Ron took Fudaki, Rumiko and Ishi to Heathrow the next morning. At departures, Rumiko held Ishi's hand out and helped her wave goodbye to Ron. Ron waved back. Fudaki shook his hand warmly as they went into the terminal. Ron had liked Fudaki. He hadn't connected much to Rumiko because of the language barrier, but he thought the world of Ishi. He was sorry to see them go, even if the shopping had been an ordeal.
Toby needed him to mind three Russian gentlemen who were coming over in a few days. He'd described them as 'rogues.' They would be staying in Belgravia. Toby said that instead of protecting the Russians, Ron's job would more likely be to protect the population of London from them. Toby said he knew someone who would rent Ron's flat if he did decide to sublet it. It was someone who Toby had been at school with.
Ron spoke to Vicky on the phone. He asked if he could move some stuff in and she said he could. He went back to his flat and changed. He started filling holdalls with clothes. He took some books and a lamp from his bedroom. He had a photo of his sister, her husband and his niece, and one of him with his platoon at the Forward Operating Base in Afghanistan. He packed the photos carefully. The room at Vicky's just had a bed in it. He carried the oak cabinet from his bedroom down the stairs. It was awkward to carry it by himself. He was able to lean the back seats of his car forward and he put the cabinet in the boot resting on them. Toby rang him just as he got in the car. He'd spoken to his friend and he wanted to know how soon Ron's flat would be available. Ron said he needed a couple to days.
Vicky gave him a big hug. She seemed genuinely pleased that he was moving in. He told her he would bring more stuff over the next couple of days, then would move in properly. Ron got the cabinet and the holdalls in and started arranging things. He thought he could make the room cosy. Vicky was wearing grey tracksuit bottoms and a baggy t-shirt but Ron still thought she looked sensational. Every time he saw her it seemed like her breasts had grown.
***
Ron took Marie to a hotel in Earls Court in the evening. The hotel was nothing special. He went in first and sat in the hotel bar. She walked in a couple of minutes afterwards, walked past the lobby and got in a lift. The customer was in a room on the fourth floor. He'd asked for Marie to wear lingerie and a dress. There was a football match on the television in the bar. It was another European game. Ron drank orange juice and watched it. He'd brought a book but watched the football instead of reading it. Marie texted him to say that she was in with the customer, she had the money and there were no problems.
The time seemed to go quite quickly. Marie texted him that she was finished. He drank the juice in his glass and walked out. He was parked around the corner, so he waited on the corner. Marie came out, saw him and walked over. She'd taken her stockings off at some point. They walked to his car and got in.
'All good?' asked Ron.
'All good,' said Marie.
'What was he like?' asked Ron.
'He was German. He couldn't speak much English. He was nice enough though, a bit old,' said Marie.
They drove in silence. The traffic was light until they got towards Westminster Bridge. Big Ben was covered in scaffolding. There seemed to be a lot of people on the streets around the exits from the tube station. It took a while to get over the bridge. They were soon driving through Lambeth, towards the Imperial War museum. Ron had to stop quickly when he realised traffic lights in front would go red before he got to them. He apologised to Marie. He suddenly realised he didn't feel right.
He felt himself shaking. As the light went amber and he pulled away, he felt like his body was sinking, like his centre of gravity was sinking down to the bottom of the car. He pressed too heavily on the pedal and the car revved loudly. He felt himself urinate. It felt warm against the inside of his legs as it came out. He pulled over to the side of the road without indicating. The driver of the car behind beeped his horn loudly. That car also pulled over, perhaps thirty yards ahead. The driver got out. It was a young man. He walked aggressively towards Ron's car. Ron got out and walked towards him. The young man saw Ron. He saw how big Ron was and saw the look on Ron's face. Ron saw him look downwards. Ron looked down at his body and realised that his trousers were stained darkly by his urine. The young man looked wide-eyed at him. He held his palms out, arms extended in front of him. He started to back away. After a few paces of walking backwards he turned and ran to his car. He got in his car, indicated, and drove off quickly when there was a gap in the traffic.
Ron thought about walking home, leaving Marie in his car rather than go back and have to face her, then he felt her hands on his arm and on his back. He hadn't heard her get out. She gently tugged at him, pulling him back towards the car. She'd turned his hazard lights on. He was parked at an odd angle; the rear of his car jutted outwards and cars were having to steer slightly to their right to go around. Marie asked him if he wanted her to drive them and he said no.
