Percy said: “Remember Granny Fishbein.”
Father rounded on him. Wagging a finger, he said: “You’re to stop that nonsense—do you hear me?”
“I need to go to the toilet,” Percy said, getting up. “I feel sick.” He left the room.
Margaret realized that both Percy and she had stood up to Father, and he had not been able to do anything about it. That had to be some kind of milestone.
Father lowered his voice and spoke to Margaret. “Remember that these are the people who have driven us out of our home!” he hissed. Then he raised his voice again. “If they want to travel with us they ought to learn manners.”
“That’s enough!” said a new voice.
Margaret looked across the room. The speaker was Mervyn Lovesey, the man who had got on at Foynes. He was standing up. The stewards, Nicky and Davy, stood frozen still, looking scared. Lovesey came across the dining room and leaned on the Oxenfords’ table, looking dangerous. He was a tall, authoritative man in his forties with thick graying hair, black eyebrows and chiseled features. He wore an expensive suit but spoke with a Lancashire accent. “I’ll thank you to keep those views to yourself,” he said in a quietly threatening tone.
Father said: “None of your damn business—”
“But it is,” said Lovesey.
Margaret saw Nicky leave hastily, and guessed he was going to summon help from the flight deck.
Lovesey went on. “You wouldn’t know anything about this, but Professor Hartmann is the leading physicist in the world.”
“I don’t care what he is—”
“No, you wouldn’t. But I do. And I find your opinions as offensive as a bad smell.”
“I shall say what I please,” Father said, and he made to get up.
Lovesey held him down with a strong hand on his shoulder. “We’re at war with people like you.”
Father said weakly: “Clear off, will you?”
“I’ll clear off if you’ll shut up.”
“I shall call the captain—”
“No need,” said a new voice, and Captain Baker appeared, looking calmly authoritative in his uniform cap. “I’m here. Mr. Lovesey, may I ask you to return to your seat? I’d be much obliged to you.”
“Aye, I’ll sit down,” said Lovesey. “But I’ll not listen in silence while the most eminent scientist in Europe is told to keep his voice down and called a Jewboy by this drunken oaf.”
“Please, Mr. Lovesey.”
Lovesey returned to his seat.
The captain turned to Father. “Lord Oxenford, perhaps you were misheard. I’m sure you would not call another passenger the word mentioned by Mr. Lovesey.”
Margaret prayed that Father would accept this way out, but to her dismay he became more belligerent. “I called him a Jewboy because that’s what he is!” he blustered.
“Father, stop it!” she cried.
The captain said to Father: “I must ask you not to use such terms while you’re on board my aircraft.”
Father was scornful. “Is he ashamed of being a Jewboy?”
Margaret could see that Captain Baker was getting angry. “This is an American airplane, sir, and we have American standards of behavior. I insist that you stop insulting other passengers, and I warn you that I am empowered to have you arrested and confined to prison by the local police at our next port of call. You should be aware that in such cases, rare though they are, the airline always presses charges.”
Father was shaken by the threat of imprisonment. For a moment he was silenced. Margaret felt deeply humiliated. Although she had tried to stop her father, and protested against his behavior, she felt ashamed. His oafishness reflected on her: she was his daughter. She buried her face in her hands. She could not take any more.
She heard Father say: “I shall return to my compartment.” She looked up. He was getting to his feet. He turned to Mother. “My dear?”
Mother stood up, Father holding her chair. Margaret felt that all eyes were on her.
Harry suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He rested his hands lightly on the back of Margaret’s chair. “Lady Margaret,” he said with a little bow. She stood up, and he drew back her chair. She felt deeply grateful for this gesture of support.
Mother walked away from the table, her face expressionless, her head held high. Father followed her.
Harry gave Margaret his arm. It was only a little thing, but it meant a great deal to her. Although she was blushing furiously, she felt able to walk out of the room with dignity.
A buzz of conversation broke out behind her as she passed into the compartment.
Harry handed her to her seat.
“That was so gracious of you,” she said with feeling. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I could hear the row from in here,” he said quietly. “I knew you’d be feeling bad.”
“I’ve never been so humiliated,” she said abjectly.
But Father had not yet finished. “They’ll be sorry one day, the damn fools!” he said. Mother sat in her corner and stared blankly at him. “They’re going to lose this war, you mark my words.”
Margaret said: “No more, Father, please.” Fortunately only Harry was present to hear the tirade continue: Mr. Membury had disappeared.
Father ignored her. “The German army will sweep across England like a tidal wave!” he said. “And then what do you think will happen? Hitler will install a Fascist government, of course.” Suddenly there was an odd light in his eye. My God, he looks crazy, Margaret thought; my father is going insane. He lowered his voice, and his face took on a crafty expression. “An English Fascist government, of course. And he will need an English Fascist to lead it!”
“Oh, my God,” said Margaret. She saw what he was thinking and it made her despair.
Father thought Hitler was going to make him dictator of Britain.
He thought Britain would be conquered, and Hitler would call him back from exile to be the leader of a puppet government.
“And when there’s a Fascist prime minister in London—
Harry was staring at Father in astonishment. “Do you imagine ... do you expect Hitler to ask
“Who knows?” Father said. “It would have to be someone who bore no taint of the defeated administration. If called upon ... my duty to my country ... fresh start, no recriminations ...”
Harry looked too shocked to say anything.
Margaret was in despair. She had to get away from Father. She shuddered when she recalled the ignominious upshot of her last attempt to run away; but she should not let one failure discourage her. She had to try again.
It would be different this time. She would learn by Elizabeth’s example. She would think carefully and plan ahead. She would make sure she had money, friends and a place to sleep. This time she would make it work.
Percy emerged from the men’s room, having missed most of the drama. However, he appeared to have been in a drama of his own: his face was flushed and he looked excited. “Guess what!” he said to the compartment in general. “I just saw Mr. Membury in the washroom—he had his jacket undone and he was tucking his shirt into his trousers—and he’s got a shoulder holster under his jacket—and there’s a gun in it!”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Clipper was approaching the point of no return.
Eddie Deakin, distracted, nervy, unrested, went back on duty at ten p.m., British time. By this hour the sun had raced ahead, leaving the aircraft in darkness. The weather had changed, too. Rain lashed the windows, cloud obscured the stars, and inconstant winds buffeted the mighty plane disrespectfully, shaking up the
