The Writers' Circle

A chapter from my first book

It was dark when Nick got out of the taxi outside Louis's flat in Chelsea. The muted lights of the converted old Victorian gas street lamps now fitted with electricity, cast shadows on the old horse water trough, filled with early daffodils, just starting to unfurl their yellow heads. He had been concerned all afternoon as to how he was going to say his goodbye. He was not a man to give way easily to his emotions, but in affairs of the heart, he was a virtual stranger, and he did not want to hurt her.  
She greeted him at the door, a look of gaiety on her unmade face; dressed in denim jeans and a half-top exposing the soft whiteness of her midriff; her hair tied back in a tight ponytail. 
   He stared down at the huge Thomas the Tank Engine carpet slippers on her feet and he laughed, his troublesome thoughts forgotten. 'I'm sorry I'm late, I had to do some shopping.'
   On tiptoes, she kissed his mouth, sending waves of excitement coursing down his spine. Holding him at arm length, she smiled. 'I thought we might stay in tonight, I've cooked a pasta bake with bacon, and cauliflower cheese, topped with a wild mushroom sauce. As she spoke, her soft voice was full of promise, her sparkling eyes, searching his, probing and teasing, as if in foreplay.
	Nick picked up his overnight bag and followed her into the flat, unzipping it he took out the gift-wrapped box. 'For you.'
	She took it with a squeal of delight, probing eagerly underneath the sellotape with her forefinger. Prezzies, I just love Prezzies.'
	He smiled watching her childlike urgency to get the wrapping paper off with shaking hands. 'Oh, Nick, thank you, this is lovely. I absolutely love Christian Dior perfume.' Unscrewing the top, she dabbed lashings of it around her neck and shoulders. 'But how did you know?'
He leaned forward kissing her neck, taking in the heady smell. 'Your not the only girl that I've ever been out with you know.'
	She screwed her eyes in a mock expression of jealousy. 'So, already you've been two timing me have you, well let me tell you, there's no sex for you tonight.' She laughed, throwing her arms around his neck, smothering his face with kisses. 
He just loved the way she was, the way she spoke, the way she smiled, and her uninhibited girlish displays of affection. In fact, everything about her made him feel good and special. He had never met anyone like her before.
'You're looking tired,' she said smiling impishly. 'Why don't you go and have a shower?' she suggested. 'Freshen up whilst I finish cooking the dinner.'
Nick nodded gratefully. He was feeling a bit of a wreck, and a hot shower would liven him up a bit.
	A few minutes later, he was enjoying a shower letting the hot water cascade over his body in a soothing pleasure. He closed his eyes letting the water run over his face, allowing it to invigorate him. Putting gel on the shower mop, he rubbed his body vigorously, and it occurred to him that Louise had used it to do the same thing, and his actions became more deliberate as he thought of her. Hearing the bathroom door open, he felt the first  tingling of excitement, as he saw her naked reflection through the frosted shower door. 
She giggled mischievously gliding into the shower with him, her eyes glittering like sapphires, her mouth searching his hungrily, as she draped herself around him. Their hands caressing, searching each other, their bodies melting into one, in a grasping, almost violent, urgency to fulfil their very basic, needs. 
Neither finished their meal that night, their eagerness to make love again and again was so powerful. 
 Louise lying beside him in the bed traced her forefinger tenderly down the glassy trails of scar tissue on his chest and stomach frowning, as he dozed in light slumber. 'How did you get these?'
	He opened his eyes lazily. 'Oh, they're nothing, just childhood scars.'
	She sat upright looking more closely. 'These are not old scars. Please, Nick, tell me. I want to know everything about you, everything, she said pouting her bottom lip. 'Please.'
 Nick kissed her earlobes gently. He had never spoken to anyone about his time in Iraq, or about the torture, he was subjected to whilst a prisoner there.
To be truthful, part of him was still ashamed, ashamed that in the end he had cracked. The hours and days of painful torture, without sleep, was enough to bring any man to his knees. His training had even prepared him for such an eventuality. Psychological switch off, as they called it, would help, they said, but in the end everyone caved in; there was only so much a body could take. Then in the end reduced to a babbling mess, desperate to hold on to his sanity and his life, and would have done almost anything for them to stop. 
He looked into her eyes. Was she a person he could open his heart to? He had never put his trust in anyone, he couldn't afford to. But, that was his problem. As his father used to say. 
Nick, no man is an island, we all need to unburden ourselves from time to time. Without a release valve, you'll dig yourself a hole so big, that you will never get out.                          
