Fool's Errand

"Because I turned up on her doorstep with a beautiful girl?"

"No, because you turned up with any girl, or least any girl to begin with. She wanted to see me, she was curious who it was that you brought, especially as her parents were becoming positive in their attitudes. Remember when she first saw us, we were dozing comfortably together on the sofa, we looked like an established couple. When that girl you appear to have attracted turned out to be a doctor, an orthopaedic doctor and surgeon, just the type of person who her parents respect. So—"

"—I have changed from a sad old ex-husband into a single man that another woman much better qualified than her has seen some value in?"

"Well, as least this change has got her reconsidering your worth. This has been reinforced by her parents, who have already respected you for your reliability, even temperedness, and how obviously Maisie adores you as a father. Mr and Mrs P now seriously doubt what Leone lied, or more probably simply hinted to them, about any troubles in the marriage that caused her to walk out, like you beat her or—"

"—Hold on, I would never do that."

"Of course not, Mason, I would never ever believe that. It is because you have borne all Leone's crap with fortitude and persistence, that Mr and Mrs P have realised this too, and are probably telling Leone that she needs to address the rights you have as a father, otherwise you could force her to give even more reasonable access than the intolerable demands on you that she has been allowing."

"Well, any more time I can spend with Maisie would be great."

"So, does this mean you are changing your plans for tomorrow?"

"Hell, no. I told her that I was taking you, my fiancée, to meet my parents tomorrow, that it was far too important an occasion to think of breaking. Therefore I told her that I would be down on the next scheduled Sunday and every future Sunday and demanded that I have access to Maisie for the whole day. If she insists on feeding Maisie directly at lunchtime, then she can come to us and do it, or we can arrange to meet somewhere with some privacy for her. Or she can simply start weening her onto solids like any normal baby of this age."

"And what did she say to that?"

"OK."

"Just OK?"

"It was very quiet, I had to ask her to repeat it. And she did."

"Ha! I wish I had been there to hear that. Good for you, Mace. So, what are we all doing next Sunday?"

"Well, if you are up to it, I'd like to take Maisie out for her first swimming lesson. I had looked it up online before, but the timings were impossible then. Now that I have more time to be in the pool with her while she is taught to swim. So, do you want to come?"

"Mmm, if I didn't know you better," she smiled as she dug him in the ribs, "I'd think this was a ruse to see me in a swimsuit."

"I will be honest, the thought did cross my mind, but if you want to sit in the public gallery and watch me in my 'budgie smugglers', you're welcome to."

"What, and miss out on swimming with my favourite baby Maisie. No mister, if only one parent is allowed in the water with her, you can sit on the sidelines, or ... we could take it in turns. How long does it take to teach a baby to swim?"

"Not sure. They recommend starting them before they are one year old and she is almost that. The mother and babies session is at the local baths starting at 9 in the morning for an hour. They warm up the water to 32 degrees in the small children's pool and is booked exclusively for the group for an hour, although babies Maisie's age are best limited to twenty to thirty minutes before gradually building from there, in line with the baby's progress. They book on a term by term basis, so I booked from now until Easter and the summer term after. And they are more than happy for both parents or partners to participate."

"That sounds great. Have you got time to get her in the water, though, before the hour's up?"

"No problem. I rang Leone back and told her my intentions, and that I needed to collect her at 8.30am at the latest and to make sure she was well fed well in advance and was already wearing a Little Swimmer's nappy." He smiled at Lyndsey while he poured the soup into two dishes and took the crisp hot rolls out of the oven.

"So did she agree?"

He nodded, carrying the soup and rolls on a tray to the kitchen table set for two, "And she asked if she could come too, but not to swim."

"She probably wanted to hide the baby fat she hasn't lost yet. ... ouch! Was that as bitchy as it sounded?"

"No, not all all. You didn't know her, but she kept in good shape before and during pregnancy, but even seeing briefly, she has clearly put on weight since, probably a bit of comfort eating and, sleeping with Maisie as she does, she can't be getting much sleep. She definitely looks tired around the eyes, too."

"Hardly surprising, single parenting is just as much a strain for the mother who has her most of the time, as it is for once-a-fortnight fathers."

