df.theedge-第20部分
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g aside of skirts in the pursed mouths of those around her who were fed up with hearing about it。
Oliver； on my heels； was delivering them solace in Pol Roger's golden bubbles。
I came with acute awareness to the table where Filmer was sitting with Daffodil and； careful not to look directly at either of them； put my last four glasses in a row on the tablecloth。
At once Filmer said； 'Where have I seen you before？'
Chapter Seven
About fifty conclusions dashed through my head； all of them disastrous。 I had been so sure he wouldn't know me。 Stupid； arrogant mistake。
'I expect it was when we were over in Europe and went to the Derby Eve dinner in London；' the elderly woman said。 'We sat at the head table。。。。 We were guests of dear Ezra Gideon； poor man。'
I moved away sending wordless prayers of thankfulness to anyone out there listening。 Filmer hadn't even glanced at me； still less had known me。 His head； when I'd finally looked at him； was turned away from me towards his panions； as was Daffodil's also。
Filmer's own thoughts must anyway have been thrown in a tangle。 He was himself directly responsible for Gideon's suicide； and now he found himself sitting with Gideon's friends。 Whether or not he felt an ounce of embarrassment （probably not）； it had to be enough to make him unaware of waiters。
I fetched more glasses and dealt some of them to the Lorrimores who were an oasis of silence in the chattering mob and paid me absolutely no attention： and from then on I felt I had indeed chosen the right role and could sustain it indefinitely。
When everyone was served； Zak the investigator appeared like a gale…force wind and moved the mystery along through Scene Two； disclosing the details of the attempted kidnap of one of the horses and leaving a tantalizing question mark in the shape of which one？ To the amusement of the audience； he quizzed several of the real passenger owners： 'Which is your horse； sir？ Did you say Upper Gumtree？' He consulted a list。 'Ah yes。 You must be Harvey Unwin from Australia？ Do you have any reason to believe that your horse might be the target of international intrigue？'
It was skilfully and entertainingly acted。 Mercer Lorrimore in his turn and with a smile said his horse was called Voting Right； and no； he'd had no advance notice of any attack。 Bambi smiled thinly； and Sheridan said in a loud voice that he thought the whole thing was stupid； everyone knew there hadn't been any goddam kidnap attempt and why didn't Zak stop messing around and piss off。
Into a gasping horrified silence while Mercer struggled for words； Zak smiled brilliantly and said； 'Is it indigestion？ We'll get you some tablets；' and he patted Sheridan passionately on the shoulder。
It brought the house； or rather the train； down。 People laughed and applauded and Sheridan looked truly murderous。
'Now； Sparrowgrass；' Zak said； consulting his list and very smoothly carrying on； 'who owns Sparrowgrass？'
The elderly gentleman sitting with Filmer said； 'I do。 My wife and I。'
'So you are Mr and Mrs Young？ Any relation to Brigham？ No？ Never mind。 Isn't it true that someone tried to burn down the barn your Sparrowgrass was stabled in a month ago？ Could the two attacks be linked； would you say？'
The Youngs looked astounded。 'How ever did you know that？'
'We have our sources；' Zak said loftily； and told me afterwards his source was the Daily Racing Form； busily read recently for background help with his story。 It impressed the passengers most satisfactorily。
'I'm sure no one's trying to kidnap my horse；' Young said； but with a note of doubt in his voice that was a triumph for Zak。
'Let's hope not；' he said。 'And finally； who owns Calculator？'
The actors Walter and Mavis Bricknell put up their hands in agitation。 'We do。 What's wrong with him？ We must go at once to make sure。 The whole thing's most upsetting。 Have you proper guards now looking after the horses？'
'Calm down； sir； calm down； madam；' Zak said as to children。 'Merry & Co have a special horsemaster looking after them。 They will all be safe from now on。'
He concluded the scene by saying that we would soon be stopping at Newmarket； but that British owners shouldn't get off the train as they would find no races there。 （Laughter。 ） Lunch was now on its way； he added； and he hoped everyone would return for drinks at five…thirty when there would be Interesting Developments as per their printed programmes。 The passengers clapped very loudly； to encourage him。 Zak waved； retreated and set off down the corridor； flat…footed almost at once after his bounce in the dining car； and already with drooping shoulders consulting his notebook about what he needed to do next。 How often； I wondered； had he had to deal with the likes of Sheridan？ From his demeanour； often enough。
