MR 25

[KingSize]

are you
trying to be smart?’
‘No, sergeant!’
Polly leaned until her nose was an inch from his. ‘Why not?’
The grin faded. This was not a soldier on the fast track to promotion.
‘Huh?’ he
managed.
‘If you are not trying to be smart, mister, you’re happy to be
stupid!’ shouted
Polly. ‘And I’m up to here with stupid, understand?’
‘Yeah, but—’
‘But what, soldier?’
‘Yeah, but . . . well . . . but . . . nothing, sergeant,’ said the
soldier.
‘That’s good.’ Polly nodded at the ferrymen. ‘Time to go?’ she
suggested, but in
the tones of an order.
‘Couple of people just coming down the road, sergeant,’ said one of
them, a faster
man with an uptake.
They waited. There were, in fact, three people. One of them was
Maladicta, in full
uniform.
Polly said nothing until the ferry was out in mid-stream. The vampire
gave her the
kind of smile only a vampire can give. It would have been sheepish, if
sheep had
different teeth.
‘Thought I’d try again,’ she said.
‘We’ll find Blouse,’ said Polly.
‘He’s a major now,’ said Maladicta. ‘And happy as a flea because
they’ve named a
kind of fingerless glove after him, I heard. What do we want him for?’
‘He knows about the clacks. He knows about other ways war can be
fought. And I
know . . . people,’ said Polly.
‘Ah. Do you mean the “Upon my oath, I am not a lying man, but I know
people”
kind of people?’
‘Those were the kind of people I had in mind, yes.’ The river slapped
against the
side of the ferry.
‘Good,’ said Maladicta.
‘I don’t know where it’s going to lead, though,’ said Polly.
‘Ah. Even better.’
At which point, Polly decided that she knew enough of the truth to be
going on
with. The enemy wasn’t men, or women, or the old, or even the dead. It
was just
bleedin’ stupid people, who came in all varieties. And no one had the
right to be
stupid.
She looked at the other two passengers who’d sidled aboard. They were
country
lads in ragged, ill-fitting clothes, keeping away from her and staring
intently at the
deck. But one glance was enough. The world turned upside down, and
history
repeated. For some reason, that suddenly made her feel very happy.
‘Going to join up, lads?’ she said, cheerily.
There was some mumbling on the theme of ‘yes’.
‘Good. Then stand up straight,’ said Polly. ‘Let’s have a look at you.
Chins up. Ah.
Well done. Shame you didn’t practise walking in trousers, and I notice
you didn’t
bring an extra pair of socks.’
They stared, mouths open.
‘What are your names?’ said Polly. ‘Your real names, please?’
‘Er . . . Rosemary,’ one of them began.
‘I’m Mary,’ said the other. ‘I heard girls were joining, but everyone
laughed, so I
thought I’d better pretend to—’
‘Oh, you can join as men if you want,’ said Polly. ‘We need a few good
men.’
The girls looked at one another.
‘You get better swear words,’ said Polly. ‘And the trousers are
useful. But it’s your
choice.’
‘A choice?’ said Rosemary.
‘Certainly,’ said Polly. She put a hand on a shoulder of each girl,
winked at
Maladicta and added: ‘You are my little lads - or not, as the case may
be - and I will
look after . . . you.’
And the new day was a great big fish.