Night Over Water - Ken Follett [131]
Mark was too cross to be sympathetic. “A few hours ago you decided to go back to Mervyn. Then he annoyed you and you changed your mind. Now you’re mad at him for sleeping with someone else.”
“I’m not sleeping with her,” Mervyn put in.
Mark ignored him. “Are you sure you’re not still in love with Mervyn?” he said angrily to Diana.
“That’s a horrible thing to say to me!”
“I know, but is it true?”
“No, it isn’t true, and I hate you for thinking it might be.” She was in tears now.
“Then prove it to me. Forget about him and where he sleeps.”
“I was never any good at tests!” she shouted. “Stop being so bloody logical! This is not the debating society!”
“No, it’s not!” said a new voice. The three of them turned around and saw Nancy Lenehan in the door, looking very attractive in a bright blue silk robe. “In fact,” she said, “I believe this is my suite. What the hell is going on?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Margaret Oxenford was angry and ashamed. She felt sure the other passengers were staring at her and thinking about the dreadful scene in the dining room, and assuming that she shared her father’s horrible attitudes. She was afraid to look anyone in the eye.
Harry Marks had rescued the shreds of her dignity. It had been clever of him, and so gracious, to step in and hold her chair like that, then offer her his arm as she walked out: a small gesture, almost silly, but for her it had made a world of difference.
Still, it was only a vestige of her self-respect that she had retained, and she boiled with resentment toward Father for putting her in such a shameful position.
There was a cold silence in the compartment for two hours after dinner. When the weather started to get rough, Mother and Father retired to change into their nightclothes. Then Percy surprised Margaret by saying: “Let’s apologize.”
Her first thought was that this would involve further embarrassment and humiliation. “I don’t think I’ve got the courage,” she said.
“We’ll just go up to Baron Gabon and Professor Hartmann, and say we’re sorry Father was so rude.”
The idea of somehow mitigating her father’s offense was very tempting. It would make her feel a lot better. “Father would be furious, of course,” she said.
“He doesn’t have to know. But I don’t care if he is angry. I think he’s going round the bend. I’m not even afraid of him anymore.”
Margaret wondered whether that was true. As a small boy, Percy had often said he was not afraid when in fact he was terrified. But he was not a small boy anymore.
She was actually a little worried by the thought that Percy might no longer be under Father’s control. Only Father could restrain Percy. With no rein on his mischief, what might he do?
“Come on,” Percy said. “Let’s do it now. They’re in number three compartment—I checked.”
Still Margaret hesitated. She cringed at the thought of walking up to the men Father had insulted. It could cause them more pain. They might prefer to forget the whole thing as quickly as possible. But they might also be wondering how many other passengers secretly agreed with Father. Surely it was more important to make a stand against racial prejudice?
Margaret decided to do it. She had often been fainthearted and she had usually regretted it. She stood up, steadying herself by holding on to the arm of her seat, for the plane was bucking every few moments. “All right,” she said. “Let’s apologize.”
She was trembling a little with apprehension, but her shakiness was masked by the unsteadiness of the plane. She led the way through the main lounge into number 3 compartment.
Gabon and Hartmann were on the port side, facing each other. Hartmann was absorbed in reading, his long, thin body in a curve, his close-cropped head bent, his arched nose pointing at a page of mathematical calculations. Gabon was doing nothing, apparently bored, and he saw them first. When Margaret stopped beside him and held on to the back of his seat for support, he stiffened and looked hostile.
Margaret said quickly: “We’ve come to apologize.”
“I’m surprised you are so bold,” Gabon said. He spoke English