The Drowning People by Richard Mason

Author:Richard Mason [MASON, RICHARD]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC000000
ISBN: 9780446548885
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2008-11-16T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

ISTRUGGLE NOW FOR THE PRECISE WORDS ELLA USED. I can catch her tone; can follow her expression; can watch her face and trace the changing patterns on it. But her words come back to me only slowly, for when I first listened to them I was distracted by the flick of her hair; the tap of her light quick step; the neatness of her waist; the outline of her breasts; the ring of her voice. I don’t remember being mystified by her presence in Prague or by the sudden way in which she had deserted her parents; for the arrogance of youthful love provided all the explanation I required. But as I listened to her I remembered Camilla Boardman’s breathless letter and Ella’s own words in the empty sitting room of Madame Mocsáry’s apartment; and they pierced the haze of my euphoria as we threaded our way through the crowds on Sokolska Street and turned left into Wenceslas Square.

“I can’t face Daddy and Pamela just yet,” Ella was saying, almost pleadingly. “I need to talk properly to you, Jamie. I need your help. Isn’t there anywhere we could go just for a moment? Somewhere where nobody would know us?”

“You forget that this is not London,” I replied. “There’s no need for secrecy.” And smilingly I guided her into a small coffee shop I knew on the corner. Being so centrally placed it lacked the back street charm of other establishments but it would serve our purpose. And soon we were sitting at a back table and ordering espressos from a waitress with badly dyed blond hair and alarming eyebrows.

“Now,” I began when the coffee had been placed before us, “what do you need to talk to me about?”

“I don’t suppose you know anything about it at all, do you?” she said slowly.

“I know some things, I think,” I ventured, unsure precisely what “it” was but guessing that it had something to do with the breaking of her engagement to Charlie.

“What do you know, Jamie? What can you know?”

Briefly I told her the outline of my letter from Camilla Boardman.

She paused, taking it in. Then, sighing, she said wryly, “No one steals a person’s thunder quite like Camilla, do they?”

I shook my head and smiled. Ella was not smiling.

“Well she’s given you the outsider’s version and it’s interesting to know what my friends think of me, certainly. But the truth is a little more complex than what she’s told you. A little more complex and a little less pretty.”

“Go on.”

“Well the fact of the matter is that my family—and from what you say at least some of my friends—are beginning to consider the possibility that I may be a crackpot. Off my rocker, you know.” Ella paused as I took this in. “And the worst of it is that it’s my own wretched fault.” She took another drag on her cigarette. “I suppose I had better begin at the beginning, hadn’t I?” she said, taking my hand.

I nodded.

Silence.

“I thought it was all some silly mistake on the newspapers’ part,” I began at last.

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