Cooper Not Out by Justin Smith

Author:Justin Smith [Smith, Justin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781760146146
Publisher: Penguin Random House Australia

A week later, Donna went to Perth on the overnight TAA flight. She always used her real name when she flew. The airlines could be funny about security and she’d never want to explain why her ticket said Julie Barnes and her licence or passport said something else.

It was late when she boarded, but she relaxed with a half-bottle of cab sav poured into a plastic container that was more like a medical cup than a wine glass.

She liked flying through the night. The passengers were quieter and the hostesses were more like nurses moving through a dimmed ward, rather than airline staff. And the wine worked well. She closed her eyes over Adelaide, and thought about a horse flying across the sky just before she fell asleep.

She liked Perth. Despite the best efforts of the new millionaire spivs who tried to destroy it with tacky buildings and weak beer, the city still had a good spirit. And the isolation from the rest of Australia gave it a determined pride.

Donna wasn’t going to do any of Paddy’s gossip about the demise of Sir Walter Grant, but she did want to write about the West Indians. It had been more than five years since she’d seen them play in person. They were a good team then, but now they were magnificent. Not only had they thumped Australia in the Caribbean, they’d defeated India on their spinning pitches in Kanpur and Calcutta, and they’d won against England in the UK. The England series was particularly brutal. The Windies had won five–nil in what the London press called a ‘blackwash’. It had been years since the West Indians had lost a Test, and they’d grown from just being a coloured novelty into something frightening.

Donna went to their afternoon training. It had been organised more for the press than for the team, and there were too many cameras and questions for it to be a proper session. The bowlers eased towards the crease at half their normal pace and the batsmen obliged with a standard selection of strokes, but their true skill could not be hidden. To a casual spectator, it might have looked like a passionless activity, but to Donna the deft confidence was shining out of each one of them.

Julie Barnes stood at the back of the media pack – as she always did – and watched Michael Holding bowl. He was wearing tight brown tracksuit pants and a gold necklace that jumped under his chin. He ambled in with the soft flow of a dancer, his hips moving like they were floating in water. He released with the same gentle approach, but in the air the ball seemed to fire its onboard rockets, hurtling at the pitch in line with the off stump before moving away, beating the bat by a hair and ending its journey at the back of the net.

Viv Richards started batting in the adjoining net. The ‘Black Prince’ chewed gum and walked as though he was just coming from South Beach, but there was an intimidating strength in every movement of his body.

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