Rainbow snippet – Promises Made Under Fire

Am feeling in a WWI mood, so here’s a wee bit more from Promises Made Under Fire. Tom Donald’s executing said promise, visiting his dead colleague’s family:

This had to be Foden’s mother, given the face, the turn of the head, everything so much like her son. The expression on that face shocked me—it wasn’t one I’d ever seen on his. Distaste? Disapproval? Certainly not the grief or pain I’d expected.

She ushered me to sit down opposite her, but I wasn’t offered any form of refreshment. My pants had barely touched the seat when she began her interrogation.

“You were in my son’s regiment?”

“I was. Same battalion. We shared quarters.”

“Did you know him well?”

The words “I thought I did” died in my throat. “As well as any two officers might, who’ve been thrown together.” I sounded stiff, almost pompous, although that wasn’t what I’d intended. I’d expected to have to deal with a tearful, fiercely proud mother, an atmosphere of grief bravely borne, not this mood of tension and mistrust.

“When did he give you our address?” Twin peaks of colour had appeared on her ashen cheeks.

“He didn’t. Not directly, that is. Although he asked, in his final note to me, that I should call on you. The officers’ servant had kept a note of your address in case I needed it.” I felt like a child having to account for some misdemeanour—none of my words sounded convincing. “He’d copied it off the letter your son left for you.” I sounded even more like a schoolboy now, filling my story with unnecessary information. “He asked me to come and I couldn’t leave that last request unfulfilled.”

This had to be Foden’s mother, given the face, the turn of the head, everything so much like her son. The expression on that face shocked me—it wasn’t one I’d ever seen on his. Distaste? Disapproval? Certainly not the grief or pain I’d expected.

She ushered me to sit down opposite her, but I wasn’t offered any form of refreshment. My pants had barely touched the seat when she began her interrogation.

“You were in my son’s regiment?”

“I was. Same battalion. We shared quarters.”

“Did you know him well?”

The words “I thought I did” died in my throat. “As well as any two officers might, who’ve been thrown together.” I sounded stiff, almost pompous, although that wasn’t what I’d intended. I’d expected to have to deal with a tearful, fiercely proud mother, an atmosphere of grief bravely borne, not this mood of tension and mistrust.

“When did he give you our address?” Twin peaks of colour had appeared on her ashen cheeks.

“He didn’t. Not directly, that is. Although he asked, in his final note to me, that I should call on you. The officers’ servant had kept a note of your address in case I needed it.” I felt like a child having to account for some misdemeanour—none of my words sounded convincing. “He’d copied it off the letter your son left for you.” I sounded even more like a schoolboy now, filling my story with unnecessary information. “He asked me to come and I couldn’t leave that last request unfulfilled.”

Promises made Under Fire ebook and audio.

promises_madeb-for-trr

More fabulous snippets in abundance at the Rainbow Snippets group.

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