"Well, change is coming, and it's all down to you. So, when you are ready to face your father, I'm going to do everything I can to make sure he is totally happy with your future choice of husband."

After the warming soup, they wrapped up well, with a new green-and-white scarf that Greg had insisted on buying for his "beautiful angel", and went onto the match.

This time she was able to buy one of Mason's home-produced football programmes, which featured photos from last week's cup match, including a couple of shots that showed Lyndsey in the crowd.

"That's a first for me, appearing in a football programme!"

"Well, I couldn't resist including you, as you stand out so well from the rest of us unfashionable lot."

Greg was pleased to see Lyndsey, who thanked for her scarf with a huge hug, before they sat in the shelter of the stand, where he chattered away to her about the stats of the opposition. Mason did his usual walking around the pitch, following the action back and forth, making notes and taking photos. The home team were a few matches behind the rest of the league due to their excellent cup run, but still had a chance to finish in the top four if they converted a good proportion of the remaining games into points. The game resulted in a 2-0 home win. They had a solitary drink each in the clubhouse at the end of the game.

As they walked out to the cars, Mason wondered if they wanted to go out anywhere for a meal, as it was still early.

"Why don't we get in a takeaway and spend the evening watching movies?" Lyndsey suggested. "I don't think I'm ready to go home yet. I'm still buzzing from the game."

"I've got all Leone's movies at home," Mason grinned, "When she left she abandoned most of her stuff. There's bound to be a chick movie or possibly even a dozen in there somewhere."

"OK. Let's get a Chinese or Indian on the way home then and pig out in front of the TV."

And that is what they did, watching three movies straight, one after the other. It was late, and it was blowing a gale outside, so Mason persuaded her to stay, showing her the fresh sheets as he turned down the spare bed and pointed out the small en-suite toilet and shower and the secure latch bolt on the door. So she stayed the night at Mason's house, sleeping in the spare room. Like the rest of the house, Lyndsey noticed, it was spotless. As had become their habit, they exchanged lip kisses and hugged each other good night.

On Sunday they were due to meet his parents Sofia and Alan, so they drove around to her flat in the morning, so she could could get changed into fresh and smarter clothes than the ones she had worn to football.

"Loved your shepherd's pie, Mason," Angela, one of Lyndsey's flatmates gushed, "it was fantastic and heated up in the oven beautifully with the grated cheese on the top."

Mason grinned and nodded sheepishly at the open praise.

"We had homemade minestrone soup with hot rolls yesterday lunchtime, Ange," Lyndsey boasted, as she headed for her bedroom.

"The rolls were pre-baked from the freezer..." Mason declared.

"But they were still cooked," Angela breathed, "how can we persuade you to move in with us?"

"Hey, hands off!" Lyndsey called out as her bedroom door closed behind her.

Mason sat down in one of the armchairs opposite the sofa where Angela sat, "You and Jennifer are welcome to come round for a meal with your boyfriends, I can sit six straight away and up to eight in my dining room, if I look out the extension piece. Have a word with Lyndsey and sort out a Friday night in the next few weeks."

"Sounds great, but the shifts that Jen and I work, we don't find that decent boyfriends last long. I don't suppose you have two single younger brothers handy?"

"No, but I know a couple of decent, respectable guys, fit young footballers, that would fit the bill. I wouldn't fix you up with anything other than top drawer."

"Mmm, blind dates ... it seemed it worked out well with you and Lyndsey."

"Well, it's early days and all...."

"Huh! Both you guys are the real deal already. I think my ambition of being a bridesmaid's coming true, maybe even as early as this spring."

"You girls love a spring wedding, don't you?"

"Hey! What's not to like?"

***

"Hallo?"

"Sir Alan?"

"Yes, speaking."

"Good morning, I hope you are keeping well, Sir. Look, it's John St John Parminter here. You may remember I served as a Trustee on your Mason Charitable Foundation while your late wife was in the chair. That was before I was appointed to the RA in an official capacity and pressure of workload forced me to drop a few posts, including yours."

"The RA?"

"The Royal Academy, of arts, of course. I was attending your Charity Ball last Friday and was somewhat intrigued by the painting you bought."

"Oh, the one of the old cottage?"

