What Polly Did Next: Winter
Summary: If Monstrous Regiment could be filed under “What Polly Did” this would fall under the remit of “What Polly Did Next” covering as it does the joys, trials and tribulations of our eponymous heroine, picking up sometime in the year following the final paragraph of MR. Polly/Mal
Disclaimer: Polly and Mal belong to Sir Terry Pratchett. Author makes no claims of ownership in any way. No profit is being made from this work.
Warnings: This chapter contains descriptions of a relationship between two women (yeah, I know, FINALLY). If that's not your thing please don't click below.
Previous Chapters: Summer, Autumn 1/3, Autumn 2/3, Autumn 3/3
It's rather long, so I've posted it in two parts. Part one below.
~X~
Winter
Tis the Season to be Jolly… and other things ending in ‘olly
Sir pTerry: Hogswatch
After initially friendly overtures, winter came all at once to the border regions accompanied a chill rainstorm that swept in off the mountains. Without waiting to be formally introduced the rain thrummed on the castle roofs and lashed angrily at the windows while outside the defensive walls the river rushed by, swollen and noisy as it threw itself against the rocky banks in a sulky attempt to invade the town. When the clouds eventually deigned to move on, the season turned abruptly cruel and they suffered a week of bitterly freezing winds that blew straight off the ice-fields, penetrating all but the thickest walls of the castle. The temperature dropped like a stone. Unused to such conditions the more recent arrivals stumbled about on frozen feet complaining loud and often as a distraction from their nagging fear that it might get even worse. The veterans amongst them huddled in sensibly stashed away woollens and swore fluently at the sharp pains of returning circulation when hands were held over glowing braziers. The demand for scarves, gloves, warm underwear and other essentials soared as sufferers attempted to solve the urgent problem of heat capture. But if there was one thing a posting to the Border Patrol taught it was swift adaptation in the face of adversity and eventually the sight of bundled spheres of youth sliding cheerfully over the frozen ground could be seen wherever a trickle of water had made an attempt to escape.
Two floors above the latest exuberant display Polly was about to nibble on the end of her writing implement when she was stopped abruptly by the realisation that it was a pen and not her usual pencil. Frustrated in her aim she returned her attention to the words scrawled across the page before her.
Dear Shufti,
Thank you so much for the hat, with the weather dropping colder it has been much appreciated. Dipping her pen in the ink she added: …I am the envy of the entire fort with my dashing head apparel.
She squinted at apparel. Should that be one ‘p’ or two? Mal would know but then Mal wasn't here was she? No, she was off sulking (again) and thus unavailable for the asking of even banal questions related to spelling. Polly sighed.
The empty hearth mocked her, the lack of a familiar sardonic figure skulking by the fire a constant reminder of her changed circumstances. As the weather had closed in Mal had revealed an instinct to gravitate to any source of heat like moth to flame. It hadn't taken her long to catch on that the supply office had been given dispensation to have a fire (Polly's ability to manipulate a writing implement being somewhat adversely affected by the cold). It had quickly become one of the vampire's favourite haunts, her dry commentary on the varied and interesting aspects of form filling becoming a regular accompaniment to the working day.
To be fair, Polly hadn't been that adverse to the distraction she admitted wryly, stretching her legs under the desk and letting her eyes drift again to that forlorn spot on the hearthstone. A ledger was a ledger was a ledger, but a pair of laughing eyes, a teasing grin and an embellished, impossible and unfortunately unfabricated tale of vampiric youth were a much more pleasant way of passing the time. Of course Polly had contributed her own share of exaggerated tales, introducing a side of life as observed from behind the bar of a small town inn. But as Mal had a great span of years to pull stories from (and Polly was after all meant to be working) the balance of words had fallen to the vampire more often than not. Polly wasn't complaining.
Lulled into a false sense of security, she'd allowed herself to get used to this state of affairs. Got used to mornings filled with laughter and exclamations of disbelief, warm cosy afternoons with a steady voice unwrapping private pearls of memory, and weaved through all the ever present scent of expensive coffee. Dammit Mal, where are you?
Polly pushed any thoughts of an annoying vampire to the back of her mind and bent her attention back to the letter. She had to get this done today or she’d miss the post and with the storms moving in over the mountain who knew when the road would be open again? She drew the inkwell closer.
I was pleased to receive your letter; it’s always nice to get news from home. Even when it's such shocking news as this time. I can’t believe that that was young Jack’s first word! Tell my brother he and I will be having a little conversation when I get back. I will have some serious words to share with him regarding his carelessness in exposing my innocent young nephew to drovers talk (though you have to admit, it's kind of sweet the way he's willing to take the little mite everywhere with him, even when he's unloading the barrels).
Don't be too hard on him Shufti, our Paul might be a bit of an idiot (underlined three times), but he’s got a good heart. Knowing my brother he probably only wanted to keep the lad from pestering you while you're so tired.
Which brings me nicely to the congratulations I owe you both! So, another nephew or niece is on the way? My, you have been busy.
She sketched a smiling face with swift strokes of her pen and paused again, casting an eye over the letter propped up at her left hand. The quiet of the room once again impinged on her thoughts dragging them away from that familiar inn hundreds of leagues away and back to more immediate problems.
It wasn’t even like the row with Mal had been her fault (Polly found herself adding “this time” to that statement and scowled). The whole idiotic situation was entirely due to the arrival of that blasted hat and by association that made it Shufti’s fault, although Polly wasn’t going to put that in the letter. Glancing up to where her coat hung disconsolately over the back of the armchair (Mal's armchair), Polly caught sight of the soft wool peeking out of a pocket and sighed. That damn hat.
Previously she'd always been pleased to receive those carefully wrapped parcels, excitement bubbling up on first sight of that sturdy brown paper. Shufti (bless her over-maternal heart) persisted in sending out little slices of home life, a painting of Jack by Paul to remind Polly what her nephew (adopted) looked like, candies that Polly always denied that she looked forward to, fllavoured soaps she liked that Shufti knew she couldn’t get out here and (of course) the ubiquitous bag of coffee for Mal. And as to why Shufti had suddenly decided that coffee should be included, Polly had no idea. It wasn’t like she even mentioned Mal that often in her letters home!
Since the first inclusion of that bag of coffee Mal had become as interested in the arrival of a parcel as Polly. This latest delivery had been no exception. It had been yesterday when Mal had bounded into her office, cheerfully interrupting Polly's serious and worthy attempts to brief Ganzfield on their requirements with regard to forms over the coming week. As interruptions of this kind had been occurring with ever smaller frequency ever since that useful regulation regarding coal allocation neither clerk reacted as the door slammed back on its hinges. Well, outwardly anyway. Inwardly Polly may have struggled to suppress a traitorous upsurge of happiness. But in her defence, compared to the piles of dry paperwork any interruption would have been pleasurable.
When had it first become apparent that this woman, originally nothing more than a friend in need, had become a companion for every occasion, her ready wit a soothing calm for all frustrations, her insanity a welcome distraction and her flashes of calm common-sense a balance to Polly's occasional private bouts of depression? Polly didn't know. All she knew was that as the irritating interruptions had kept occurring with unfailing frequency she had found herself meeting them more and more often with a lazy smile that sprawled over her face without any attempt at prior consent. Luckily, before her thoughts could get too knotted up in the problem Polly had been yanked back to reality when a smallish, tidily wrapped box had been dumped onto her desk.
“What's this then?”
She had spoken calmly; this was a supply office after all. Hundreds of deliveries passed through their hands every month. Just because there was a vampire on the other side of her desk twitching with glee was no reason to change standard operating procedure.
“Parcel addressed to Sergeant Perks, sir. Arrived this morning, sir. Return address of Munz. Sir.” And Mal had pulled off a snappy salute, every inch the professional soldier.
Keeping a straight face with difficulty Polly had quickly dismissed the respectfully non-curious Ganzfield with a short apology and a promise to reschedule. When Mal had closed the door firmly behind him and turned back to the desk Polly been lucky enough to catch the expression of disappointment that flashed across the corporal's face as she found the parcel still there, pristine and untouched, absolutely not torn apart in an explosion of wild curiosity. Today was looking suddenly more interesting. The very epitome of calm, Sergeant Perks had leant back in her chair, relaxed hands folded over her belt buckle. It was a well-known fact that nothing could induce a vampire to express excitement. It just wasn’t done. Tempting them to do so had therefore become one of the little high points of Polly's life.
The whimper of disappointment that had escaped her corporal's lips didn't go completely un-noticed, but Polly had been generous enough to pretend it hadn't happened. She waited.
“Aren't you going to open it?”
Feeling every inch the superior NCO Polly had drawn her eyebrows together and fixed the jiggling figure with a stare. The game was now officially afoot.
“Would I be correct in thinking that something in this parcel has excited your interest, Corporal?”
