renovate. He can do most of the work himself, and just hire in the trades as he needs them.

“Sounds good.” Cameron smiles. “Me and Declan can help you if you want?” The bloody git has a habit of volunteering me for things without asking, yet I don’t correct him. A bit of good, hard manual labour might be just what I need right now. At least if I’m busy grafting I won’t have time to think and sink back into that dark place I’ve been in.

Conversation turns to Max. None of us has been able to see him since we got back from Afghanistan. He’s found excuse after excuse to keep us away. I know that he’s still at risk of losing his leg, and that his hope of going back for another tour have been dashed, but I’m surprised at the way he’s keeping us all at arms length.

“I’ll give him a couple of days to settle in at home, then I’m going round there, invited or not.” I tell the guys.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Cameron offers.

“Not this time. Let me see how the land lies first. I don’t want to scare him off.” I suggest. I don’t know what’s wrong with Max, but I do sense that I have to handle him carefully. Fuck – I’ve come home messed up to shit mentally and I haven’t got the injuries that he’s got.

We spend the rest of the afternoon drinking, reminiscing and singing. By the time we’re kicked out at closing none of us can walk in a straight line so we all head back to Cameron’s and crash on his floor.

For an afternoon I’ve managed to forget my fears and worries thanks to good friends and alcohol, but I’ve got to be careful, I can’t use alcohol as a crutch any longer. I know I need help, but I’m not sure that I’m strong enough to ask for it.

For the first time in my life I feel weak.

I’ve given Max the week I promised, it seems fitting somehow as it’s the same week that Gran has allowed me. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what I want to do and am no wiser, so Cam and I are going to go help Luke work on his renovation project. I figure some good hard labour will do me good. I’ve tried to help out on the farm this week, but I’m surplus to requirements. They farm hands have a routine and they like to stick to it. There’s not even any maintenance for me to do, Gran runs a tight ship. She seems happy though that at least I have an interim plan, something to keep me busy and stop me brooding as she calls it.

I’ve spent most of the week tinkering with my bike, changing the oil, checking the battery charge level, the electrics and making sure there’s enough air in the tyres. It’s not got enough mileage on it yet to have any concerns. I’ve barely put 1000 kilometres on it since I brought it home from the showroom.

It’s a Triumph Tiger XC SE 800, built a little like the Nary in that it can handle off road with ease, but a damn sight better looking and a lot more fun. I’ve decided to take the bike today, it’s only an hour to where Max lives in Rockingham from here, at least it is the way I ride and I’ve missed the feel of being out there on two wheels.

The ride passes by too quickly; I’ve missed being out on the bike. Max lives near the shopping centre rather than on the coast road. They bought this place because it was close to a good school and they were thinking ahead. It’s a little too suburban after Harvey. Then again coming from a place with only just over 5000 residents to one that’s twenty times bigger will always be a bit too much for me. I bring the bike to a stop under the carport and pull of my helmet. I can hear the muffled sounds of an argument coming from in the house. Great. Just what I needed to walk into.

“Whoever it is tell them to fuck off.” Max’s voice rises above the buzz of the air con extractor, clearly audible through the solid wood front door. I ring the bell anyway.

The click of heels on the tiled hallway lets me know that it’s probably Georgia who’s coming to greet me. I’m a little shocked when she opens the door; she looks to have aged years since I last saw her. Her short hair looks lank and un-brushed, which is something I’ve never seen. Georgia always has been shit hot about taking care of her appearance. She has dark circles under her eyes, and if I’m not mistaken the shadow of a bruise around her eye which she’s tried to disguise with makeup.

“Hi, Declan.” There’s little warmth in her greeting. She pauses to check over her shoulder. “It’s not a good time right now.” She explains apologetically.

“I said tell them to fuck off.” Max shouts again from the lounge. Georgia draws in a breath as though to steel herself.

“But it’s Declan.” She answers back cheerfully. “Surely you want to see him?” She sounds defeated. I don’t give Max chance to answer as I gently push Georgia aside and head into the lounge.

Max, to put it simply, looks like shit. He’s unshaven, there are food stains on his t-shirt that is hanging too loose on him, and you can barely see his leg for the metal framework full of screws that are holding it together. The wounds around the screws look red and angry and his leg is grey against the coffee table that he has it propped up on. He gives me a dirty look as I get closer.

