Old Friends in Paradise Ch. 03

Following the Squadron Leader's instruction I stepped outside to check all was clean, clear and generally spick and span as the Chief would be leaving from that direction in a few minutes, and there was the red flagged Range Rover, the four stars front and rear denoting the occupant was an army General.

I smiled at the driver who was Denny, the young Redcap from the night before and tapped my watch wagging two fingers to denote the time his principal would be arriving.

There was another Range Rover following with his protection team in, still aching and sweaty from their morning punishment run. Paul was the driver in the second Range Rover, still looking rough.

"Paul," I said not wanting any bad feeling between us, "Feeling better?"

He wound down the electric driver window.

"I'll live," he said. He was pensive for a moment then sat up straight. He looked across at the other front seat passenger and the man sat behind him, "The one thing that I feel really good about it that I screwed you before your hot-shot marine did." He raised an eyebrow and had a stupid self-satisfied grin on his face.

The bastard.

The front seat passenger looked distinctly uncomfortable while the guy in the back seat looked across at me and my three stripes his bottom jaw falling at speed.

OK, Paul was trying to get at me and to hurt me in front of two of his friends.

I had several options, one of which was to have him locked up in the nearest military cell block while I reported him, the corporal, being insulting to the sergeant. After his antics in our mess the night before, his section commander would be interested that was certain.

But no, revenge was sweet and as the prophets occasionally have it, non-fattening.

I leant both arms on the door sill.

"Yeah, you were there before him Paul, but he's much bigger than you mate!" I pinched my elbows together hoping some cleavage might appear at the top of my beautifully pressed uniform dress, "Oh and you know about the whole female orgasm thing?" I raised my eyebrows at his shocked face and flapping bottom lip, "No, I didn't think you did; well he does Paul, and he's bloody good at it." I squeezed my eyelids shut and gave an involuntary shudder, "He's sooooo much better than you were mate..." I stood up straight and patted his right cheek with an open palm, "he's an eleven out of ten Paul, and to be honest AND with the benefit of hindsight you were struggling to get into the low two's." I winked at the front seat passenger, stood and walked back to the cookhouse and another coffee giving it the best figure-of-eight fashion-model bottom wiggle that I could. I could hear his colleague's guffaws coming from the still open Range Rover window.

They stopped the second the CoGS appeared and I opened the door, stamped to attention and saluted as he stepped out.

"Thank you Sergeant!" he said loudly.

"Well done Sarn't Mair!" said the Squadron Leader just behind him.

My coffee tasted really nice.

*

Christmas came and while we both would have quite liked to go home it wasn't to be, I'd gone home the previous Christmas and it was something that really had to be shared around, and both Chris and I being senior within the unit it was also expected, besides which we had each other!

The strangest thing happened though. A couple of weeks before I received an email from our old friend Amy asking if I could pop into the hospital next time I was passing, so taking a patrol car I duly did. Amy invited me into their rest room and arranged coffee for me this time. She was smiling as she handed it over.

"So how's Christian?" she said brightly.

"He's still amazing Amy!" I said and she all but screeched, clapping like a teenager.

A month before I'd been at the hospital responding to an injured drunk that wanted to fight his way out of the accident and emergency, and once he had been dealt with there was Amy. She tucked an arm into mine and dragged me towards one of quieter bays.

"I saw your pictures on Facebook!" she'd beamed at me.

I told her about our long weekend, my parents coming to visit and her sigh as Mum used to do her hair as well! I explained that Chris and I were stupid for each other and she got all silly as we girls tend to do with mates.

But weeks later I was sat in her break room.

"Chrissie," she hesitated, "James and I are going home for Christmas, are you?" I said no and sipped my coffee, wondering where this conversation might go. "Only we have a married quarter and... well..." she looked a bit embarrassed, "I was wondering if you might... you and Chris that is... if you would pop in every now and again, water the flowers, feed the dog, that kind of thing."

We'd gone to their quarter a couple of times for dinner and it had been lovely, but I knew she didn't have a dog.

"You don't have a..."

"Christina!?" she said with a grin and wide-open eyes, "You and Christian?" she said, obviously not wanting to get straight to the point, "You've seen the spare room, you could... stay there... for a bit... while we're away. All but one family in our close are going home so..."

"Define 'stay there' for me Amy!" I said with chuckle.

"Oh... you know!" she snapped back at me, "I can't just give you the key and let you move in, it's not allowed, but if you two were to... oh, I don't know, turn up, do a security check, let yourselves in and boil a kettle and... well..."

Amy was pretty much telling me that Chris and I could go to their house for a few nights and live, and sleep, together.

"Oh thank you Amy!" I said finally getting it. Christian and I hadn't done anything over kissing and cuddling and heavily petting each other since our parents had flown home after our villa holiday six weeks before, "That would be lovely, thank you so much, you won't know we've been there."

