Civvies by La Plante Lynda

Author:La Plante, Lynda [La Plante, Lynda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thriller
ISBN: 9780749314194
Google: xC3KAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 1856191990
Goodreads: 2789166
Publisher: Mandarin
Published: 1992-12-01T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

Dillon went up the steps of the Clyde Hotel, calling back to the lads in the jeep. ‘I’ll be five minutes!’ The lads exchanged knowing grins, and a chorus of whistles and cat-calls followed Dillon inside. From reception he glimpsed Sissy at the top of the stairs. She saw him and quickly turned away. ‘Sissy… Sissy wait. I wanted to say goodbye, me and the lads are on our way home.’ As Dillon mounted the stairs, Jimmy came in behind him and nipped through to the bar. Dillon went up, attempting to explain, ‘I don’t want them boozed up for the drive… Sissy?’ She was in her room, sitting on the bed, her face to the window. Dillon knew at once. Even though Sissy wouldn’t say anything, or even look at him, Dillon knew the instant he saw the angry bruising on her cheekbone, the puffy lip where it had been split. He knelt on the carpet, his stomach trembling, and gently took her face in his hands. ‘Steve did this to you?’ ‘I didn’t call the police, or anything, he —’ Sissy swallowed, her eyes downcast. ‘I even feel sorry for him, he’s sick…’ ‘Yeah, everyone always feels sorry for Steve,’ Dillon said, his eyes hard as stones. ‘Makes excuses for him. But this is different.’ A sob came up and Sissy squeezed her face with both hands, shoulders hunched and shaking. Dillon fished for a handkerchief. Sissy pointed to a box of tissues on the dressing-table. Dillon took one and knelt before her, wiping her wet cheeks. Sissy blinked tears away. ‘You look terrible,’ she told Dillon. ‘Had a bump into a tree.’ He smiled and traced the outer corner of her lip with his finger. ‘It won’t scar…’ He cupped her face and brought it closer, and gently kissed her, away from the swelling. A discordant chorus of Why are we waiting. .. oh why—eye are we waiting…? sailed up from the forecourt below. Dillon stood up and went to the window. He stared out at the curve of moorland beyond the trees. There was a deep angry stillness about this man, Sissy thought, that she recognised but did not understand. As if he was waging a continual battle to keep a welter of seething emotions under iron control. A dark, brooding mystery to him that both baffled and attracted her, sensing that Dillon had lived several lifetimes already, and she hadn’t yet lived one. Sissy got up and went to him, pressing her body to his back, her head resting on his shoulder. The singing beneath the window faltered, died away. In a small, faraway voice, Dillon said, ‘You know the stag? When we found out how much he was worth we thought about knocking it off. Five grand’s a lot of cash. But…’ He gave a tight shake of the head. ‘But?’ ‘He makes you think about freedom,’ Dillon said, deep within himself. ‘None of us has had too much of that, it’s not the way the Army trains you.

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