Night Over Water - Ken Follett [118]
This visible sign of his distress touched Margaret’s heart. She felt fiercely angry with her father. She turned to him and for once she had the courage to tell him what she thought. She said furiously: “You have just grossly insulted two of the most distinguished men in Europe!”
He said: “Two of the most distinguished Jews in Europe.”
Percy said: “Remember Granny Fishbein.”
Father rounded on him. Wagging a finger, he said: “You’re to stop that nonsense—do you hear me?”
“I need to go to the toilet,” Percy said, getting up. “I feel sick.” He left the room.
Margaret realized that both Percy and she had stood up to Father, and he had not been able to do anything about it. That had to be some kind of milestone.
Father lowered his voice and spoke to Margaret. “Remember that these are the people who have driven us out of our home!” he hissed. Then he raised his voice again. “If they want to travel with us they ought to learn manners.”
“That’s enough!” said a new voice.
Margaret looked across the room. The speaker was Mervyn Lovesey, the man who had got on at Foynes. He was standing up. The stewards, Nicky and Davy, stood frozen still, looking scared. Lovesey came across the dining room and leaned on the Oxenfords’ table, looking dangerous. He was a tall, authoritative man in his forties with thick graying hair, black eyebrows and chiseled features. He wore an expensive suit but spoke with a Lancashire accent. “I’ll thank you to keep those views to yourself,” he said in a quietly threatening tone.
Father said: “None of your damn business—”
“But it is,” said Lovesey.
Margaret saw Nicky leave hastily, and guessed he was going to summon help from the flight deck.
Lovesey went on. “You wouldn’t know anything about this, but Professor Hartmann is the leading physicist in the world.”
“I don’t care what he is—”
“No, you wouldn’t. But I do. And I find your opinions as offensive as a bad smell.”
“I shall say what I please,” Father said, and he made to get up.
Lovesey held him down with a strong hand on his shoulder. “We’re at war with people like you.”
Father said weakly: “Clear off, will you?”
“I’ll clear off if you’ll shut up.”
“I shall call the captain—”
“No need,” said a new voice, and Captain Baker appeared, looking calmly authoritative in his uniform cap. “I’m here. Mr. Lovesey, may I ask you to return to your seat? I’d be much obliged to you.”
“Aye, I’ll sit down,” said Lovesey. “But I’ll not listen in silence while the most eminent scientist in Europe is told to keep his voice down and called a Jewboy by this drunken oaf.”
“Please, Mr. Lovesey.”
Lovesey returned to his seat.
The captain turned to Father. “Lord Oxenford, perhaps you were misheard. I’m sure you would not call another passenger the word mentioned by Mr. Lovesey.”
Margaret prayed that Father would accept this way out, but to her dismay he became more belligerent. “I called him a Jewboy because that’s what he is!” he blustered.
“Father, stop it!” she cried.
The captain said to Father: “I must ask you not to use such terms while you’re on board my aircraft.”
Father was scornful. “Is he ashamed of being a Jewboy?”
Margaret could see that Captain Baker was getting angry. “This is an American airplane, sir, and we have American standards of behavior. I insist that you stop insulting other passengers, and I warn you that I am empowered to have you arrested and confined to prison by the local police at our next port of call. You should be aware that in such cases, rare though they are, the airline always presses charges.”
Father was shaken by the threat of imprisonment. For a moment he was silenced. Margaret felt deeply humiliated. Although she had tried to stop her father, and protested against his behavior, she felt ashamed. His oafishness reflected on her: she was his daughter. She buried her face in her hands. She could not take any more.
She heard Father say: “I shall return to my compartment.” She looked up. He was getting to his feet. He turned to