There had been a fraction of a second when Mal hung frozen before the vampire had relaxed into pose 24, comfortable insouciance. A less observant human wouldn't have noticed it. Polly did. She had also picked up on the occasional flicker that tugged at the corner of her corporal's eye indicating that all this serenity was taking considerable effort.
“Me, Sergeant?” Mal's tone had been so calm you could have floated paper swans on it without fear of capsizing them. “I was just curious to see what those rascally boys in the post room have done today in order to liven up the tedium of our daily life.”
She had stepped back to perch nonchalantly on the arm of the deep armchair that had been putting down roots beside Polly's fire ever since a vampire had decided it was her parlour as much as the fort’s Supply Clerk's office.
“I don’t believe it’s a prank.” Reluctant to give way to the giggles that had been threatening to overtake her and thus lose the game Polly had flipped the parcel over to check the post mark. “It has the usual return address on it. Do you have some other source of intelligence, Corporal? Perhaps from the gossip shops you inhabit?”
When she had looked up from the brown paper she had been surprised to discover Mal attempting to give her the smallest hint of a puppy dog look. She had been practising again.
No-one had yet fathomed why Mal had decided to develop this so very human manipulation technique. Vampires didn't need pleading sad eyes in their arsenal with so many other (more deadly) tools at their disposal. It made no sense. However, weeks had gone by and Mal had persisted in attempting to gain this facet of humanity until they had reached this state of affairs whereby Polly was coming to accept it as normal. She reassured herself that it was probably just an indication that the vampire had been living amongst them too long. Mal must have picked it up by osmosis from Finchley who had been known to use it to devastating effects in card games.
Unfortunately it was a hard expression to learn and on that auspicious morning Mal’s attempt had merely produced a muscle contraction such as might be found on the face of a constipated duck. It had been pathetic. Embarrassingly pathetic. Polly had fished in her desk for a penknife to cut the string. It was the merest hint of the white flag of surrender but sensing that they were finally getting to the point Mal had taken one long eager stride to hover over the desk.
Back in her office, the letter to Shufti crying out for her attention, Polly paused the memory and allowed it to fill out the image of that moment for a long minute. The chill steel of the knife under her fingers as she snapped it shut, the deep blue of Mal's jacket where it stretched across purposeful shoulders, the tension drawing open that perfectly cut collar to reveal the line of a long throat that ran away into shifting shadows thrown by that ridiculously ruffled creamy shirt. Mal's shirt. Her friend Mal. Hurriedly squashing all trains of thought, Polly jolted the memory into fast forward, long practice enabling her to ignore the traitorous voice at the back of her mind that whispered a request for her precise definition of friendship.
Eventually there had been no more paper to unwrap and Polly had folded back the flaps to remove the contents. The box contained the usual letter and oddments and something else. Nestled between the small sack of coffee and the paper wrap of sweets was...
“It's a hat.”
Mal had sounded disappointed and when Polly had looked up from the letter she had caught the vampire turning the soft knitting over and over in those delicate hands.
“Are you sulking?”
Mal had given no response and despite her best efforts Polly had been unable to stop the unhelpful laugh as she took her corporal's expression.
“You are! A 200 year old vampire is sulking because her surprise was ruined!”
Mal had growled, there was no other word for it, and Polly had been forced to throw herself over the desk in order to rescue the hat. Smoothing it out carefully on the desk she had folded it and returned it to its place.
“Let me make one thing quite clear to you, Mal. When you finally get off your arse, lose the vampiric need for perfection, stop unravelling the hat that you’re knitting in secret every damn three rows because it’s not exactly flawless, and just get on and complete it the blasted thing. When you eventually do that, stick the bauble on and hand it over…” She drew a much needed breath. “I’ll wear it. With pride. And I will be the envy of all my friends. You have my word. But until that day comes, let me tell you, I will not freeze my hair off just to assuage your ego. Are we clear?”
“I aint knitting no hat.”
While Polly had been stuck behind the desk still puzzling over a possibly clever use of grammar, the corporal had retreated steadily, only pausing at the door to reiterate “vampires don't knit” before vanishing grumpily into the corridor. That had been yesterday and the Supply Clerk's office had seen neither hide nor hair of the annoyance since. Polly sighed and dipping her pen into the ink again, continued with her letter.
Mal would send his congratulations as well, but he’s off sulking at the moment. No real reason, he’s just decided that humans are annoying, me in particular of course and thus he's probably diluting his sorrows by winning as much money off them at cards as physically possible. 30 hours straight now, would you believe anyone could hold a grudge for so long over a simple hat? (I'll have to tell you about it in my next letter, I'm running out of room now, sorry). But don't worry, any minute now I expect a shamefaced apologetic vampire to knock nervously at my door...
The soft knock that came at the door at that very second brought a twitch of a smile to the busy correspondent. Polly paused in her writing, holding the pen to one side to prevent accidental blotting of the letter and called out her invitation of entry to the unseen knocker. Mal poked a cheerful head into the room.
“Supper time, Pol. Are you coming?”
Polly put down her pen.
“Am I forgiven?” She folded her hands under her chin and gave Mal an interrogative look. But, uncooperative to the last, the vampire feigned a lack of understanding forcing Polly to sigh and shake her head as she clarified: “for having the temerity to receive a generous gift, to wit a hat, from my sister in law?”
“Oh that.” Mal inched further into the room. “It took all night and most of today, but if you still want it...” She withdrew her hand from behind her back and proffered a woollen bundle.
“You didn't.”
Handing the item over the vampire shrugged with what couldn't possibly be embarrassment. “You kept saying you were cold. It was going to be a surprise, I wanted to make sure you'd be warm on patrol. But then it took longer than I planned and I wasn't sure I'd get it finished in time. I didn't know you'd found out about it.”
“Impressive.” Looking up and catching Mal's eye she added “No, seriously. This is brilliant Mal. Thank you.” Examining the cap in more detail Polly was astounded by the effort that had gone into producing something so small. The close weave of the wool boded well for heat capture purposes and Mal had managed to match the colour of their uniform jackets perfectly. The little decorative motif around the brow was a nice extra touch.
“It was kind of fun in the end.”
“Really?” Polly broke into a mischievous grin as she fitted the cap over her curls. “How delicious, I can't wait to let the League know how beneficial knitting can be to the unsteady temperament of the domestic vampire.”
“You wouldn't dare.”
“In this hat? In a hat as cunning as this I'd dare anything.” She adjusted it rakishly.
“I would be forced to wreak horrific revenge, you do know that don't you, Polly?” Mal crept closer as she spoke, stalking cautiously as her prey moved out of reach behind the desk.
“Aw, come on, Mal. I don't believe even you could behave in an evil fashion toward someone wearing a hat as gorgeous as this. The power of cute would compel you.”
“Pah.” The corporal drew herself up in mock affront. “I would be easily able to withstand such dastardly attacks. I am after all the spawn of the underworld. Perfidy runs through my veins! Plus, all I would need to do is remove the hat and you would be in my power.” She accompanied her words with the appropriate action, divesting Polly of the hat in one quick movement.
Polly retaliated but Mal easily batted her hands away as her feebly human opponent attempted to reclaim her property. She then hid the cap in an aggravatingly evil manner behind her back mocking the unsuccessful sergeant unmercifully.
“How are the mighty fallen.” She sidestepped a sudden rush. “One little slip and you fall completely under my spell. Mwuhahahahaha, ha-ha, ha.” She paused using her minuscule advantage in height to hold the hat out of reach. “Make me coffee, Polly.”
“I don't think so!” Making a sudden grab for the cap Polly failed miserably but in the process of recovering her balance appeared to fall awkwardly against the armchair and with an exclamation of pain disappeared behind it in a clatter of fire irons.
“Pol!” Mal hurried across the room to drop to her knees beside the curled up figure. “Are you ok? Did you hurt yourself? Should I call someone?”
“Only the Diplomacy Corp with the articles of surrender because you've been completely rolled up! Horse, Foot and Trebuchet!” Polly rolled away to the other side of the hearth, cap held safely in her hand. She waved her trophy gleefully into that shocked face. “Gotcha!”
“Polly!” Mal sat back on her heels shaking her head. “You should be ashamed. Such behaviour! What would Shufti say?”
“She'd say good show, about time you got one across that blasted vampire.”
“Hmph.” Mal clambered to her feet, but rudely refused to offer the sergeant a hand up. “You're a disgrace to the notion of honour and decency and I've a good mind not to take you down to supper.” She paused at the door to cast a sparkling look back over her shoulder.
“Hang on.” Slipping behind the desk, Polly scribbled a last paragraph.
Just to add, Mal's back (hurrah?) and we're off to supper so I must stop now or I'll never catch the post. All my love to you and Paul (Mal's too). Give my nephew a hug from me and punch my brother in the arm - he’ll know what for. I’m not sure when we’ll be able to get letters through again so don't worry if you don't hear from us until the spring. I'll do my very best not to murder the aggravation I appear to be lumbered with before the snow melts.
