‘Quite a talent you have there,’ I say. ‘I assume you took his handkerchief when you clapped him on the shoulder?’
Danny arches an eyebrow. ‘A conjuror never reveals his methods.’
‘Is that what you were back home, then?’ I ask. ‘A stage magician?’
‘No, but I learned from some of the best.’ He flourishes my note. ‘But here I am, sir, reporting for duty.’
I shake my head. Danny’s manner borders on cheekiness, perhaps even insolence. There are rules out here, ways things must be done, and yet I can’t help warming to him.
There isn’t much in the way of shade on the exposed dunes of Étaples and under that fierce early morning sun, my uniform is already becoming stiff and uncomfortable. At my suggestion, we head down to a munitions dump by the beach. There, behind an old limber awaiting repair, we find a scrap of shadow and sit with our backs against the cart’s broken wheel. A dozen yards away the green sea laps lazily against the shore. Danny draws his hand through the sand, finding pebbles which he sends skipping across the water. Then, tongue between his teeth, he launches a stone at a tin signpost so far along the beach I can’t make out its wording. A split second later, we hear a brightching.
‘You’re a good shot,’ I observe.
‘Sign of a misspent youth,’ Danny says, then considers. ‘Well, not misspent. That wouldn’t be very grateful of me.’
‘On the fairground, you mean?’ He gives me a questioning look. ‘Your friend from the train. Davey, was it? He said I’d make a fine exhibit in one of your freakshows.’
Danny blushes. He scrabbles his fingers through those short chestnut curls. ‘I’m sorry about that, sir. Davey isn’t the full shilling, but he’s not a bad lad. I think he was just playing the fool to take the edge off, if you know what I mean? We were all so full of nerves that day, the jokes started to become a bit out of hand. Does that make sense?’
I nod. ‘It does.’
‘I hope you weren’t too offended.’ The smile slides easily back across his face. ‘I tried to make it right at the time, but I’m not sure you appreciated the effort.’
‘Yes, well I’m sorry about that. What I said to you was unkind,’ I say. ‘Ungracious, anyway.’
‘Apologies accepted all round then. And just so you know, I don’t actually own or run a freakshow. Don’t like ’em, if I’m being truthful. Nasty way to earn a living.’ I can feel his gaze focused on the side of my face, the place where a shard of hot shrapnel tore away most of my ear. I glance away as he says, ‘Davey is an idiot. There’s nothing that you should be ashamed of.’
A beat. And then suddenly he leaps to his feet and spins around to face me.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask.
He straightens his spine and, wiping the grin from his lips, offers me a sharp salute. ‘SecondLieutenant Wraxall, sir! Private McCormick, reporting for duty.’ He slumps back down again, bumping his shoulder against mine. ‘See, Icando it properly.’
‘With a little effort,’ I agree.
He blinks at me. His eyes are deep blue in the shade thrown by the limber. The blue of cornflowers in a dusk-dark meadow. My gaze drifts to his hands, now clasped together in his lap. Strong hands, rough-skinned and powerful. The hands of someone who has worked all his life. He’s still smiling, though the smile now seems thoughtful and slightly sad.
‘You ought to be careful, Daniel.’
‘Danny,’ he whispers back.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Danny. Only my mother called me Daniel.’
‘Danny. Yes, well...’ I cough. ‘Mocking a superior officer is a disciplinary offence. And the way you spoke to those sergeants back there? The way you sometimes address me—’
‘Whatisn’ta disciplinary offence out here?’ he asks plainly. ‘It seems a man like me can’t even cross a bridge without getting into trouble. Doesn’t that seem stupid to you?’
It does. Of course it does.
‘And I’ve never once mocked you, Lieutenant. I swear, I’d never do that.’
We look at each other for a while, the murmur of the sea filling the silence between us.
6
Gulls wheel against the clear blue sky, a shrieking cyclone that occasionally plunges down to pluck something out of the sea.
