Will sat in the back of the Land Rover with Jamie Burton beside him as the armoured vehicle bounced along the unmade road. The windows were so dusty that they could hardly see out. Not that there was much to see. Just more dirt. Miles and miles of dirt and dust, followed by some rocks and more dirt. 

“I cannot wait to go home,” Will said, “To see grass and proper trees and stuff. And have a shower and not get out and be immediately covered in dust again.”

“Less than a fortnight, Lieutenant, and we’ll be on the plane out of here,” Jamie smiled. Will noticed that his Captain was more fidgety than usual, and seemed to be checking his watch twice a minute as though that would somehow make the time pass quicker. 

“Two weeks for you lads,” the driver grumbled.

“We were out in this shit hole all bloody summer,” Will said, “You at least get the winter shift.”

“You do not know how annoying it was getting texts from my wife and sister and cousins and my dad,” Jamie said. Not matter how hard Jamie tried to be ‘one of the lads’ his perfect received pronunciation accent automatically betrayed him and his social standing. “My dad figured out how to use iMessage. Hello Jamie, another smashing day at Royal Ascot. Cleaned up a beauty. Here’s a picture. No idea where Elliot got that hat. Lovely weather. Your mother sends her love and says to stay safe. Dad.” Jamie said, imitating his father’s accent, which sounded like something out of a 1950’s BBC News broadcast. “My dad! My dad has learnt how to use iMessge. This is the same man who can’t change the volume on the television without somehow disconnecting Sky, changing the aspect ratio, and adding Greek subtitles, but not making a single change to the volume. My dad!”

“You’re like, proper posh, aren’t you, mate?” the sergeant sitting in the front beside the driver asked.

“Well, now…” Jamie began. Will noticed how Jamie relaxed a little when he spoke.

“He went to Eton, and his grandpa is mates with the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh, his ancestral home in Oxfordshire is pretty much a palace and he’s in line to be a Marquis. Yeah, he’s posh,” Will said, laying out the facts, and giving Jamie a nudge in the ribs.

“Now, really…” Jamie tried to protest.

The Corporal in the front passenger seat swore and laughed.

“Don’t get much posher than that, mate,” the driver said. 

Will smiled. He liked listening to the other men rub Jamie up this way. Not that there was anything pretentious about Captain James Burton. He was as good as soldier as any, if not better than most. He was certainly an excellent Captain. He treated his men firmly, but fairly. The leadership required to be a Captain seemed to come so naturally to Jamie. Perhaps he really had been born to lead.

Jamie yawned stretched out his arms. They’d been driving for nearly three hours, and now they weren’t far from base. 

“‘I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, one the hell a-a-away from here…’” Jamie sang, forcing the words to fit to the tune. Will and the others laughed.

“I sure hope you weren’t a chorister with that voice, mate,” the Corporal said.

“School choir, not a chorister. Oh, how about, ‘Ding dong merrily on high, Will and I are leaving this hell hole!’”

“That is well shit, man,” Will laughed.

“Welsh shit?”

“Oi, no hanging it on Wales, yeah?” the Corporal teased. 

“I said ‘well…”, oh never mind.”

Jamie laughed, “All together now, ‘Glo-or-or-or-ia…’”

Everything went white and Will woke up. He wasn’t laughing now and he wasn’t in a hot Land Rover in Afghanistan. Will felt cold and clammy, but he thanked whatever God there was that he didn’t cry out in his dreams. He couldn’t call it a nightmare, because it wasn’t. It was good. It had all been good. It had all been good until the Land Rover had been hit by the IED, but Will didn’t remember that. At least he didn’t think he did. He’d been the only survivor, the blast having killed the driver, the Corporal and Jamie Burton. Will pulled the blankets tighter around himself and wished he could forget, but he couldn’t. Jamie loudly singing Christmas carols, purposefully out of key, still echoed in his ears, despite that being almost three years ago. The driver and the Corporal laughing and joking as they drove along; Will couldn’t remember their names. Three hours in the Land Rover together, and he couldn’t recall their names. But he knew the Corporal was Welsh and the driver had at some stage during the journey mentioned his kids… 

Will rolled over and pulled his knees up to his chest.