Best wishes for a good winter.
Polly.
Sprinkling sand over the still wet ink she shook off the excess and grabbed an envelope, waving the sheet to dry the last of the damp lines as she made her way to the door. “We can drop this off with Ganzfield on the way past.” She paused at the threshold to retrieve Hat Mark II from her pocket and crammed it down over her curls as they hurried out of the room to be the envy of all her friends, as promised.
~X~
According to tradition winter was a terrible time to be stuck on Border patrol but Polly found this hard to believe as they hurtled down the slope for what felt like the fifty millionth time. Mal had been unwilling to come tobogganing when Polly had first broached the subject. She'd claimed the activity was much too undignified for a vampire and anyway, why would anyone want to leave a nice warm coffee shop and an almost current copy of the Ankh Morpork Times (how Mal's packages of neat newsprint were still getting through when the rest of them had received no post for weeks was a mystery) to get snow in their underwear? There was no reasonable argument.
Polly had smiled, stolen the Times and admitting there was no sense in the pastime she had offered an unreasonable argument instead.
Racing down the gentle incline, the wind whipping up colour in her cheeks and bringing tears to her eyes, Polly felt strong arms tighten around her and grinned. Perhaps Mal was enjoying herself just a little. It was at this inauspicious moment that the sledge met an unexpected bump and flew off at right angles to bury its nose into a snowdrift with a muffled thump. A snow-insulated silence fell over the winter scene.
As she struggled to her knees, spitting out snow and shaking it out of her short-coat Polly looked around for Mal and found the vampire sprawled out on her stomach calmly picking snowflakes out of her hair. On closer examination, however, it could be seen that the tightly held shoulders were subject to random uncontrollable shudders and Polly flung herself forwards over the snow, worry pooling in her stomach. What had Mal landed on? Rolling the vampire over with the greatest of care her frantic scramble to remember emergency first aid as related to the un-dead was halted by the realisation that Mal was merely fighting an insidious attack of the giggles. So far she seemed to be winning. Accepting she was under observation the vampire swallowed the last of her chuckles and presented a perfectly blank face as Polly shook her head in mock-despair.
Luckily the sergeant was distracted from commenting on such perfidious behaviour by the arrival of Barnett who flew past them on a piece of board, backwards. He didn't seem to be overly pleased with this state of affairs, judging by his tightly squeezed shut eyes and the lip clamped between his teeth. They watched his journey with interest until he parted company from his mount and took up accommodation in a nearby bush.
Wincing in sympathy they left him to extricate himself as best he could and turned their attention to their own needs in order to return to the fray. Somewhere, thought Polly frowning, somewhere there was a sledge. As she began to cast a searching eye over their immediate surroundings Mal sat up and began to straighten her greatcoat before being overtaken by an almost human shiver. Flicking open a couple of buttons the vampire pulled out the collar of the jacket beneath, had a quick look and remarked in a most calm and disinterested tone: “I think I have snow in my shirt.” Unsure quite how to respond to this thrilling discovery Polly choked, her shoulders heaving as she tried desperately to keep a straight face. Then she caught a glimpse of the revealing twitch in Mal's cheek and there was no remedy for either of them but to lie back in the snow and give way to hysterical laughter.
One soul restoring interval later Mal sat up once again and readjusted her muffler. “This is a most silly game” she commented, drawing up a knee and flinging an arm around it to keep her balance on the uneven slope. Polly wiggled around to rest against the greatcoat covered shoulder, wiping the rapidly cooling remains of the tears of laughter from her eyes and they watched the unlucky Barnett begin the long walk back up the hill, dragging his board behind him.
“Do you want to go back inside?”
“And admit defeat? Sod that!” Mal scrambled to her feet, offering a hand to the smugly grinning sergeant. “Company D have been accusing us of being slowcoaches all week. Are you going to take that lying down? It's time we made those bastards eat their words!” Fishing the toboggan out of the drift she led the way back up the slope at a determined speed.
It got a little insane after that, people were going down in threes, in fours, at one point the idiots from Company D got 6 people on one toboggan. They didn’t get far, the bumpy snowfield spinning them off in all directions. As people hurried down the hill to untangle limbs and carry off the survivors Polly made use of the chance to draw breath, her gaze drifting from the mountains that ringed their playground down the slope of the fields, across the roofs of the village to the castle on its brave promontory.
This was it then, the thrilling life of Perks and Maladict: one time heroes who had been lifted aloft on the shoulders of the nation but were now reduced to the mere rank and file of the Borogravian Army. Upstanding lads they'd been, honourable takers of the Shilling who'd kissed the Duchess full face only to be shoved out of sight for being a smidgeon too irritating to be ignored. They'd had their fun and kicked up a deliciously lively ruckus, but now the dust had finally settled here they were, stuck out on the edge of the world as prisoners of the infamous Border Patrol.
Odd that, she thought as she watched two lads from Company D race each other back up the hill. The terrible fate hadn't proved itself all that soul destroying after all. For all it didn't resemble anything she'd thought she wanted, life in the Border Patrol was surprisingly bearable. Yes, there were the chilly mornings and the endless paperwork. But alongside this there was another side, the constant attempts at distraction by Mal, cold afternoons spiced with energetic training (fighting a vampire armed with two swords was 'interesting' to say the least). This was leavened with dark evenings that drew in quickly and welcomed all indoors to huddle round fiery braziers or deep inglenooks, cards or perhaps Thud to pass the time, friends spinning tales in the flickering warmth, the give and take of teasing barbs over mulled beer. All topped off with freezing nights, infinite darkness above and a vampire at her shoulder pointing up into the abyss as she guided her willing pupil through the basics of star navigation, both bundled up to the nines against the cold. Really, when you came down to it, it wasn't such a bad life in the army. She even got to throw things at Mal's head occasionally.
She was drawn out of her introspection by the cheering as Turner (employing the judicial use of a foot to pick the fastest line) beat his most recent challenger into a poor second place. The lad was a natural and it was most beneficial that he had declared for them against the nefarious Company D only that morning. Adding her whistle to the applause that rose up again as the triumphant young man gathered up his sledge far below she felt a distracting nudge at her shoulder and turning found herself rubbing elbows with a familiar vampiric form once again.
“Wish me luck?”
It was the snow in her ears. It must have been. There was no other reason why she should have misheard that innocent request. Unfortunately having heard four words[1] instead of three Polly could only rock back on her heels and mouth “what?” while the background chatter faded away leaving them in an enclave of portentous silence. Her blood had cravenly abandoned ship, draining away into her boots as her thoughts spun out of control, taking the simple question and examining it intensely from every angle. It was only then that Polly realised (to her now reviving embarrassment) that the dratted vampire had in fact said something entirely innocuous and not the more physical demand that a certain distracted sergeant had heard[2].
Not that it wasn't a tempting proposition, despite the fact Mal hadn't actually said... Even on her most restrained day Polly would have to admit she had had thoughts. It must have been something to do with snow blindness she thought vaguely. That was it. Hadn't they only been warned that morning as to the unbalancing effects of sun on fresh snow? What other explanation could there be for the narrowing of her vision to focus on wind chapped lips as a whispering voice came slinking forward to murmur of riches unimaginable and the benefits of just leaning in one smidgeon closer...
“Sergeant?”
Mal's concerned hand on her arm had only been intended to steady her, but Polly was suddenly intensely conscious of the supportive grasp that encircled her forearm so delicately. She drew in an uneven breath feeling her previously well behaved stomach contract oddly, lightning racing on in molten streams down unsteady legs to earth itself in the snow at her feet. Eager to get in on the act the disc put in an additional spin especially for her whilst the encircling mountains shunned physics to get up and dance a slow gavotte. She looked up into glowing dark eyes that seemed to echo everything she was feeling and more.
The moment broke. Mal wrenched back her hand as though she'd been burnt and stumbled backward in the snow. Fighting for composure Polly watched as a mingled confusion of shock and fear flashed over that unexpectedly open face before the familiar portcullis was dropped back into place. Looking again she saw only a self-possessed vampire straightening the lapels of her coat. But despite that Polly was unable to forget the glimpse she had caught of the vulnerability lurking in those dark depths. Feeling like the worst kind of spy, she shoved her hands into her pockets, switching her gaze to the safer territory of the powdery snow on the corporal's shoulder. A lingering temptation urged her to brush it away gently, the texture of light flakes in conjunction with the rougher texture of thick wool unfolding in her mind.
“Er...” Why did her mind chose now to go completely blank? Clutching at the calm presence of mind under pressure that had held her in such good stead during the long and complicated negotiations in Ankh Morpork she forced out a shaky “Good luck?”
