Deceptions. Part 1
August 1995
The long lines of red coated soldiers stood perfectly still in the first light of dawn. Captain John Hughes raised his sword and brought it down swiftly. The signal was given and on the gallows there was a flurry of moment as the hooded figure fell and jerked. It spasmed quickly then stilled. The Regimental Surgeon waited a moment then checked for any signs of life. He shook his head and the body was cut down, to be prepared for burial. The hanging was over.
Major Shee rode his horse to the front of the parade ground and raised his voice to address the Regiment.
"The events of the last few days have brought to light the fact that unnatural vices have been allowed to flourish in the barracks!" There was silence in the ranks. "This will not be allowed to continue. Should anyone, and this means Officers as well, be found engaging in any act of depravity, they will be punished severely. Enlisted men will be flogged, and Officers will be stripped of their rank. There will be no leniency." Shee turned his gaze to Captain Hughes who stared back coolly and Tom held his breath for a moment. But the tension passed and Shee said "Dismiss the men Captain Hughes."
"Dismiss the men, Sergeants," called Hughes, his voice sounding flat. Christ, what a morning, thought Tom. Captain Hughes looked pale and angry. It can't be easy sending a man to his death, thought Tom and then glanced at the figure beside him. Dick Sharpe stood still, his eyes fixed ahead, unblinking.
"Company dismissed!" shouted Sergeant Bill Hanson and the men broke ranks, most of them heading towards the mess hall. Hangings were usually conducted on empty stomachs.
"Are you coming Dick?" asked Tom as he saw Sharpe watch their Captain walk away.
"No, I want to talk to Captain Hughes," Sharpe looked up at Tom, his eyes full of sorrow. "Do you mind Tom?"
Garrard shook his head. He knew that Sharpe and Hughes would have things they needed to discuss. Major Shee's warning would only be a part of it.
Last night as Sharpe lay in Tom's arms he had slowly recounted the tale of his early life with Jack O'Malley.
Sharpe was 13 and had been living with Maggie for about a month when she took him to O'Malley's small dirty rooms in a back alley not far from her gin house. The Irishman grinned when Maggie handed Sharpe over saying that he was O'Malley's responsibility now as she couldn't look after the boy anymore. The night before there had been a near riot when two of Maggie's patrons had started a fight over who was to have Sharpe first. It had taken half an hour to break up the brawlers.
"He'll have to work the streets, Jack. I'm running a gin house not a brothel. O'Malley laughed. "That's not what the word around town is Maggie."
O'Malley was 18 but already tall and strapping. There was a livid scar across half of his throat, and Sharpe could see the beginnings of another clearly visible on his chest where his shirt hung open. Sharpe had looked at O'Malley and wondered if here at last he had found a kindred soul, someone who had faced the same horrors and who had survived them. Shyly, Sharpe had offered O'Malley a smile and O'Malley had grinned back.
"Pretty little thing, he is," O'Malley had said as he sized up Sharpe. "Aye and he won't last a day without someone protecting him. So he's yours now Jack, but mind that yer treat him good. I'll be back to see that he's all right" and with that Maggie had swayed out the door and away into the twilight.
"What's yer name?" O'Malley asked bending close and placing his hand under Sharpes chin so that he could turn his head this way and that.
"Dick," Sharpe replied and O'Malley had laughed again, and patted him on the head. "Well come here Dick and show me what you can do!"
And that was it. O'Malley had never stopped to think that Sharpe would be unwilling, that the young boy he dragged to his untidy bed would be too terrified to protest. Sharpe had already learnt by then that protesting did no good and was an invitation to injury. It was far better to just lie there and keep quiet. So Sharpe had closed his eyes and tried to hide his tears.
Tom had felt Dicks tears wet on his own shoulder and had gently brushed them away. In time, Dick explained, he became so used to be taken against his will that he thought nothing of it. This was the Dick Sharpe that Tom had met in Flanders.
Tom had no words to say, there WAS nothing to say, but he was pleased that Sharpe had trusted him enough to share this painful memory.
As Tom watched Sharpe and Hughes walk away together, he knew that their Captain deserved an explanation too. Hughes had left the Irishman's life in Sharpe's hands yesterday and deserved to know the details of O'Malley's guilt.
"Tom, can I ask you something?" the soft voice roused Tom from his contemplation. Jean Hanson was watching him, Polly held on her hip and little George holding onto her skirts.
"Can you tell me what's been going on between Josh Smith and my husband?" Her voice sounded strained and Tom could see that her eyes were red. He took a deep breath before speaking.
"Bill kept an eye out for Josh in Flanders, that's all. They're just mates. Why?"
Jean Hanson looked towards the mess hall where infantrymen were queuing to go in for breakfast. She looked back to Tom with eyes that were guarded.
"It's not just what the Major said this morning. There's been a lot of talk the last few days. I've heard some things about Josh Smith, about him and my Bill. I've seen how Bill's been these last two days, out of his mind with worry and then so angry with everyone." She looked down at George who was now playing in the dirt at her feet. "I've seen it myself, the way they look at each other. I know I saw longing in the looks that Josh gave Bill and I thought he just wanted to be like Bill. I thought at first the Bill looked at Josh like a son, the way he'd ruffle his hair and all, but now I'm not so sure." There was desperation in her voice now and Tom scratched his head, trying to think of something to tell her.
"There's always a lot of gossip in the ranks and it doesn't do for you to believe it all. Have you spoken to Bill about this? He's the one you should be asking," Tom replied.
Jean shook her head. "I don't want to ask him, because I don't want him to have to lie to me. He's hardly going to tell me the truth if there is something between him and the boy."
By all right's, Tom told himself, he should just shrug and walk away. Since the incident with O'Malley, Bill Hanson had let Tom know that he held him personally responsible for what had happened to Smith. Although Tom had tried to talk to the older man, Hanson had simply walked away and Tom was afraid that whatever friendship they had once shared was now long gone.
"Jean, I know there has been nothing at all between Bill and Josh since we came back from Flanders. Half the time either Dick or I have been bunking with him. As for what happened over there, well it was damned cold. Men froze to death at night. Everyone doubled up and slept with someone. It was the only way to stay warm. When you've faced a day of fighting and killing, when you've seen men die and wonder if you will be next, well, sometimes yer reach out to each other. Just for a little comfort so that you can forget about the horror of it all for a while, that's all."
Tom paused and looked at the fair-haired woman who was watching him intently. "Now I don't know what went on between Josh and Bill over there. I don't know if maybe young Josh thought more of it than he should, but what I do know Jean, is that Bill loves you. On the boat coming home he told me how much he missed you and the children and how he couldn't wait to see you again. He's a good man Jean and you can trust him."
Jean Hanson nodded and looked at Tom a while longer, considering his words. "I know that Bill's said some hard things about you lately Tom and how he holds you responsible for what happened to Josh, so you have no reason to protect him by lying to me." She bent and pulled George up from the dirt. "I just hope that Bill realises what a good friend you really are to him," she said and she turned and walked to the mess.
Sharpe did not come to breakfast. Peters, Whyte and Rawlings grew tired of waiting and left a message with Tom that they would be at The Scarlet Rose if Dick wanted to meet them. Tom hoped that Sharpe wouldn't. As he cleaned his uniform and polished his boots, he hoped that he and Sharpe could spend the day together. Perhaps Dick would consent to the country walk that Tom had been asking him about for so long.
It wasn't until midmorning that Sharpe reappeared.
"Captain Hughes gave me some breakfast." He said by way of explanation as he sat down next to Tom who was sorting through his pack. Sharpe looked tired, not physically, Tom noticed but emotionally. These last few days had been hard on him, worrying about Smith and O'Malley and dredging up the past.
"Come for a walk with me, Dick. We've got plenty of time. Do you good to get out into the country for a while." Said Tom with a smile.
Sharpe screwed up his nose but allowed Tom to drag him off the bunk and out of the barracks. It was warm already and as they set out along the northern road, Dick grumbled about the heat.
"I suppose you'd rather be back in Flanders again?" Said Tom "Freezing cold, ice and snow. Horse to eat?" He was trying to lift Sharpe's spirits a little.
Sly green eyes looked sideways and Sharpe whispered "But it did have it's good points Tom." They both laughed and Tom felt the shadow lift from Sharpe.
As they walked Tom pointed out the trees and shrubs that grew along the roadside. He named the types of sheep and cows that grazed in the fields. Sharpe was amazed that Tom knew the names of the all of the birds and could identify them by their whistles and calls.
