***
Sergeant Catherine Wilson was looking tired, thought Major Clayton. Not surprising, really, bearing in mind the hours they were all working. But somehow, she looked - well, more than tired. Almost as if she had been crying, although of course, he knew Sergeants didn’t do that.
Nevertheless, he called her into his office when Marsden and Foley were both out.
“Shut the door,” he said, “and take the weight off your feet.” He motioned her towards a chair. She frowned.
“You look more than usually tired,” he said, “and I just wanted to make sure everything was all right.” Even he thought that he sounded rather more than usually formal, and bit stuffy.
He coughed, awkwardly, and tried again.
“Probably none of my business, but if anything’s wrong and I can help, you only have to say.” He hoped that explained everything.
“I’m quite all right, really,” she said. “Kind of you to ask though, sir.”
“There’s no need to call me ‘sir’ at the moment. This is informal - private, if you like.” He felt awkward again. “It’s just that I didn’t think you looked quite yourself. A bit upset about something, perhaps.”
“I’m quite all right, really,” she said again.
“Well, I just wanted you to know,” he blustered on, “that in spite of everything that’s going on, I can quite easily arrange for you to have a spot of leave, if that helps. If your Mother’s ill, or something.”
“That’s kind of you,” said Wilson, “but I don’t need any leave. I’ll be all right in a day or so.”
“Ah!” said Bill Clayton, “so there is something bothering you then.” He tried not to sound triumphant. “You’re not ill or anything, I hope.”
“No, no. I’m really quite all right,” she replied. “It’s just - well - I may as well tell you. You’ll probably find out anyway. It’s just - well - your friend James Anchor.”
“Ah!” said Bill Clayton again. “You’ve been seeing him a bit lately, he tells me.”
“Just a few times.”
“So what’s happened?”
“Well, I thought we were getting along quite well, and he’s a nice man. I quite liked him.” Her eyes went a bit misty, and Bill could tell she was fighting back tears.
“Go on.”
“So I was a bit surprised - upset, I suppose - when he suddenly announced that he wouldn’t be seeing me again.”
“Ah!” said Bill for the third time.
“He said he was going away for a few weeks.”
“Not been well lately, I heard,” said Bill. For all his strengths, he was not a good liar. “Sick leave, isn’t it?”
“Maybe it is; maybe it isn't,” replied Catherine Wilson. “The fact is he said there was someone else he’d been seeing as well. That’s what upset me a bit.” Misty eyes again.
“You didn’t know,” said Bill. A statement, rather than a question.
“Did you know?” she asked.
“Well, actually, yes, I did. Not that he told me, or anything, you understand, and I haven’t been prying. It’s just that it’s my job to know what’s going on, that’s all. A woman in the Cabinet Office, I think.”
“Oh,” she said quietly. “Now I feel a bit of a fool as well.”
“Not at all; not at all,” he protested. “Fact is, I rather wanted to tell you, but - well - I somehow couldn't bring myself to, if you must know. I had a feeling it would make you unhappy, and I didn’t want to be responsible for doing that.”
“And he’s not really ill either, is he?” she said. Again, rather more of a statement than a question.
“Well, actually no, he isn’t,” said Bill. “And he’s not going away on sick leave, either.”
“Off somewhere with his girlfriend, I suppose,” she said.
“Oh, no. Not that, either. In fact, she won’t be seeing anything of him for weeks - perhaps months - and won’t even know where he is. He’s been acting at being ill, and sick leave is his cover,” explained Clayton.
“Cover for what, may I ask.”
“You may ask,” replied Bill. “And this time I’ll tell you. There’s a political dimension to our Operation Honolulu, which is brought into play if we are successful.”
“Which we are being,” she said.
“Very much so. And James Anchor has a major role to play in planning the political scenario.”
“So where’s he going,” Wilson asked.
“By a stroke of rare American genius, to Honolulu itself,” he explained. “He and many others will be more or less quarantined on the huge USAF air base at Hickham until their planning is complete. Could be weeks, or even months.”
“Thank you for telling me,” responded Catherine Wilson. “I almost feel better already.”
“Nice chap though he is,” said Bill Clayton, feeling a bit red round the gills, “I’m personally rather glad you won’t be seeing him again, if I may say so.”
Before she could ask ‘why’, they heard a door slam down the corridor.
“Twinkle-toes is back,” joked Clayton, relieved.
Catherine Wilson grinned.
“But we do need to talk again soon,” continued Clayton. “After this show is all over, I think we should both move out of Northern Ireland. I’m sure we’ll have had enough of it, by then, - I know I shall, - and it may not be altogether safe to hang around for too long. You’re about due a posting, anyway, and I certainly am. Personally, I wouldn’t mind the Joint Services Signals Unit in Cyprus. The Middle East being what it is these days, it’s a very interesting place to be. And not a bad part of the world. Ayios Nikolaos is in the Troodos Mountains - good skiing, and good beaches not far away. Mercury Barracks themselves aren't bad, either. Why don’t you think about somewhere like that? We’re a good team, and I could probably fix it if you felt like joining me out there.”
“It would certainly be nice to get into some good weather for a change,” said Wilson.
“Well, give it some thought,” said Clayton. “Brian Foley already knows he’s off to Bosnia next, so I don’t need to worry about his future. Just ours.”
Wilson grinned again, and gave him an old fashioned look. Clayton realised what he had said, just as Marsden burst in.
“Not interrupting anything, I hope,” he said. “I’ve been tearing around all over the shop while you two have been sitting here relaxing!”
“As a matter of fact, we have been discussing matters of State, and what happens when all this is over,” explained Clayton. “Postings, and things. But we’ve just about finished now, thanks!”
“Good,” said Marsden. “You should get out of the office more, both of you!” he joked.
“Is that all sir?” Wilson asked Clayton.
“It’ll do for now,” replied Clayton. “The Commander is obviously busting to tell me about his day, so I’ll talk to you again tomorrow.”
“Very good, sir.” Wilson turned, and left the room.
“Good looking girl, for a Sergeant,” said Marsden.