Mal nodded and turned away. Feeling the blush start Polly could only thank the fates that the surrounding crowd were currently distracted by Finchley being his usual variety of idiot. No one had noticed that their respectable sergeant's rational thinking centres had dissolved into mush and were dribbling out of her ears. As she stood there trembling someone bumped into her and by the time she had recovered her balance Mal had vanished into the crowd clustered around the start. There was an encouraging roar from the crowd and two dark shapes flew away over the snow leaving the sergeant behind to frown and rub confusedly at her forehead.
[1]And really, in what world did vampires ever need kissing for luck anyway?
[2] In later years it became a frequent point of argument between them, oft returned to but never satisfactorily resolved. Polly usually ended up explaining to whomever had enquired in the first place that whatever she might have actually said, Mal's intent had been clear enough for any sensible person to pick up on it and therefore the precise wording used was beside the point.
~X~
What exactly had happened there then?
Polly allowed herself the small consolation of a mini panic attack, deaf to the excited cheers of those watching the race. Standing there, chill reality striking up through the thin soles of her boots she quickly ran the last few minutes back over in her mind. It would be nice if she could say the events were surrounded in a haze of confusion but every second stood proud and crystal clear in her memory. And made absolutely no sense, even in hindsight. Polly frowned, the image of a concerned gaze dissolving into twin pools of infinite darkness playing and replaying in her mind. Mal had had more than her usual dose of coffee that morning, there was no sensible reason why she should have slipped. If this was a slip... Polly pushed that thought away quickly.
It wasn't like she didn't understand the mechanics; life in the army was extremely educational in all kinds of encyclopaedic ways. But growing up looking after a brother and a pub didn't give a girl that much freedom to explore her available options. Then of course there had been the war and its aftermath. Not really the best time for getting up a dalliance, though that didn't mean some of the more foolhardy subalterns hadn't tried. And what had Mal had to say about that? Nothing. Just smiled that closed smile and graciously bowed out to leave Polly her privacy. The vampire hadn't gone far though, had been there in a flash when that Ensign had tried to carry his mission a little too deep into enemy territory. And what had happened when Polly tried to express her thanks? Nothing. Again. Mal's throwaway shrug had particularly hurt that time.
After the war was over there had been those six months at home when Polly could have kissed anyone she wanted. Could have, but didn't. She'd been distracted by other matters, getting The Duchess up and going again and overseeing Paul and Shufti's stumbling courtship didn't leave much time for her own. And the fact that she'd been too busy trying to work out the ache in her heart? The ache that had mysteriously disappeared when she'd re-joined the army?
The army. That had been fun. And busy of course. Before long she'd been off to Ankh Morpork. Now there'd been plenty to kiss there. And explore, should she have so wished, the city was famed for its diversity. But though she had dallied here and there, in times when the negotiations were going badly or when loneliness clawed too deep (she still remembered with fondness the night Lt Schmidt had taken her to throw pebbles into the Ankh, watching them dissolve into strange fizzing colours) nothing had seemed worth the effort.
And now here she was. Here they were.
Mal hadn't instigated anything, all the vampire had done was to ask a friendly question, the rest had all been in Polly's imagination. All of it. Embarrassment, previously squashed by panic and confusion reared a pertinent head. Oh Gods, she had made such a fool of herself. She had almost... There was only one thing for it. The strange little incident would just have to be put out of mind. Friendship with Mal was too precious to throw away over something as stupid as this.
Polly took the next dare without thinking. As she lowered herself onto the narrow sledge and prepared to take the hill head first a little voice tried to comment that if she hadn't been quite so unsettled she wouldn't have even considered it as an option. Polly ignored it and pushed off. But as the snow sped past her nose all her stupid worries dissolved away in the rush of mingled fear and excitement. At such speeds distractions simply could not be permitted and the even the persistent image of dark eyes that seemed to be longing for something blew away into the wind that howled around her ears.
The clapping drifted down from the gathered hoards at the summit as Polly rolled off at the bottom but her well-earned applause died away before she had even managed to pick herself up to give her stateliest bow. As she squinted up the hill she could see that there was some sort of lively discussion going up there. It looked like Mal was in the middle of it, but Polly couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t until she was dragging the sled back up the hill that she saw clearly what they had been cooking up. Before her disbelieving eyes a stupidly persuadable vampire walked calmly forward to the lip, placed the sled with precision and prepared to take her stance upon it.
“MAL!” Polly's scream must have reached the group but her shouted warning went ignored and she could only swallow back her cry of fear as the graceful figure kicked off, the sledge hanging for a moment on the crest of the hill before succumbing to gravity. Mal swept down toward her, balancing easily as the runners sang over the smooth snow, picking up more and more speed as she approached the bumpier terrain of the middle slope. There hadn't been enough snow to build up a safety buffer here and rocks dotted indiscriminately here and there stuck up menacingly through the too thin white covering. These obstacles sniggered insolently at Polly as the fragile duo of sledge and vampire hurtled into their midst. Polly held her breath.
Mal flew past. The blasted idiot was managing to keep her footing against all the odds as her unconventional steed bucked and wobbled in what seemed a knowing attempt to toss her into one of the many passing snowdrifts. If Polly hadn't been quite so petrified that she would be imminently eulogising this scene over a beautifully carved casket she would have taken a moment to admire the natural ability that enabled the irresponsible rapscallion to look so good whilst cheating death. As it was she dropped the string of her toboggan and ignoring its escape entirely ran back down to the bottom of the hill to give Mal a somewhat loud and vehement piece of her mind, all previous embarrasment forgotten.
Unfortunately her furious progress was interrupted when she tripped in the deeper snow and it was only Mal catching her flailing hands and bringing her to a gentle halt that prevented her from inadvertently grovelling at the vampire's feet. Despite this kindness Polly found herself perfectly able to ignore the foolish happy smile plastered all over the completely infuriating corporal's face and burst out into a formidable scold.
“What on earth were you thinking? You could have broken your neck! Are you completely out of your mind?”
“Quite possibly.” For all Mal couldn't help but notice the benefit to Polly's complexion delivered by the flushed cheeks and sparking eyes, now was possibly not quite the moment to bring this up.
“It would damn well serve you right if you broke your leg! In fact I hope you do. Both legs!! That'd learn you! And don't you dare come crying to me.” Polly, having determined that her vampire had not taken any bad effects from her adventure was overtaken by reaction and wiped distractedly at suddenly wet eyes. “I'll not sit up with you and deal the cards to keep you amused. I'll laugh. Haha, that's what I'll say. See? Ha HA!!” She left Mal silent and standing there with her jaw dropping loose to her knees as the compact ball of trembling fury stormed away.
“Polly!” Mal struggled through the deep snow as she chased after that stiff back. “Polly! Come back. Please? I'll be good! I promise I'll never do anything outrageous again. I'll be a little angel. Polly!!”
The object of her pleading turned round at last. “You'll never do anything outrageous?”
“Never! I swear.” Mal didn't appear to have crossed her fingers behind her back, but that was probably only because Polly had shown herself wise to that little trick before.
“You wouldn't be able to resist.” Polly was shaking her head in denial but she had paused long enough for Mal to catch up. The vampire teased apart those folded arms to grab for gloved hand, holding them in a reassuring clasp.
“If that was what you really wanted I would. Promise.” Polly's hands made an abortive attempt to escape but were easily recaptured. Pressing them together in a steady clasp Mal employed her most serious expression. “I swear.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Mal actually looked like she meant it.
Polly, unable to comprehend a world in which vampires obeyed her every whim, merely laughed as she extracted herself.
“I don't think I could survive that. A well behaved and decorous Mal?” She slipped her arm through the corporal's. “The peace and quiet might be nice at first, but all that agonised waiting for the other shoe to drop? Nah, I couldn't bear it.” Grinning, Polly tugged at the arm linked with hers and they began to make their way up the hill for another go.
Later, sipping hot chocolate in front of the fire in the guardroom Polly let her eyes drift in warm satisfaction around the sprawling figures dotted here and there in a wide array of chairs ranging from the deep but shabby to the stiff and unyielding. Around her the conversation ebbed and flowed as one after another the gathered rank and file took turns to tell widely exaggerated tales of their exploits amongst the snow. Mal was quiet for once as she sat curled up in one of her graceful poses at Polly's feet. As the sergeant yawned she felt the vampire relax sideways against her knee, the dark head resting trustingly under her hand. With the warmth from the fire easing through tired muscles and slowing her mind like treacle she allowed her fingers to drift absent-mindedly through the light strands of hair.
She wasn't consciously aware of her actions and luckily the only person who saw (Goldhawk the ever observant) was too much of a gentleman to comment on the sight of a sergeant running her hands through the carefully dishevelled locks of the corporal sitting so quietly at her feet. Neither did he think there was anything to say when the corporal in question frowned suddenly and extracted himself with great dignity from the tableau to wander most nonchalantly away to a serendipitously darker corner of the room. And to whom could he mention the flash of loss that he had caught in those blue eyes and the momentary echo of darkness flickering across dark eyes in the shadows before they were once again hooded?