"You do this every week Tom? Come walking out here with Mary?" Sharpe asked
They had turned into the lane where Mary's uncles farm was and Tom showed Dick where the land began.
"Yes, I like it. More fun than going to a brothel every week! It reminds me of home." Tom almost bit his tongue when he realised what he had said. Was that the reason why Dick rushed off each week, so anxious to spend his pay on whores, because he felt at home in a brothel?
Tom looked at Sharpe. His faced was tinged pink from their long walk or perhaps mild sunburn. There was a line of sweat across his brow that he wiped with the back of his hand.
"Why do you do it Dick?" Tom asked hoping that Sharpe would follow where his thoughts had led him, but Sharpe just stared at him blankly.
"Why do yer go to the brothel every week. Yer don't need to, yer know. I never turn yer down." Tom hoped that his hurt didn't come through in his voice.
Sharpe looked down at the dusty road and gave a hard kick to a stone that was in his way.
"I go because I can Tom. Just because I can!" Sharpe said and Tom thought about the words. He thought he understood what Sharpe was trying to tell him. That after being bought for so long, it was good to be on the other end of the transaction for once. But surely that was a shallow reason. Then again, Dick Sharpe was only young. Perhaps this was his way of somehow evening the score. Once more Tom reminded himself that he had no right to judge. It was better to simply try and show Sharpe that life had far more to offer than alcohol and whores.
They climbed over the sty and into the pasture. "We can drink from the well, Mary's Uncle doesn't mind."
The cool clean water surprised Sharpe and he told Tom that he had never drunk anything so fresh before.
They sat under the big oak tree and rested. The sun was at it's zenith and Tom closed his eyes and listened to the buzz of insects and the twitter of birds. He could hear Sharpe's steady breathing beside him and Tom turned his head enough to watch Sharpe through his eyelashes.
The younger man was leaning back against the trunk, but his eyes were open as he gazed upward through the leaves of the large tree.
"The birds have colours!" Sharpe said and there was wonder in his voice. "Not like those dark dirty birds in the towns."
"Hmmm, that's ones a finch." Tom murmured "And that blue one is a tit." Sharpe snorted and Tom smiled suddenly feeling so happy that he felt almost foolish.
"Oh shit Tom, look!"
Startled Tom sat up and looked around before laughing. A large jersey cow was ambling toward them.
"She's friendly Dick, don't worry." Tom stood and walked to meet the cow, patting her gently and whispering in her ear. "Do yer fancy some milk Dick?" he asked
Sharpe frowned, "We've got no mugs, Tom." He replied.
"Don't need mugs!" Garrard replied with a laugh. "Just come over here."
Sharpe stood, his hands on his hips "OH bloody hell Tom! Yer a disgusting bastard! I'm not putting my mouth on that thing. Ugh!" Tom stifled his laugh, not wanting to spook the cow. He shook his head.
"Just come over here and I'll squirt it in yer mouth, yer silly bugger." He replied.
Sharpe walked closer and stood there warily. "Now kneel down about there and open yer mouth up." Sharpe raised his eyebrow and grinned.
"I've heard that before Tom." He said with a wink.
Tom knelt beside the cow and placed his cheek along her flank. He grasped the udder and pulled. Milk squirted everywhere. "Watch where yer shooting it Tom!" gasped Sharpe as he wiped his eye "Sorry. Out of practice. Open yer mouth more." Sharpe snorted and laughed and Tom tried again. This time his aim was better and Sharpe got a mouthful of milk. He licked his lips. Tom kept squirting and in no time at all Sharpes face was covered with milk.
"Bloody Hell! That's enough Tom, yer'll drown me." Sharpe said, trying to lick the milk off with his tongue. Tom laughed "Come here and I'll show yer how to do it." He replied but Sharpe shook his head. "No! I'm not touching that cow!"
Tom gave the cow a friendly pat and she walked off. He sat down beside Sharpe and frowned. "Well now that's not fair," Tom said and pushed Sharpe onto his back "I haven't had any," he said and he started to lick the milk from Sharpe's face. Sharpe laughed and tried to push him away and soon both men were wrestling each other playfully in the long grass, stealing kisses and trying to get there hands into each other's clothes.
"Here what are you doing! This is private property!" Tom sat up hurriedly brushing at his clothes.
A young girl stood some distance away frowning. She held a large dog on a leash.
"You're not after rabbits are you, because my Uncle won't allow it."
Sharpe sat up too and ran his hand over his hair "We were just taking a rest Miss. Walked all the way from town we did."
The girl frowned even more. "Well you shouldn't be here! I'll put the dog on you if you don't leave." She sounded a little worried now and Tom quickly added
"We only stopped for a drink at the well, Mary Chisolm said I could stop anytime I was out this way."
"Oh?" said the girl, her face suddenly breaking into a smile "And what would your name be then?"
"Tom Garrard miss, I'm a friend of Mary's".
"So you're the young man she's been talking about. Well I'm so glad to meet you. I'm Margaret Dowling, her cousin, well, sort of cousin. My Aunt is married to her Uncle. He's the one who owns the farm. Margaret eyed Tom up and down then turned her attention to Dick "and who would your friend be Mr Garrard?" she asked smiling sweetly and Tom saw Dick wink at her.
Bloody Hell, that's all I need, thought Tom, beginning to worry. Margaret looked nothing like Mary. She had red hair and the fairest complexion. Beautiful was the word that came to Tom's mind and one glance at Sharpe told Tom that his friend would agree.
"This is Dick Sharpe, He's a friend of mine. We were just out for a stroll, sorry to disturb you, Miss."
Margaret walked over to them and the dog commenced sniffing around the two men. Tom cast a quick glance at Dick and noticed that he still had milk in his hair. Christ, if she had walked by ten minutes later there was no telling what they might have been doing.
"So nice to meet you Mr Sharpe," she said "Perhaps you'd both like to walk with me down to the stream. It's a lovely spot. Quite nice for swimming I've been told. She fluttered her eyes at Dick who grinned back at her "Call me Dick, it's me name," he said smiling "And of course we will," he added without a glance at Tom. "I was just saying to Tom, what a nice place this was and how I'd love to see more, weren't I Tom."
"Er, yes, but don't yer think we should be heading back Dick?" Tom said, but Sharpe wasn't paying attention. Margaret had linked her arm through his and they were wandering off towards the stream. Tom followed.
"I get so lonely here," Margaret was saying as Tom caught up with them "I'm sure Mary has told you that Uncle Lionel and Aunt Bertha have no children. It's kind of them to invite me to stay, but I really do get terribly bored." Her small hand reached up to Sharpe's hair "Whatever have you been doing? You've got milk in yer hair."
Sharpe brushed it again "We use it to keep the flour in place. I put a fresh lot on this morning. Mustn't have dried yet." Tom closed his eyes. They were heading for disaster. "So where do you come from Dick?" Margaret asked, her small white hand gently smoothing the sleeve of Sharpe's uniform.
Sharpe shot a panicked look at Tom before saying "Rippon, I come from Rippon." The young girl nodded up at Sharpe "Oh that's nice and what does yer family do there?" Tom could almost see Sharpe shaking. "My mother, my mother.." he started to say "Dick's mother died recently." Tom said quietly. "Oh Dick I am so sorry, you and your family must be distraught. How is your father?" Margaret asked gently, patting Sharpe's arm all the more.
"Er, er, he, er," Sharpe mumbled. Tom came to the rescue. "Dick's father died when he was quiet young. His mother worked hard to make a life for herself and Dick. She was a wonderful woman, a seamstress."
Margaret's face turned quite pale "Oh I am sorry, please forgive my prying. You must think I'm terribly rude, but I had no idea. I am sorry Dick."
Sharpe smiled slightly "Thank you Miss. Yes, it was sad, and I still feel bad that I wasn't able to get home to see her, but we was in Flanders at the time, fighting the French." Tom breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that Dick had managed to turn the conversation around to safer ground. He had never seen his friend like this before. Sharpe was usually quick with a story when the need arose and it made Tom smile a little to think that Dick could be so undone by a mere girl.
Dick chattered on about Flanders, answering Margaret's questions with almost no slip-ups. Only once when Sharpe began to tell about the harsh weather they had encountered there, had Tom found it necessary to intervene "Why it was so cold" Sharpe began expounding "that it was enough to freeze yer balls.." "In yer musket!" Tom had hastily interjected as he shot Sharpe a withering look.
The walk to the stream and back was finally accomplished and Tom insisted that they really had to be getting back to the barracks.
"Well the next time you go walking with Margaret, please bring Dick along and we can all have a picnic. I'm staying here for a month and I do so love company." Margaret begged, her blue eyes blinking up at Tom who could only nod and agree.
