A Dangerous Fortune - Ken Follett [52]
Micky said thoughtfully: “Tonio has a weakness.”
“Ah, yes?”
“He’s a bad gambler. Bets more than he can afford, and loses.”
“Perhaps you could arrange a game?”
“Perhaps.”
The thought crossed Augusta’s mind that Micky might know how to cheat at cards. However, she could not possibly ask him: the suggestion would be mortally insulting to any gentleman.
Micky said: “It might be expensive. Would you stake me?”
“How much would you need?”
“A hundred pounds, I fear.”
Augusta did not hesitate: Teddy’s life was at stake. “Very well,” she said. She heard voices in the house: other teatime guests were beginning to arrive. She stood up. “I’m not sure how to deal with Hugh,” she went, on worriedly. “I’ll have to think about it. We must go inside.”
Her sister-in-law Madeleine was there, and began talking as soon as they stepped through the door. “That dressmaker will drive me to drink, two hours to pin a hem, I can’t wait for a cup of tea, oh, and you’ve got more of that heavenly almond cake, but my goodness, isn’t the weather hot?”
Augusta gave Micky’s hand a conspiratorial squeeze and sat down to pour the tea.
CHAPTER FOUR
AUGUST
1
LONDON WAS HOT AND STICKY, and the population longed for fresh air and open fields. On the first day of August everyone went to the races at Goodwood.
They traveled by special trains from Victoria Station in south London. The divisions of British society were carefully mirrored in the transport arrangements—high society in the upholstered luxury of the first-class coaches, shopkeepers and schoolteachers crowded but comfortable in second class, factory workers and domestic servants crammed together on hard wooden benches in third. When they got off the train the aristocracy took carriages, the middle class boarded horse buses, and the workers walked. The picnics of the rich had been sent by earlier trains: scores of hampers, carried on the shoulders of strapping young footmen, packed with china and linen, cooked chickens and cucumbers, champagne and hothouse peaches. For the less wealthy there were stalls selling sausages, shellfish and beer. The poor brought bread and cheese wrapped in handkerchiefs.
Maisie Robinson and April Tilsley went with Solly Greenbourne and Tonio Silva. Their position in the social hierarchy was dubious. Solly and Tonio clearly belonged in first class, but Maisie and April should have gone third. Solly compromised by buying second-class tickets, and they took the horse bus from the station across the downs to the racecourse.
However, Solly was too fond of his food to settle for a lunch bought off a stall, and he had sent four servants ahead with a vast picnic of cold salmon and white wine packed in ice. They spread a snow-white tablecloth on the ground and sat around it on the springy turf. Maisie fed Solly titbits. She was growing more and more fond of him. He was kind to everyone, full of fun, and interesting to talk to. Gluttony was his only real vice. She still had not let him have his way with her, but it seemed that the more she refused him, the more devoted to her he became.
The racing began after lunch. There was a bookmaker nearby, standing on a box and shouting odds. He wore a loud checked suit, a flowing silk tie, a huge spray of flowers in his buttonhole, and a white hat. He carried a leather satchel full of money slung over his shoulder and stood under a banner which read: “Wm. Tucker, the King’s Head, Chichester.”
Tonio and Solly bet on every race. Maisie got bored: one horse race was the same as another if you didn’t gamble. April would not leave Tonio’s side, but Maisie decided to leave the others for a while and look around.
The horses were not the only attraction. The downs around the racecourse were crowded with tents, stalls and carts. There were gambling booths, freak shows, and dark-skinned gypsies in bright head scarves telling fortunes. People were selling gin, cider, meat pies, oranges