They got back in the car. Ron sat in the driver's seat. He stared straight forward. He wasn't going to look at her. She put her hand on his shoulder and rubbed his shoulder softly and it felt absolutely, utterly wonderful to him but he shifted his weight away from her and brushed her hand away. They sat in silence for a few seconds, until Marie started to say something. She started to say his name, and he put his head in his hands. He closed his eyes and felt his hands and fingers around his face and around his eyes like a shield, like armour.
He heard her moving. He didn't look. He felt her. She was contorting herself in the confines of the front of the car. She sat on his lap, across his lap. He was conscious that his lap was wet. Her back was to the driver's side window. She put her arms around his neck. With one hand she caressed the back of his head, then she gently touched the backs of his fingers with hers. She kissed the backs of his fingers very softly and started to pull his fingers away from his face. He let her take his hands away. He kept his eyes closed. She held the far side of his face in the palm of her right hand, and she kissed the side of his face nearest to her. It was a soft, lingering kiss. She kept kissing him like that. They stayed there exactly like that, Marie sat on his lap and kissing his cheek.
***
When they got to Marie's building. He walked her up to her flat. He knew his trousers were visibly stained, but he was going to walk her to her door. They didn't say anything to each other. She put the key in her lock and as the door opened, she turned to say something, she started to say his name again and reached out to touch him. He turned and walked away from her. He heard her door close.
When he got back to his flat, he put his trousers and underwear in the bin in his kitchen. He took a shower, then got the plastic washing up basin from his kitchen sink, filled it with soapy water and went down and scrubbed at the driver's seat and at the floor of his car. He kept going for a long time. After that he went inside, brushed his teeth then lay awake in bed for hours.
***
Ron eventually got to sleep. He got up late. He went for a run and pushed himself hard. He knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on reading, so he went out. He got the tube to the west end. He thought he'd do some clothes shopping. Thoughts about the night before kept coming into his head and he pushed them away, out of his consciousness. In Afghanistan, they'd found out that an officer in the Parachute Regiment, who Ron knew very well, had been hit when a British Apache helicopter gunship had made a mistake and fired at friendly positions. The officer lost his right arm and his left leg, but initially it had been touch and go whether he would survive. Ron had done the same thing then; he'd occupied himself and pushed the thoughts away.
He needed new trousers after he'd ruined the pair from the previous night. It occurred to him that money was building up in his bank account. He had his army pension and now the income from two jobs, one of which was cash in hand. He was about to get the money from sub-letting his flat. Ron lived a spartan existence. His biggest extravagances were his season ticket at the football and the odd bottle of whiskey. He genuinely didn't know what he was going to do with the money he was going to have coming in.
Ron decided that rather than just buy new trousers, he'd get himself a whole new suit. He took the Bakerloo line planning to get off at Piccadilly and walk to Oxford Street. Sat on the tube train, his brain kept trying to go back to the night before, when he'd pissed his trousers in front of a beautiful woman that he was in love with.
It had last happened a few months ago. He was sat waiting for a train at Euston station. He was going to watch Millwall play against a northern club. The doors on a train on a nearby platform had surprised him, they'd been banging very loudly, and it had obviously touched something off. He'd gone home. He'd felt sorry for anyone who unwittingly sat in the seat, and for the staff member who would have to clean it. He hadn't felt good on his way back to Elephant and he hadn't gone outside for a few days afterwards.
When he'd started seeing Marie and Dr Smith-Crowden he'd thought, right, I'm getting some help now, it probably won't happen again. Then it happened. It was the fourth time. It was always very bad, but to do it in front of Marie was the worst-case scenario. He loved her; he knew he did. If any individual he had served with in the army ever knew that he felt like this about a woman, he expected that they would piss themselves laughing until they died of dehydration, but it was the simple truth. He loved Marie with everything he had, and he'd wet himself in front of her. He didn't think she'd ever be able to respect him, and he didn't think she could see him as a man.
He couldn't stop working for Katie because someone might try and hurt Marie and he needed to be there.
He stopped himself thinking from about it. He took his book out. He knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on the text but there were pages of photos in the middle of the book and he looked at them. The book was about a battle between Russian and German troops in the second world war. There were photos of the battlefield and of people involved.
Ron came out of Piccadilly underground station on the North side and swore. He had to wait for the lights to cross two streets, which took so long that he was tempted to go home, get his pistol (that he wasn't supposed to still have) and go out and start shooting random people. His phone went off. A text message said that he had an answerphone message. He'd had no signal in the underground. He dialled the number and listened as he walked along Regent Street.
