The Empire Trilogy - J. G. Farrell [178]
The eggs were broken into cups ready for the pan, the rashers spread out in leaves beside the mounds of kidneys, the cauldrons of water brought to the boil for the silver pots of coffee or tea. When everything was ready Mr O’Flaherty took two of the lads upstairs with him, warm plates stacked up to their eyes, leaving the third to start the frying and toasting.
With a clean chef’s hat set firmly on his head he advanced on the ballroom with short dignified steps. He was disturbed, however, by the unnatural quiet of the place. There was no sound in the corridor except, once, the distant scream of a cat. The walls gave back that special echo that one only seems to hear in deserted rooms. Still, rather than lose face in front of the lads by showing that he was perturbed, he made no comment. His face remained as grave and impassive as if everything had been perfectly normal. Besides, with these people one never knew how they would behave. Even if (and the possibility had occurred to him) he found them lying scattered all over the floor “stiff with the drink” his job was not to pass comments but to serve breakfast to those who could revive themselves sufficiently to partake of it—and this was what he intended to do. But in the ballroom there wasn’t a soul.
Mr. O’Flaherty advanced into the middle of the floor with measured steps, his face still studiously impassive. Behind him the eyes that peered over the stacks of plates were positively bulging with surprise and wonderment. Ah, but now he had to look down at his feet for he was crunching through a litter of broken glass; in fact, there was broken glass everywhere and wilted flowers and cigar ends and heaven only knew what else! “What a rabble, did ye ever see the like?” he thought.
“Tell Christy to stop the frying till we see how much we’ll be needing...Then bring up the dishes, toast, tea and coffee, as much as he’s done.”
He took a cautious look outside on the terrace, which was also littered with broken glass. “What were they doing at all?” he wondered. “Was it a battle they had, or what?” The sun had risen by now. It was going to be a lovely day. The smell of the countryside in the spring...he took a deep, contented breath, but then remembered his duty and, shaking his head regretfully, stepped inside once more to organize the boys at the buffet tables and tell them where to stand.
By seven o’clock there was still no sign of anyone wanting breakfast. The first dishes, though kept warm for a while with hot water, had had to be discarded and replenished, though it was a shame to waste good food.
“Stand up straight, Paddy, and stop your fidgeting or you’ll get what’s what.”
Of the three of them only he was permitted to move. But still, it was hard on them standing there with nothing to do.
Presently, however, a peahen came in through the French windows with nervous steps, looking for the long-tailed blue-green magnificence that had been her mate. She picked around for a while amid the broken glass, watched by the three silent men in white hats and aprons. At length Mr O’Flaherty tore off a corner of buttered toast and, bending with a sigh, offered it to her in the palm of his plump hand. She took it and ate it distractedly, a faint breeze ruffling the biscuit-coloured feathers of her breast. Then she hurried fretfully back to the terrace to continue her search. She was Mr O’Flaherty’s only customer that morning.
It was almost noon when the Major awoke. The maid was opening the curtains to let in a cascade of golden sunshine and the twins were still in bed with him, giggling fit to burst. For an instant he and the maid stared at each other in silent horror; then he had rolled the girls out of bed in a flash and with as much bravado as he could manage sent them on their way with a ringing slap on their fat bottoms. A furtive glance at the maid, however, was enough to tell him that this playfulness had, if anything, made the situation worse.
Edward was penitent. He had behaved foolishly and deserved the Major’s contempt. He had been weak and knew it. He had slipped