Part 2
Sharpe whistled all the way back to the barracks clearly happy with the days turn of events. In the mess hall that evening Peters, Rawlings, Whyte, Dodds and Avery listened eagerly to Dick tell of their meeting with Margaret and the invitation to go on a picnic.
"Sounds to me like she might be sweet on you Dick." Said Whyte winking at Tom and smiling. Sharpe blushed.
"Well what did she look like Dick, yer said she was pretty but tell us more." Peters sipped his rum, waiting to hear the details.
"She was small, and very fair. Her eyes were blue, bright blue and she had the loveliest red hair that I ever saw." Sharpe replied.
Peters grinned and winked at Sharpe "Yeah, but was it real?"
Sharpe grinned back. "Don't know but I'll try and find out next time I see her!"
Tom choked on his stew "No! Yer can't do that Dick. She's a nice girl. She's not one of yer whores. Nice girls don't do that."
Sharpe looked puzzled. "Bloody hell Tom, what do yer mean?" Tom frowned a little. "Well yer can't go doing 'that' with her. It's just not done."
"Shit! Yer mean I can't fuck her?" asked Sharpe in disbelief. Tom closed his eyes and ran his hand over his face. He shouldn't be surprised really. Dick had probably never mixed with any women other than whores.
"No Dick yer can't." he said calmly.
"Tom's right Dick." Said Harry Whyte backing Garrard up. "Yer can't mess around with nice girls like yer do with whores. You do that and you'll have her father or brothers after you with a gelding knife."
Sharpe paled a little, "Oh? So what do yer do with them then?" he asked quietly.
Tom almost laughed but he knew Sharpe was serious. "Well, you talk for one thing. You can go walking like Mary and me. It's all right to hold hands with girls."
"So yer telling me that you and Mary just go walking and hold hands?" Sharpe said in amazement. He snorted. "I don't believe yer Tom! Yer must have kissed her at least."
Tom blushed slightly and smiled. "Well I have kissed her, but not like I kiss..." he stopped quickly, the word 'you' on the tip of his tongue. "Well not like I'd kiss her if we were married." Sharpe was grinning at him now and leaned closer his face going very serious "Well maybe you could show me later Tom, so I don't make a mistake."
The rest of the men laughed loudly and Whyte hit Tom on the back. "There you go Tom, you've really got yer work cut out for you tonight."
For the next two days Sharpe hounded Tom until the older man agreed go into town and arrange the picnic with Mary to coincide with their next day without duties. The date was set and Mary said she knew of another spot even nicer than the stream, where they could picnic. Margaret had arranged to stay in town with Mary for a few days and they would borrow Edward Chisolm's horse and cart and all drive out together. Sharpe was excited and Tom had to admit that he was looking forward to the day as well.
The evening before the picnic Sharpe sat in the mess hall with his friends going over once again the do's and don'ts of decent behaviour. "And if I do get to kiss her I have to keep my mouth shut, isn't that right Tom!" Sharpe concluded.
"It's going to be hard Dick." Said Peters compassionately. But Sharpe grinned "Yeah, you said it Percy!" and the two young men laughed loudly.
Tom suddenly became aware of a silence spreading through the mess hall and he looked around. At the door stood Captain Hughes. Beside him was Josh Smith. The Captain nodded in the direction of their table and then beckoned Sharpe over to the door. As the hall began to buzz with talk once again, Smith slowly made his way over to where Garrard and the others sat.
"Christ, he looks terrible." Muttered Whyte to Tom before Smith reached the table. Tom had to agree. Smith looked thin and pale, too pale, and there were still dark smudges under his eyes.
"Good to see you back Joshy." Said Tom as the younger man sat down carefully before turning a wane smile at Tom. The table was strangely quiet. Whyte had turned and was talking to Dodds who was seated at the table behind them and Peters and Rawlings had found a sudden interest in the stew they were eating, digging through it with their forks as if looking for buried treasure.
Tom turned back to Smith. "How are you feeling now?" he asked quietly.
"Fine." Said Smith, his hand reaching out for Tom's untouched glass of rum.
"Wait up, Josh," said Tom catching his hand "Yer'd be better having something to eat first." Tom looked closer at Smith, noting his sunken cheeks. He can't have been eating at all, Tom decided.
"Percy, go get Josh a plate of stew, will yer?" Tom asked and Peters was only too happy to bolt from the table. What's the matter with them all, Tom wondered?
"Have you seen Bill lately?" Smith asked quietly, drawing Tom's attention back. "He didn't come to see me after the hanging. I don't know why, he just didn't come back." Smith's small fingers were making patterns in the rum that was spilt on the table.
Tom swallowed. "He's just sitting down there, Joshy, we'll go see him after you've had yer stew." Peters arrived back with the stew, closely followed by Sharpe. As Smith toyed with his food, Sharpe leaned closer to Tom and whispered "Captain Hughes wants us to keep an eye on him. The surgeon's worried about him. He wouldn't eat. They discharged him hoping he'd feel better back with the rest of us."
Tom shook his head at Sharpe "I doubt it. The other lads don't know what to say to him."
The mess hall was almost empty by the time Tom and Dick had coaxed Smith to eat all of the stew. Tom let him have what remains of his rum, thinking that it might at least relax the younger man somewhat.
From down the hall Tom saw Bill Hanson stand and make his way to the door. He was alone, Jean and the children having left earlier.
"Come on Josh, we'll talk to him now." said Tom
As they neared Hanson, Smith called out "Bill, can I talk to you?" The sergeant turned around quickly and Tom could see such indecision in the older man's eyes that he felt sorry for him.
"Not now Josh, I'm busy. Is it important?" Hanson said quickly.
Smith stood there for a moment just looking at Hanson, before dropping his gaze. "No, nothing important. I just wanted to talk, that was all."
Bill Hanson walked away and Tom Garrard was suddenly afraid that Smith would start crying, but the younger man' eyes were dry, dry and vacant. Oh Christ, thought Tom.
He looked back at Sharpe who stood behind them. Sharpe blinked once then reached out to take Smiths arm, "Come on Josh, time to turn in. I'll tell you about the girl I met." Sharpe chattered on as they made their way across the parade ground and into the barracks. The lamps had already been dimmed buy the time they arrived and most of the Infantrymen were already in their bunks.
Smith stared at the bottom berth before saying "I'll take the top." Tom looked at him, doubting Smith could actually make it up there without help. The younger man was still moving stiffly and Tom wondered how his injuries were.
"No, yer'll be right on the bottom Josh. I'll stay with yer." Said Sharpe quickly taking Smith by the arm again and turning him so that he could look him in the eye "Yer'll all right now Josh. No ones going to hurt you again. There's some things I need to tell you, some things we should talk about. Come on, I'll help yer with yer boots."
Tom took off his own clothes and just before he climbed up to the top berth Sharpe looked at him and said quietly. "It'll be all right Tom, I know what to do." Tom nodded and smiled at his friend. Perhaps Dick Sharpe was the best person to help Josh Smith through this.
The gentle muffled voices of Sharpe and Smith drifted up to Tom late into the night, so quietly, that try as he might, Tom couldn't make out what they were saying. He thought he heard soft crying once, but he couldn't be certain.
In the morning he found them asleep in each other's arms, not in the way of lovers but like two children who were afraid of the dark.
"You'll have to talk to Bill Hanson, Tom," said Sharpe quietly as they sat in the mess hall that morning. Both Garrard and Sharpe should have been thinking about the day they were about to spend with the two girls but they were still worried about Josh Smith. "We can't leave him here alone like this. He needs someone with him." Sharpe concluded. They turned to look at Smith who was stirring his porridge without eating it. Tom nodded, "I'll try Dick, but I really don't think Bill is going to be able to do much. What have Percy and Sam got planned for the day?"
"Brothel of course, but I don't think Josh is going to want to join them somehow." Sharpe said.
"Well maybe that's just what he needs," Tom replied. Tom couldn't remember seeing Smith accompanying the others to the brothel, so maybe something new would be just the thing for him. Sharpe shook his head at Tom, frowning slightly.
"That's not what Josh needs Tom," he whispered as though stating the obvious and Tom suddenly felt foolish. After all, wasn't he the one who was always telling Sharpe that sex wasn't the answer to everything? Tom knew his thinking was becoming clouded by his fear that Josh Smith was going to ruin this day. Tom shook his head at that thought and dismissed it as uncharitable.
"I feel responsible for him Tom, it was all my fault that O'Malley..."
