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The Songbird and the Soldier
Wendy Lou Jones
An emotional, intense love story. Perfect for fans of Nicholas Sparks.Where do you turn when the first casualty of love is the truth?Sometimes it's when you least expect it that something wonderful happens, but for Andy Garrington the timing couldn't have been worse. Being sent half way round the world to Afghanistan, Andy is prepared for a fight, but what he doesn't expect is the most important battle of his life to carry on at home. For Samantha Litton, running into her childhood crush at the pub one evening seems like good fortune. But when he is called away to war and she is left behind, things don't seem quite so clear and Sam has to determine who is telling her the truth and who is playing her for a fool, when all seems fair in love and war.
The Songbird & the Soldier
Wendy Lou Jones
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
Contents
Copyright (#u171a4698-7170-577a-95da-db6971455c0b)
Dedication (#uef0bcda0-d105-53f2-8803-5f3c3c220dde)
Chapter 1 (#ufc6d6511-0d7d-5e5e-a4d0-cc6b07cfcebe)
Chapter 2 (#u2ba23ab6-2542-5f32-9ff8-fa0bbfe56ef2)
Chapter 3 (#ucdcd03ca-24d1-535f-b3da-3290fc42de5d)
Chapter 4 (#uea6fbd44-8ca0-5189-8382-71d9e998a4fc)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Wendy Lou Jones: About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
About HarperImpulse (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
HarperImpulse an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
77–85 Fulham Palace Road
Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2013
Copyright © Wendy Lou Jones 2013
Cover Photographs © shutterstock.com
Wendy Lou Jones asserts the moral right
to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is
available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are
the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is
entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International
and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
By payment of the required fees, you have been granted
the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access
and read the text of this e-book on screen.
No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,
downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or
stored in or introduced into any information storage and
retrieval system, in any form or by any means,
whether electronic or mechanical, now known or
hereinafter invented, without the express
written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © July 2013
ISBN: 9780007543939
Version 2014-10-01
Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.
This book is dedicated to my dad, who sadly did not live long enough to see my name in print, but who gave me the courage to try. And to my long-suffering husband, who stood by my side every step of the way while I did.
Chapter 1 (#u3ab89753-7673-5ecf-a09b-f43df66f1cb3)
Sergeant Andrew Garrington was in control: his house was in order, his shirts were crisp and his career was on track, so the fact that he had caught on to his men’s misplaced notion of finding him some new witless woman to pander to didn’t bother him unduly. He played with his beer mat as he listened to the men chat. His attention was caught by a rowdy set entering through the front of the bar and disappearing out of the back.
Corporal Dean Fletcher scanned the room for female life and Spike spotted him. “Uh-oh, Romeo’s on high alert.”
Dean looked back and grinned.
“Well, found anything?”
“No.”
“Aren’t we meant to be finding a bird for the Prof?” Miller asked.
Andy twitched an eyebrow. “Oh no you don’t.”
“Come on, Prof. You’ve been single for far too long now. You need to get yourself a woman,” Spike said.
“I seem to be managing quite well by myself, thanks.”
“But you need a good woman.”
“Oh, a good woman, well why didn’t you say so? No.”
“Andy, think about it. You need someone to keep you sane while we’re out there. Remember last time? It’s no good if you’ve got no one to drag you back up again when shit’s going down,” said Miller shaking his head.
Claire had walked out before his last tour in Afghanistan. Andy remembered. It had been hard, but he had got through it on his own. He was a stronger man now than he had been then, a better soldier. He had learned in that time that women and relationships were generally disappointing. They were too needy to fit into his lifestyle.
“One day you’ll meet a girl who really gets under your skin and it’ll completely poleaxe you. You might even find yourself getting…” Miller held up his hands to make parenthesis in the air, “emotionally involved.”
The guys laughed. Dean’s laugh was the loudest. “The Prof? You’ve got to be kidding. I’ve seen more emotion in a potato.”