Emil told me to collect the champagne glasses； pour the water and put a pot of breadsticks on each table。 He himself was opening wine。 Oliver and Cathy began bringing plates of smoked salmon and bowls of vichyssoise soup on trays from the kitchen and offering a choice。
The seating problem more or less sorted itself out。 Mavis and Walter； pretending 'their horse's welfare meant more to them than eating'； set off up the train to eat in the racegoers' dining car； and so did Angelica； 'too upset to sit down'。 A few others like Raoul； Pierre and Donna； left discreetly； until Nell； counting heads； could match all paying passengers with a place。 Giles…the…murderer； I was interested to see； was still in the dining room； still being overpoweringly nice： it was apparently essential to the drama that he should be liked。
We stopped at Newmarket briefly。 No British owners got off。 （A pity。 ） The soup gave place to a fricassee of chicken with lemon and parsley。
I was promoted from Aquarius to Ganymede； forsaking water for wine。 Emil quite rightly didn't trust me to clear dirty plates； which involved fancy juggling with knives and forks。 I was allowed with the others to change ashtrays； to deliver maple hazelnut praline mousse and to take tea and coffee to the cups； already laid。 Filmer ignored my presence throughout and I was extremely careful not to draw his attention by spilling things。
By the end I had a great admiration for Emil； Oliver and Cathy； who had neatly served and cleared three full courses with the floor swaying beneath their feet and who normally would have taken my few jobs also in their stride。
When nearly all the passengers （including Filmer） had left； heading for their own rooms or the observation car； we cleared the tables； spread fresh cloths and began thinking of food for ourselves。 At least； I did。 The others made for the kitchen with me following； but once there Oliver took off his waistcoat； donned an apron and long yellow gloves； and began washing dishes。 A deep endless sinkful of three courses for forty…eight people。
I watched him in horror。 'Do you always do this？' I asked。
'Who else？'
Cathy took a cloth to do some drying。
'No machines？' I protested。
'We're the machines；' she said。
Catch me； I thought ruefully； washing dishes。 I picked up one of the cloths and helped her。
'You don't have to；' she said。 'But thanks。'
Angus the chef was cleaning up his realm at the far end of the long hot kitchen and Simone was unpacking fat beef sandwiches which we all ate standing up while working。 There was an odd sort of camaraderie about it all； as if we were the front…line troops in battle。 They were entitled to eat after the last sitting in the central dining car； Emil said； rinsing glasses； but usually they went only for dinner； if then； I could see why； as after the sandwiches on that first day we ate the all…too…few left…over portions of the Lucullan lunch we had served。 'There's never anything thrown away；' Cathy said； 'when we do trips like this。'
The dishes finally finished and stowed in their racks； it appeared that we were free for a blessed couple of hours： reassembly on the dot of five…thirty。
I don't know what the other's did but I made straight towards the front of the packed train； threading an unsteady way through seemingly endless sleeping cars （passing my own berth）； through the still busy central dining car； the full and raucous open…seat dayniter； three more sleeping cars； the crowded dome car （dining room； kitchen； lounge； observation deck）； another sleeping car； and finally reaching the horses。 In all； a little less than a quarter of a mile's walk； though it felt like a marathon。
I was stopped at the horse…car entrance by a locked door and； in response to my repeated knocking； by a determined female who told me I wasn't wele。
'You can't e in；' she said bluntly； physically barring my way。 'The train crew aren't allowed in here。'
'I'm working for Merry & Co；' I said。
She looked me up and down。 'You're an attendant；' she said flatly。 'You're not ing in。'
She was quivering with authority； the resolute governess guarding the pass。 Maybe forty； I judged； with regular features； no make…up and a slim wiry figure in shirt； sweater and jeans。 I knew an immovable object when I saw it； and I retreated through
