Page 2 of Conflict

SCARLETT

The arm around my shoulders tightens, and someone heaves me upwards to stand. At this point, I don’t even know who it is I’m leaning on for support. I just know that without them, I’d be a crumpled heap on the floor. Nothing is registering with me today. Nothing makes sense anymore. “Don’t look, sweetie. Just don’t look. He isn’t in that box; he’s right here,” There’s a light tap on my chest right where my heart used to be, but now there are only tiny fragments left, engulfed in a hollowness. “He’ll always be right there, every step of the way. He’ll always keep you safe.” I think the words are meant as comfort, but all they do is shatter the poor remains of my already fractured heart.

My twin brother is inside that coffin, cold and alone. He’s never been alone a single day in his whole life. But then again, neither have I. We always had each other. Even when he joined up, we never went a day without a text or seven. He always found a way, no matter where he was. During basic training, he’d sneak in a phone call every day. He didn’t care what the consequences were; he knew I couldn’t go a day without connecting somehow. From a very young age, we had that weird twin connection where we knew what the other was thinking. We could finish eachother’s sentences. We even made up our own secret language when we were young. It used to drive Mum and Dad mad, not knowing what we were on about half the time. It kept our teachers on their toes too. We were thick as thieves. Now he’s gone, and I’ll never get to share that language with him again. I’ll never teach his children the funny words we’d made up or their meanings. I’ll never see him find the girl of his dreams, fall in love and get married. I won’t get to see the man he had become grow old, and that’s devastating.

Rachel Collins, my best friend, squeezes my shoulders tightly, “Scarlett, we need to leave now, sweetie.” Her eyes are glassy with unshed tears as she tries to encourage me forwards and away from my brother. The noise that leaves my mouth is barely recognisable as my own voice as it morphs into a strangled sob. “I know, I know. Shhh now, it’ll be okay, I promise.” Rachel’s voice is trembling now as she gives way to the emotion while she struggles to keep me upright. I know I need to make my legs move and propel myself forwards, but they just won’t work. None of my limbs feel like they belong to me now. Coordinating them isn’t an option.

Jamie Kasper appears at my side. “Come on, Scarlett, I’ve got you.” Strong arms grasp my own tightly, and the warmth and familiar scent engulf me; it makes me feel safe in that moment. The coarse material of his dress uniform rubs against the bare skin on my arms and allows me to focus my attention. The buttons that adorn his jacket glisten, throwing off blinding arcs of light as the sun shines through the windows onto them.

“Thanks Jamie,” Rachel whispers as she allows my brother’s best friend to almost carry me from the church singlehandedly. My legs somehow move below me as Jamie inches us nearer the doorway.

“It’s just one foot in front of the other, Scarlett. Come on, do it for Tom. Please?” Dark, sad eyes look down on me. It’sthe comfort and familiarity I need to carry me forwards. I tip my head in the smallest of nods before allowing Jamie to propel me towards the exit. My head swivels in one final glance back to where Tom lay. “No, don’t look. Eyes on the doorway, that’s where we’re headed now.” Jamie has that no-nonsense feel about him as he speaks to me, the same tone Tom used when I became hysterical over some drama or other when we were younger. It should piss me off, but instead, it soothes me. I know his Military training has taken over, but I’m grateful now.

As we step out of the church, the sun dazzles us. I’m forced to lower my sunglasses over my eyes again. Friends and family have gathered a few feet away around my parents, and words of condolence fill the air. I stare in wonder as my father smiles and thanks everyone while still holding my mother up. They’ve just attended their son’s funeral. No parent should ever have to go through that. Yet, there my father stands, stoically carrying on. His own grief contained until he can find the time to let it go privately. I’m vaguely aware of well-wishers offering sympathy in my direction as Jamie speaks to his mum briefly. Rachel answers for me because the quiet sobs still haven’t stopped. I’m not sure they ever will.

People mill around me, shaking hands and patting each other on the back. I feel lost and alone. The world suddenly feels like a very big place to be by myself. A few friends praise Jamie on his pall-bearing duties and thank him and his regiment for their service. Even though I’ve seen him in it before, it seems strange to see Jamie in full uniform today and hear people ask him about his recent tour. To me, he’s just Jamie, Tom’s funny best friend. The boy we both grew up with. To them, he’s a hero of sorts, as was my brother.

With a large hand placed gently in the middle of my back, Jamie indicates for me to move forwards again. “Come on, let’sget you into a car and away from here, eh?” He smiles tenderly down at me as the funeral director holds open the door for us.

A wave of panic washes over me, and I’m instantly crushed. My palms are clammy, and my chest feels like it's caving inwards. With shallow, ragged breaths, I cry out. “I can’t leave him; we can’t leave him in there alone! I need to stay with him. He doesn’t like to be on his own, you know that, Jamie.” I fight to free myself from his vice-like grip on my arm. “Jamie, please!”

A look of horror crosses Jamie’s face as he watches me fall apart, “Scarlett, he’s not in there. You know he isn’t. Look at me.” Jamie struggles to gain my focus. “Look at me, Scarlett!” he barks out the order as though I’m one of his squaddies.

