Night Train to Memphis - Elizabeth Peters [84]
‘Unquestionably. As I said – ’
‘A cause worthy of sacrifice.’
He appeared to be talking to himself rather than to me. I wondered if the guy was drunk. Surely not at this hour? His hands were shaking as he lit another cigarette from the butt of the first.
I could feel relays clicking into place. I don’t know how society conditions women into feeling that they are obliged to console, reassure, and flatter melancholy males. I’d fought the impulse ever since I was old enough to recognize it, but I hadn’t been entirely successful. I decided that Jean-Louis must be one of those unfortunate people who can’t see the doughnut for the hole. Apparently he was brooding on the magnitude of the task ahead and questioning his ability to carry it out. The job would never be finished, not in his lifetime at least; there was too much to be done. That’s true of a lot of things, though, including the achievement of social justice, universal peace, and a world in which there are no hungry children. It’s no excuse to stop working towards those ends.
I said as much, larding the pompous speech with compliments, and gradually his face, or at least his mouth, relaxed. ‘It is true,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘And I am one of the few who can work effectively in this area.’
‘Uh – right,’ I said.
He went on to tell me how good he was at the restoration business and I went on to regret my womanly instincts. My wandering eye caught that of Larry, who had been watching us, and he responded to my unspoken plea for rescue.
‘Come now, Jean-Louis, you’re supposed to be mingling,’ he said.
‘Me too,’ I said, rising. ‘I haven’t had a chance to talk to our former shipmates.’
Larry accompanied me. ‘Moody fellow, isn’t he?’ I inquired, when we were out of earshot.
Larry frowned. ‘He hasn’t any reason to be moody right now. What did he say?’
‘I’m afraid I didn’t pay much attention.’
‘He was talking a lot. Unusual for him, he’s not very sociable.’
‘He was fishing for compliments,’ I said. ‘Getting them too.’
Our shipmates greeted us with open arms. Sweet, who had apparently recovered from his bout of sickness, said slyly, ‘We were afraid you had deserted us, Vicky.’
‘I’d desert you too if I had the chance,’ Suzi said with a big grin. ‘How about wangling an invitation for me, Vicky?’
‘I was only asked . . . because of Schmidt,’ I said, fumbling for a reasonable explanation. ‘He and Larry are old pals.’
‘What about the Tregarths?’ Suzi demanded. ‘They aren’t old pals of Larry’s, are they?’
‘I’ve no idea what prompted that invitation,’ I said.
‘Tregarth is good at pushing in where he’s not wanted,’ said Perry, joining us.
‘I can’t get anyone an invitation,’ I said pointedly. ‘I wouldn’t be rude enough to try.’
‘So what are your plans?’ Sweet asked. ‘Will you be going on to Aswan with us day after tomorrow?’
I said I hadn’t made up my mind. Some of the others were still wavering, but the majority had opted for the Aswan cruise. Including Sweet and Bright. Obviously I’d been wrong about them. But I still couldn’t understand why Bright had lied about his origins.
‘At any rate we will enjoy one another’s company for a day or two longer,’ Sweet said cheerfully. ‘Are you coming to Karnak with us this afterooon, Vicky?’
The party was breaking up. Feisal began herding the group towards their bus and I returned to ‘my’ stretch limo, but not before I had agreed to join the others that afternoon. It was pure reverse snobbism; I didn’t want them to think I was too stuck up to mingle with non-billionaires.
There were five of us in the limo, not counting the chauffeur, but it wouldn’t have seemed crowded if John hadn’t been one of the five. At least I didn’t have to sit next to him. I climbed in after Schmidt, and Larry took the seat beside me. Leaning back with a sigh, he loosened his tie.
‘You must be glad it’s over,’ I said.
Larry glanced at me and smiled sheepishly. ‘I hate