Best to let them get on with it, he decided. Vampires could get somewhat shifty if you interfered in their personal affairs and he liked his limbs attached.
~X~
Disclaimer: Polly and Mal belong to Sir Terry Pratchett. Author makes no claims of ownership in any way. No profit is being made from this work.
Warnings: This chapter contains descriptions of a relationship between two women (yeah, I know, FINALLY). If that's not your thing please don't click below.
Previous Chapters: Summer, Autumn 1/3, Autumn 2/3, Autumn 3/3
It's rather long, so I've posted it in two parts. Part one below.
~X~
Winter
Tis the Season to be Jolly… and other things ending in ‘olly
Sir pTerry: Hogswatch
After initially friendly overtures, winter came all at once to the border regions accompanied a chill rainstorm that swept in off the mountains. Without waiting to be formally introduced the rain thrummed on the castle roofs and lashed angrily at the windows while outside the defensive walls the river rushed by, swollen and noisy as it threw itself against the rocky banks in a sulky attempt to invade the town. When the clouds eventually deigned to move on, the season turned abruptly cruel and they suffered a week of bitterly freezing winds that blew straight off the ice-fields, penetrating all but the thickest walls of the castle. The temperature dropped like a stone. Unused to such conditions the more recent arrivals stumbled about on frozen feet complaining loud and often as a distraction from their nagging fear that it might get even worse. The veterans amongst them huddled in sensibly stashed away woollens and swore fluently at the sharp pains of returning circulation when hands were held over glowing braziers. The demand for scarves, gloves, warm underwear and other essentials soared as sufferers attempted to solve the urgent problem of heat capture. But if there was one thing a posting to the Border Patrol taught it was swift adaptation in the face of adversity and eventually the sight of bundled spheres of youth sliding cheerfully over the frozen ground could be seen wherever a trickle of water had made an attempt to escape.
Two floors above the latest exuberant display Polly was about to nibble on the end of her writing implement when she was stopped abruptly by the realisation that it was a pen and not her usual pencil. Frustrated in her aim she returned her attention to the words scrawled across the page before her.
Dear Shufti,
Thank you so much for the hat, with the weather dropping colder it has been much appreciated. Dipping her pen in the ink she added: …I am the envy of the entire fort with my dashing head apparel.
She squinted at apparel. Should that be one ‘p’ or two? Mal would know but then Mal wasn't here was she? No, she was off sulking (again) and thus unavailable for the asking of even banal questions related to spelling. Polly sighed.
The empty hearth mocked her, the lack of a familiar sardonic figure skulking by the fire a constant reminder of her changed circumstances. As the weather had closed in Mal had revealed an instinct to gravitate to any source of heat like moth to flame. It hadn't taken her long to catch on that the supply office had been given dispensation to have a fire (Polly's ability to manipulate a writing implement being somewhat adversely affected by the cold). It had quickly become one of the vampire's favourite haunts, her dry commentary on the varied and interesting aspects of form filling becoming a regular accompaniment to the working day.
To be fair, Polly hadn't been that adverse to the distraction she admitted wryly, stretching her legs under the desk and letting her eyes drift again to that forlorn spot on the hearthstone. A ledger was a ledger was a ledger, but a pair of laughing eyes, a teasing grin and an embellished, impossible and unfortunately unfabricated tale of vampiric youth were a much more pleasant way of passing the time. Of course Polly had contributed her own share of exaggerated tales, introducing a side of life as observed from behind the bar of a small town inn. But as Mal had a great span of years to pull stories from (and Polly was after all meant to be working) the balance of words had fallen to the vampire more often than not. Polly wasn't complaining.
Lulled into a false sense of security, she'd allowed herself to get used to this state of affairs. Got used to mornings filled with laughter and exclamations of disbelief, warm cosy afternoons with a steady voice unwrapping private pearls of memory, and weaved through all the ever present scent of expensive coffee. Dammit Mal, where are you?
Polly pushed any thoughts of an annoying vampire to the back of her mind and bent her attention back to the letter. She had to get this done today or she’d miss the post and with the storms moving in over the mountain who knew when the road would be open again? She drew the inkwell closer.
I was pleased to receive your letter; it’s always nice to get news from home. Even when it's such shocking news as this time. I can’t believe that that was young Jack’s first word! Tell my brother he and I will be having a little conversation when I get back. I will have some serious words to share with him regarding his carelessness in exposing my innocent young nephew to drovers talk (though you have to admit, it's kind of sweet the way he's willing to take the little mite everywhere with him, even when he's unloading the barrels).
Don't be too hard on him Shufti, our Paul might be a bit of an idiot (underlined three times), but he’s got a good heart. Knowing my brother he probably only wanted to keep the lad from pestering you while you're so tired.
Which brings me nicely to the congratulations I owe you both! So, another nephew or niece is on the way? My, you have been busy.
She sketched a smiling face with swift strokes of her pen and paused again, casting an eye over the letter propped up at her left hand. The quiet of the room once again impinged on her thoughts dragging them away from that familiar inn hundreds of leagues away and back to more immediate problems.
It wasn’t even like the row with Mal had been her fault (Polly found herself adding “this time” to that statement and scowled). The whole idiotic situation was entirely due to the arrival of that blasted hat and by association that made it Shufti’s fault, although Polly wasn’t going to put that in the letter. Glancing up to where her coat hung disconsolately over the back of the armchair (Mal's armchair), Polly caught sight of the soft wool peeking out of a pocket and sighed. That damn hat.
Previously she'd always been pleased to receive those carefully wrapped parcels, excitement bubbling up on first sight of that sturdy brown paper. Shufti (bless her over-maternal heart) persisted in sending out little slices of home life, a painting of Jack by Paul to remind Polly what her nephew (adopted) looked like, candies that Polly always denied that she looked forward to, fllavoured soaps she liked that Shufti knew she couldn’t get out here and (of course) the ubiquitous bag of coffee for Mal. And as to why Shufti had suddenly decided that coffee should be included, Polly had no idea. It wasn’t like she even mentioned Mal that often in her letters home!
Since the first inclusion of that bag of coffee Mal had become as interested in the arrival of a parcel as Polly. This latest delivery had been no exception. It had been yesterday when Mal had bounded into her office, cheerfully interrupting Polly's serious and worthy attempts to brief Ganzfield on their requirements with regard to forms over the coming week. As interruptions of this kind had been occurring with ever smaller frequency ever since that useful regulation regarding coal allocation neither clerk reacted as the door slammed back on its hinges. Well, outwardly anyway. Inwardly Polly may have struggled to suppress a traitorous upsurge of happiness. But in her defence, compared to the piles of dry paperwork any interruption would have been pleasurable.
When had it first become apparent that this woman, originally nothing more than a friend in need, had become a companion for every occasion, her ready wit a soothing calm for all frustrations, her insanity a welcome distraction and her flashes of calm common-sense a balance to Polly's occasional private bouts of depression? Polly didn't know. All she knew was that as the irritating interruptions had kept occurring with unfailing frequency she had found herself meeting them more and more often with a lazy smile that sprawled over her face without any attempt at prior consent. Luckily, before her thoughts could get too knotted up in the problem Polly had been yanked back to reality when a smallish, tidily wrapped box had been dumped onto her desk.
“What's this then?”
She had spoken calmly; this was a supply office after all. Hundreds of deliveries passed through their hands every month. Just because there was a vampire on the other side of her desk twitching with glee was no reason to change standard operating procedure.
“Parcel addressed to Sergeant Perks, sir. Arrived this morning, sir. Return address of Munz. Sir.” And Mal had pulled off a snappy salute, every inch the professional soldier.
Keeping a straight face with difficulty Polly had quickly dismissed the respectfully non-curious Ganzfield with a short apology and a promise to reschedule. When Mal had closed the door firmly behind him and turned back to the desk Polly been lucky enough to catch the expression of disappointment that flashed across the corporal's face as she found the parcel still there, pristine and untouched, absolutely not torn apart in an explosion of wild curiosity. Today was looking suddenly more interesting. The very epitome of calm, Sergeant Perks had leant back in her chair, relaxed hands folded over her belt buckle. It was a well-known fact that nothing could induce a vampire to express excitement. It just wasn’t done. Tempting them to do so had therefore become one of the little high points of Polly's life.
The whimper of disappointment that had escaped her corporal's lips didn't go completely un-noticed, but Polly had been generous enough to pretend it hadn't happened. She waited.
“Aren't you going to open it?”
Feeling every inch the superior NCO Polly had drawn her eyebrows together and fixed the jiggling figure with a stare. The game was now officially afoot.
“Would I be correct in thinking that something in this parcel has excited your interest, Corporal?”
There had been a fraction of a second when Mal hung frozen before the vampire had relaxed into pose 24, comfortable insouciance. A less observant human wouldn't have noticed it. Polly did. She had also picked up on the occasional flicker that tugged at the corner of her corporal's eye indicating that all this serenity was taking considerable effort.