"YOUR fault! No Dick, it was my fault if it was any ones! Christ, we'll just have to bring him with us if Bill won't do anything." Tom looked around and found their Sergeant on the other side of the room. "Wait here and I'll go have a word with him."
Bill Hanson stood waiting for him as Tom approached.
"How is he?" Hanson asked before he had time to open his mouth. Tom knew he was talking about Smith and he suddenly felt angry.
"Christ Bill! If you're that interested go ask Josh yourself. How do you think he is after what O'Malley did! LOOK at him Bill, does he look all right to you? But do you know what he's most upset about? Josh can't understand why you stopped coming to see him, why you won't talk to him."
Hanson looked across the room and back at Tom. "You don't understand Tom. It's not that I don't want to talk to Josh, it's that I can't." Hanson looked around again and moved closer to Garrard. "It's Jean, she's not been well. She's expecting another baby and things aren't going as they should." He said quietly. There was a pleading in Hanson's voice as he continued. "She said she heard some things about Josh. She said that she wasn't going to ask me if they were true as she trusted me, but I knew what she was trying to say. I don't want to hurt her or upset her especially now Tom. I don't want to hurt Josh but I don't know what else to do."
Tom took a deep breath. Life seemed so complicated sometimes. How much easier it was when they were at war. You fought the enemy and tried your hardest to stay alive. Anything else was secondary to that. But now, back home, all of life's little complications kept confusing everyone and Tom was left wondering what was really important and what was not.
"Bill why don't you just be honest with Josh then. Just find a few moments to talk to him and tell him what you just told me. He'll understand, I'm sure. It's the fact that your ignoring him that he can't understand." Hanson nodded "I'll try to Tom and thanks, thanks for all you've done for Josh and for what you said to Jean. I'm sorry I've been so hard on you lately." Hanson held out his hand and Tom shook it, glad to be on good terms again.
Returning to the table Tom shook his head slightly. Sharpe shrugged and tapped Smith on the arm. "Come on Josh, you're coming on a picnic." And before Smith could protest Sharpe gently pulled him to his feet and propelled towards the door.
Part Three
September 1795
Mary and Margaret both stared at Tom with hardly disguised surprise and disappointment as he stood in the bakery and told them that they would be bringing Josh Smith along. They all looked at the young man who waited quietly outside. It was Matthew Chisolm who came to the rescue.
"What you need is someone else to make up the numbers, that's all." He raised his voice and called over his shoulder "Rose come out here a moment." Looking back at Tom, Chislom lowered his voice a little and asked "The lad doesn't look too well, has he been ill?" Tom nodded "Something like that," was all he replied. Chisolm glanced at the others to make sure they were unobserved. "Something to do with that hanging a week ago?" he asked, taking Tom by surprise. "Don't worry lad, I know what it's like. The same thing happened sometimes when I was in the army. It's good of you to look out for him. I dare say the lad's in need of his mates at the moment." Tom smiled and when he looked around he saw a young girl standing behind the counter. She was small and very thin, with what could only be described as a rather plain face. Her brown hair was tied back in a server manner and the plain grey shift that she wore clearly showed that she was not one of the family. It was impossible to tell her age and Tom could only guess that she was somewhere between thirteen and sixteen.
"Ah Rose, there you are. Take off that apron and dust the flour off your face. You're going to accompany Miss Mary and Miss Margaret on a picnic. Now be quick girl, go tidy yourself up a little."
When Rose had left the room, Mary frowned at her father then turned to Tom and Dick. "I am so sorry, my father has no sense when it comes to things. Rose is a girl from the orphanage in London who works for us now," she frowned a little more at her father "I really don't think you should have told her to come with us Father."
"Nonsense, it will do her good. She's a good lass and there is more that enough food for you all. Get her to help put the food out or something, Mary if you feel she has to earn her keep." Mary rolled her eyes, Margaret looked positively scandalised and Tom suddenly wondered why he had never seen this side of Mary before. Sharpe's eyes met his and Tom could uncertainty there.
When Rose returned Tom and Dick helped the women into the cart and they set off. Tom drove with Mary seated beside him giving directions. In the back Margaret chattered away to Dick about this and that, her voice reminding Tom of the twittering of a sparrow. Josh Smith and Rose were so quiet that Tom almost forgot they were present.
Rather than head for the country this time, Mary directed Tom along the road that hugged the coast and provided views of the sea. Wind blew briskly from the ocean, bringing with it the smell of salt, which reminded Tom of their sea voyage to Flanders and back. Tethering the horse and leaving the cart, they made their way on foot along a winding trail to a little secluded cove. There they found a spot, sheltered from the wind by one of the large boulders that were scattered along the beach.
"This is lovely Mary!" said Tom as he spread out the blankets. Mary smiled "I'm glad you like it Tom. I have been coming here since I was just a child. I know the area well."
Margaret and Mary whispered amongst themselves for a few moments and decided that it would be all right if everyone took off their boots and shoes, it being highly unlikely that Margaret's mother would ever find out. Dick gave Tom a bewildered look, which turned to horror as Margaret took his hand and pulled him down to the waters edge to paddle.
Josh and Rose were still standing, looking completely lost and Tom wondered what to do about them. "Do you think there'd be any of those fossil rocks around here Josh?" Tom asked and was pleased when he saw Josh look around. "Perhaps" came the small reply. With a brief glance back a Tom, Josh walked away leaving Tom to wonder if Smith had suddenly sensed how that he wasn't really wanted on this picnic. "Go with him Rose." Said Mary and the girl complied, without question.
Smiling sweetly, Mary took Tom's hand and drew him down to the rug. "I thought we'd never have a moment alone." She said before leaning in to kiss Tom. Tom kissed her back, one eye on Dick and Margaret who were chasing each other around at the waters edge.
"Well I don't think we'll have much, and I think it might be a good idea to keep an eye on those two," he said indicating down the beach to where Margaret was now splashing water mercilessly at Sharpe.
"Oh that girl," sighed Mary "She really is too forward at times." And with that Mary and Tom stood up and walked down to provide a chaperone for Margaret and Dick.
The seashore was full of interesting things Tom discovered as he walked hand in hand with Mary. Driftwood in a variety of shapes, flotsam and jetsam from various ships and pretty pebbles worn smooth by the seas action. Sharpe and Margaret scampered along in front of them. The younger girl, her skirts held up way to high for decency still splashing Sharpe at every opportunity. "But I don't like water!" he cried after much suffering which only caused Margaret to double her efforts to get him wet. Eventually Mary took a pity on him and called Margaret to go back with her and set out the lunch while Tom helped Dick to dry off.
"Are yer sure you've got this right Tom?" asked Dick as he shook the water from his hair and wrung his shirt out. "I'm sure she's giving me the come-on."
"Yes I've got it right and no she isn't so don't get any ideas. And put yer shirt back on. It doesn't matter if its wet, you can't sit down with ladies without a shirt on." Said Tom desperately.
Tom left Sharpe to find his way back to the picnic spot and went to check on Josh and the girl Rose. He found them not far from the picnic spot sitting by a shallow rock pool. They both had their feet in the warm water. Tom sat down and Josh explained that there was a small crab in the pool, and that every now and again it would come out and try to nip their toes. "It's nippers are too small to hurt, it feels more like a tickle." Smith said with the closest thing to a smile that Tom had seen for days.
Josh and Rose followed Tom back to the blanket, the girl hovering near the edge until Mary told her to sit down. As they ate Margaret chattered away about her home and family and it soon became apparent to Tom that Margaret was from a much more privileged background than her cousin. Tom could see Sharpe slowly losing interest as the talked progressed to piano lessons and dressmakers.
There was a momentary lull in the conversation as Margaret paused to nibble daintily at a cake and Sharpe spoke up "Where do you come from Rose?" Tom saw Mary frown and Margaret's mouth drop open. Rose dropped her eyes before saying softly "London, Sir"
"Father thought it better to go to London, to one of the foundling homes there to get a girl." Mary explained, as if Rose were not even present. "The Home in Southampton is notorious for the low class of girls that come from there. Hardly trained, low morals. Besides, father said there was less chance of her running away if there was nothing familiar about." Tom could only stare in shock at Mary's words. How could she be so callous? He cast a quick glance at Dick and could see that the words had touched something inside him.
Sharpe leaned over towards Rose and said "Did yer ever get blue porridge in the home in London?" Rose looked up quickly and the smallest hint of a smile touched her lips. "Yes, a couple of times. I never ate it though."
Sharpe smiled broadly at the others but was met by questioning gazes. "If the pots aren't scrubbed out properly, this mould grows and eventually it gets so bad that it turns the porridge blue."