“Whereas you seem to fall head over heels in love with each and every one of them,” Andy replied.
“Absolutely.”
“For about five minutes.”
“Seems long enough to me!”
Spike patted Dean on the back and Andy left the table, rolling his eyes. He approached the bar. Leaning forward, he raised his hand to get the bargirl’s attention. She looked across at him while pulling a pint. She smiled and then raised her eyebrows in question.
“Hi, sorry,” he called, “um… which way to the… er-?”
“Down the corridor and on your right,” she called back, trying to make herself heard over the general hubbub of a busy Saturday night. Briefly she watched him walk away and then returned her attention to the matter in hand.
Andy made his way through the crowd and out into the relative peace of the corridor. Along the walls, small shaded lights lit up old photos of the pub as it had been in years gone by. Wooden panelling hung heavily on either side of him and the dusty stone floor beneath his feet echoed as he walked. Near the end of the corridor he could hear the muted sound of voices chanting. The noise grew louder and louder as he neared the back room and then a cheer went up and he could hear people clapping. Two girls came bustling out of the room, passed him and went off to the right, sending a wave of light and sound crashing around him. They disappeared into the toilets and the door to the back room swung slowly closed again.
As the bright light began to fade, Andy could hear a beautiful voice begin to sing a soft, haunting melody. It was unlike anything he’d heard in a pub before. The song wreathed itself around him, made him stop in his tracks for a moment and listen. He checked for anyone who might notice and then caught the edge of the door with his hand and peered inside.
The room was alive with colour. Banners and balloons hung all around the walls. As he watched, Andy noticed that everything inside the room was now still. Only the girl singing on the far side of the room moved. She was swaying slowly in time with the music, the microphone in one hand and the other reaching out with the grace of an angel. Andy was captivated.
Her hair was brown and waved gently downwards below her shoulders, restrained only by one satin flower tucked in behind her ear. She was wearing patterned blue jeans and a sea-green top that looped up and around her neck leaving the pale skin of her shoulders quite bare. She was neither fat nor thin; in fact her body seemed to flow effortlessly from one supple curve into another. He leaned against the doorframe and watched and listened as she sang. He couldn’t say what the song was about, or who had originally sung it, but one line swam repeatedly through his head: ‘Until you’re resting here with me.’ His pulse quickened. She was beautiful. And then in a moment of wondrous clarity, he realised that it was her. It had to be. The girl he had kept close to his heart for the past six years. The girl who had kept him going whenever anything went bad in his life. It was Sam.
Andy felt his heart race as the years fell away. His mouth went dry and his brain refused to think clearly. It had to be her. Of course she wasn’t exactly the same, but it was still her, wasn’t it? The two girls emerged from the toilets and pushed past, back into the room, their loud chatter and giggles jarring him.
Andy seized the moment and reached out to them. He caught one of them by the shoulder. “Excuse me. Who is that girl?” he asked, pointing to the singer.
The two girls gave each other a look and giggled some more, but quieter now. “The girl who’s singing?”
“Yes.” He nodded.
“That’s Sam: Samantha Litton. Do you know her?”
Andy shook his head slowly and the girls walked away giggling together. As he watched, heads began to turn and look round at him as they realised someone was there who wasn’t meant to be there. He started to feel self-conscious, but then Sam finished and everyone clapped and turned back again. Sam re-joined her group and smiled bashfully at the things people were saying to her, until somebody whispered in her ear and pointed him out. She turned and looked directly at him.
Sam felt herself blush.
“Well go on then,” Kate said. “He’s gorgeous.”
Sam looked across at Chloe. “It’s your birthday, Chlo’. He’s probably here to see you.”
“I don’t recognise him,” Chloe said.
Kate rolled her eyes. “Oh you’re bloody hopeless, you are. Look, if you don’t get your butt over there and at least talk to the guy in the next thirty seconds I’m going to leap over there and nab him for myself,” she said, hitching up the side of her cerise strapless top.