“Me, Sergeant?” Mal's tone had been so calm you could have floated paper swans on it without fear of capsizing them. “I was just curious to see what those rascally boys in the post room have done today in order to liven up the tedium of our daily life.”
She had stepped back to perch nonchalantly on the arm of the deep armchair that had been putting down roots beside Polly's fire ever since a vampire had decided it was her parlour as much as the fort’s Supply Clerk's office.
“I don’t believe it’s a prank.” Reluctant to give way to the giggles that had been threatening to overtake her and thus lose the game Polly had flipped the parcel over to check the post mark. “It has the usual return address on it. Do you have some other source of intelligence, Corporal? Perhaps from the gossip shops you inhabit?”
When she had looked up from the brown paper she had been surprised to discover Mal attempting to give her the smallest hint of a puppy dog look. She had been practising again.
No-one had yet fathomed why Mal had decided to develop this so very human manipulation technique. Vampires didn't need pleading sad eyes in their arsenal with so many other (more deadly) tools at their disposal. It made no sense. However, weeks had gone by and Mal had persisted in attempting to gain this facet of humanity until they had reached this state of affairs whereby Polly was coming to accept it as normal. She reassured herself that it was probably just an indication that the vampire had been living amongst them too long. Mal must have picked it up by osmosis from Finchley who had been known to use it to devastating effects in card games.
Unfortunately it was a hard expression to learn and on that auspicious morning Mal’s attempt had merely produced a muscle contraction such as might be found on the face of a constipated duck. It had been pathetic. Embarrassingly pathetic. Polly had fished in her desk for a penknife to cut the string. It was the merest hint of the white flag of surrender but sensing that they were finally getting to the point Mal had taken one long eager stride to hover over the desk.
Back in her office, the letter to Shufti crying out for her attention, Polly paused the memory and allowed it to fill out the image of that moment for a long minute. The chill steel of the knife under her fingers as she snapped it shut, the deep blue of Mal's jacket where it stretched across purposeful shoulders, the tension drawing open that perfectly cut collar to reveal the line of a long throat that ran away into shifting shadows thrown by that ridiculously ruffled creamy shirt. Mal's shirt. Her friend Mal. Hurriedly squashing all trains of thought, Polly jolted the memory into fast forward, long practice enabling her to ignore the traitorous voice at the back of her mind that whispered a request for her precise definition of friendship.
Eventually there had been no more paper to unwrap and Polly had folded back the flaps to remove the contents. The box contained the usual letter and oddments and something else. Nestled between the small sack of coffee and the paper wrap of sweets was...
“It's a hat.”
Mal had sounded disappointed and when Polly had looked up from the letter she had caught the vampire turning the soft knitting over and over in those delicate hands.
“Are you sulking?”
Mal had given no response and despite her best efforts Polly had been unable to stop the unhelpful laugh as she took her corporal's expression.
“You are! A 200 year old vampire is sulking because her surprise was ruined!”
Mal had growled, there was no other word for it, and Polly had been forced to throw herself over the desk in order to rescue the hat. Smoothing it out carefully on the desk she had folded it and returned it to its place.
“Let me make one thing quite clear to you, Mal. When you finally get off your arse, lose the vampiric need for perfection, stop unravelling the hat that you’re knitting in secret every damn three rows because it’s not exactly flawless, and just get on and complete it the blasted thing. When you eventually do that, stick the bauble on and hand it over…” She drew a much needed breath. “I’ll wear it. With pride. And I will be the envy of all my friends. You have my word. But until that day comes, let me tell you, I will not freeze my hair off just to assuage your ego. Are we clear?”
“I aint knitting no hat.”
While Polly had been stuck behind the desk still puzzling over a possibly clever use of grammar, the corporal had retreated steadily, only pausing at the door to reiterate “vampires don't knit” before vanishing grumpily into the corridor. That had been yesterday and the Supply Clerk's office had seen neither hide nor hair of the annoyance since. Polly sighed and dipping her pen into the ink again, continued with her letter.
Mal would send his congratulations as well, but he’s off sulking at the moment. No real reason, he’s just decided that humans are annoying, me in particular of course and thus he's probably diluting his sorrows by winning as much money off them at cards as physically possible. 30 hours straight now, would you believe anyone could hold a grudge for so long over a simple hat? (I'll have to tell you about it in my next letter, I'm running out of room now, sorry). But don't worry, any minute now I expect a shamefaced apologetic vampire to knock nervously at my door...
The soft knock that came at the door at that very second brought a twitch of a smile to the busy correspondent. Polly paused in her writing, holding the pen to one side to prevent accidental blotting of the letter and called out her invitation of entry to the unseen knocker. Mal poked a cheerful head into the room.
“Supper time, Pol. Are you coming?”
Polly put down her pen.
“Am I forgiven?” She folded her hands under her chin and gave Mal an interrogative look. But, uncooperative to the last, the vampire feigned a lack of understanding forcing Polly to sigh and shake her head as she clarified: “for having the temerity to receive a generous gift, to wit a hat, from my sister in law?”
“Oh that.” Mal inched further into the room. “It took all night and most of today, but if you still want it...” She withdrew her hand from behind her back and proffered a woollen bundle.
“You didn't.”
Handing the item over the vampire shrugged with what couldn't possibly be embarrassment. “You kept saying you were cold. It was going to be a surprise, I wanted to make sure you'd be warm on patrol. But then it took longer than I planned and I wasn't sure I'd get it finished in time. I didn't know you'd found out about it.”
“Impressive.” Looking up and catching Mal's eye she added “No, seriously. This is brilliant Mal. Thank you.” Examining the cap in more detail Polly was astounded by the effort that had gone into producing something so small. The close weave of the wool boded well for heat capture purposes and Mal had managed to match the colour of their uniform jackets perfectly. The little decorative motif around the brow was a nice extra touch.
“It was kind of fun in the end.”
“Really?” Polly broke into a mischievous grin as she fitted the cap over her curls. “How delicious, I can't wait to let the League know how beneficial knitting can be to the unsteady temperament of the domestic vampire.”
“You wouldn't dare.”
“In this hat? In a hat as cunning as this I'd dare anything.” She adjusted it rakishly.
“I would be forced to wreak horrific revenge, you do know that don't you, Polly?” Mal crept closer as she spoke, stalking cautiously as her prey moved out of reach behind the desk.
“Aw, come on, Mal. I don't believe even you could behave in an evil fashion toward someone wearing a hat as gorgeous as this. The power of cute would compel you.”
“Pah.” The corporal drew herself up in mock affront. “I would be easily able to withstand such dastardly attacks. I am after all the spawn of the underworld. Perfidy runs through my veins! Plus, all I would need to do is remove the hat and you would be in my power.” She accompanied her words with the appropriate action, divesting Polly of the hat in one quick movement.
Polly retaliated but Mal easily batted her hands away as her feebly human opponent attempted to reclaim her property. She then hid the cap in an aggravatingly evil manner behind her back mocking the unsuccessful sergeant unmercifully.
“How are the mighty fallen.” She sidestepped a sudden rush. “One little slip and you fall completely under my spell. Mwuhahahahaha, ha-ha, ha.” She paused using her minuscule advantage in height to hold the hat out of reach. “Make me coffee, Polly.”
“I don't think so!” Making a sudden grab for the cap Polly failed miserably but in the process of recovering her balance appeared to fall awkwardly against the armchair and with an exclamation of pain disappeared behind it in a clatter of fire irons.
“Pol!” Mal hurried across the room to drop to her knees beside the curled up figure. “Are you ok? Did you hurt yourself? Should I call someone?”
“Only the Diplomacy Corp with the articles of surrender because you've been completely rolled up! Horse, Foot and Trebuchet!” Polly rolled away to the other side of the hearth, cap held safely in her hand. She waved her trophy gleefully into that shocked face. “Gotcha!”
“Polly!” Mal sat back on her heels shaking her head. “You should be ashamed. Such behaviour! What would Shufti say?”
“She'd say good show, about time you got one across that blasted vampire.”
“Hmph.” Mal clambered to her feet, but rudely refused to offer the sergeant a hand up. “You're a disgrace to the notion of honour and decency and I've a good mind not to take you down to supper.” She paused at the door to cast a sparkling look back over her shoulder.
“Hang on.” Slipping behind the desk, Polly scribbled a last paragraph.
Just to add, Mal's back (hurrah?) and we're off to supper so I must stop now or I'll never catch the post. All my love to you and Paul (Mal's too). Give my nephew a hug from me and punch my brother in the arm - he’ll know what for. I’m not sure when we’ll be able to get letters through again so don't worry if you don't hear from us until the spring. I'll do my very best not to murder the aggravation I appear to be lumbered with before the snow melts.
Best wishes for a good winter.
Polly.