 He watched Louis's face closely, a look of genuine concern passing fleetly over it, at his silence. 'I've never spoken before to anyone about these.' 
	She bent low kissing the scars on his chest with tenderness. 'If you don't want to.'
	Nick placed his forefinger on her lips. When he was near her, he could forgive her anything. Anything at all. He had only known her for a short time, and yet it felt it had been forever. He stared at her for a long moment, realising that there was something else he saw in Louise, other than his sexual attraction for her. Something just as strong, and as appealing. She was a woman of character, endowed with an unflinching loyalty, and no small measure of an innate faithfulness'. Suddenly he felt  that he could trust her. 
	 'A month before the Iraqi Invasion of Kuwait, myself, and four other's under the cover of darkness crossed into the country from Syria. My orders were to liase with known Iraqi resistance fighters, in Baghdad, in preparation for the Allied push from Kuwait. Whatever the history books tell you now, it was the Americans intention to push into Baghdad. It was only UN pressure that made them change their minds at the last minute. But, it was that uncertainty, of will they, won't they, that cost the lives of four of my men. The very men, who we were there to help, betrayed us. Some how, I can't find it in my heart to blame them. They could see the writing on the wall. International pressure was mounting daily, and they knew that if the Americans didn't follow through, then Saddam's police would murder them and their families. Any way, Iraqi National Guard stormed our hideout in Tikrit, and in the ensuing firefight, three of my men were killed. Myself, and Jimmy Green., he was my sergeant, were captured. We never stood a chance. The bastards just went berserk. It was only when an officer arrived on the scene that they stopped beating us. I never saw Jimmy alive again. I was taken to Abu Ghraib prison in central Baghdad blindfolded and in chains. At first, I was treated reasonably well. But, it was just a psychological ploy. After twenty-four hours of questioning, getting nothing, they changed their tactics. From then on, it was no sleep, no food, locked in a filthy cell no bigger than this bed, in total darkness.' Nick paused in a moment's silence, composing himself, as his hidden fears and torments, now about to be unleashed came flooding back with a vengeance.
	Louise snuggled closer to him, her head resting on his chest.
	'For the next two days, they came for me before it was light, for interrogation. They hung me from an overhead pulley by the wrists, just high enough so my toes were touching the floor.' He ran his fingers over his chest and stomach. 'These are burns marks from the electrode they used.'  
He paused for a brief moment. 'In and out of consciousness, I lost all track of time. I didn't know whether it was day or night. The next time they came for me, they had to drag me screaming from my cell. I didn't want any more punishment. And, if I had known any top secrets, I sure as hell would have told them, I was that desperate. This time they took me into a small inner courtyard. I remember I couldn't open my eyes; I had been in complete darkness for too long  the day light was so strong. I was made to kneel, on the ground, and they forced me to open my eyes.'
	He paused again, swallowing noisily. 'Laid out on the dirt floor in front of me were my men, naked. Their bloated bodies covered in a heaving mass of flies and squirming maggots. I cursed, screaming obscenities at them, trying to struggle to my feet. I wanted to kill them for what they had done. It was like a nightmare. And, they just stood around laughing at me. They left me there, on my knees, for what seemed an eternity. I remember the scorching hot sun burning my back and neck. The same flies feeding on my men, buzzing around my head. I thought that I would pass out with the heat. Then the officer came up to me and took out his pistol. He pointed the barrel at my forehead.   I didn't care anymore. I just wanted to die. I had let my men down, and they had died because of me. I wanted to join them, and get the sight of their bodies from my mind, forever. I remember screwing my eyes shut and hearing the click of the hammer. Then their guffawing laughter. Over the next two days, they repeated the same ritual, but ending it each time with a beating with rubber hoses. In the end, nothing they did hurt me anymore. I had no fight left in me I didn't care what happened. After that, they seemed to lose interest. When I was rescued, they said I had been a captive for twenty-three days. But, I really don't know? To this day, I still don't understand why they didn't kill me. If they had, they would have done me a favour. Maybe that's why they didn't? The Iraqi's are not squeamish about death as we are, they see too much of it for that. Often, it's not enough just to kill their enemies, and it's not unusual for them to drag the bodies through the streets, or even hang them from lampposts so that everyone can see for themselves the gruesome remains. Maybe, they knew that by making me witness the bodies of my men. The men, I was responsible for, was a punishment. One that would haunt me for the rest of my life, and if that was their aim, then they have succeeded. There's not a day goes by without I think about them. There was a short silence before he turned looking at Louise.