Chapter 9: A dislike of flying

She kept her breath steady and regular. The ground blurred by and the engine pitch rose to unapproachable notes as the aircraft hurtled down the runway to lift off. Thrown back against her seat as it suddenly angled steeply Elisabeth turned away from the window and closed her eyes.

Unless conditions were rough she didn't mind, overwhelmingly, actually being up there, a small gleaming object for inspection from below. It was the getting there and the getting down that caused the adrenalin to race.

As the plane reached its flight level and equilibrium was restored there was movement in the cabin and opening her eyes she saw hostesses begin the routine of offering refreshments. They had to be quick to finish in the twenty minute flight to Sydney.

Whenever she flew Elisabeth watched the hostesses. If they were ever to exhibit the least hint of agitation she would know it was time to panic, but they were relaxed and she endeavoured to copy them. It was a journey she hadn't thought to repeat so soon, less than a week since flying in.

She bent to take her notebook from the bag under the forward seat but on reflection left it and sat back. What she wanted to raise with the doctor tomorrow was stencilled to the insides of her eyelids. So she fitted herself against the seat, seat belt unloosened, and followed the plane's progress towards night in a cloudless sky.

Robert was already uncomfortable with her methods; she was going to have to allay his concerns somehow. At any other time she would have been glad to have someone intelligent and quick witted briefing her.

Landing tested her capacity for thrills as they overshot the runway and had to bank steeply up and around. Gripping the hand rests Elisabeth sought and found a hostess buckled up calmly on the opposite side. She fought to emulate, knowing they were trained to go down smiling but managing to ignore the fact when her need for comfort was greater. 'A practice run, ladies and gentlemen,' a male voice said over the intercom. There was a little forced laughter. Elisabeth's hands continued white against the material.

The next attempt was decisive. Straight in and down, the plane bounded in long strides along the tarmac. Three times compound touched concrete and on the third maintained contact screeching frantically to a slow lumber and a small spurt as it right-angled towards the terminal. Elisabeth slumped with relief with an involuntary 'Jesus'.

The couple in front turned with amusement. The pilot, obviously just out from L plates said, 'Just testing a new landing technique, ladies and gentlemen. All part of the plan.' Some passengers tittered. Others, like Elisabeth, just wanted to get out and feel the fresh air.

Once on blessed ground with the briefcase and overnight bag she had kept as hand luggage she headed for the taxi rank and climbing into the next available requested delivery at the Argyle Apartments, Chalmers Street, Surry Hills.

Flat 45 on the third floor belonged to Honey Milton, a raven-haired temptress utterly undeserving of the name at first glance, and Elisabeth's closest friend.

'Good God! What have you done?'

'Made $50. Can I come in?'

Honey Milton backed away with the door. 'What d'you mean, $50?'

'I sold it.' Elisabeth said, walking past and into the living area to dump her bags onto a peacock blue doeskin couch that ran the length of one wall.

'Sold it?' Honey echoed, shutting the door and coming after her. 'How could you have?'

Expressing surprise Elisabeth said, 'Easily actually. The hairdresser gave me $50. I expect he sold it to the wigmaker for twice that, and the wigmaker will probably sell it back to me or someone very like me, totally bereft of the wherewithal themselves, for ten times that.'

Confused, Honey said, 'If you're going to buy it back, why have it cut off in the first ... Oh, right. Sarcasm doesn't suit you, I've told you before.'

Elisabeth joined her bags on the couch. Her friend detoured into her kitchen and inquired from over the white gloss breakfast bar divider, 'Coffee?' Elisabeth nodded.

Filling the jug and plugging it in Honey said, 'You look buggered.' She leaned her elbows on the counter. 'Is this ...' she indicated the air generally with her chin, 'because of Bastard Features? You look as though you're about to burst into tears.'

'I'm not surprised. We had a learner flying the plane.'

It made Honey laugh. 'Why don't you just drive?'

'Because flying is faster.'

While her friend saw to the coffee Elisabeth shifted her bags to the floor and removed her shoes. When Honey joined her to sprawl her long body over the loose cushions, feet towards Elisabeth, she sipped the hot drink staring idly beyond a small smoked glass dining table at the contents of a white lacquered bookcase filled with plates. Expensive ones. Oriental and Russian porcelain, American glass.

'I can't remember you,' Honey broke the silence, 'with short hair, ever.' She blew on her drink. 'It's always been down past your backside. The boys acted like idiots around you and the girls made up stories about how you were actually hideously deformed under all those clothes that you always used to wear. They used to say the most awful things.'

The corners of Elisabeth's mouth lifted. 'You didn't.'

'You were my best friend, but I was jealous.'

'You didn't tell stories.'

'No. I'd seen what was under those clothes.'

Elisabeth laughed out loud and hitched up her skirt. 'Yeah. White.'

Honey sat up to survey then lowered herself back to the cushions. 'I can't get over it. What possessed you? And to go so short.' She bolted upright. 'You've not decided to embrace celibacy, and the crew cut is the announcement?'

Elisabeth gave it serious consideration. 'I hadn't thought of it in quite those terms.'

'What?!'

Elisabeth patted the bare knee hard against her side. 'I'm kidding. One louse doesn't put you off the lot.'

'Thank heavens for that. That would've deleted a main topic of conversation. So why?'

Elisabeth subsided to the cushions also. 'A change.'

'Helluva change. Quitting your job. Leaving town. Cutting your hair. How is Canberra?'

'The worst thing is the heat. It's so dry. I'll be spending a fortune on moisturiser.'

'How's the job?'

Elisabeth didn't answer.

'Don't tell me things aren't going well already.'

Elisabeth glanced at her. 'No,' she said. 'No problems. It's only been three days. I don't know how it's going to work out, but I can't imagine that it won't.'

'Hmm. Any decent men?'

'I imagine they're all decent.'

Honey said, 'Shithead's got a lot to answer for,' then let the subject drop. 'Who's this person you're seeing tomorrow?'

'A doctor, about a case. What's been happening here? It's been ages.' They laughed together.

'Allan's home tomorrow I'm pleased to say. I don't mind him going away but I hate like crazy that he's not here.'

'How's it gone? The play I mean.'