Margaret frowned. "This happens in the army?" she asked. "Hell, no, er, sorry, only in the orphanages where the children have to clean the pots. They're so big that yer can't hardly clean the bottom of them." Sharpe explained but the reply was met with silence.
"How do you know this Dick?" asked Margaret and Sharpe realised his mistake.
"There's a lad in the company. Nice lad he is, never causes any trouble. He was brought up in a foundling home. He tells us stories. That's how I know." Tom breathed a sigh of relief grateful that Dick seemed to have his wits about him again. But Tom could also see sadness in Dick's eyes, and knew he couldn't understand how these two women could be so unkind. He looked quickly at Josh Smith wondering what the youngster would make of Sharpe's story, but Smith never blinked an eyelid. The secret was safe with him.
The food was eaten and the hampers packed away again and Margaret begged Dick to walk with her along the beach again if she promised she wouldn't splash him. They wandered out of sight and Tom looked at Josh who stood up wearily and wandered back to the rock pools he had found before, Rose trailing after him.
"She seems like a nice young lass, Mary. You shouldn't be so harsh with the things you say." Tom began. "Oh Tom, you have no idea what you're talking about. The last girl my father hired robbed us before she ran off. We are lucky she didn't cut our throats in our beds. There's very little hope for the boys and girls who come from these homes. Most of them already know how to steal and fight and some even sell themselves for money. They all end up coming to no good." Mary reached over and laid her hand on Tom's, looking up into his brown eyes. "We're alone again Tom," she whispered smiling.
That smile seemed to chase away all the conflicting thoughts that had been running through Tom's head. They lay back on the blanket and Tom kissed her gently, softly, just like he had shown Dick Sharpe. Tom knew how easy it would be to let things get out of hand with Mary. The temptation to go further each time they were alone together was great and Tom knew that Mary felt it just as keenly as he did. But Mary wouldn't know what she was getting herself into and Tom did. Tom knew the dangers as well as the pleasures and so he kept a careful reign on his passion.
"Oh Bloody Hell! Shit!" came Sharpe's scream causing both Tom and Mary to stop their kissing and run down the beach and around one of the boulders. There they found Sharpe and Margaret kneeling in the sand.
"Sharpe was obviously in pain, doubled over and clutching at himself. It appeared all too obvious to Tom what had happened. "What the hell do yer think you doing Dick!" Tom shouted at Sharpe who raised streaming eyes and shook his head fiercely. "It wasn't ME!" he groaned. "She put her hands down my breeches and scratched my bloody prick!" Tom mouth dropped open and he turned to face Margaret who stood there looking entirely too innocent. Mary was blushing, bright red. "Margaret! How could you!" she said sternly.
Tom turned back to Sharpe saying, "Well yer shouldn't have encouraged her." But at the same time Margaret spoke out, no hint of embarrassment in her voice. "It's your fault Mary! You were the one who said that you thought men would be made a lot like horses. I was just trying to find out if you were right!"
Tom swung back to stare at Margaret then at Mary who covered her mouth for a moment before saying "I'm so sorry Tom, please forgive her." She looked a Dick who was still doubled over, blushed even deeper and then dragged Margaret away.
Tom stood there with his mouth open, too shocked for a moment to say anything before he began to laugh. "It's not bloody funny! If yer did that to a horse, yer'd never be able to ride him again." Sharpe said causing Tom to laugh even more.
"Christ Dick, why'd you let her put her hand in yer breeches in the first place? I told yer not to go messing around with nice girls."
Sharpe rolled onto his back, his eyes red. "It's not as if she asked first Tom, besides one thing just led to another and it felt good. How was I to know she was going to sink her nails in? Hell, doesn't she know yer can't do that to a prick!"
"I doubt she knows much about them at all Dick, but I might be wrong. Here, let me have a look." Sharpe unbuttoned his breeches and Tom winced when he saw the half moon shapes clearly imprinted in the broken skin. "At least she didn't draw blood." Tom muttered and then started laughing again.
The two women were clearly embarrassed by the time Tom and Dick returned to the picnic spot. Mary kept apologising but was unable to look squarely at Dick. Margaret on the other hand sat beside him, patting his arm, asking if he would be all right and if there was anything she could do to make it better. Sharpe opened his mouth to reply to that but Tom sent him a withering look and Sharpe remained silent.
As Tom helped Mary pack the picnic things into the cart he couldn't resist asking "Did you really say that to Margaret? About men being like horses?" he grinned at her and Mary blushed before looking away.
"Yes I did Tom. Women are not as naove as you men seem to think we are." She turned back, her face still flaming "But Margaret was wrong to do what she did. I've spoken to her quite severely. She just seems to loose her head when it comes to men. A girl could get herself into trouble that way."
The drive back to town was slow and quiet. Margaret seemed content to sit beside Dick and doze on his shoulder and Josh and Rose also fell of to sleep with the gentle movement of the cart and the warmth of the sun. Tom spared a glance back at Sharpe, but the younger man was quietly examining a piece of driftwood that he had brought with him.
"So do you think we could do this again Mary?" Tom asked as he slid his arm around her waist. "Do you think your friend Dick will want to after what Margaret did to him?" Mary asked nervously and Tom couldn't help smiling "Oh I'm sure he will." He replied.
"Well go on, show us!" challenged Percy Peters that night in the mess hall. Dick Sharpe hastily looked around to see that none of the wives or children were nearby and unbuttoned his breeches. There were sounds of horror from the assembled Infantrymen. "Bloody Hell Dick! You're lucky she didn't do any permanent damage. Does it still work?" Toby Dodds asked with a frown.
"Don't know. I'll have to try it out later, hey Tom." Sharpe winked at Garrard who blushed. "Well just don't say I didn't warn you. I told you not to go messing around with nice girls." Tom muttered, trying to ignore the good-natured snickering that the others were directing at him.
"Are nice girls different to whores Harry?" asked Peters, his voice serious. "Bloody Hell Percy, of course they are." Harry White shouted and Peter's blushed, his face almost as red as his jacket.
"Haven't you ever done it with a girl who wasn't a whore Percy?" Tom asked gently.
"No, never had the chance." Peters answered quietly.
Tom Garrard suddenly felt sorry for Peters but knew that the red head would not be alone in his admission. Many of the men around the bench could probably tell a similar story including Dick Sharpe.
"That's the trouble with nice girls," began Abraham Avery looking over to where his wife sat with some of the other wives. "They just don't know a thing about it! Why on our wedding night Hannah took one look at me with my breeches down and asked if I'd hurt myself. 'Is it painful Abraham? It looks terribly swollen.'" Avery mimicked his wife's voice and the others started laughing again. "She got such a shock when I told her what I was going to do with it. You know, I don't think she's ever really got over it!" Avery grinned at the other. "She still doesn't seem to like it much."
"Maybe she just doesn't like you, Abraham!" said Harry White as he slapped the other man on the back. "You might need to work on yer act a bit! You ever have a virgin Dick?"
A small smile settled on Dick's lips. "Just once," he said quietly and he looked at Tom.
"Well I reckon they're not worth all the trouble you have to go to. Give me a girl who knows what to expect any day! Less chance of getting yer prick chopped off that way!" Whyte laughed and the others joined in the merriment. Sharpe looked across again at Tom and smiled. "I'd say it was worth it," he said.
Warning: m/m bits in this part plus, tea drinking, lying, and theiving! You have been warned! Comments welcome.
Part 4
"She want's to take us where?" Sharpe asked in alarm, the knife he was using to peel potatoes, poised dangerously close to his fingers.
"To Tea, Dick. At a little Tea Shop in town. She's only going to be here for a day. It's the least we can do." Tom Garrard shook his head and wondered if perhaps Sharpe's reaction wasn't misplaced.
The invitation to take tea with Margaret's mother while she was in Southampton to take her daughter home had seemed harmless when Mary first informed Tom, but now Tom was beginning to see all sorts of possible problems, most of which centred on Dick Sharpe. Sharpe had been seeing Margaret for almost a month now, all the time carefully chaperoned by Tom and Mary. Sometimes Josh Smith and the young girl Rose were invited along as well. After the initial incident at the cove, Margaret had behaved herself and so had Sharpe.
Finally Margaret's visit with her Uncle and Aunt had come to an end and on Friday her Mrs Dowling was arriving to take Margaret home to Cold Higham.
"All we have to do is go along, drink the bloody tea, be polite and not say too much. Shouldn't be too hard." Tom muttered.
