Night Over Water - Ken Follett [134]
“What does that involve?”
“It means doing the same things for more money.”
To Margaret it seemed like an impossible dream. “Oh, my goodness, a real job in a real office,” she said longingly.
Mrs. Lenehan laughed. “Most people think of it as drudgery!”
“To me it would be such an adventure.”
“At first, maybe.”
“Do you really mean it?” Margaret asked solemnly. “If I come to your office in a week’s time, will you give me a job?”
Mrs. Lenehan looked startled. “My God, you’re deadly serious, aren’t you?” she said. “I kind of thought we were talking theoretically.”
Margaret’s heart sank. “Then you won’t give me a job?” she asked plaintively. “All this was just talk?”
“I’d like to hire you, but there’s a snag. In a week’s time I may not have a job myself.”
Margaret wanted to cry. “What do you mean?”
“My brother is trying to take the company away from me.”
“How can he do that?”
“It’s complicated, and he may not succeed. I’m fighting him off, but I can’t be sure how it will end.”
Margaret could hardly believe that this chance had been snatched away from her after only a few moments. “You must win!” she said fiercely.
Before Mrs. Lenehan could reply, Harry appeared, looking like a sunrise in red pajamas and a sky blue robe. The sight of him made Margaret feel calmer. He sat down and Margaret introduced him. “Mrs. Lenehan came to get a brandy but the stewards are busy,” she added.
Harry pretended to look surprised. “They may be busy, but they can still serve drinks.” He stood up and put his head into the next compartment. “Davy, just bring a cognac for Mrs. Lenehan right away, would you please?”
Margaret heard the steward say: “Sure thing, Mr. Vandenpost!” Harry had a way of getting people to do what he wanted.
He sat down again. “I couldn’t help noticing your earrings, Mrs. Lenehan,” he said. “They’re absolutely beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she said with a smile. She seemed pleased by the compliment.
Margaret looked more closely. Each earring was a simple large pearl inside a latticework of gold wire and diamond chips. They were quietly elegant. She wished she had on some exquisite jewelry to excite Harry’s interest.
“Did you get them in the States?” Harry asked.
“Yes, they’re from Paul Flato.”
Harry nodded. “But I think they were designed by Fulco di Verdura.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Mrs. Lenehan said. “Jewelry is an unusual interest for a young man,” she added perceptively.
Margaret wanted to say He’s mainly interested in stealing it, so watch out! But in fact she was impressed by his expertise. He always noticed the finest pieces, and often knew who had designed them.
Davy brought Mrs. Lenehan’s brandy. He seemed able to walk without staggering despite the tossing of the plane.
She took it and stood up. “I’m going to get some sleep.”
“Good luck,” Margaret said, thinking of Mrs. Lenehan’s battle with her brother. If she won it, she would hire Margaret—she had promised.
“Thanks. Good night.”
As Mrs. Lenehan staggered off toward the rear of the plane, Harry asked a little jealously: “What were you talking about?”
Margaret hesitated to tell him about Nancy offering her a job. She was thrilled about it, but there was a snag, so she could not ask Harry to rejoice with her. She decided to hug it to herself a little longer. “We started off talking about Frankie Gordino,” she said. “Nancy believes that people like him should be left alone. All they do is organize things like gambling and... prostitution... which do no harm except to people who choose to take part in them.” She felt herself blush faintly: she had never spoken the word prostitution aloud before.
Harry looked thoughtful. “Not all prostitutes are volunteers,” he said after a minute. “Some are forced into it. You’ve heard of white slavery.”
“Is that what it means?” Margaret had seen the phrase in newspapers, but had vaguely imagined that girls