My gaze snaps to his at the harshness of his voice. A sudden reality hits me hard. “He’s gone, isn’t he?” My voice is a mere whisper now as the tears run freely down my cheeks.

Jamie’s face contorts into a grimace as he glances at the gravel floor before he nods briskly. I swear I saw a tear drop from his chin and hit the floor, darkening a single pebble by his foot. The numbness I’ve experienced since learning Tom’s fate disappears instantly, only to be replaced by a searing, corroding pain. A pain I feel sure will never leave me again.

I don’t need Jamie to confirm that my brother is dead. I know it. Bone deep, I feel it. But how the hell am I supposed to walk away and leave him behind? “C’mon… please. Tom wouldn’t want you to stay here with him. He’d want you to go home and have a drink for him.” With my hands gripped tightly in his, Jamie pulls me forward into his embrace, his strong arms wrapping around me tightly. “I need you, Scarlett. I need you to help me through this, too.”

Rachel uses that moment to interrupt. She’s discreet enough to not comment as Jamie runs his sleeve under both eyes to clear away his tears. “I think Jack wants us to make a move. He wants to get Julia back home and away from here. And I think we couldall use a drink, yes?” Her hand runs up and down my arm, before it settles gently in mine. Rachel tugs softly, pulling me in the direction of the car. “We can all get in this one with your mum and dad. There’s room for you too, Jamie.” The funeral director holds the door open, allowing us to climb in beside my parents and Jamie’s mum.

The door closes, and the car begins to move away from the crematorium, whisking us away from the one person who totally understood me. My soulmate. I crane my neck, trying desperately to keep the small place of worship in my sights until the very last moment when it’s yanked from view as the driver turns the car into the main road.

My attention is forced back to the people who surround me. My mother sitting to my left and gripping my dead brother's peaked cap in her lap.

It’s then that the last few pieces of my heart shatter.

CHAPTER 3

JAMIE

The wake is held at Tom’s parent’s house. There’s a gazebo in the garden, and the doors from the conservatory are wide open, allowing free access between the house and garden. There are people milling about everywhere, the house is full to bursting with the amount of people that have turned up to say goodbye to Tom, it’s humbling. The majority of our regiment is here, intermingled with Tom’s relatives and the friends we grew up with. The atmosphere is somewhat lighter than it was an hour previously, and there’s even the sound of gentle laughter somewhere in the house. The conversation is full of stories about Tom, from tales about him as a baby to squaddies sharing never-before-heard secrets from basic training at Catterick Garrison. Thoughts of Tom’s face, if he could hear some of the things they’re disclosing, bring a smile to my face. It’s the first time I’ve smiled properly in weeks, and it somehow feels a little like a betrayal. It’s that sobering thought that causes me to pull myself up and fix my sombre expression in place again.

My reverence is interrupted, “It’s okay to carry on, to smile and be happy.” Rachel hands me an opened bottle of cold beer. “He’d love all this. He’d have been proud of you today for takingcare of Scarlett, you know that, right?” Our eyes survey the garden, and the sea of people gathered outside, where I seem to have settled in a quiet corner.

I lift the beer bottle to my mouth and take a long drink. Savouring the taste as the amber liquid slides down my throat. “Is it okay to be angry? I mean, you said it’s fine to carry on and be happy but what does it say about me as a friend if my main emotion at the moment is anger?” I can’t look Rachel in the eye now I’ve admitted that out loud. I hear her quick intake of breath, and it makes me think that maybe it’s not okay. Maybe what I’m feeling says more about me as a friend than I want it to.

Rachel’s words are tentative when she speaks. “What are you angry at? I don’t understand,” I can feel her studying me intently.

My shoulders shrug slightly. “I’m angry that he’s dead. I’m angry he died and now we have to deal with all this shit. I’m even more angry that I wasn’t in the truck with him and I’m still alive.” I keep my eyes fixed on my all-too-shiny boots, my reflection stares back at me. “I’m here trying to make sense of it, just trying to get through every day. He should be here too.” I know today isn’t the day to rid myself of all the torture I feel but I can’t stop now I’ve started the purge.

She seems shocked at my words, and maybe I am a little too. But I am angry. Rachel turns slightly to face me now. “How can you be angry that he was killed and you weren’t?” Rachel’s face is pale and drawn as I study her features.

My head shakes swiftly from side to side. “We should have gone together. I should have been in that Land Rover with him, it should have been me driving the truck.” I run my free hand through my hair, my body sags under the weight of my guilt.

Rachel swallows audibly. “Have you told anyone else how you feel? Does Scarlett know?” I can tell she’s in turmoil about my confession. I shake my head slowly as I remember the lookon Scarlett’s face just before she collapsed into my arms the day I returned home. “No, they have enough to deal with right now. They don’t need me adding to their misery.”

Rachel looks as though she may vomit any minute but quickly pulls it together as Scarlett approaches us. “Hey, how’re you holding up? Have you managed something to eat?” I ask Scarlett. We’re all worried about her, she’s barely slept since the day Tom died, and getting her to eat anything is a battle. I flew home a few days after Tom died but most of my time has been spent with Jack, Julia and Scarlett. I’ve only been home to sleep, and that’s been fleeting at best. Scarlett goes to pieces whenever I leave her side, so I’m sticking nearby.

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