***
The Two Tams, Big and Wee, Fat Malckie, Hootie and I had been friends since childhood and suddenly we found ourselves marching together as men through the fields of France towards the trenches near Loos. I was from a city with hilly streets and had never seen land that was so flat. The straight roads and fields seemed to go on forever. We went past some farm houses and a few sleepy villages, but I didn’t think France was very interesting. A knot was forming in my stomach; in this terrain the enemy would be able to see us coming from miles away and there was nowhere to hide. Fortunately I had my pals there to distract me with their songs and silly banter.
‘Lads! They’ve got cows here too!’ shouted Big Tam.
‘Nah, those are vaches,’ said Hootie. Smart specky bastard knew a bit of French. I was surprised he’d signed up as he was in the middle of his studies. He’d told me he thought the war would be over quickly and he’d hate to miss the whole thing.
‘Do you think they have beer?’ asked Wee Tam as we passed a village. I knew he wasn’t pretending to be worried; being able to go to the pub and drink beer was a big deal to him.
‘First leave, we’ll get you a pint,’ I assured him.
As we marched through the French countryside singing songs, I thought of my Fiona. We’d known each other since I was about four and had grown up together. Our families lived in the same tenement and as I was two months older I always felt very protective of her. We’d play together on the back drying green, annoying the neighbours by chasing each other around the washing. When it was raining, she’d come down to our flat.
‘Can me and Cameron play in the living room Mrs Blair?’ she’d ask.
‘Of course you can Fiona, but it is “Cameron and I”,’ my mother corrected, smiling.
‘Sorry Mrs Blair.’
My mother adored her. Having three boys herself she loved having this wee girl in our home and was more indulgent when she was around. She trusted Fiona wouldn’t let our games get too wild and raucous. We mostly played cowboys and Indians, as my younger brothers enjoyed being wild Indians and Fiona and I liked being the cowboy and the damsel in distress. My mum would let us play in the long hallway if we promised to keep James away from under her feet and not make too much noise. My wee brother James was only a toddler then, but he enjoyed whooping like an Indian.
When we were old enough to go, I’d walk Fiona to and from school and deal with any cheekiness from boys along the way. I knew Hootie was sweet on her too, but I was taller and more athletic, so I felt I didn’t have to worry about him. Big Tam was another matter and I did get into a fight with him over her once. We were mucking about by the Water of Leith as usual when Tam suddenly blurted:
‘See you, Cameron. Just because she lives in your building doesn’t mean Fiona belongs to you.’
‘What d’ye mean?’ I asked. We must have been about fifteen and we were all beginning to notice that Fiona had become quite pretty with her long, golden-brown hair and curves forming in all the right places.
‘I was thinking of asking her to the dance, you know. Ye dinnae own her,’ he said, taunting me.
‘I ken I dinnae own her, but I’d die afore I let you put your hackit mitts on her!’
At that, Big Tam launched himself at me and we proceeded to batter lumps out of each other. Even though Tam was bigger than me I managed to get on top of him and gave him a bloody nose. That earned me a lot of respect from the other boys and I didn’t have much trouble after that.
A few days later, Tam and I were friends again and he’d got himself another date for the dance. It was at that dance that Fiona let me kiss her for the first time and I walked on air for the next few days. However, for three years she let me do nothing more than that. Her parents had brought her up well and so had mine and we were hardly ever left alone once our parents noticed we’d started to see each other with different eyes. Whenever we wanted to go for a walk, we had to take either my wee brother or her wee sister with us and her wee sister was a right pain in the neck, always wanting something and never giving us a moment’s peace.
Everyone knew that eventually we’d get married. My father even lent me a bit of money to buy a small, very dark, sapphire ring so we could get engaged before I set off for war. We had a small engagement party before I left and had our pictures taken so she could have me on her bedside table and I could carry her with me in my wallet. She was clearly very proud of me and loved being seen out with me in my uniform.