What is the last thing you remember?

Jamie Burton singing Christmas carols.

How many times had he been asked that question? And how many times had he given that answer? It had become automatic, mechanical almost. The first thing he remembered afterward the blast was being in the military hospital in Germany, covered in wires and tubes and bandages with doctors asking him that eternal question.

What is the last thing you remember?

Jamie Burton singing Christmas carols.

For a while, whilst he had been in Germany anyway, that had been the truth. The last thing Will Parsons remembered had been Jamie Burton singing. But then he’d come back to England and he began to remember, and it scared him. Perhaps it was his own paranoia. His own mind playing tricks on him, making him think things that weren’t really real. That hadn’t really happened. 

He’d told the doctors and the physiatrists and Chiefs of Staff and Claudia Burton and everyone that same story. It had been true. It had been the last thing he remembered, but that was almost three years ago. 

What is the last thing you remember?

Jamie Burton singing Christmas carols.

That wasn’t the last thing he remembered any more. 

Peggy groaned and rolled over as the alarm went off. She could feel one of the cats sleeping up against her leg. The bed was warm and comfortable, and it was still dark outside, though it was getting to that time of year when it always seemed to be dark out. 

“It’s coming up a quarter past six, on this blustery Friday morning. Let’s check in with Lou for the traffic…” the radio droned. 

“You have to get up,” Luc muttered. “And turn the alarm off. And make the cat get off the bed.”

Peggy couldn’t help but smile at Luc’s requests. “Good morning to you too, Luc,” she mumbled to her boyfriend as she sat up. 

“Shh, I’m asleep,” Luc said, his voice muffled by the pillow, but Peggy could tell he was smiling.

She swung her legs out of bed and quickly slipped her feet into her slippers. Their tiny flat was warm enough, as the radiators didn’t have all that much space to heat. Peggy turned off the radio to allow Luc a little more sleep. He was lucky, not having to get up for almost another hour. As quietly as she could, Peggy dressed, fed the cats, did her hair, and made herself look generally presentable. Before leaving the flat, Peggy turned the alarm back on.

“Time to wake up,” she said to Luc not sure if he was awake or had drifted back to sleep, “And don’t forget the party tonight.” 

“Mmm. Call me when I’m alive,” Luc muttered, his voice still thick with sleep.

“I’ll have Amy call you,” Peggy teased.

“Shoo, Peg. Have a good day.”

Peggy learnt down and kissed Luc on the side of the head, brushing back his thick brown mop of hair. “See you this evening. Don’t be late. And have a shave,” she said, noticing the stubble on Luc’s cheek.

“Yep, you’re going to be late.”

“I know. I’m trying to leave. Right, bye Luc.”

“Bye.”

Peggy grabbed her coat and bag on the way out, and then hurried down the road to catch the Tube. She arrived at Green Park shortly after seven o’clock and walked to the Burton household, her shoulders hunched up, trying to protect herself against the wind. 

Peggy entered the house through the service entry, which took her into the kitchen. The only time she used this entrance was first thing in the morning and last thing of an evening when she left of the night. This was partly because the main door was locked, partly because she enjoyed seeing Donna, Claudia Burton’s housekeeper and cook, and partly because she was ‘staff’, being nanny to the five-year-old Amy Elizabeth Burton, the only child of the late Captain James “Jamie” Burton and his wife Claudia. 

“Good morning, Donna,” Peggy smiled as she waltzed into the kitchen, surprised at her enthusiasm. The kitchen would be the envy of many if they could see it, by it’s sheer size alone, let alone the fact that it looked like something out of a television cooking program. Despite the kitchen’s size and potential to feel too commercial, Peggy found that the kitchen was always warm, and always smelt delicious, even if it was just the smell of toast and freshly brewed coffee. She guessed that was Donna’s influence as much as anything.

“What time do you call this?” Donna asked, teasing Peggy for being late as usual. Donna was in her fifties, and had worked for the Burton family in various capacities since she was sixteen. The Burton’s were her second family.

