34: Fair Friend

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"To me, fair friend, you never can be old." - William Shakespeare, Sonnet 104

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After laying in bed for a while, contemplating it, I decide against going to either of the camps. I lose my nerve, in the end. I'm truly worried that, based on Tom and Martin's reactions, if I went it would break me beyond repair. I already have such a long way to go to try to heal, I just don't think it's a good idea to add that to the list. I know that makes me a coward, and an incredibly selfish one at that, but once I've made the decision I can't go back on it.

I tell the boys as soon as they're all up and they seem rather pleased with my decision, which does make me feel a bit better. I do feel even more guilty now for causing such a scene yesterday with Tom, though - all of that, and saying some of the most horrible things I've ever said, and for what? I put up such a fight just to talk myself out of it. I can't linger on regrets though. If there's anything I think I've learnt from my time in Germany it's that regrets can absolutely tear you apart. I've spent years of my life in making myself feel guilty over the slightest things. I've decided to start making a conscious effort to give myself a bit of a break. Because, through all of my faults, I really am doing the best I can. Maybe my best isn't all that good at the moment, but I trust that soon it could be.

The boys leave me sitting at the kitchen table with Will's radio so they can go and see if anyone needs help with anything. The people who'd been in the camp have been moved to a hotel in town and the able-bodied locals have been tasked with burying the dead, but there are likely still jobs they can help with. I want to help but I'm still covered in cuts and bruises and the extra few days' unconsciousness has only really left me feeling incredibly sore. The pain of healing, however, is welcome, and I try to ignore it for that reason as much as possible.

A few cycles into my new practise of taking Will's radio apart and putting it back together again, George comes in. He sits beside me at the kitchen table in silence and watches for a while. After I've finished putting it back together again, he asks, "Can you teach me?" which makes me smile. I slide the radio across the table until it's between us and teach him how to do it.

After he's successfully taken it apart and put it together again with my coaching, he turns to me and asks, "Think you could do it with mine?"

A small smile tugs at my lips as I shrug. "Maybe. If you go and get it I can have a look. We could work it out together."

When he brings it back we're mostly quiet, but the company is nice. His radio is much larger than Will's is; it's the nature of going undercover that Will's radio needs to be easily concealed. Generally they're hidden in briefcases, which the one currently in front of me is, whereas George's is much too large to ever be concealed in the field. His gets strapped to his back and I wonder how he can even run and fire his gun whilst lugging it around, it's so big.

We work together quietly. He answers my questions as I try to work out the mechanics of his radio, and I answer his about how I know which wires to unplug and which dials to turn. We use our combined knowledge to take his radio apart, and smile proudly at the parts spread across the kitchen table before us.

I turn to George with a slight grin. "This part might be a tad bit harder, upon reflection," I say, referring to putting it back together again.

George rolls his eyes and laughs. "Yeah, probably. We got time, though, right?"

For what might be the first time in an incredibly long time, I actually do. Have time, that is. And that's a thought so liberating I can't help but keep that small smile on my face the entire time we're putting his radio back together again.

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