"That's all very well for you to say. I've never done it before. The only way I know to take tea is to steal the bloody stuff! What if she asks me a question?" Sharpe shouted, potato peelings flying everywhere as he butchered the innocent vegetable.
"Just answer carefully and try to keep the conversation away from fighting, stealing, drinking and sex." That shouldn't be too hard, Tom thought to himself.
"Well what else is there to talk about? The weather?" Sharpe sounded desperate.
Tom closed his eyes, took a deep breath and answered "Well yes, but just don't talk about how cold it was in Flanders again!" Maybe the weather wasn't a safe topic.
Southampton seemed full of soldiers that Friday morning, making Tom wonder if yet another Regiment had arrived to camp at Nursling Common now that there was no room left in the barracks. More and more Regiments were being concentrated in Southampton in preparation for the large-scale descent that was planned for the West Indies. Tom knew it was only a matter of time before he and Dick were once again aboard a ship bound for the unknown. They might as well enjoy what Southampton had to offer while they could, thought Tom with a smile.
Sharpe cast a look of horror at Tom as they stood on the threshold of the large Tea-Room where they had arranged to meet with Mary, Margaret and Mrs Dowling.
"It looks awfully posh Tom," he said hesitantly. "You'll be fine Dick." Tom replied as he pushed Sharpe inside.
Mrs Dowling was an imposing figure, both in size and in presence. She commanded a table in the centre of the room so that all eyes turned to watch the two red-coated figures as the made their way carefully through the crowd of tea drinkers. It was like walking a firing line Tom thought as he wove his way in and out of the tables full of delicate china.
"Mother this is Mr. Dick Sharpe and Mr. Tom Garrard, Gentlemen, let me introduce you to my mother Mrs Dowling." Margaret was decked out in a most becoming dress of the palest blue, which not only accentuated her figure but also her higher position in society.
"So at last I am able to meet the young man whose name has been filling my daughter's letters for the last month." Mrs Dowling said as she looked Sharpe up and down. "You've made quite an impression on my daughter, Sir."
"Well she made quite an impression on me too ma'am, I don't mind telling yer!" Dick replied with a grin and Tom closed his eyes and began to pray that they would all make it through the next few hours.
Tea was served and Tom watched as Dick Sharpe picked up the delicate china cup in his large hand and gulped down the tea like a man dying of thirst. "Small ain't they," he said by way of explanation when Mrs Dowling stared at him.
"Let me pour you another cup then, Mr Sharpe." Mrs Dowling said and she poured more tea. "Perhaps something to eat as well?" The cakes and sandwiches that filled the table were probably more than Sharpe had seen in his life-time. Tom watched as his friend's hand went from first one plate to the other and didn't stop until his own was overflowing with food. "That should do for starters!" Sharpe said smiling and Tom resisted the temptation to kick him under the table. At least while Sharpe was drinking tea and eating there was less chance of him saying the wrong thing, Tom surmised as he reached for a small sandwich.
"I'll admit that when Margaret first mentioned that you had grown up in Ripon with your widowed mother I wondered as to the type of upbringing and education that you had received." Mrs Dowling paused and smiled "But when I saw the beautiful handwriting in the letter you sent to Margaret, I knew my fears were unfounded."
Tom stared at Sharpe who was looking quite pale. Had Sharpe asked Josh Smith to write a letter to Margaret at one time? "Where ever did you learn to write?"
"Errr," Sharpe began, setting the teacup down with a clank. "Err, the local minister! What a goodly man, he was, Ma'ma! He took pity on my poor mother, seeing as how she struggled so hard and he taught me to read and write." Sharpe spluttered the words out and then gulped a mouthful of tea.
"OH really?" Mrs Dowling looked perplexed. "I imagined you had attended a Public School somewhere. I wondered which one, that was all." She frowned even more. "A 'Minister' you say?"
Sharpe opened his mouth and shot a panicked look at Tom.
"Dick was such a good son that he didn't think it was right for his mother to work so hard. As soon as he was able to, he found himself a job to help out." Tom interjected before swallowing some tea and wondering when it would be possible for them to leave.
Mrs Dowling poured more tea and offered a plate of cakes around the table. "What sort of employment did you find Dick?" she asked.
"Milking cows!" Sharpe said proudly. "I was real good at that. The secret is sticking yer face close to their stomachs and whispering to them."
Tom choked on his tea, knowing that Sharpe must have been remembering how he had milked the cow.
"Yer know if yer real good yer can aim it when yer squirt the milk out of their.." Sharpe paused, "What are them things called Tom?" Mrs Dowling blinked and fanned herself quickly with the table napkin.
"Dick's hoping to buy a farm when his time with the Infantry is up." Tom said trying to change the subject. "As you can see, he knows a lot about farming and could put it to good use." Tom looked at Mary who was trying to hide a smile.
"Well that is very interesting Mr Garrard. My sister and her husband have no children and they will be looking for someone to leave their farm to when they pass on. As Margaret is almost like a daughter to them, it is quite probable that they will leave it to her."
"Now Mother, what would I want with a farm! Ugh. Besides, Mary stands just as good a chance of inheriting the farm as I do. I really don't want it."
Tom looked at Mary again and she smiled shyly back at him. Was it possible that Mary could inherit the farm? Suddenly Tom saw a new path opening up in his life. If he married Mary he could have a farm without having to spend all of his savings. Why, he could even provide a home for his own aging parents one day. Tom smiled back.
"So tell me Mr Sharpe how did you come to join the army? What were you doing so far from Ripon?"
And so the interrogation went on. Somehow Dick Sharpe with the help of Tom Garrard managed to bluff his way through the afternoon, all the time weaving a tangled web of half-truths and downright lies.
Finally it was time to leave. Margaret had tears in her eyes as she bid Sharpe goodbye. "Please write Dick and I'll write to you. Every week! Promise?" Sharpe blushed and nodded and the two young people had to content themselves with shaking hands under Mrs Dowling's watchful eyes.
"I'll be back in the last week of October Dick, for Aunt Bertha's birthday. I always spend a week with her at that time." Margaret called out as Sharpe and Garrard walked towards the door. Five weeks away! Perhaps by then Dick and Margaret would have forgotten all about each other, Tom prayed!
"Christ, I thought she had me there a couple of times, Tom." Said Sharpe as they made their way back through the streets of Southampton. They had left the better part of town and were entering a poorer area. "Here, step in here a minute," Sharpe said suddenly as he pulled Tom into a narrow alleyway between two brick walled houses. "What are we doing here, Dick?" Tom asked looking around. The afternoon sun was low, shrouding the alley in deep shadows.
"I gotta take a piss from all that bloody tea! Christ what a bloody nightmare."
Tom laughed and joined Sharpe. "So did you like the way Mrs. Dowling almost offered you Margaret's hand?" Tom asked as he buttoned up his breeches again.
Sharpe shook his head "What on earth would I want with her hand Tom," he said with a grin. "She nearly crippled me last time with her bloody hand. I'd have to teach her what to do with it." Sharpe leaned closed to Tom, his breeches still undone. "I wouldn't have to show you, though Tom, what do you say? It's been so long, thanks to bloody Major Shee's bloody silly regulations. We could do it right here."
Tom stared into the green eyes, which were suddenly hot and hungry and wondered when their conversation had taken a different path.
"Here? We can't do it here!" Tom protested, but Sharpe's hands were already busy unbuttoning Tom's breeches again.
"Course we can, I've done it in alleys lots of times." Sharpe said sliding Tom's breeches down, caressing as he went. "It's exciting!"
"But the grounds filthy! We can't lie down." Tom protested again trying to appeal to reason. However Sharpe wasn't listening to excuses as he spun Tom around and leaned him face first again the wall.
"Don't need to lay down Tom, we can do it standing up against the wall." Sharpe said as his fingers began questing.
"But someone might come?" Tom said desperately, ignoring the fact that his body was excited by the thrill of possible discovery.
"That's the whole idea Tom." Sharpe whispered seductively. "Now shut up and enjoy it." With that Sharpe pushed hard and Tom couldn't hold back the groan of pleasure that escaped his lips. Involuntarily Tom pushed back, impaling himself further and Sharpe gave a small laugh of surprise before thrusting harder. "Like that do yer Tom?" he asked as he withdrew and pushed in again. "Yes," Tom moaned, breathing hard, his body suddenly awash with pleasure.
"Right angle eh?" Sharpe said close to his ear and Tom thought he would come without Sharpe ever touching him. But Sharpe's strong hand and talented fingers took a hold of him then and Tom screamed as he came, his knees buckling, only Sharpe's arms keeping him upright.