“Time to get Miss A.E. up and out of bed, I presume.” Peggy replied.

Donna rolled her eyes, and brushed her hands on her apron. “I suppose little Miss will be wanting beans and toast?”

“It’s Friday,” Peggy said, unbuttoning her coat, “Give the girl Nutella.”

“You spoil that girl, Miss Falconer,” Donna said, despite usually being the first one to find sweet to give to Amy Elizabeth. 

“Put the kettle on for me please, Donna. Could you send the food up in ten?” Peggy called as she left the kitchen and climbed the three flights of stairs to Amy’s bedroom. Peggy knocked on the door before opening it and turning on the light. “I wonder if there’s anyone in this room who can’t wait to go to school today?” she asked, dumping her coat and bag on the table.

“I’m still asleep!” A muffled voice called from under the blankets.

“Still asleep? Amy Elizabeth at twenty past seven? I don’t believe it,” Peggy said as she walked across the room and opened the curtains. She could see that Amy was still in bed, but judging by the lumps in the bed and the way the covers moved, Peggy guessed the Amy was lying wrong-way round. Peggy lifted up the blankets, revealing Amy’s feet where her head should have been.

“Peggy, you’re letting in cold air!”

“What are you doing in the cave, Bear Grills?”

“I’m playing,” Amy answered.

“Do you think it’s time to hop up?” Peggy asked, tickling Amy’s foot.

“No!” Amy laughed and kicked. 

Peggy smiled. She opened Amy’s wardrobe and pulled out the little girl’s uniform, throwing it on the bed. “Socks or tights today, Amy?”

“Both!”

“Socks it is, then,” Peggy said, as a pair of Amy’s school socks were sitting right at the front of the draw. “Come on now, hopping up time.”

“What day is it?” 

“Friday.”

The bed covers wriggled and a moment later Amy Elizabeth appeared from underneath. “So tonight fish and chips and chocolate and telly?” she asked enthusiastically.

“Not this week, I’m afraif,” Peggy said, their normal Friday routine being altered this week. “There’s the party remember.”

“Yes,” Amy sighed, and chewed on her finger. “But maybe you forgot.”

“Not likely,” Peggy said, gently moving Amy’s hand away from her mouth as Amy climbed out of bed. Amy Elizabeth had big hazel eyes like her mother and strawberry blonde hair that wasn’t quite ginger, but was certainly close. She didn’t look particularly like either of her parents, but rather a good mix of both. In that way, Peggy was glad. Amy looked enough like Jamie Burton to clearly be his daughter, but not so much as to be just a little girl version of her father. Peggy helped Amy dress in her school uniform, and brushed and braided the front of Amy’s shoulder-length hair to stop it going in her eyes. Peggy then went to check the dumb waiter, which held the tray containing Amy’s toast, the tub of Nutella, a glass of orange juice, a cup of tea, a bowl of cereal and a jug of milk. Peggy smiled and carried the tray into Amy’s bedroom. 

The bedroom was larger than the average, as many years ago it had been a traditional nursery, at one time holding four children. Peggy placed the tray on the table, and the two ate breakfast by the window, looking out the third floor window at the rooftops, with the trees tops of St James’ Park blowing roughly in the wind out beyond. 

*

“And now, for the news headlines…”

Kate Weatherly brushed her teeth, wondering how long she should wait before calling Hadley. Just because it was Friday did not mean that he would be out of bed any earlier. The fact that her boyfriend got out of bed a whole six minutes before running to catch the train to work annoyed Kate to no end. They probably should get their own place, Kate thought, but then she looked around her ensuite and couldn’t help but smile. The size of her ensuite and bedroom combined was probably about the size of any place they could afford. Kate rinsed her mouth and washed her face. Once she was done, she put her phone on speaker mode and called Hadley.

“What?” came her boyfriend’s muffled response. 

“Good morning, Hadley,” Kate said, purposefully sounding overly cheerful. 

“Mmm, morning Katie. Wassa time?”

“Eight o’clock Hadley,” Kate answered primly, apply her lipstick.

“Too early, Katie,” Hadley moaned, but Kate could tell he was smiling. 

