Chapter 7 Sheridan's Rudeness

I left him to write his report on the act of sabotage. Back in the dining-car, Xanthe was feeling better, as a result of being the centre of sympathetic attention, and people were recovering their party mood. They didn't appreciate the seriousness of the situation. As far as they were concerned, no one was hurt, and it must have been an accident.

Filmer was sitting with Mercer Lorrimore, telling him to take the railway company to court for their neglect. Bambi was at the same table, pretending to be interested in the men's conversation.

Xanthe was being comforted mainly by Mrs Young, but every time anyone passed her table, they asked how she was feeling.

Nell was sitting with a middle-aged couple who owned a horse called Redi-Hot. As I bent across the table to wipe it, she whispered jokingly, 'If you're a good little waiter, I'll give you a tip,' and then ordered her drink in a louder voice which the others could hear.

After I'd delivered her drink, Sheridan Lorrimore loudly demanded that I bring him a glass of wine.

'You know you're not supposed to have alcohol,' his sister protested.

'Mind your own business,' he said, and then to me, 'Get it!'

'Don't get it,' said Xanthe.

Uncertain whom to obey, I stayed where I was. Sheridan stood up in a temper and pushed me roughly towards the bar. 'Do as I say,' he said. 'Go on!'

As I left, I heard him laugh and say, 'You have to kick them about, you know.'

His father followed me into the bar. 'I apologize for my son's behaviour,' he said tiredly, as if he'd done so hundreds of times before. 'I hope this will help.' He took twenty dollars out of his wallet and offered it to me.

'Please don't,' I said. 'There's no need.'

'Yes, yes. Take it,' he insisted.

I saw that he would feel better if I took it, as if paying money would help to excuse the act. I thought that he should stop trying to buy pardons for his son, and pay for medical treatment instead. But then, perhaps he already had. There was more wrong with Sheridan than a bad temper, and it must have been obvious to his father for a long time.

I didn't want to accept the money, but this matter had already made me more visible than I wanted to be, so it was best to take the money and get it all over with.

When I returned to the dining-car, Mercer had sat down next to Filmer again and their heads were close. I wondered whether this had been one of Filmer's aims - to get close to Lorrimore. If it was, what was the point of it? What was the man up to? And had he arranged the accident with the Lorrimores' car especially so that he could get close to Mercer Lorrimore?

It was by now nearly midnight. The Youngs were standing up in the dining-room, ready to go to bed. But Xanthe was alarmed at the departure of her new friend and was begging to be moved from the private car. Nell said that there was a spare bed and Xanthe could hardly wait to move her things in there. I doubted she would set foot in the private car again for the whole journey: she had been thoroughly frightened.

The Lorrimores left without even saying goodnight to their daughter. Sheridan gave his mother a look of hatred when she ordered him to bed.

'There's no love lost in that family,' Nell said to me when we were alone in the dining-car. 'Mercer's nice but has something weighing heavily on his mind; Bambi is bitter; Xanthe's all mixed up; and I don't know what to make of Sheridan. Did you know that both he and Xanthe were given millions of dollars by their grandmother?'

'I didn't know that,' I said. 'He's either just a spoiled young man with a quick temper, or . . .'

'Or what?' Nell asked. 'I never quite know what you're thinking.'

'I was thinking how you hold your file in front of your chest,' I said, 'as if to defend yourself?'

'Defend myself?' she said. 'Against you?' But all the same, she put the file down.

'And I was thinking,' I continued, 'that it's a pity I'm a waiter.'
'Why?'

'Because a waiter can't kiss you,'I said.

'I'll consider myself kissed,' she said. 'And now goodnight. Aren't you going to bed?'

'Soon.'

'You mean, when everything's.. . safe?'

'You might say so.'

'What exactly does the Jockey Club expect you to do?'

'See trouble before it comes.'

'But that's almost impossible.'

'True,' I said, thinking about the Lorrimores' carriage. 'But
weren't you on your way to bed?'

She smiled.

'So goodnight,' I said gently, and off she went with a glance over her shoulder at me.

I went into the bar just as Filmer and Daffodil were leaving, and just in time to hear the end of one of Filmer's sentences: '. . . when we get to Winnipeg.'

'You mean Vancouver,' Daffodil said. 'You're always confusing Winnipeg and Vancouver.'

Date: 2015-12-24; view: 613