"Yes, I bid what I thought it was worth but dropped out once it was obvious that you particularly wanted it for some reason."

"Well it was just the right size to cover an imperfection of one of the walls in our smaller dining room. And the colouring was just right, too."

"Quite. Well, I was hoping you would know who it was that donated the painting?"

"Oh, do you think the painting has some merit, then? Up to RA quality, perhaps?"

"Oh no, of course not. It was rather naive, a primitive piece you know, but to the expert eye it showed a little promise. I run a small gallery and such pictures that contain a sort of modest charm do sell and could provide a supplementary income for an amateur painter, such as painted the cottage. Couldn't make much of the signature, though, just the initials 'ML', and the date as '15', but not sure who that is. He is not in the usual artists' lists, so must be an amateur of sorts."

"Initials 'ML' you say?" Sir Alan said, "I thought it was 'NI', personally, but I could be wrong. Don't exactly know who donated it, was told it came in anonymously, I think."

"Really? So you have no idea who donated the painting?"

"My daughter thought it was possibly donated by the new owners of the actual building depicted."

"Ah, your sweet daughter Lyndsey, I suppose she's all grown up now but she was often around with her mother when the Ball was being organised back while I was involved. Did Lyndsey say where the cottage is?"

"Not exactly, she's working at the East Green General Hospital at Barton. I think the cottage is nearby, as she mentioned regularly jogging past it and seeing the restoration work as it happened."

"I wonder if the new owners know who the artist is."

"Lyndsey thought that since they bought it they have changed the appearance of the cottage out of all recognition, so probably didn't find the painting held any relevance to them any more. I assume the painting was left behind in the building when they bought it. It was generous of them to donate it and there were several buyers present who helped push the price as high as it took to secure it, all the the name of a good cause. So we really have no idea who the artist is."

"That's a shame. I thought the chap—"

"—Or lady, of course."

"Lady?"

"A lady could easily have painted the picture, don't you think? 'NI' might be Norma Inskip or Naomi Ironsides, for example, and the '15' may simply be the number of paintings she has painted this far."

"Yes, yes, of course. Oh well, I will check out artists with the 'NI' initials and see what I can come up with."

"Well, good luck with that. If you find out who the artist is, please let me know, I have several imperfect walls that need covering and I quite liked the style and subject matter. As you say, it has a certain primitive charm. I might even get him or her to paint my house, if the price is reasonable."

"Of course, I will let you know immediately I find him ... or her. Thank you, Sir Alan, for your assistance."

"You're very welcome. Goodbye."

***

"Come on Caroline, be a sport, you've taken on me and Josh in one session, when we've each gone three rounds, that's six full condoms and you were chirpy as a canary. Just adding a couple more stallions from the rugger club, a sweet babe like you could handle it no probs."

"I dunno, Gareth. I've never...."

"Look, we'll have a safe word, like 'stop!' and we'll stop."

"Oh, I know I'm going to regret this, but OK."

"Good, that's my girl. OK guys, we're on!"

***

"I see you are wearing your ring again. Not sure how I will be able to explain to my parents how I could manage purchasing that. Gareth indicated that it cost him thirty thousand?"

"He said it was valued for insurance at that amount. He's obsessed with the cost of everything and the real value of nothing. This is so much more valuable to me than can ever be priced in pounds and pence. This was my mother's engagement ring, which she left to me in her will. Daddy had thought she had sold or pawned it, because she got nothing out of the divorce due to the pre-nup, but I knew that she would never do that."

"I don't know anything at all about what happened to your mother," Mason said as he reached out and took her hand to comfort her, "how old were you when you lost her?"

"Twelve. It all happened so quick, we hadn't even had a chance to sort out visitation arrangements or anything before she was gone. I really miss her, sometimes more than others. Taking someone home to meet my parents is one of those times. I will tell you all about her. Not now, of course, as we need to be all smiles today. But I would like to talk to you about her, it is difficult unloading all my emotions on my friends. Tell your mother that this is my late mother's ring so it is naturally important to me that she is a part not only of my wedding day but throughout my married life to come. Tell her that you will buy both the matching wedding rings."

"Sounds fair," he agreed. "So, let's get our professional actors' faces on and go do this thing."