“Hadley, you really need to be more of a morning person.”

“I’ll call later.”

“We have the party tonight, Hadley, remember. So please do shave. Oh, and do you need me to arrange you a lift, or shall you organise one yourself?”

“You’re bossy,” Hadley teased. 

“You’re disorganised,” Kate said, applying her mascara. 

“Yeah, well I can get there myself.”

“No, you’re coming here first, then we’ll all go to St James together. It’s all there in your calendar on your phone.”

“K, k, whatever. Why’d’u even ask? Ah well. Call me later.”

“Right ho, well, have a nice morning.”

“Will try. Yep, right. Love ya, Kate.”

“Bye,” Kate said, and hung up. She quickly finished getting ready before heading downstairs. Tonight the Weatherly family, along with Hadley Watson, would be attending a cocktail party at the home of Claudia Burton, Kate’s cousin-in-law. Kate supposed that the party might be alright, as she could generally find enjoyable company at such events. Hadley on the other hand would rather do anything than attend the party. It wasn’t his fault, but he just wasn’t one of ‘them’. Kate had everything, a Public school and Cambridge education, a good job, a loving family, and, well, Hadley may not be the partner that her family would have chosen for her, but Kate didn’t care. He was kind and honest; even if that meant that he was prone to pulling faces at food he didn’t like the look of, or rolling his eyes if in the company of a bore.

“Katie, what colour dress are you wearing tonight, and don’t say black because you always wear black and I want to wear black, but I can’t because we can’t match,” Clara Weatherly called from the front room as Kate pulled on her coat. Kate popped her head around the corner and saw her sister sitting on the couch, eating her breakfast in her dressing gown in front of the television.

“I’m wearing black,” Kate smiled. ‘What time do you start today?”

“Ten, but I woke up early anyway,” Clara answered, not taking her eyes from the television. She was in the second year of her degree at University College London. “The wind keeps blowing that tree up against my window. I’ve told daddy to fix it or get a man to fix it.”

“Are you watching Top Gear re-runs?”

“Well it’s that or news or cartoons. And please can you wear something else?” Clara asked, turning to Kate.

“No,” Kate said, looking at her watch, “And I have to go. You find something else. You pretty much go to university in Oxford Street. Just buy something.”

“Oh, come on Katie, please…” Clara pouted. 

“Then wear the black dress. It doesn’t matter if we match,” Kate said, wrapping her scarf around her neck.

Clara grumbled. When they were children, their mother had always dressed the two girls the same, or at least in a variation on a theme. Kate had never been too worried about it, but Clara had loathed the fact, and all these years later still refused to wear anything similar to Kate. “Well, I don’t know,” Clara sulked.

“Well I’m going now, see you this evening.”

“Yes, bye Kate,” Clara muttered, her attention now turned back to the television.

“Bye mummy!” Kate called.

“Bye Katie, have a nice day!” Alice Weatherly called from elsewhere in the house.

Jean-Luc Mercier arrived at work just before nine, following the rush-hour crowds up from the Tube station to the windy day above. Once inside, than waiting for the lift, Luc walked up the fire escape stairs to the second floor, taking the steps two at a time. He had The Candy Man from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory stuck in his head and hummed as he went up the stairs. Once on the second floor, Luc walked through the open plan office to the smaller office at the back of the building where the IT department was situated.

“Good morning gentlemen!” Luc said cheerfully. “No one’s destroyed Windows yet this morning?”

“It’s Friday, Mercier,” Tony said, “Anything breaks, they’ve got an hour wait before we come and fix it.” The work ethic in the IT department on a Friday was never going to win any awards for productivity.

The IT department consisted of Luc as the assistant, Tony and Mike. Despite these official titles, the three men were really more or less equals. In truth, Luc was the most qualified, despite being the youngest and most recent addition to the team. Luc was technically overqualified for a job that really just required him to tell people to try ‘turning it off and on again’, but the pay was alright, the location in the City was good and the company could be worse. Luc pulled off his jacket and placed it on the back of his chair before turning on his computer.

“Any plans for the weekend, Mercier?” Tony asked.