And that was how we spent our working Christmas, lunch in the cookhouse, parties in the CJPU bar and a great time had by all, then when it was bed time Chris and I would make our way separately and quietly to the married pads and let ourselves in, and with the minimum of noise or fuss to the spare bedroom already made up with unlit candles, a note about the bottle of wine in the fridge and two glasses and a small box of chocolates, all Amy's idea I was sure. It was another of those wonderful romantic moments.

We slept together in that bed five out of the seven-night break, and it was truly wonderful, cementing our relationship even more, if that was even possible.

That six months was one of the most splendid of my life, and we became a couple. This kind of relationship wasn't unheard of within the military and I heard from several higher ranked colleagues that it had been 'smiled upon'; any disappointment within the upper echelons could have seen us separated, but of course his attachment was only for six months while mine was for two years with another seven months to run.

He was being posted back to the Defence School of Policing as they wanted their Home Office trained fitness and self-defence specialist back to train the next generation of service police men and women and his operational tour had taught him much about what he taught and how he could improve it.

I was of course heartbroken. I begged him to try to get the occasional posting back here, but it simply wasn't what the Royal Marines wanted. He promised me that we could stay in touch over the phone and the internet and he'd come back as soon as he could square some leave. He'd also arranged it so that he came back to run the next re-qualification courses as the MoD seemed in no rush to send another PTI and he could call it 'research'.

I cried myself to sleep the night we said goodbye and didn't even have Penny for company as she'd gone home after her year was up. Having been promoted to sergeant I had a room to myself and while I liked the privacy, I was on my own again.

Chris was good to his word though. We spoke on the phone every few days, and a six weeks later he rang and confirmed it was my weekend off. I said it was and asked why.

He was at the RAF station and wanted to be picked up! I pinched the patrol car and drove straight to Akrotiri with the blue lights flashing and leapt into his arms at the door!

Chris had found out from an RAFP mate about an Afghan bound C130 that was staging at Cyprus and had a spare seat, used his influence to get it and the promise for a return flight three days after. He contacted my Station Warrant Officer and squared it with him before and booked the villa we loved so much. We walked into the bar arm in arm that night to a selection of oohs and aahs, and of course jeers. We bought some bottled beers and left them to their drinking.

At the villa he asked me about coming home for a holiday, I demurred saying that life here was one long holiday. He suggested a trip home for my birthday and to visit my grandparents who I hadn't seen in over a year.

We sat on the cooling stones around the villa pool with a couple of bottles of Keo, watching the moon waning and the stars glittering off of the water and we worked out when I could take some leave and come home.

"Well, if you don't come back, how are you going to show this off?" He opened a small box and presented me with a diamond and sapphire engagement ring, "will you marry me Chrissie?" he said, "it's nothing to do with postings, I've realised that I'm just so miserable without you."

My bottom lip trembled and I giggled, nodding like an idiot as he slipped the ring on my finger.

I leaned forward and kissed him,

"You're a little bit late Christian Tucker..." I said gazing at it.

"Really?"

"Yeah, you promised you were going to marry me when we were proper grown-ups, ten or eleven - twelve at the oldest."

"I remember!" he said with a smile, "but didn't I knock your Playskool kitchen unit over and you said you didn't want to marry me anymore?"

"I might have done!" I said haughtily, "I did have some very good imaginary cakes baking at the time."

"Well Christina Mair, forgive me?"

"For anything Christian!" I breathed.

I dragged him to bed.

*

That was ten years ago and yes of course we got married. I was given the nice safe UK posting to the Service Police School in Hampshire as a sergeant instructor, teaching the newbies a very similar syllabus to the one I'd completed eight years before, plus what I'd learned over the years.

It was also where Chris was now a senior PTI, and we lived just down the road in a flat in Portsmouth, the rent paid once we were married.

I'd already had my first hen night sprung on me at the CJPU mess on my last Friday night with me all but being carried back to my room for the last time.

The second one was at Southwick Park with taxis down into Portsmouth and the nightclubs along the seafront, occasionally having to send pissed-up but hopeful Pompey sailors back to their ships with the simple expedient,

"Hey Jack, you do know we're all MP's don't you..."

It was enough.

I had the last and the best one back home, with Julie, our aunts, Penny, Sam and loads of other friends tracked down for the event, and all in our big garden with Mum being the perfect host again, more cocktails made by my Dad in his dinner jacket. Then it was some silly gifts and me being dressed up in all kinds of embarrassing gear before hair and make-up was touched up and we all jumped in the coach for a night in Bournemouth.

I was walked down the aisle by my Dad in the church in the village with lots of our friends there, including Captain Amy White and her husband James who were both still good friends, he was in uniform but she wasn't being very pregnant.

I told the vicar that in my vows I wanted to refer to 'MY Christian Michael' rather than just 'Christian Michael' - he said it was charming!

I did eventually send the 'guess who I'm going out with' message to our mutual friend Rachel and she hadn't recognised the hunky marine MP hugging me in Amy's picture on my Facebook page at first.

