An Irish Doctor in Peace and at War by Patrick Taylor

Author:Patrick Taylor
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466838888
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

24

A Stranger in a Strange Land

Fingal followed his friends into the Cecil Hotel’s foyer and through to a lounge bar. Richard was speaking to a waiter and Tom had already taken a seat at a circular filigree brass table.

“I for one,” said O’Reilly, dropping into a comfortable rattan chair beside his friend, “can take this climate after Norway and the North Atlantic. I’m sure all this is old hat to the pair of you, having been in Alex often before, but it’s all new to me.”

“I like the place,” said Richard Wilcoxson. “It really is a cosmopolitan city. Some of the buildings like the Morsi Abou el Abbas Mosque and Saint Catherine’s Cathedral are well worth a visit. And the place oozes history. Founded in 332 BC by Alexander the Great—”

The Egyptian waiter, smart in white jacket and red fez, coughed discreetly and said, “Your drinks, effendim.” He set three bottles of Blue Light Ale and glasses on the tabletop. There were beads of condensation on each glass.

“Used to get this stuff in Malta,” Tom said. “Tuppence halfpenny a glass. It’s not a bad drop.”

Fingal lifted his bottle and glass, the cold welcome on his palm, and poured. Already there were damp patches on his shirt beneath his armpits, and he was looking forward to the chilled ale. Overhead, electrical fans circled soundlessly. Though civilians occupied a few tables the bar was largely full of officers; naval colleagues in whites, Royal Air Force men in slate blue, and army types whose shorts were much the same cut as Fingal’s, but of faded khaki. There were French naval officers too, probably off the cruisers he’d been shown earlier. It was officers only here. There were plenty of pubs and clubs along a big thoroughfare, the Corniche, for “other ranks.” The murmurings of conversation rose and fell, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter. Turkish tobacco smoke had its own distinctively acrid smell.

“Cheers,” said Richard, then lifted his glass and drank.

His sentiments and actions were mirrored by Fingal and Tom.

Fingal, who, like all naval personnel, had been repeatedly warned that many Egyptians were German sympathisers, was determined to keep the conversation in here on neutral subjects. “Careless talk costs lives,” after all. “You started to tell us a bit of the history of the place, Richard.”

“I did. When we were here before the war I read up on it. After Alexander died, one of his generals, Ptolemy, founded an Egyptian dynasty in 305 BC and they ruled here as Pharaohs until the Romans came in 80 BC.”

“Cleopatra was one of the Ptolemaic lot, wasn’t she?” Tom said.

“That’s right,” Fingal said. “Quite the lass, if you believe half the stories. Had affairs with Julius Caesar and Marc Anthony. Did for herself by clasping an asp to her bosom.” He fished out his pipe.

“It must have been quite a hotbed of Greek culture back then. But sadly, most of the ancient Grecian buildings like the famous Library and Alexander’s mausoleum are gone. One of the seven wonders of the ancient world, the Pharos lighthouse, stood not far from here.

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