"Shit yer easy Tom" Sharpe purred in his ear. "Now get yer feet under yer cause I haven't finished."
"You only did that because you were thinking of Margaret, didn't you!" Tom stated when Sharpe finally slumped against his back.
"Who?" Sharpe said drowsily and Tom laughed to himself. He wasn't really angry. Rather he was puzzled by Sharpe's unexpected behaviour.
"I think you only did it because you're going to miss Margaret." Tom said as he shrugged Sharpe off his shoulders and straightened his back, with a wince.
"You think too bloody much Tom." Sharpe said as he bent to retrieve his breeches, which were around his ankles.
"Well you don't seem to think at all except where your prick is concerned." Tom frowned. He was sticky and messy and didn't want to wipe himself on the tail of his good shirt. He'd only washed it two days ago!
"Here, use this," said Sharpe reading Tom's mind and handing him one of the napkins from the Tea-Room.
"Bloody Hell Dick! Why did yer steal that!" Tom was aghast.
"It's a bloody useful bit of cloth, that's why!" said Sharpe explained.
"I suppose you took the tea-spoons too?" Tom asked, his eyes rolling heavenward.
"Nah, no point. I'd have to find a fence to sell them for me and I don't know any in Southampton." Sharpe finished buttoning his breeches and looked at Tom who was still dressing. "Come on Tom. You were quick enough to get 'em down."
"Me!" Tom spluttered but he grinned anyway.
"Bet you were thinking of Mary, weren't yer Tom." Sharpe teased as the two men left the alley. "You've been courting her a while now. I suppose yer going to marry her."
"Courting?" Tom asked, surprised to hear Sharpe use the word.
"Aye, that's what Harry and Toby called it. They said you'd be asking Captain Hughes' permission to marry before we sail to the West Indies. I think they're taking bets on it."
Tom shook his head, but was hardly surprised.
"Surely you've thought about it Tom?" Sharpe continued with a serious note in his voice.
Sharpe was right, Tom had thought about marrying Mary.
"I've thought about it Dick. I like Mary, like her a lot, but I don't think it would be right to marry her and drag her away from her family and off to some God forsaken place where she'd run the risk of dying of fever. Besides, suppose she couldn't come with us? They'll hold a ballot in each company to see which wives can come and some will miss out.
"But what about the farm Tom. You've always wanted a farm and Mary might inherit her Uncles. Yer wouldn't want to loose that chance would yer?"
Tom glanced sideways at Sharpe as they walked along. I wouldn't want to loose you, Tom thought and he smiled at his friend.
"No, the farm doesn't matter. I wouldn't marry her just to get that. It's better this way. Mary will find someone else after I'm gone. She told me once that one of her father's apprentices was keen on her." Tom winked at Sharpe. "You'll just have to keep me company. Think you're up to it?" Sharpe looked over at Tom and winked back. "I'm always up to it!" he said.
Part 5
October 1795
There was a distinctive chill in the air as the men of the Light Company lined up for parade. Winter will be here soon, Tom thought to himself, with a shiver and wondered once again when they would be receiving their orders to sail to the West Indies.
Before parade was concluded Major Shee made one of his rare appearances. Shee was accompanied by a well-dressed, middle aged man and a very pretty young woman. Tom thought at first that she must be the man's daughter, but there was something about their manner towards each other that spoke of a different relationship. The woman held the eye of every man there. She was small and fragile with masses of dark hair that tumbled in soft curls around her fair face. Even from a distance Tom could see that her eyes were large and dark.
The major spoke briefly to Captain Hughes who turned to face the assembled Regiment.
"Would the following men please come forward. Able Curry, Thomas Free, Benjamin Little, Richard Sharpe, Joshua Smith, Samuel Rawlings and Henry Tibbets." Tom frowned. Those named had all been among the last recruits the Regiment had received before going to Flanders and were all young lads less than twenty.
Tom looked at Sharpe beside him who just shrugged and turned to nudge Josh Smith. The young man was standing still, eyes closed, head hanging and Sharpe drew a quick breath before turning back to Tom in surprise. But Tom had noticed the same thing and looked back at the woman who now stood scanning the assembled men as if looking for someone. She was the image of Josh Smith.
"Shit" muttered Sharpe as he grabbed Smiths arm and pulled him forward to where the others were already standing to attention. Tom glanced quickly at Bill Hanson and could see by the look on his face that the Sergeant too had noticed the uncanny resemblance.
They didn't have to wait long to have their curiosity satisfied.
"Joshua!" the woman cried as Sharpe and Smith emerged from the ranks.
The man laid a restraining hand on her arm to prevent her from running to Smith and she suddenly seemed to regain her composure.
"Is this your son Sir Sydney?" asked Hughes in a voice that everyone was now straining to hear.
The grey-haired man frowned a little then nodded. "I'm ashamed to say that it is, Captain." He turned to Smith who hadn't looked once at the people before him "Do you realise the trouble I've had to go through to find you Joshua? Did you ever think about the heartache that you've caused your mother?" he indicated the woman beside him causing Tom to wonder about her age. She certainly didn't look old enough to be Josh's mother, but then beauty had a way of deceiving.
"I think this matter might be better discussed in private," said Major Shee looking at his watch. "I'll leave you with Captain Hughes who will be best person to sort out this mess. Good Day." Shee nodded and hurried away and Hughes dismissed the other men that he had called out. "Sergeant Hanson, you'd best come along too. You might be able to help out here." Hughes added before directing the remaining Sergeants to dismiss the Companies.
"Well?" Tom asked as Sharpe walked up with a worried look on his face.
"They're his parents Tom. You know Josh told us that he ran away. I guess they came looking for him." Sharpe's eyes wandered away and Tom had a feeling that there was more to the story than Sharpe was letting on.
No further news was heard until noon-time when the Infantrymen were once again gathered in the mess hall. By then, Tom and Dick had been asked what was happening by most of the men in their Company and many from the others as well. Sharpe sat silently through most of the questioning letting Tom tell the little that they knew about Smith. That he had run away from school just after his sixteenth birthday to become an actor but had been tricked into joining up by Sergeant Hakeswill who had got him drunk one night.
With the lack of any concrete information, rumours had started to arise.
Percy Peters was currently speculating that perhaps Josh was heir to a family fortune and his father had come looking for him for that reason when Bill Hanson suddenly burst into the mess and strode towards their table.
"Did you know about this Garrard, Sharpe?" Hanson asked angrily "What Bill? What's happened?" Hanson looked pale "Bloody Josh, he lied about his name when he joined up. He's really Josh Tremaine! His fathers some bloody bigwig bastard. But that's not the end of it. He lied about his age as well. Christ, he just turned sixteen not long ago! He was still fourteen when he joined up."
Hanson suddenly sat down heavily at the table. "Captain Hughes questioned me again and again asking if I knew, but I didn't know, I swear to God I didn't know."
Tom turned to Sharpe and stared at him for a moment. "Did you know Dick?" he asked quietly. Sharpe stared back almost defiantly, "No." he answered but Tom wondered if he was lying.
"So what's going to happen?" asked Harry White and Hanson shook his head. "Because Josh joined up when he was underage the papers aren't binding. I know it's not the first time that this sort of thing has happened. The Regiment usually turns a blind eye to it. But Sir Sydney Tremaine knows the Law, he's demanding to take Josh home."
Hanson gave a strangled little laugh. "You'd think after all that's happened, Josh would be glad to go home, but do you know what the silly little bastard said to Hughes?" There was silence as they waited for Hanson to continue. "Josh demanded that Captain Hughes bring him another set of papers to sign because he WAS sixteen now and he could legally sign up. Hughes sent me to get the Company Clerk and that's what they are doing now." Hanson shook his head again. "Christ doesn't he realise he'd be better off at home. He's not cut out for the army." Hanson rose from the table "I'd better go talk to Jean before she hears this from someone else. Shit! Why didn't he tell me!"
Everyone seemed to be talking at once except for Dick Sharpe who sat silently.
"It's a bloody good thing that they didn't arrive a few weeks earlier. Sir Bloody Sydney wouldn't have been too impressed with the condition that they found him in then." Said Toby Dodds, unkindly. "Wonder if they'd still want to take him home if they knew about him and O'Malley."
"Bloody little liar! All that talk about Hakeswill tricking him into joining up. It must have all been an act," said Harry Whyte "You can't say you were tricked if yer lied about yer name and age. Then he kept complaining all through Flanders that he wanted to go home! Perhaps he should have been a bloody actor. He's sure fooled us."
"He's still just a boy, Harry. He probably doesn't know what he wants." Said Tom quietly, hoping to stop the way the conversation was heading.
