CHAPTER 54
I looked to my right, and Maz simply conformed to habit, her smaller binoculars already out of her handbag to be slung round her neck, and a quiet litany of bird names commencing. Susie laughingly said, “Didn’t realise you were a twitcher, Maz”

“I’m not. Welcome swallow”

That, of course, was followed by the ritual explanation of the difference between birdwatchers and twitchers. Laura and her husband looked at each other, said “Genet!” together, and corpsed. There was a sizeable table free, though, so I steered them that way to get them seated before hilarity got too widespread. There also drink and beer menus, and I only just managed to get a meal choice from LC before she was off to the sandpit and climbing frame.

All the men and Susie decided to go for the IPA, Lucy and Laura opting for a bottle of a local dry white, and I ordered a coke with a slice of lime, on the basis of past experience, Dad Pete and Ish doing the booze run, so I collared the gigglers.

“Who is Jeanette?”

Laura perked up.

“Bit of background, Mike. When my beloved came back home, we… I was his lecturer at University. In English. Genet defined different modes of intertextuality---no! This is actually a lot simpler than it sounds. Broadly, it’s when someone quotes someone else. There are all sorts of reasons they’ll do so. Could be plagiarism, could be parody, could be appreciation”

Her husband took over.

“One lecture, one example used by my lover here, was a Horace ode. ‘It is sweet and fitting to die for ones country’. ‘Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori’ in Latin”

“I’ve heard that somewhere. War poet?”

“Exactly! Wilfrid Owen, where he calls it ‘that old lie’. Then there’s Ezra Pound”

Laura’s voice was faint.

“Died some, pro patria,
Non “dulce” non “et décor”…
Walked eye-deep in hell
Believing in old men’s lies, then
unbelieving
Came home, home to a lie,
Home to many deceits,
Home to old lies and new infamy;
There died a myriad
And of the best, among them,
For an old bitch gone in the teeth,
For a botched civilization… “

She stopped. Wiping her eyes.

“Sorry. Always gets to me, but that should give you an idea”

Pete nodded, slipping an arm round her shoulders.

“It was Maz, about twitchers, and I just wondered if there were some ornithological equivalent of Genet, coming up with narrower and narrower varieties”

Maz called over her shoulder.

“And I don’t care, because I can see a white-faced heron, a flock of straw-necked ibis, and some grey fantails. And I will have the oysters and then the lamb cutlet, darling”

Lucy, as dry as ever, observed, “A woman should have her priorities properly lined up, I always say. Maryam?”

“Yes?”

“And how do you expect those oysters to work unless Mike eats them?”

That set the tone, and along with the ale, which was a wonderful change from lager, led to a delightful evening. Partway through, Susie’s phone chirped.

“Got an Aussie SIM at the airport, Mike. Got a text… from Trudi via Nora. Just confirming places at wedding meal. Hang on…”

She quickly replied, fingers and thumbs moving the way mine never could, then turned to us with a smile.

“Erwin’s doing the catering, so adding us was easy. Shall we get the food ordered?”

When I opted for oysters as well, Lucy simply raised an eyebrow. I looked at her and said, “See? I was listening”

“Yes, Micheal, but that begs another question”

She paused.

“How many of them do you expect will work versus how many you hope will?”

Absolutely wonderful day. LC was asleep on my shoulders as we strolled back to our digs, the lad slightly tipsy and Maz singing softly some old Jez Lowe piece, our beds were comfortable, and our new friends treated us to a simple breakfast of cereal and toast before we got into the rituals of ‘poshing up’. It was only a short walk round to the golf club, a two-storey white building that seemed to have a roof entirely constructed of solar power panels. As with all golf courses, the lawns were so meticulous they looked artificial, and my Aussie head was asking how much water they needed.

Never mind. Someone else’s wedding; smile, Rhodes. The venue was laid out under canvas at the rear of the clubhouse, and there were a couple of young women doing the usher thing of checking invitations against a list and directing us to the appropriate side of the rows and rows of temporary seats. Susie pointed at the list, with a smile.

“Hi. Don’t know if we’ll be on the list, but we’ve been invited, last minute thing”

She gave their names, one of the girls made a slightly confusing radio call, and then we saw Erwin and his father almost running to the little lectern.

“Susie?”

“Aye”

Father and son both hugged her in turn before a round of introductions to the rest of the crew, and Friedl was clearly close to tears.

“Thank you all so, so much. My wife… This has meant so much to her, to our whole family. Gives her her roots back”

Winny pointed to the front of the seating.

“We’ve put you in the second row, bride’s side, folks. Anything you need?”

Andy and held up some bags.