We had long messenger chats about our lives, she was still on maternity leave with her second child and fantastically happy and was over the moon that I'd finally gotten engaged. She had previously nagged me about the apparent lack of good-looking boys on my Facebook page after breaking up with Paul. I hadn't told her about Rodge of course.

She was as nice about Chris as he'd been about her and said we were always meant to be. The next summer said that she'd love to come to our wedding and did so with her husband and their two boys. We all hugged, it was really lovely.

We came out of the church to a guard of honour of RAF Police colleagues, MP's and a few marines all holding extendable batons, with my former Roomie Sergeant Penny Taylor RAFP (She'd married her Artillery Officer before I married Chris and we'd done the same for her!) and first in line and calling the troops to order.

Even though it was our wedding day both Chris and I instinctively flinched and pulled our shoulders back at her shouted "Squad!"

They drew their batons, flipped them down to extend them in a manner that they MUST have rehearsed then slowly raised them to form an arch. We stopped for the photographer and kissed.

Penny hissed 'oh get a room you two' like she had so often and I laughed which resulted in a suggestion of smiles and open mouths as we broke and looked soooooo cool on the front of our wedding album.

Stevie was Best Man and while not having Chris' amazing body, he had his brothers good looks and his longer dark hair, designer stubble and strong features had much of a young Keanu about him. His nurse fiancée Sonia looked lovely too and is the nicest girl and she became my sister-in-law two years later.

My Mum cried, his Mum cried, my Auntie Jo and his Auntie Liz cried, his Uncle Pete was very much a stand-in father of the groom and it was a wholesome family affair.

We honeymooned - no not Cyprus! We got to enjoy the English countryside staying in Julie's West Country cottage for two weeks.

After my nine years was up I left the RAF and Sergeant Tucker was accepted into the Dorset Police while Chris spent another eight months at the School commuting to our Dorset home as and when he could then left at the end of his six years, working for two more at the local college teaching the same pre-service diploma course I'd taken while he got his post-grad teaching certificate.

He's now everyone's favourite PE teacher at our old school and known as 'Mad Mr Tucker' for the way he drives the children along, as if they were young Royal Marines.

I became a firearms officer for the tactical response team, got on the list for consideration for a dog handler but once I'd finished my probation I found my way into the neighbourhood office, having only ever used Uncle Pete's Friday night gobstopper routine once.

Our old school was on my beat and Chris told me that PC Tucker had been invited up to the staff room to have a coffee with her husband and all the teachers, some of whom would remember me.

Chris met me at the reception area I remembered so well, and showed me up to the staff room. As I unzipped my heavy and kit-laden body armour, I felt a hand on shoulder.

"Christina!" said a loud and long-remembered voice, "Constable Mair... NO Constable TUCKER!"

It was the head teacher, looking slightly greyer and care-worn, but unmistakably still Mr Maguire.

"Mr Maguire!" I said with a huge smile offering my hand which he ignored, instead pulling me into a bear-hug.

"Call me Mac Christina," he said with a bigger smile and looking me up and down, "there,' he said with a positive roar, seeing my black armour and shirt with 'police' written all over it, "been waiting years for you to come back in and visit us as a copper! WELL DONE!" He thumped his fist down on to my still padded shoulder as he always had to his best performing students.

I felt great when I passed off of the parade square at RAF Halton as an aircraftswoman after basic training, then five months later as an acting-corporal of the Royal Air Force Police with my parents there, I felt great passing out from the Dorset Police HQ and receiving my warrant card but nothing, absolutely nothing came close to the sense of pride I got from Mr Maguire's happy smiling face and that fist-bump.

Chris had a similar grin recognising the moment, and Mr Maguire looked across at him.

"Not congratulating the war hero there, gotta bloody pay him..."

Chris hadn't really told anyone much about his service, but one of his colleagues met the pair of us at the Town's Remembrance Sunday event I was working wearing my police uniform and my medals and Chris in his suit wearing his, and he spotted the silver on the ribbon.

He later let it slip to the children complaining about having to do PE in the cold that the reason Mr Tucker is the way he is because he was a Sergeant Major in the Royal Marines. (He wasn't, he left as a sergeant) but all of the kids treated him with a new respect.

After I'd been out of my probation for a while and with the promise of keeping my neighbourhoods job open for me I stopped taking the pill and five months later I missed a period. When my second missed period was due I was at Mum's salon having a coffee before work and to her delight I ran to her staff toilet and started throwing up like a mad thing.

"Oh Christina!" she said hugging me on my return and shouting out "She's pregnant!" to the whole place. I was minded to say it was just the curry I'd had the night before but her delight was just too perfect.

Our daughter Penelope was born and my lovely Mum and the lovely Julie were over the moon that they were grandmas. If they had been sweet and lovely to have as Mum's it was nothing compared to them as Nanna Mair and Nanny Tucker. Our son Michael was born three years later.

We both have a chest full of medals each and the most fantastic memories of what seemed like a very long, very romantic holiday. Our children often ask why we seem to have so many holiday snaps!

The End.