Night Over Water - Ken Follett [119]
Mother stood up, Father holding her chair. Margaret felt that all eyes were on her.
Harry suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He rested his hands lightly on the back of Margaret’s chair. “Lady Margaret,” he said with a little bow. She stood up, and he drew back her chair. She felt deeply grateful for this gesture of support.
Mother walked away from the table, her face expressionless, her head held high. Father followed her.
Harry gave Margaret his arm. It was only a little thing, but it meant a great deal to her. Although she was blushing furiously, she felt able to walk out of the room with dignity.
A buzz of conversation broke out behind her as she passed into the compartment.
Harry handed her to her seat.
“That was so gracious of you,” she said with feeling. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I could hear the row from in here,” he said quietly. “I knew you’d be feeling bad.”
“I’ve never been so humiliated,” she said abjectly.
But Father had not yet finished. “They’ll be sorry one day, the damn fools!” he said. Mother sat in her corner and stared blankly at him. “They’re going to lose this war, you mark my words.”
Margaret said: “No more, Father, please.” Fortunately only Harry was present to hear the tirade continue: Mr. Membury had disappeared.
Father ignored her. “The German army will sweep across England like a tidal wave!” he said. “And then what do you think will happen? Hitler will install a Fascist government, of course.” Suddenly there was an odd light in his eye. My God, he looks crazy, Margaret thought; my father is going insane. He lowered his voice, and his face took on a crafty expression. “An English Fascist government, of course. And he will need an English Fascist to lead it!”
“Oh, my God,” said Margaret. She saw what he was thinking and it made her despair.
Father thought Hitler was going to make him dictator of Britain.
He thought Britain would be conquered, and Hitler would call him back from exile to be the leader of a puppet government.
“And when there’s a Fascist prime minister in London—then they’ll dance to a different tune!” Father said triumphantly, as if he had won some argument.
Harry was staring at Father in astonishment. “Do you imagine ... do you expect Hitler to ask you ... ?”
“Who knows?” Father said. “It would have to be someone who bore no taint of the defeated administration. If called upon ... my duty to my country ... fresh start, no recriminations ...”
Harry looked too shocked to say anything.
Margaret was in despair. She had to get away from Father. She shuddered when she recalled the ignominious upshot of her last attempt to run away; but she should not let one failure discourage her. She had to try again.
It would be different this time. She would learn by Elizabeth’s example. She would think carefully and plan ahead. She would make sure she had money, friends and a place to sleep. This time she would make it work.
Percy emerged from the men’s room, having missed most of the drama. However, he appeared to have been in a drama of his own: his face was flushed and he looked excited. “Guess what!” he said to the compartment in general. “I just saw Mr. Membury in the washroom—he had his jacket undone and he was tucking his shirt into his trousers—and he’s got a shoulder holster under his jacket—and there’s a gun in it!”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Clipper was approaching the point of no return.
Eddie Deakin, distracted, nervy, unrested, went back on duty at ten p.m., British time. By this hour the sun had raced ahead, leaving the aircraft in darkness. The weather had changed, too. Rain lashed the windows, cloud obscured the stars, and inconstant winds buffeted the mighty plane disrespectfully, shaking up the passengers.
The weather was generally worse at low altitudes, but despite this, Captain Baker was flying at close to sea level. He was “hunting the wind,” searching for the altitude at which the westerly head wind was least strong.
Eddie was worried because he knew the plane was low on fuel. He sat down at his station and began to calculate