“Got some stuff in here for the lady. Prints of old photos, framed. Other stuff. One of Gerald’s berets, and we got in touch with man who did those documentaries. He’d like to talk to you, but we said not our place to say yes or no, but he’s given us DVDs with proper copies of his programmes. Oh, and stuff from regimental associations of Royal Tanks and Royal East Ridings”

Winny was shaking his head. Almost in disbelief.

“I don’t know what to say, er, Andy”

The lad laughed.

“Not exactly conventional wedding presents!”

“I don’t give a rat’s arse, mate! Trust me, these are gifts of the finest. I’ll put them away, now, save you having to hump them round. Now, I had to do some rushing with the food: none of you are veggies or anything else silly, are you?”

Maz laughed out loud.

“Last night was all oysters and steak for us lot”

“Ripper! Did the oysters work for you all?”

He was away with the bags while we snorted, and one of the girls led us to our reserved seating.

“It wasn’t that we were checking you up, it’s just that Mr Horvath wanted to know as soon as you arrived. He’s been fretting, what with you driving”

She grinned suddenly.

“Sorry, but we’re not pro ushers, ey? Gwen’s our schoolmate, or was. So’s her Andy. See yez at the meal later!”

It was a wedding, so things were predictable in all ways. The groom was in some sort of Navy uniform, the bride stunning in white, the priest/pastor/whatever avuncular, and every one of our girls in tears apart from LC. The couple repeated their vows, exchanged their rings and kissed after the ritual pronouncements, and the bouquet was caught by one of our ‘ushers’. The wedding meal was in an internal function room, with air con, and the best man made the appropriate speech, with an awful lot of in-jokes that flew straight past me. Winny said hisfatherly words, and then it was over to the new husband.

“I’ll get the usual stuff out of the way, so you can imagine jokes about having nothing better to do today, free meals and so on and get straight to the real stuff. Not only can I not imagine a finer woman to be gifted with as my wife, but I couldn’t even begin to describe a finer family. Please raise your glasses to the Horvaths!”

More traditional thanks to people we didn’t know and various personal friends, and then he paused.

“The next bit, well, I didn’t have a chance to plan this, write it down, so this is all off the cuff. My darling wife here is good at making friends, but this time she came up trumps. Now, all of you will know what Gwen’s Nan survived, and, well, Dad and me, why we chose the service, it’s to try and stop it happening again. Gwen’s new friends… Turns out they knew someone who knew Nan’s foster parents, and then… Sorry, but this is amazing. We have here today the daughter of one of the soldiers who liberated her, plus some of his friends. They’ve come all the way from England to say hello and share what they know, and, well, shit. Sorry. I’m looking forward to---WE’re looking forward to having a good chinwag later. So, a toast: to our British guests! Thank you!”

The meal was served, a delightfully French style affair, wine and beer drunk, and then the tables were pulled to one side as a soft rock band started their thing. After the traditional first dance, Gwen disappeared, I assume to get changed, while her new husband, an older man in Navy rig with three rings at his cuffs, Erwin and Friedl joined us. Friedl waved at the clubhouse.

“Trudl and Nora are helping Gwen get out of her dress. I assume you’ve worked out who this Andy is”

Dad Pete laughingly said, “Aye, we think. Bit hard to miss”

Friedl pointed to the older matelot.

“This is Connor, Andy’s dad”

A round of handshakes, and Connor fixed on our young Pete.

“Afghan, son?”

A nod.

“Yeah. IED. I was REME, recovering an AFV mechanical”

“How are you doing?”

Pete drew in a slow, slow breath, then cocked his head.

“Going to fly a kite here, my friend, but where were you?”

“It’s that obvious?”

“I do have a sort of inside track, Commander. It was the same with Gerald”

“Well, I was too young for Vietnam, but… Could you please forgive me for being a bit political, as well as a bit, well, sweary?”

We all nodded, and he checked who was around before starting again.

“In uniform; not approved. Our government, ey? There was a coup in Portugal, so the Indonesians thought they’d hoover up East Timor, Portuguese colony. Our government was so full of ‘We need to be a proper part of Asia-Pacific’ that they were just about the first to recognise the takeover”

Maz all but whispered, “We have issues with Indonesia”, and Connor nodded.

“I heard. Well, we grew up a bit, so when those bastards, after killing about a third of the people, finally left, we were the peacekeeper force. I was there. Not saying anything more on that. Anyway, we’ve still got problems with them, in New Guinea. They shouldn’t bloody be there, so they’re changing the population”

Maz chuckled, but it was far from a happy sound.

“Di, friend of ours; part of my rescue. Said the Foreign Office thought it was the Indonesians doing a ‘LOOK! SQUIRREL!’—here we are, rescuing this innocent Australian. What genocide and slavery in Irian Jaya?”

She took a couple of quick breaths.

“Not for today, ey? Where’s the honeymoon, Andy?”

He laughed, a lot more happily.

“Not bloody Bali, Maz!