Free The Game by Amanda Prowse Page B

question , of course you are because this is what you wanted isn’t it? Leaving me, your mates and everything else behind for half a year while you play with guns.’
    Poppy didn’t know what she expected him to say, but she’d hoped he would say something. She wanted him to pull her close, tell her that this was the last thing he wanted to do and that he didn’t want to leave her, or at the very least that he wished he could take her with him. Something, anything that would make things feel better. Instead, he said nothing, did nothing.
    ‘Did you hear me, Mart? I was asking if you were finally happy now your plan is coming together, the big fantastic future that you’ve been dreaming of.’
    ‘Poppy please…’
    ‘Don’t you dare "Poppy please", don’t ask me for anything or expect me to understand because I don’t! This is what you signed up for; this is what it means, Mart, you pissing off to some godforsaken bit of desert, leaving me stuck here. This is what I’ve been trying to tell you since you walked through the door in your bloody suit with your secret little mission complete!’
    ‘It won’t be forever.’ His voice was small; his eyes fixed on the floor.
    Poppy noted his blank expression, as if it was the first time it had occurred to him that she might need him too. This only made her angrier because it might have only just occurred to him, but she had been thinking of nothing else.
    ‘I don’t care how long it’s for. Don’t you get it? Whether it’s for one night or one year, it’s too long. You are leaving me here with the junkies on the stairs and the boring bloody winter nights. All I’ve got to look forward to is sitting with my bonkers nan. So you go, Mart, and get this little adventure out of your system, prove whatever it is that you need to prove. Don’t worry about me. I can look after myself, but you know that, right?’
    She didn’t want to argue, preferring instead to clamp her arms around his neck and hang on. She wanted to press her lips really hard onto his and kiss him, storing those kisses away for the times when she would miss him the most. Her ache had grown so physical that she shook; the tremors fed a growing anger.
    In the aftermath of Martin’s departure, Poppy felt some small relief that he had gone. The dread of his imminent exodus disappeared, replaced with the reality of his absence which, initially, was somehow easier to bear. She replayed the words of their argument, considered their actions… She did that, knowing the only person that suffered because of her obsessional recalling of the details was her.
    Martin called it sulking, but for her the silent musings were a way of trying to figure out what happened and why, looking for an answer or at least some kind of rational explanation. Sometimes of course there wasn’t one, a row just happens because of tiredness, an irritation or a million other inconsequential things.
    Their fight couldn’t be attributed to anything so transparent . He hadn’t failed to hoover the carpet properly, left the loo seat up or not put the milk back in the fridge. It was muchmore than that. They were frightened, yet too scared to admit to that fear.
    It would be difficult to put in order the many things that they were afraid of. Being parted for such a ridiculous length of time was right up there, the possible lack of communication and the loneliness; these were all contenders for the top spot. There was also the unspeakable fear that Martin might get hurt or killed. It was too awful a scenario to share or say out loud, but think about it they did, separately and secretly with faces averted on dented pillows.
    Poppy had wanted to tell him that if he got injured, think loss of limb or blindness, that it wouldn’t make any difference to her. She knew that it would be tough, but she also knew that she would not have loved him any less, confident that they would find a way through it; that they could find a way through anything.