Where’s the bloody harm?’
Ben felt his rising frustration reddening into anger. ‘Jude doesn’t need to take a job like that to earn money. He has plenty already. He inherited everything from his parents when they died.’ It still upset Ben to think about his old friends, and the car smash that had claimed both their lives that terrible December night, just a few miles from their village in rural Oxfordshire.
‘Not what he told me,’ Jeff said. ‘He said he’s skint. Doesn’t have the nails to scratch himself with. All he has is the house, and he doesn’t want to sell it. They didn’t leave him much else. I don’t think vicars earn a heck of a lot.’
‘Anyway, that’s not the point,’ Ben said irritably. ‘I don’t want him joining the navy. Or the army, or the RAF, or anything else.’
‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘It’s just not the kind of life I see for him,’ Ben said.
‘The kind of life you see for him? What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You heard me,’ Ben said. Their voices were rising. ‘I’m not happy about this, Jeff. You should have cleared it with me first.’
‘Oh, right. Like I needed your permission to show him a few things and help him on his way doing something he’s got his mind set on?’
‘That’s the whole point,’ Ben said. ‘He’s stubborn, and he’s wilful, and he’ll throw himself into any risky situation that comes his way without a second thought. And you went and encouraged him, behind my back.’
‘What are you getting so uptight about anyway? Jesus Christ, you talk as if he was your bloody son.’
Ben was silent a beat.
Then said, ‘Jeff, he is my son.’
Jeff sat back in his chair, stunned. ‘Are you kidding me? How can that be?’
‘It just is,’ Ben said.
Jeff stared at Ben, scrutinising his face as if he was seeing him for the first time. ‘It’s obvious, really, when you think about it.’
‘Fancy that.’
‘He’s got your eyes. And your chin. Hair colour too.’
‘If that was all he had of mine, it wouldn’t be a problem.’
‘But now I’m confused. Only a minute ago, you said his parents left him money when they died.’
‘That’s just what Jude thought.’
Jeff frowned, even more confused. ‘So … his father wasn’t a vicar at all.’
‘That’s the whole point, isn’t it?’ Ben said. ‘I wish he had been. Simeon was a good man. A better one than me, that’s for sure.’
‘Then … what about his mother?’
‘His mother was his mother. Michaela Arundel.’
‘Then you and she—’
‘You’re the last guy I’d imagine believing in Immaculate Conception,’ Ben said. ‘Obviously, yes.’
‘When did this happen?’
‘Uh, at a rough guess, I’d say Jude’s age plus nine months ago,’ Ben said. ‘It was when we were all students together, long before she and Simeon were married. Simeon knew all about it. She never tried to pretend that it was anything other than it was.’
Jeff was staring at him in amazement. ‘And what about Jude, does he know?’
‘It was agreed to keep it secret from him. He only found out the truth by chance, after they died. It was a bit rocky at first, but he accepts it.’ Which wasn’t strictly accurate, but it was the best Ben could do to describe their faltering relationship without getting into the painful details. The reality was that they hadn’t spoken in well over a year, and Ben could easily imagine more years going by before they spoke again, if ever. The last words his son had said to him still resonated in his mind.
‘Oh, just fuck off, Dad.’
Jeff was still stunned. ‘Who else knows about this? Does Brooke know?’
Ben nodded.
‘And Boonzie?’
‘Him too,’ Ben said.
‘Then how come you never told me?’
‘You were there when I told Boonzie.’
‘When?’
‘Right after the thing in the Gulf of Finland. Can I help it if you weren’t paying attention?’
‘I’d just taken a bloody rifle bullet in the leg,’ Jeff said.
‘It hardly touched you.’
‘I was unconscious, for Christ’s sake.’
‘Then you should have woken up. I can’t be repeating myself all the time.’
‘It’s not fair. How come I’m always the last to know these things? How come the others never told me either?’
‘Maybe they thought you lacked the emotional maturity to be able to handle it,’ Ben said. ‘So now you know. And that’s why I don’t want him joining the damn services. The last thing I need is Jude following in my footsteps. Next thing he’ll be wanting to do something even more stupid, like get it into his head to try out for Special Forces.’
Back in Ben and Jeff’s day, SAS and SBS recruits had undergone separate selection processes; nowadays it was all run together under the joint auspices of UKSF. The few who survived the ninety percent failure rate were then streamed into their different divisions. In addition to the torture of hill marching, jungle combat, parachute, survival, evasion and resistance to interrogation training, Special Boat Service candidates were put through battle swimming and progressive dive tests in order to qualify as Swimmer Canoeists, before ultimately going on to join an operational squadron.
Jeff went quiet.
Ben narrowed his eyes. ‘He didn’t. Did he?’
‘He did. I’m sorry. He went on about it quite a bit.’
‘And of course, you didn’t try to talk him out of it. Did you, Jeff?’
‘Give me a break. He wanted to know what it’s like in the SBS. How to apply to get in, what the training involves, what it takes to get badged, the kind of life it is, and all that sort of stuff. What was I supposed to do, refuse to tell him? He could’ve found most of it out online anyway. All I did was add in a few details. The kind of stuff you’d only know about if you’d been there and done it. I had to give him a proper idea, didn’t I? I mean, he asked me, for fuck’s sake.’
‘Jesus, Jeff.’
But
