‘Nothing else?’
‘I’d prefer you to get your hands on my photographs before anyone else does . . .’
‘Where are they?’
But I was losing him. He shimmered as if a series of invisible waves ran through his image. I yawned. It was the first movement I had been capable of.
Nansen whispered, ‘Bye, Charlie. Until the next time. A la prochaine.’ I didn’t want there to be a bloody next time. I blinked slowly, and he vanished. The bed was empty. Two blankets neatly folded at its foot. Who did that? I thought, and was helpless to prevent myself drifting into deeper sleep. The smell was still there, and my mind turned back in upon itself.
A few hours later I did wake up. I still had the taste of beer in my mouth. Someone was outside the tent calling my name.
‘Charlie. Are you in there, Charlie?’ Daisy.
‘Yes. Give me a minute.’
‘Are you decent?’
‘I said, give me a minute.’
I pulled on the spare shorts and shirt I kept in the small locker, and then opened the tent flap. The daylight dazzled me: I would never get used to it.
Daisy asked, ‘Ugh. What’s that horrid smell? Have you been cooking in there?’ I didn’t answer so she added, ‘Mr Watson is in wing commander form again this morning, and is asking for you. I think that you’re in trouble again.’
‘Make an excuse for me – say twenty minutes? I haven’t washed yet. Any news about what happened to Oliver?’
‘No. I wonder what’s happened to his photos.’
I remembered what he’d said in my dream. ‘What photos?’
She didn’t reply immediately, then, ‘I think he was planning to set up an exhibition of photographs from the Canal Zone when he got back. He thought it might get him a job with a news or photo agency.’
‘He never told me that.’
‘. . . maybe I was mistaken.’ She looked away, and rubbed an eye. ‘Speck of sand; there’s a bit of a breeze this morning.’ It was kinder to leave it at that. ‘Anyway, I brought you this. It arrived the day before yesterday.’
She handed me a postcard of a pretty girl in a spotted bathing suit. In one corner of the picture were the masthead words from the magazine Tit-Bits . . . it must have been given out free with the mag. It was addressed to me, but all the message area bore was the imprint of two lipsticked lips. The UK postmark was too obscured to make out a place name. Silly really, but my heart lifted immediately. I didn’t know who it was from, but somebody out there liked me. When I ducked my head back inside the tent Nancy’s smell had gone.
‘I suppose you’re expecting some leave after that shambles?’ Watson said. So far there had been no complaints, and he’d offered me a mug of char. I was worried about that.
‘I wouldn’t mind, sir. What I would like is to get on with whatever job you’ve brought us out here to do, and then go home.’
‘Wouldn’t we all; but be patient. It’s coming. Just wait for us to get the hardware and bodies together.’
‘I thought it was urgent.’
‘It is, but that aeroplane has been out there nearly eight years now. Another month won’t make any difference.’
‘What’s my role in the operation, sir?’
‘Identify the bally thing to begin with, and after that make yourself as useful as possible until we fetch you out. I’ll make sure you have a usable radio.’
‘Who’s in charge?’
‘You can be, if you like, but I’d leave it to Hudd if I was you: he’s good at this sort of thing.’
‘Just what sort of thing is it, sir?’
‘An irregular sort of thing.’
‘I don’t think I like Hudd.’
‘Hudd doesn’t like you either. Thinks you’re a bit of a girl.’
We slurped tea at each other: a period of relative calm.
Then he asked, ‘You didn’t really hurl shite all over your patrol commander last week, did you?’ I heard Daisy giggle from her den in the side room. ‘Shut up, Daisy; it’s not funny.’ Then he added for my benefit, ‘I have a suggestion from a Major Manners that you should face charges.’
‘What is it, sir, conduct prejudicial?’
‘No, not quite as bad as that – conduct unbecoming. You could end up back in the ranks again.’
‘Frankly, sir, that could come as a relief. Guilty as charged.’
‘But then it would be difficult to send you home. As an Other Ranks reservist you’d probably have to do the three full years out here.’
Bollocks! ‘I’m innocent I tell you!’ I tried to sound like Eccles, from The Goon Show. I heard Daisy giggle again. This time he didn’t correct her. His grin cracked his face.
‘Why don’t you tell me what happened, my boy? I’ve been looking forward to this since the signal came in.’
I told him. He giggled a lot, just like Daisy. Despite what Hudd thought, it was Watson who sounded like a girl, not me. Then he went to his cupboard, and poured us a couple of drinks. The sun wasn’t over the yardarm yet, but it was readying itself for a bit of a jump.
‘I’d like to propose a toast,’ he said. ‘To the RAF dropping the Brown Jobs in the shite for once.’
‘What about me, sir?’
‘Promoted. Flying Officer at least, I should think, once they hear about this back at Command. The story’s all over the Canal Zone, after all. I heard it before you got back. You’ll probably get a medal.’
‘You mean it’s OK?’
‘I mean that I shall have to teach Major Manners some manners. Something to do with his man leading a patrol into jeopardy, and unnecessarily exposing them to enemy fire. It won’t come to anything of course. They want the problem with that tank hushed up.’
‘You heard about that, too?’
‘My job: hearing things. Take a couple of days, if you like.’
‘Can I have my fifty quid back yet?’
‘No. I might keep it