"Makes yer wonder about Jack O'Malley though, doesn't it." said Whyte and several of the others who had gathered around nodded. "Bloody little liar probably lied about that too and Captain Hughes believed his little act. Hell, he probably has Captain Hughes eating right out of his hand." Whyte looked at Sharpe across the table "Better watch out Dick or you might loose your place. Yer know Captain Hughes likes 'em young and pretty."
Sharpe was up out of his seat and swinging at Whyte before Tom had a chance to move. He desperately grabbed Sharpe's arm and managed to pull it off course.
"Steady up Dick. You'll get yourself into trouble that way. You don't want a flogging, do you!" Tom pulled Sharpe back down onto the bench.
"Yer'd better watch yer mouth Harry." Tom said quietly "Because it won't make a difference how long we've been friends if yer keep talking like that." Tom looked around the table at the others "You all know Josh, you know he's quiet and he's never caused any trouble. Maybe there's a reason why he lied to get into the army."
Whyte just shook his head. "Yer a fool Tom. He's lied and lied again. Would you trust a man like that to cover yer back in battle? I wouldn't!" and with that Harry Whyte stood and left the table. Most of the others dispersed as well leaving Garrard and Sharpe alone with Peters and Rawlings.
Tom looked at the two young men hoping that they wouldn't judge Smith before they knew the full story.
"Well Dick? Did yer know?" said Peters quietly "We're all mates, it's not right to lie to us."
Sharpe looked up and Tom knew he was carefully weighing up his answer. "I didn't know at first. He told me what he told the rest of you. But he did tell me the truth a while ago, after..." Sharpe trailed off and looked to Tom for some sort of acknowledgment. "By then I didn't think it would make any difference. Besides there are some things that a mate tells you in private that yer shouldn't go around repeating." Tom smiled at Sharpe and looked to see what response the others had to Sharpe's words.
Peters considered his words before saying "Yer right Dick, but it feels strange to know he deceived us all that time. We're his mates too. Why didn't he trust us?"
Before anyone could answer silence descended on the mess. Josh Smith stood in the doorway. Backs turned, and murmurs began again as Smith slowly made his way across to Sharpe and Garrard.
"Were they really your parents Josh?" asked Sam Rawlings and Smith nodded as he sat down. "Christ yer must be bloody rich!" the young man blurted out and Smith blushed. "Yer sure look like your mother. She's pretty Josh," said Peters and Tom breathed a sigh of relief that at least these two seemed prepared to give Smith a chance to explain.
"Why did you stay Josh? Why didn't you go home?" Tom asked hoping that the question didn't sound like an accusation.
Smith raised his dark eyes and looked into Tom's. There was sorrow showing but also a measure of hope.
"I don't want to go home Tom, that's why I ran away in the first place. I'm an only child and my father already had my whole life mapped out for me. He didn't care what I wanted to do. Why he even had my future wife chosen. I couldn't do the things he wanted me to. I just couldn't! So I ran away." Smith gave the smallest hint of a smile. "I did want to be an actor, but I knew I'd never be good at it. I'm too quiet. I really didn't know what I wanted to do. My main thought was to get away from my father. When I came across Sergeant Hakeswill I knew that the army would be the best place to hide. My father would never think to look for me here. I didn't realise how hard it would be. I'm lucky I had Bill to look out for me. I signed up again because I don't have anywhere else to go unless I go home and I won't do that. I can't!"
Smith looked down at his hands and fiddled with the cuffs of his red jacket. Sharpe put his hand out and lightly touched Smith's arm causing the younger man to look up again.
"Well yer got mates here Josh. This is yer home now and we're yer family," he looked up at Peters and Rawlings "Isn't that right, lads?" The two men nodded and Tom patted Smith on the shoulder. "You'll be right Joshy."
Both Garrard and Sharpe had guard duty that afternoon. Tom was glad to be able to stand and think for a while. The disclosures that Smith had made had surprised Tom, but they had also caused him to question his own conscience when he thought about the deception that he and Sharpe were playing with Mary and Margaret. Lying about Dicks past wasn't a serious matter, but it wasn't honest. Tom's feelings for Mary were deepening all the time and he knew that she felt the same way. To continue this charade with her was wrong. Yet what could he do?
Dick Sharpe was clearly awe struck by Margaret, the first decent girl he had ever met. What exactly Sharpe's feelings towards her were was debatable, but to Dick they were real and Tom didn't want to be the one to point out the reality of the situation. If Margaret knew the truth about Dick's past she probably would have nothing further to do with him.
"I need a word with you Tom." Said Bill Hanson breaking Tom from his pondering. The Sergeant looked at Tom, his blue gaze piercing. "Did you know about Josh's age Tom? Did Dick ever say anything about it?" There was anguish in Hanson's voice showing how much he was upset by Smiths deceptions.
"I swear Bill, I had no idea." Tom answered truthfully.
The older man dropped his eyes and rubbed his hand over his face. "Christ if only I had know! I never would have touched him Tom, you've got to believe me. I had no idea he was so young. I feel disgusted with myself."
So that was what was causing Bill's unease. Shit, Tom murmured to himself. I'm probably as guilty as Bill, he thought as he remembered the times that Smith had wormed his way into his arms and Tom had been hard pressed to refuse what Smith offered.
"Look Bill, it's not your fault. You didn't know so you didn't do anything wrong. Shit, even Dick didn't know until after that business with O'Malley." Tom said gently.
Bill Hanson looked up and Tom could see that his eyes were red. "I care about Josh. I've tried to do the right thing by him, but there's one thing that I just can't understand Tom." Hanson looked up to the sky as if searching for the answer to all of his problems. "If Josh really felt the way he told me he did, then why did he lie to me? Why didn't he trust me with the truth? You have to be honest with each other in any sort of friendship."
Tom sighed "Josh is just a boy Bill, he doesn't know these things. It's something that you learn the hard way sometimes." Tom suddenly felt as if his words were prophetic. Is this what would happen with Sharpe, he wondered? Would Dick learn the hard way by having his heart broken?
"I'd say Josh has learnt an awful lot the hard way since he joined the army. I can't help but wonder now what really went on that night with O'Malley. I know I shouldn't doubt Josh's word, but after all of this, well...it was his birthday that day. God knows what the silly little fool thought he was doing." Hanson shook his head again and rubbed at his eyes. "I can't help but feel that this whole sorry mess Josh is in is somehow my fault. If I had stopped it right at the beginning then the rest would not have happened."
There was nothing Tom could do or say that would ease Hanson's conscience. Tom's parting words were that the sergeant should talk to Smith and sort things out between them. Hanson said he would but Tom knew that no amount of talking would ever recover what was lost.
After their hours of guard duty Garrard and Sharpe made their way back to the barracks. Sharpe walked close and Tom knew that something was bothering the younger man. Hardly surprising, Tom thought to himself.
"What's on yer mind Dick?" Tom asked hoping to get Sharpe to talk.
"I overheard some of what Bill was saying to yer Tom and I just don't understand why he's so worried about Josh's age. I can understand the lying part, but what difference does it make if he was only fourteen when he and Bill became mates?" Tom stared at Sharpe for a moment and felt saddened by his words. How the hell was he going to explain this to Dick?
"He was just a boy Dick, too young to really know what he was doing or what he wanted. Bill feels that he took advantage of him, pressed him into something that he may not have been ready for." Tom looked into Sharpe's green eyes, trying to see what was hidden there.
Sharpe snorted. "That's rot Tom! Josh knew what he was doing. Bill never made him do anything he didn't want to."
"I know that Dick, but he was too young to really know if that was what he wanted or not...do you see what I mean? He was still just a child."
Sharpe shook his head. "No, I think yer wrong Tom." Said Sharpe and Tom suddenly wondered if in some strange way Dick was trying to defend his own life. That by saying Josh was old enough to know his own mind, Dick could somehow make himself less of a victim of abuse.
Tom knew enough about the things that had happened in Sharpe's past to be shocked and saddened. He also knew that despite the fact Sharpe tried to act as if none of it had any bearing on his present life, the effects of that time were there to be seen by anyone who cared to look past Sharpe's carefully built defences.
But Sharpe's next words made Tom think even more deeply about Smith's situation. "What do yer think would have happened to Josh if Bill hadn't taken him up? What would have happened to him if he hadn't joined the 33rd and was left on the streets all alone?" There was a hard look in Sharpe's eyes now, and Tom looked away "You just think about that Tom and then tell me if Bill Hanson's got anything to be ashamed of. I think he did Josh a damned favour!"
December 1998