Will You Remember Me? Read Online Free Page A

threw her head back and laughed loudly. ‘Not very jolly? Have you been mixing with them officers again, Mart? Jolly?’ she taunted. ‘Not very jolly?’
    He kicked his leg out, trying to catch her with his foot as she wriggled out of reach.
    They both smiled as Poppy stood behind him at the stove and ran her fingers over the tan line at his neck. She felt the slight bulge of flesh against the pad of her finger. Martin had always been solid, stocky, and she could now see the extra pounds that would pad him into his middle age.
    ‘I love having you home.’ She kissed his neck.
    ‘Well that’s lucky too, cos I’m not going anywhere either.’
    ‘Although I must admit, I find it easier to keep my kitchen clean and tidy when you aren’t here.’ Poppy picked up the empty egg carton and flung it in the recycling bag she kept by the back door, then reached for her cloth and sprayed it with Cif.
    ‘
Your
kitchen? Blimey, there are women burning bras all over the world so the kitchen won’t be considered “theirs”.’ Martin laughed.
    ‘Not me.’ Poppy smiled as she swiped at the sink drainer. ‘I like looking after my house. Plus I’ve only got a couple of bras; I’d be in all sorts of unsupported trouble if I started burning them.’
    ‘I sometimes think you’d rather we didn’t eat and then you could keep
your
kitchen immaculate at all times.’
    Poppy carried on cleaning, not willing to confess that sometimes that was exactly what she thought. ‘Well, if you don’t like it, you can always move into the shed in the back garden, where the dirt and mess might be more to your liking!’
    ‘I’m only teasing you, babe. I love being in our shiny house. I’m not going anywhere.’
    ‘Not yet.’ Poppy crinkled her nose, hardly able to think that this happiness might be subject to a countdown. The supposed two-year gap between deployments seemed to be commonly ignored these days, as numbers dwindled and campaigns continued. She knew it wouldn’t be long before he came home looking sullen, eye twitching and muscles tense as he delivered the phrase she always dreaded: ‘I’ve been posted…’
    ‘Maybe not ever,’ he quipped.
    ‘Ooh, now you’re talking.’ She kissed him again, then freed herself from his grip and plunged her hands deep into the sink, feeling for the cups and cutlery that lurked under the suds, wanting to get a head start on the washing-up.
    ‘Seriously, Poppy, I’ve been having a good old think. I reckon when this year is up, I should think about signing off. Then we can stay around here, the kids won’t have to be uprooted from school and I won’t have to go away again.’ He turned to look at his wife over his shoulder.
    ‘God, that sounds perfect. I’d love it. But it’s a lot to consider, love – we’d lose the house, obviously, and you’d need to find a job.’
    Martin nodded; he had thought of that. ‘I’m sure I can get something, looking after a fleet in some company or a garage. I get casual offers from people that I meet all the time – apparently my military training and willingness to put up with the most shite conditions make me an attractive prospect!’
    ‘Who knew?’ Poppy mocked.
    ‘Not me.’ He grinned. ‘Or of course I could always set up my own business, open my own garage or whatever…’ He let the idea dangle and glanced at her, trying to gauge her reaction, before returning his stare to the pan.
    Poppy abandoned the washing-up and turned to face him. ‘That’d be great, wouldn’t it? I could go back to hairdressing if need be, just while we get set up. Ooh, Mart! I’d love to see you with your own business. You could have “Cricket and Sons” over the door!’
    ‘Or “and Daughters”,’ he corrected.
    ‘Only if you’re planning on setting up a flight school for our little pilot. She’s quite determined.’
    Martin laughed. ‘She’ll have to be. I think I’ll see what surprises this year has in store, but I might do the sums, see