want to, but don’t waste McAfferty’s time complaining about artillery noise. There’s nothing she or I can do about it.’
‘My nerves are in shreds,’ Joan sobbed. ‘I shudder every time I hear a bang.’
‘Then bloody well move,’ Henderson shouted. ‘There’s a bloody war on. The army has to practise and everyone else seems to cope well enough.’
Troy saw the partially eaten remains of a mouse in the bird-eaters’ cage. In the wild this would have been picked up and eaten by a scavenger, but in the cage it would go rotten so Troy had to fish it out with a pair of tongs.
As he searched for the tongs, the kitchen door slammed.
‘Joan, let me through. I have to get back to work.’
‘Bastard, bastard, bastard!’ Joan screamed. ‘I hate you.’
A body slammed against the wall in the hallway, and then there was a groan. Troy thought Henderson had slapped his wife, but instead Henderson burst into the conservatory clutching bloody hands to his stomach.
‘Bitch stabbed me!’ Henderson groaned, as he staggered slowly towards the back door.
Joan thundered in and lunged at her husband’s back with a huge carving knife. Troy was horrified by the giant patch of blood soaking through Henderson’s shirt. Fortunately, Joan had no idea that Troy was in the room and before she found out he’d grabbed her wrist.
Takada would have been proud as Troy executed a textbook move, twisting Joan’s arm up behind her back and forcing her to release the knife. She swung a wild punch but Troy kept hold and used all his strength to shove her against the spider cages on the far wall.
‘Calm down,’ Troy begged, as Henderson staggered out into the back garden. His scream for help was heard by Mason and another boy who were kicking a football around in the school courtyard.
An artillery shell blasted in the background as Mason ran screaming into the school building to get help. Joan collapsed on to the conservatory’s stone floor. Troy was scared that she’d attack him and scanned the floor looking for the bloody knife, but she just sat still.
‘I only want Charles to love me,’ she sobbed desperately.
As Troy looked up, he saw Mavis’ blue legs clattering quickly through the shattered glass front of her cage.
*
Marc lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He was the only trainee who’d chickened out and he felt like his whole world had collapsed. Parachutes were the only realistic way to infiltrate occupied Europe and if he couldn’t jump all the rest of his training had been a waste of time.
It was four in the afternoon. Takada was having a discussion with Sergeant Parris in another hut. Joel had picked up a rope burn when his chute caught a gust of wind upon landing and was in the medical tent getting it cleaned up. Rosie and PT had supposedly disappeared to the toilet, but judging by the amount of time they’d been gone they’d found a spot where they could get some privacy.
This left Luc and Paul in the hut with Marc.
‘Do you want anything?’ Paul asked quietly, as he stood by Marc’s bed.
Paul was a good friend, but all Marc saw was someone who’d been able to jump when he hadn’t. He felt wildly jealous.
‘Leave me alone,’ he tutted.
‘It’s probably not that serious,’ Paul said. ‘Takada’s over with Parris now. I’m sure they’ll let you make another attempt with the guys who got backtracked.’
Marc sat up quickly and scowled at Paul. ‘What part of leave me alone don’t you understand? And what’s to say exactly the same thing won’t happen if I do get up there again?’
Luc put down his cowboy novel and smiled. ‘Leave the little baby alone, Paul, you’ll make him cry.’
Paul shook his head with contempt. ‘Luc, who asked for your opinion?’
‘I’ll give you credit where it’s due, Paul,’ Luc said. ‘You might be a scrawny little streak of piss, but I’ve never seen you give up. The way Marc stood on that platform quaking in his pants was an embarrassment to our whole unit.’
‘Luc, shut up,’ Paul said. ‘You’re lucky you even got to jump. You passed the exam by one mark and it wasn’t even hard.’
Marc wouldn’t usually have let Luc have a go at Paul without defending him, but he felt so depressed that he didn’t care about anything.
Luc adopted a high-pitched, mocking voice. ‘Ooooooh I’m little Marc,’ he squeaked. ‘It’s a long way down. I can’t jump. I’m pissing my panties.’
‘You’re such an arsehole,’ Paul said,