Night Over Water - Ken Follett [115]
She never met people like that; or if she met them she did not recognize them for what they were—had she not sat on a doorstep in “the most notorious street in London” without realizing she would be taken for a prostitute? How long ago that seemed, although it was only last night.
Getting to know Harry was the most interesting thing that had happened to her for ages. He represented everything she had ever longed for. He could do anything he liked! This morning he had decided to go to America, and this afternoon he was on his way. If he wanted to dance all night and sleep all day, he just did. He ate and drank what he liked, when he felt like it, at the Ritz or in a pub or on board the Pan American Clipper. He could join the Communist party and then leave it without explaining himself to anyone. When he needed money, he just took some from people who had more than they deserved. He was a complete free spirit!
She longed to know more about him, and resented the time she had to waste having dinner without him.
There were three tables of four in the dining room. Baron Gabon and Carl Hartmann were at the table next to that of the Oxenfords. Father had thrown a dirty look at them when they came in, presumably because they were Jewish. Sharing their table were Ollis Field and Frank Gordon. Frank Gordon was a boy a bit older than Harry, a handsome devil, though with something of a brutal look to his mouth; and Ollis Field was a washed-out-looking older man, completely bald. These two had attracted some comment by remaining on board the plane when everyone else had disembarked at Foynes.
At the third table were Lulu Bell and Princess Lavinia, who was loudly complaining that there was too much salt in the sauce on the shrimp cocktail. With them were two people who had joined the plane at Foynes, Mr. Lovesey and Mrs. Lenehan. Percy said the new people were sharing the honeymoon suite although they were not married. Margaret was surprised that Pan American allowed that. Perhaps they were bending the rules because so many people were desperate to get to America.
Percy sat down to dinner wearing a black Jewish skullcap. Margaret giggled. Where on earth had he got that? Father snatched it off his head, growling furiously: “Foolish boy!”
Mother’s face had the glazed look it had shown ever since she stopped crying over Elizabeth. She said vaguely: “It seems awfully early to be dining.”
“It’s half past seven,” Father said.
“Why isn’t it getting dark?”
Percy answered: “It is, back in England. But we’re three hundred miles off the Irish coast. We’re chasing the sun.”
“But it will get dark eventually.”
“About nine o’clock, I should think,” Percy said.
“Good,” Mother said vaguely.
“Do you realize that if we went fast enough, we would keep up with the sun and it would never get dark?” said Percy.
Father said condescendingly: “I don’t think there’s any chance men will ever build planes that fast.”
The steward Nicky brought their first course. “Not for me, thank you,” Percy said. “Shrimps aren’t kosher.”
The steward shot him a startled look but said nothing. Father went red.
Margaret hastily changed the subject. “When do we reach the next stop, Percy?” He always knew such things.
“Journey time to Botwood is sixteen and a half hours,” he said. “We should arrive at nine a.m. British Summer Time.”
“But what will the time be there?”
“Newfoundland Standard Time is three and a half hours behind Greenwich Mean Time.”
“Three and a half?” Margaret was surprised. “I didn’t know there were places that took odd half hours.”
Percy went on. “And Botwood is on daylight saving, like Britain; so the local time when we land will be five thirty in the morning.”
“I shan’t be able to wake up,” Mother said tiredly.
“Yes, you will,” Percy