Kittyhawk Down: Dennis Copping & ET574: Dennis Copping & ET574 by Jonathan Nicholas

Author:Jonathan Nicholas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
Published: 2020-04-29T00:00:00+00:00

32

I slept all afternoon and then I had another wonderful bath, this time alone. By desert standards I wasn’t in need of any kind of wash, so this was pure pleasure because I had no idea when I’d get another. Just before I was planning to get out, Frank came in and sat on the edge of the bath. He took a sip from a hip flask and then offered it to me. “Just refilled it, ready for this evening,” he said, as I took it from him and tipped it into my mouth. I expected whiskey, but undiluted aniseed liquor burned all the way down my throat. I coughed and passed it back. He laughed and lit a cigarette before offering me one. I indicated my hands were wet, so he passed it over the bath, pushing it straight into my mouth. I could tell he’d already had a few sips from his flask because he missed my mouth on the first attempt. “Was she good last night?” he said, with a knowing smile as he lit me up, expecting a certain answer.

“Who?” I said, being evasive.

“Ayesha,” he said, her name hitting me like a cannon shell, his smile broadening to a grin, and not a pleasant one but more of an evil knowingness that was testing and sarcastic. I don’t remember introducing her to him. As far as I know I didn’t, so how did he know her? I said nothing, and he laughed, taking another swig on his flask. He offered me a drink, which I declined. I took a last pull on the cigarette before I flicked it down into the water, staring ahead. It sizzled as it hit the surface and drifted in a gentle spin to the end of the bath. I still didn’t say a word. He got the message and left, saying, “Be ready in ten minutes, will you?”

We walked in silence along the promenade, occasionally falling in step with one another in long, purposeful strides in the direction of the Cecil Hotel. Frank was already on the way to getting drunk again, and I couldn’t find a reason why I shouldn’t join him. It was Sunday night and we were returning to the war in the morning. We drank several beers in quick succession before moving to the Carlton and finally on to the Monseigneur, with all our drinks supplemented by chasers from his hip flask until it was drained. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look out for Ayesha because I did, but nothing seemed the same, even the crowds were different, and she was nowhere in sight.

After a while I gave up looking and contented myself with listening to Frank’s life story, of growing up in Australia, watching aeroplanes since he was a boy with an ever-increasing desire to fly, all pretty similar to my own life. We were not that different, really, even if we grew up thousands of miles apart. We talked a lot about home, but the immediate future wasn’t discussed.

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