Sprinkling sand over the still wet ink she shook off the excess and grabbed an envelope, waving the sheet to dry the last of the damp lines as she made her way to the door. “We can drop this off with Ganzfield on the way past.” She paused at the threshold to retrieve Hat Mark II from her pocket and crammed it down over her curls as they hurried out of the room to be the envy of all her friends, as promised.
~X~
According to tradition winter was a terrible time to be stuck on Border patrol but Polly found this hard to believe as they hurtled down the slope for what felt like the fifty millionth time. Mal had been unwilling to come tobogganing when Polly had first broached the subject. She'd claimed the activity was much too undignified for a vampire and anyway, why would anyone want to leave a nice warm coffee shop and an almost current copy of the Ankh Morpork Times (how Mal's packages of neat newsprint were still getting through when the rest of them had received no post for weeks was a mystery) to get snow in their underwear? There was no reasonable argument.
Polly had smiled, stolen the Times and admitting there was no sense in the pastime she had offered an unreasonable argument instead.
Racing down the gentle incline, the wind whipping up colour in her cheeks and bringing tears to her eyes, Polly felt strong arms tighten around her and grinned. Perhaps Mal was enjoying herself just a little. It was at this inauspicious moment that the sledge met an unexpected bump and flew off at right angles to bury its nose into a snowdrift with a muffled thump. A snow-insulated silence fell over the winter scene.
As she struggled to her knees, spitting out snow and shaking it out of her short-coat Polly looked around for Mal and found the vampire sprawled out on her stomach calmly picking snowflakes out of her hair. On closer examination, however, it could be seen that the tightly held shoulders were subject to random uncontrollable shudders and Polly flung herself forwards over the snow, worry pooling in her stomach. What had Mal landed on? Rolling the vampire over with the greatest of care her frantic scramble to remember emergency first aid as related to the un-dead was halted by the realisation that Mal was merely fighting an insidious attack of the giggles. So far she seemed to be winning. Accepting she was under observation the vampire swallowed the last of her chuckles and presented a perfectly blank face as Polly shook her head in mock-despair.
Luckily the sergeant was distracted from commenting on such perfidious behaviour by the arrival of Barnett who flew past them on a piece of board, backwards. He didn't seem to be overly pleased with this state of affairs, judging by his tightly squeezed shut eyes and the lip clamped between his teeth. They watched his journey with interest until he parted company from his mount and took up accommodation in a nearby bush.
Wincing in sympathy they left him to extricate himself as best he could and turned their attention to their own needs in order to return to the fray. Somewhere, thought Polly frowning, somewhere there was a sledge. As she began to cast a searching eye over their immediate surroundings Mal sat up and began to straighten her greatcoat before being overtaken by an almost human shiver. Flicking open a couple of buttons the vampire pulled out the collar of the jacket beneath, had a quick look and remarked in a most calm and disinterested tone: “I think I have snow in my shirt.” Unsure quite how to respond to this thrilling discovery Polly choked, her shoulders heaving as she tried desperately to keep a straight face. Then she caught a glimpse of the revealing twitch in Mal's cheek and there was no remedy for either of them but to lie back in the snow and give way to hysterical laughter.
One soul restoring interval later Mal sat up once again and readjusted her muffler. “This is a most silly game” she commented, drawing up a knee and flinging an arm around it to keep her balance on the uneven slope. Polly wiggled around to rest against the greatcoat covered shoulder, wiping the rapidly cooling remains of the tears of laughter from her eyes and they watched the unlucky Barnett begin the long walk back up the hill, dragging his board behind him.
“Do you want to go back inside?”
“And admit defeat? Sod that!” Mal scrambled to her feet, offering a hand to the smugly grinning sergeant. “Company D have been accusing us of being slowcoaches all week. Are you going to take that lying down? It's time we made those bastards eat their words!” Fishing the toboggan out of the drift she led the way back up the slope at a determined speed.
It got a little insane after that, people were going down in threes, in fours, at one point the idiots from Company D got 6 people on one toboggan. They didn’t get far, the bumpy snowfield spinning them off in all directions. As people hurried down the hill to untangle limbs and carry off the survivors Polly made use of the chance to draw breath, her gaze drifting from the mountains that ringed their playground down the slope of the fields, across the roofs of the village to the castle on its brave promontory.
This was it then, the thrilling life of Perks and Maladict: one time heroes who had been lifted aloft on the shoulders of the nation but were now reduced to the mere rank and file of the Borogravian Army. Upstanding lads they'd been, honourable takers of the Shilling who'd kissed the Duchess full face only to be shoved out of sight for being a smidgeon too irritating to be ignored. They'd had their fun and kicked up a deliciously lively ruckus, but now the dust had finally settled here they were, stuck out on the edge of the world as prisoners of the infamous Border Patrol.
Odd that, she thought as she watched two lads from Company D race each other back up the hill. The terrible fate hadn't proved itself all that soul destroying after all. For all it didn't resemble anything she'd thought she wanted, life in the Border Patrol was surprisingly bearable. Yes, there were the chilly mornings and the endless paperwork. But alongside this there was another side, the constant attempts at distraction by Mal, cold afternoons spiced with energetic training (fighting a vampire armed with two swords was 'interesting' to say the least). This was leavened with dark evenings that drew in quickly and welcomed all indoors to huddle round fiery braziers or deep inglenooks, cards or perhaps Thud to pass the time, friends spinning tales in the flickering warmth, the give and take of teasing barbs over mulled beer. All topped off with freezing nights, infinite darkness above and a vampire at her shoulder pointing up into the abyss as she guided her willing pupil through the basics of star navigation, both bundled up to the nines against the cold. Really, when you came down to it, it wasn't such a bad life in the army. She even got to throw things at Mal's head occasionally.
She was drawn out of her introspection by the cheering as Turner (employing the judicial use of a foot to pick the fastest line) beat his most recent challenger into a poor second place. The lad was a natural and it was most beneficial that he had declared for them against the nefarious Company D only that morning. Adding her whistle to the applause that rose up again as the triumphant young man gathered up his sledge far below she felt a distracting nudge at her shoulder and turning found herself rubbing elbows with a familiar vampiric form once again.
“Wish me luck?”
It was the snow in her ears. It must have been. There was no other reason why she should have misheard that innocent request. Unfortunately having heard four words[1] instead of three Polly could only rock back on her heels and mouth “what?” while the background chatter faded away leaving them in an enclave of portentous silence. Her blood had cravenly abandoned ship, draining away into her boots as her thoughts spun out of control, taking the simple question and examining it intensely from every angle. It was only then that Polly realised (to her now reviving embarrassment) that the dratted vampire had in fact said something entirely innocuous and not the more physical demand that a certain distracted sergeant had heard[2].
Not that it wasn't a tempting proposition, despite the fact Mal hadn't actually said... Even on her most restrained day Polly would have to admit she had had thoughts. It must have been something to do with snow blindness she thought vaguely. That was it. Hadn't they only been warned that morning as to the unbalancing effects of sun on fresh snow? What other explanation could there be for the narrowing of her vision to focus on wind chapped lips as a whispering voice came slinking forward to murmur of riches unimaginable and the benefits of just leaning in one smidgeon closer...
“Sergeant?”
Mal's concerned hand on her arm had only been intended to steady her, but Polly was suddenly intensely conscious of the supportive grasp that encircled her forearm so delicately. She drew in an uneven breath feeling her previously well behaved stomach contract oddly, lightning racing on in molten streams down unsteady legs to earth itself in the snow at her feet. Eager to get in on the act the disc put in an additional spin especially for her whilst the encircling mountains shunned physics to get up and dance a slow gavotte. She looked up into glowing dark eyes that seemed to echo everything she was feeling and more.
The moment broke. Mal wrenched back her hand as though she'd been burnt and stumbled backward in the snow. Fighting for composure Polly watched as a mingled confusion of shock and fear flashed over that unexpectedly open face before the familiar portcullis was dropped back into place. Looking again she saw only a self-possessed vampire straightening the lapels of her coat. But despite that Polly was unable to forget the glimpse she had caught of the vulnerability lurking in those dark depths. Feeling like the worst kind of spy, she shoved her hands into her pockets, switching her gaze to the safer territory of the powdery snow on the corporal's shoulder. A lingering temptation urged her to brush it away gently, the texture of light flakes in conjunction with the rougher texture of thick wool unfolding in her mind.
“Er...” Why did her mind chose now to go completely blank? Clutching at the calm presence of mind under pressure that had held her in such good stead during the long and complicated negotiations in Ankh Morpork she forced out a shaky “Good luck?”
Mal nodded and turned away. Feeling the blush start Polly could only thank the fates that the surrounding crowd were currently distracted by Finchley being his usual variety of idiot. No one had noticed that their respectable sergeant's rational thinking centres had dissolved into mush and were dribbling out of her ears. As she stood there trembling someone bumped into her and by the time she had recovered her balance Mal had vanished into the crowd clustered around the start. There was an encouraging roar from the crowd and two dark shapes flew away over the snow leaving the sergeant behind to frown and rub confusedly at her forehead.