“We’ve got a do at my cousin’s tonight,” Luc said, “Other than that, just a quiet one.”

“I’ll swap,” Tony said, “My in-laws are down from Hull. Oh, morning Mike. What’ve you got planned for the weekend?”

Mike entered the office. “Oh, you know, just those Aston Villa tickets!” Mike said excitedly, pulling off his blue and maroon scarf, and proudly draping it across his computer. 

“Aston Villa are going to get smashed,” Luc teased, logging in to his computer, “I’m going four-nil. Sorry Mike, waste of money.”

The internal phone rang.

“For your cheek, that’s all yours, Mercier,” Mike said and muttered, “Four-nil. Not bloody likely.”

Luc picked up the phone. “Good morning IT Department, Luc speaking,” he chirped, “… No,” Luc said slowly, trying to understand what was being asked of him to someone in marketing, “No, it won’t work if you haven’t got the program installed… Yes, you have to install it… No, you don’t currently have it on your computer, which is why it doesn’t work… Well you need permission from your department head… I don’t know… No, there’s no one else you can talk to… It won’t work until you install the program… Ok?... Right, yeah, ok. Bye.”

“Welcome to Friday?” Tony asked.

Luc leaned back on his chair and stretched out. “She’s got fifteen minutes to call back, or I’m going to treat it as unimportant. Anyone want a cuppa?”

At quarter past twelve Luc re-heated his left-over pasta, and by half-twelve he was heading outside to meet up with Hadley Watson. Luc was now humming Spandau Ballet’s Gold and wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t really care. It was a good song, and he was in a good mood. 

“So on a scale of one to being forced to go to Question Time in the House of Lords, how boring is this party tonight going to be?” Hadley asked when they met up. Hadley had bought a sandwich and Coke from Pret A Manger and ate as they wandered around St Paul’s Cathedral looking for an empty park bench that was preferably out of the wind. Hadley was a tall young man, easily clearing six foot, and just a little bit lanky. He kept his hair short, unlike Luc’s floppy mess, and sported a week’s worth of beard.

“It’ll be fine, Hadley,” Luc said, not all the worried that his friend was almost a full head taller than him. “The food and drink will be outstanding, if nothing else. Claudia knows how to put on a show in that regards. And don’t worry, I’ll convince Katie to go out afterwards. I’ll say we should be able to escape St James by half ten.”

“You reckon?” Hadley asked, perking up a little, encouraged by Luc’s eternal enthusiasm.

“Sure,” Luc replied, “but you know you’ll have to shave.”

“Uh, now you just sound like Kate,” Hadley moaned.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“You’re not my girlfriend, Luc. You’re a guy, and we’re both straight.”

Luc laughed, “Aw, come on, Hadley, you don’t think I’d make a good girlfriend?”

Hadley shook his head and Luc’s nonsense. “Be very grateful you’ve got Peggy, J.L., because you are well weird, man,” he said and then noticed Luc looked about 14 without his usual bit of stubble. “Did you shave this morning?”

“Peg told me to,” Luc said cheerfully. 

“Girlfriends are the worst,” Hadley moaned.

Luc laughed. “Cheer up, Charlie,” he teased, nudging Hadley.

Hadley smiled and took a sip of Coke. “I bet Peggy even tells you what to wear.”

“Of course she does,” Luc smiled, “She sent me a text earlier telling me she’d got my things out for this evening.”

Hadley rolled his eyes and muttered something about girls taking over everything and Luc being completed whipped. 

“Appreciate it, mate,” Luc grinned, patting Hadley on the back, “It’s that, or we have to buy our own shirts and pants and socks and things. Let them do what they like, and it’ll make your world a happier place.” 

*

“And then, it was me, and Maddy ran across the yard and …” Amy Elizabeth rambled on as she and Peggy walked up the street from the bus stop. 

Peggy open the door to the house and she and Amy went inside. Amy dumped her schoolbag in the hallway and pulled off her hat.

“Hello Mummy, I’m home!” Amy called, despite the fact that it was unlikely that Claudia would be to.

