Disputed Waters

The clothes fitted. The one without the uniform had doled them out, yesterday - the last time they’d been out of the room. 14 people, 2 women: barrack room furniture in a platoon commander’s office. Some lay on the floor; faking sleep. God knows she’d had none. The guards would come in without warning. Or someone wanted conversation.

- ‘’Lo Ju, whassup?’
- ‘Nothing! And don’t call me that. It’s Jools, I’ve told you often enough’
- ‘Boring, or what?’ Unabashed. An idle question. No answer.
- ‘It’s cramped, eh?’ Jane tried again.
- ‘Too close to you for comfort that’s for sure.’

There’d been more room in the boat. You could see the sky then too. Not a single window in this room. Wonder where the Skipper was? God that ceiling was low! Lower than yesterday?

- ‘Don’t be like that, Jools – we’re girls in this together.’
- ‘Like last time, you mean?’

Jools had joined up at 18; as soon as it was legal – without parental. 16 with consent, it was. Fat chance she’d had.

- ‘No, Ju’ her step-father had grinned. ‘You’ll stay here. I can’t do without you.’
And he hadn’t. She'd tried to get her mother to sign the forms.
- ‘Why don’t you ask Vic?’ He’d do anything for his Ju.’ ‘"To", Mum. You mean "To",’ she'd thought.

Own room with a lock, most of the time, after basic. Even on board there was the protection of others. Safe, controlled.Of course, she ‘phoned home, when she could.

- ‘When are you coming to visit, Julia? We – I miss you.’
- ‘ Ship duty, mum. Three months in the Gulf… just can’t, sorry.’
- ‘ But it’s been so long. Vic says –
- ‘ No credit on the moby, mum, ‘bye’
That had been six weeks ago. And now this. Stuck in a 12 by 12 ft room, who knew where? The blindfolds had seen to that. No Geneva here then, they’d all thought. Shit!

- ‘Food’s crap, innit?’ Jane; trying a different subject.
- ‘I’ve had worse.’
- ‘Me too. Hey, remember…’
- ‘No, I don’t. Bog off, Jane, I’m trying to get some kip.’
- ‘I’m sorry, Jools…’
- ‘For what?’

It was in the past. Rely on yourself. It worked, she’d done OK. Two promotions and a commendation. Shame about the harassment case. No independent evidence, no one to stand up for her, not even Jane. Not quite a victory, in the end. Everyone knew the result; they didn’t know the score. She’d never be ship-board with him again, at least. But people thought you were trouble, nonetheless.

The one without the uniform came in. Pencil moustache like a sunday-afternoon-film villain. A taller,grosser version was uniformed behind him. This one began shouting. Moustache looked around at the prisoners. He'd be looking for a reaction, trying to spot the Farsi speaker, the linguist in the party. Jools found it easy to look bored: she'd been bored during the 13-month course and had found the job boring too. Only the boat patrols had offered some respite from the tedium of ship life. There would be special treatment for the Farsi speaker, if found. Jools had had enough 'special treatment.'

Jane put her hand on Jools' arm; she shook it off angrily.What gave her the right to touch her, anyway? She'd lost that shore-side, during the enquiry.

- ‘I couldn’t say anything you know.’ Jane said.
- ‘Save it, I’ve heard that before.’