[1]And really, in what world did vampires ever need kissing for luck anyway?
[2] In later years it became a frequent point of argument between them, oft returned to but never satisfactorily resolved. Polly usually ended up explaining to whomever had enquired in the first place that whatever she might have actually said, Mal's intent had been clear enough for any sensible person to pick up on it and therefore the precise wording used was beside the point.
~X~
What exactly had happened there then?
Polly allowed herself the small consolation of a mini panic attack, deaf to the excited cheers of those watching the race. Standing there, chill reality striking up through the thin soles of her boots she quickly ran the last few minutes back over in her mind. It would be nice if she could say the events were surrounded in a haze of confusion but every second stood proud and crystal clear in her memory. And made absolutely no sense, even in hindsight. Polly frowned, the image of a concerned gaze dissolving into twin pools of infinite darkness playing and replaying in her mind. Mal had had more than her usual dose of coffee that morning, there was no sensible reason why she should have slipped. If this was a slip... Polly pushed that thought away quickly.
It wasn't like she didn't understand the mechanics; life in the army was extremely educational in all kinds of encyclopaedic ways. But growing up looking after a brother and a pub didn't give a girl that much freedom to explore her available options. Then of course there had been the war and its aftermath. Not really the best time for getting up a dalliance, though that didn't mean some of the more foolhardy subalterns hadn't tried. And what had Mal had to say about that? Nothing. Just smiled that closed smile and graciously bowed out to leave Polly her privacy. The vampire hadn't gone far though, had been there in a flash when that Ensign had tried to carry his mission a little too deep into enemy territory. And what had happened when Polly tried to express her thanks? Nothing. Again. Mal's throwaway shrug had particularly hurt that time.
After the war was over there had been those six months at home when Polly could have kissed anyone she wanted. Could have, but didn't. She'd been distracted by other matters, getting The Duchess up and going again and overseeing Paul and Shufti's stumbling courtship didn't leave much time for her own. And the fact that she'd been too busy trying to work out the ache in her heart? The ache that had mysteriously disappeared when she'd re-joined the army?
The army. That had been fun. And busy of course. Before long she'd been off to Ankh Morpork. Now there'd been plenty to kiss there. And explore, should she have so wished, the city was famed for its diversity. But though she had dallied here and there, in times when the negotiations were going badly or when loneliness clawed too deep (she still remembered with fondness the night Lt Schmidt had taken her to throw pebbles into the Ankh, watching them dissolve into strange fizzing colours) nothing had seemed worth the effort.
And now here she was. Here they were.
Mal hadn't instigated anything, all the vampire had done was to ask a friendly question, the rest had all been in Polly's imagination. All of it. Embarrassment, previously squashed by panic and confusion reared a pertinent head. Oh Gods, she had made such a fool of herself. She had almost... There was only one thing for it. The strange little incident would just have to be put out of mind. Friendship with Mal was too precious to throw away over something as stupid as this.
Polly took the next dare without thinking. As she lowered herself onto the narrow sledge and prepared to take the hill head first a little voice tried to comment that if she hadn't been quite so unsettled she wouldn't have even considered it as an option. Polly ignored it and pushed off. But as the snow sped past her nose all her stupid worries dissolved away in the rush of mingled fear and excitement. At such speeds distractions simply could not be permitted and the even the persistent image of dark eyes that seemed to be longing for something blew away into the wind that howled around her ears.
The clapping drifted down from the gathered hoards at the summit as Polly rolled off at the bottom but her well-earned applause died away before she had even managed to pick herself up to give her stateliest bow. As she squinted up the hill she could see that there was some sort of lively discussion going up there. It looked like Mal was in the middle of it, but Polly couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t until she was dragging the sled back up the hill that she saw clearly what they had been cooking up. Before her disbelieving eyes a stupidly persuadable vampire walked calmly forward to the lip, placed the sled with precision and prepared to take her stance upon it.
“MAL!” Polly's scream must have reached the group but her shouted warning went ignored and she could only swallow back her cry of fear as the graceful figure kicked off, the sledge hanging for a moment on the crest of the hill before succumbing to gravity. Mal swept down toward her, balancing easily as the runners sang over the smooth snow, picking up more and more speed as she approached the bumpier terrain of the middle slope. There hadn't been enough snow to build up a safety buffer here and rocks dotted indiscriminately here and there stuck up menacingly through the too thin white covering. These obstacles sniggered insolently at Polly as the fragile duo of sledge and vampire hurtled into their midst. Polly held her breath.
Mal flew past. The blasted idiot was managing to keep her footing against all the odds as her unconventional steed bucked and wobbled in what seemed a knowing attempt to toss her into one of the many passing snowdrifts. If Polly hadn't been quite so petrified that she would be imminently eulogising this scene over a beautifully carved casket she would have taken a moment to admire the natural ability that enabled the irresponsible rapscallion to look so good whilst cheating death. As it was she dropped the string of her toboggan and ignoring its escape entirely ran back down to the bottom of the hill to give Mal a somewhat loud and vehement piece of her mind, all previous embarrasment forgotten.
Unfortunately her furious progress was interrupted when she tripped in the deeper snow and it was only Mal catching her flailing hands and bringing her to a gentle halt that prevented her from inadvertently grovelling at the vampire's feet. Despite this kindness Polly found herself perfectly able to ignore the foolish happy smile plastered all over the completely infuriating corporal's face and burst out into a formidable scold.
“What on earth were you thinking? You could have broken your neck! Are you completely out of your mind?”
“Quite possibly.” For all Mal couldn't help but notice the benefit to Polly's complexion delivered by the flushed cheeks and sparking eyes, now was possibly not quite the moment to bring this up.
“It would damn well serve you right if you broke your leg! In fact I hope you do. Both legs!! That'd learn you! And don't you dare come crying to me.” Polly, having determined that her vampire had not taken any bad effects from her adventure was overtaken by reaction and wiped distractedly at suddenly wet eyes. “I'll not sit up with you and deal the cards to keep you amused. I'll laugh. Haha, that's what I'll say. See? Ha HA!!” She left Mal silent and standing there with her jaw dropping loose to her knees as the compact ball of trembling fury stormed away.
“Polly!” Mal struggled through the deep snow as she chased after that stiff back. “Polly! Come back. Please? I'll be good! I promise I'll never do anything outrageous again. I'll be a little angel. Polly!!”
The object of her pleading turned round at last. “You'll never do anything outrageous?”
“Never! I swear.” Mal didn't appear to have crossed her fingers behind her back, but that was probably only because Polly had shown herself wise to that little trick before.
“You wouldn't be able to resist.” Polly was shaking her head in denial but she had paused long enough for Mal to catch up. The vampire teased apart those folded arms to grab for gloved hand, holding them in a reassuring clasp.
“If that was what you really wanted I would. Promise.” Polly's hands made an abortive attempt to escape but were easily recaptured. Pressing them together in a steady clasp Mal employed her most serious expression. “I swear.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Mal actually looked like she meant it.
Polly, unable to comprehend a world in which vampires obeyed her every whim, merely laughed as she extracted herself.
“I don't think I could survive that. A well behaved and decorous Mal?” She slipped her arm through the corporal's. “The peace and quiet might be nice at first, but all that agonised waiting for the other shoe to drop? Nah, I couldn't bear it.” Grinning, Polly tugged at the arm linked with hers and they began to make their way up the hill for another go.
Later, sipping hot chocolate in front of the fire in the guardroom Polly let her eyes drift in warm satisfaction around the sprawling figures dotted here and there in a wide array of chairs ranging from the deep but shabby to the stiff and unyielding. Around her the conversation ebbed and flowed as one after another the gathered rank and file took turns to tell widely exaggerated tales of their exploits amongst the snow. Mal was quiet for once as she sat curled up in one of her graceful poses at Polly's feet. As the sergeant yawned she felt the vampire relax sideways against her knee, the dark head resting trustingly under her hand. With the warmth from the fire easing through tired muscles and slowing her mind like treacle she allowed her fingers to drift absent-mindedly through the light strands of hair.
She wasn't consciously aware of her actions and luckily the only person who saw (Goldhawk the ever observant) was too much of a gentleman to comment on the sight of a sergeant running her hands through the carefully dishevelled locks of the corporal sitting so quietly at her feet. Neither did he think there was anything to say when the corporal in question frowned suddenly and extracted himself with great dignity from the tableau to wander most nonchalantly away to a serendipitously darker corner of the room. And to whom could he mention the flash of loss that he had caught in those blue eyes and the momentary echo of darkness flickering across dark eyes in the shadows before they were once again hooded?
Best to let them get on with it, he decided. Vampires could get somewhat shifty if you interfered in their personal affairs and he liked his limbs attached.
~X~