“I said fuck off. I don’t want visitors.” Max mutters, taking another mouthful from the neck of the bottle of whisky clutched in his hand. It’s only ten am and he’s already three sheets to the wind. I look around for Georgia expecting her to have followed me into the room, but there’s no sign of her.

“Well I’m here now so I might as well stay.” I grin at Max. It’s not returned. Instead I receive a steely and very unfriendly glare. It’s like I’m looking into the eyes of a stranger. I know Max can be a moody bugger, but this is different. I know I’m hardly one to say anything as I was in my own whisky stupor last week, but this isn’t good. “I’ll go round up some coffee for us.” I offer, heading off to the kitchen. I’ve been here enough times to know the layout of the place. As I pass the study I see it’s been converted to a makeshift bedroom, knowing Max as I do he’ll hate that.

Georgia is sitting at the kitchen worktop, her head in her hands and crying silent tears. She flinches when I put my hand on her arm to get her attention. Confused I lift the arm of her t-shirt a little to find a livid purple bruise in the shape of a hand.

“Don’t judge him.” She whispers. “He’s just having a hard time.” She pleads. I ball my hands into fists at the sight of the bruises.

“I don’t care how fucking hard a time he’s having.” I growl. “That doesn’t give him the right to hurt you. Why didn’t you tell me?” I obviously raise my voice a little too much as she flinches back from me. “I’m sorry, Georgia, but I thought we were friends. You should have called me.” I want to pull her into my arms and comfort her, but the way she’s holding herself tells me that wouldn’t be a good idea. I suspect the bruises on her arms aren’t the only ones.

She moves slowly, and I can now see painfully, across the kitchen to fill the coffee maker. Gently I take it from her, gesturing for her to return to her seat at the counter. Whilst I’m prepping the coffee I ask her what the hell’s been happening.

“He’s in so much pain, the pain meds aren’t helping, and they’re still not sure he’ll be able to keep his leg.” Her shoulders sag even further. “We’re going to have to sell the house, they’ve told him even if he does keep his leg he’ll never be able to handle the stairs properly and he refuses to get a stair lift.” She looks around the kitchen. This house was her pride and joy, her dream home. Now she’s going to lose it.

“Surely there’s something they can do?” Even as I say the words, I know there obviously isn’t. The Army has the best doctors, if they say it can’t be fixed, then it can’t.

“He’s got an appointment with the surgeon tomorrow, they’re making the decision then, but it’s not looking good. It’s not healing properly.” She’s wringing a washcloth in her hands and it’s almost in shreds from the way that she’s worrying at it.

“What can I do?” I offer. “What can the guys do?”

“There’s nothing you can do.” She replies helplessly. “You can’t go back and undo that day. You can’t give him his job back.” She pauses as she draws in another sob. “He says he wishes he was dead.”

How can I judge my friend? I was in a bad place last week and had none of the troubles that he has. I was so lost in a bottle I barely knew what day of the week it was. Part of me is angry though; he has Georgia. He has a wife who loves him. That hasn’t changed. He needs to be there for her as well. I guess that’s part of Army life though, we become selfish, leaving those we love behind for months at a time and only focussing on us, our survival for that time. If we didn’t we wouldn’t make it through the tour. You can’t just switch that off when you come home. I wish we could.

The coffee brewed I leave a mug in front of Georgia and make my way back into the lounge. Max looks at me in disgust when I pass him the coffee, but he takes it anyway, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a coloured pill that he swallows with a mouthful of the hot drink.

“What’s that?” I ask, curious, as it doesn’t look like any of the pain meds I’m used to seeing.

“None of your fucking business.” He grunts in reply. I give him a sharp look. Max has never spoken to me like that before. Discipline is drilled into us, and no matter how angry, you never speak to a commanding officer in that tone.

“Don’t look at me like that, we’re not in the fucking Army anymore.” He tells me petulantly.

“I don’t give a shit, Max. What the fuck is up with you? Why are you hitting Georgia?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

“I didn’t invite you here, I don’t want you here, and what I do or don’t do is none of your fucking business anymore, Declan. So finish your coffee and fuck off. You’re not wanted here.”

I’ve seen enough for today, staying here isn’t going to help anything so I return to the kitchen where I tell Georgia goodbye, and make her promise to call me if she needs me. She nods her head in agreement, but I know it’s a false promise.

I need to call Cam and the guys and find out what we can do to help Max. I don’t know where to start, I can barely help myself, but I’ve got to do something. He’s our brother, and you never leave a man behind.