"Yeah, break a leg!" she laughed. "It'll be great practice for meeting my Daddy in a couple of Sundays, we will probably need Oscar nomination level acting to get anything past him."

"For my parents, you really only need to be yourself and you'll win them over with no problem."

"Well, hold my hand and here we go!"

The Lyndsey household was quiet, to start with.

***

Sir Alan was getting dressed up for a business lunch, with Sunday being a normal business day in Bahrain when a sweating Alex Cowfold appeared at his suite.

"Sit down Alex, at this time in the day it is really hot out. Coffee?"

"Yeah, thanks Boss, lots of cream and three sugars, please."

"So, what couldn't you talk about on the phone?"

"I found out all about Miss Lyndsey's dangerous boyfriend." Alex said, nodding his thanks at the coffee. "No wonder he made short work of my guys. I only wish I had him on my team."

"So, what he's been involved in that you cannot speak about on the phone? Nothing unlawful, I hope?"

"No, not exactly unlawful Boss, just outside the law enough to be virtually above the law." Alex sipped the hot liquid and continued, "A lot of the top guys from the Paras go onto special forces and do the odd tour or two. They are trained to work behind enemy lines, to hide, gather intelligence, identify targets and then hit them hard before organizing extraction."

"And this Mason guy was hand-picked for special ops?"

Alex nodded, "And not only by our guys but by a whole new ball game that doesn't exist, or isn't supposed to. That's why I couldn't mention it on the phone — any key words would be picked up and I could get into a lot of trouble knowing what I now know."

"I'm intrigued," Sir Alan said, pulling his half-tied tie undone, sitting down and pouring himself a coffee.

"They call themselves 'Le Beret Bleu', because they have no official name, just three battalions of a hundred men and women in each, then further divided into five or six squads of twenty or so. They usually do a two year tour of duty and up to a year of off-duty recovery in a specialised post-op rehab facility, but all the while they are serving in the unit they are still shown as being mustered with their original regiments, absent doing training courses or just plain recording that they are present and correct when they are not. Any casualties are listed as training accidents and fully evidenced, even though the evidence is made up. These secret squads are made up of soldiers, mostly NCOs, from armies all over the world."

"Hence the blue berets, the symbol of UN peace-keeping forces."

"Yeah, Boss, but this isn't officially run by the UN, but by some other military organisation supported by the richest nations in the world. It started with a joint Russian-US squad after Russian ministers were concerned about the rise of terrorist camps in the Middle East and North Africa, but they didn't want to be seen to be involved in shutting them down. Since those early beginnings, it has been open to the best of the best from counties all round the world. You don't volunteer, you are just sent for. I spoke to this chap Michael, not his real name, who was in a different battalion to Sergeant Lyndsey, but during his time in the BBS, he worked under our guy on two missions, one in Iraq and one in Libya."

"Was he impressed or disappointed?"

"He was real impressed, Boss. Sergeant Mason was 2IC on the first mission but it all went wrong when the OIC was badly wounded and the mission, to close down an Islamic State training camp, was in serious jeopardy, with high casualties likely whether the mission continued or was aborted. Mason was a Pathfinder on most of the missions they do. They get in first, make the scene safe for the asset strippers to come in and gather intelligence and then rearguard their way out again. The IOC usually goes in with the Pathfinders or is already there as one of the undercover guys who have been scouting out the camp. This particular OIC was on the flank of the first wave and he hesitated when he surprised a group of women and children. It turned out they were armed to the teeth and cut him down in the opening bursts." He hesitated.

"So what happened?"

"Mason and his men simply shot the five armed women in the head as calm as you like, killed them with one shot each. Then they wounded the children who were armed and any that attempted to pick up weapons, leaving the dead where they lay and locked the survivors in a room. He and his crew plus the fresh guys just coming in, mopped up the armed terrorists and trainers, but by now everyone in the camp was armed and aware that they were under attack. It was pretty sticky and some of the good guys got hurt before the Blue Berets managed to wipe them all out. He called the asset strippers in, to gather what intelligence they could, then got everyone out, along with the three casualties, who all were taken to safety, but the OIC died of his wounds on the way back to the carrier."