“We’re in here, darling,” Claudia called, coolly. Peggy was surprised to find her home, and the pronoun ‘we’ was not lost on her. Amy broke into a run down the hallway down to the library, but stopped short at the door.

“Oh, hello,” Amy said shyly. Peggy picked up Amy’s bag and followed her down the hallway, when she saw what had made Amy stop.

“I believe you’ve grown since I last saw you, little Miss,” the man sitting on the desk in library beside Claudia Burton said. Amy didn’t respond.

“Oh, and Simon, you remember Peggy, our nanny,” Claudia said politely, swirling her drink. Peggy noticed that during the day Claudia had had her hair and nails done for the party, but she was still in regular day dress. 

“’Course I do. How’s it going, Peg?” Simon asked casually. His hair was slicked back as though he’d used half a tube of Brylecreem. 

“Hello,” Peggy said stiffly, not appreciating the familiarity with which her Simon addressed her, nor how he was sitting on top of a pile of papers on the desk. Peggy had met Simon Westfield a couple of times before, but that had been some months ago, and she had never seen him behave so casually in the Burton household. 

“Well now,” Claudia said, either not noticing or choosing to ignore the awkwardness, “I know that Donna has everything under control with her team working downstairs. Peggy, I’ve bought a new dress for Amy Elizabeth, so I expect her to wear that.”

“Not the red dress?” Peggy asked as Claudia paused for a second to breath.

“Oh, no no no, the new dress will be much nicer. It’s hanging on Amy’s wardrobe door. The silver shoes, and something nice in her hair, please. It’s a mess in it’s current state.”

Peggy felt like saying, well we literally just walked in the door and she’s been running around at school all day and it is very windy, but she merely replied with “Of course.” Peggy wondered if Claudia had noticed that Amy had taken and step back and quietly taken Peggy’s hand. 

“And the guests will be arriving from seven, so I expect you and Amy Elizabeth downstairs from then. The party shall be in full swing from half seven. Speeches are at half eight. After that you’ll be wanting to put Amy to bed, which is fine by me.”

“Right,” Peggy said. Claudia was often indifferent, but this was odd, even for her. And who gave speeches at a cocktail party?

“Now, off you go, I shall see you at seven. Don’t bother showing me Amy before, I trust she’ll look splendid, won’t you mummy’s darling?” Claudia said, addressing the last of the comment to Amy. Amy shrugged and shuffled closer towards Peggy.

“I was going to take her to the Park for a little bit,” Peggy said, suddenly having the feeling they should get out of the house. “Donna said this morning that there’s some leftover bread, so I thought Amy and I would go and feed the swans. We’ll only be an hour, if that, so plenty of time to get ready. Besides, in a few more weeks, it will be too dark to go out after school.”

“Oh, yes, of course, whatever. Nanny knows best,” Claudia said, sipping on her glass of scotch. 

“Right,” Peggy said, and led Amy by the hand down into the kitchen. The kitchen was a hive of activity, with three cooks having been hired to cater for the party. Amy took a seat on one of the bar stools on the side of the kitchen and began swivelling around on the chair. “Have you got an bread crusts, Donna?” Peggy asked, placing both her handbag and Amy’s schoolbag in the dumb waiter to be sent upstairs.

“What for, Miss P?” Donna asked, moving constantly, stirring this, checking that, fussing over the presentation of plate of cold hors d'oeuvres. 

“Amy and I are going to go and feed the swans in the park. To get out of everyone’s way.”

“I’ll find something,” Donna answered. “You’ll find cheese in the fridge and crackers for Miss A.E. in the cupboard. I also found some good grapes at the market today, which A.E. will enjoy for afternoon tea. Just stay out of the way please.”

“Of course, we won’t be down here long. Quick snack and off to the park.”

“Very good,” Donna said.

Peggy went to the fridge and found the cheese and grapes amongst numerous canapés and bowls of partly prepared goods. “And Donna?”

“Yes, Miss I-won’t-be-in-the-way?”

“Why is Simon Westfield here?” Peggy asked. 

“Is he just?” Donna asked, pausing for a second.

“In the library with Claudia.”

“Huh,” Donna said, getting back to work. “No idea.”