The Night Manager полностью

"Dans did a painting of Sarah for me," she said. "To make amends."

"f know. I was passing your room when you were telling Roper. What else did you tell him?"

"Nothing."

"Are you sure?"

She flared. "What do you expect me to tell him? Thomas thinks I'm a cheap little trollop without a thought in my head?"

"I didn't say that."

"You said worse. You said I was a mess and he was a murderer."

"Corky said he bought you at a horse sale."

"I was shacked up in Paris."

"What were you doing in Paris?"

"Fucking these two men. The story of my life. I fuck all the wrong people and miss out the right ones." She took another pull of coffee. "They had a flat on the rue de Rivoli. They scared the hell out of me. Drugs, boys, booze, girls, me, the whole bit. One morning I woke up and there was this flat full of bodies. Everyone had passed out." She nodded to herself as if to say, yes, that was it, that was the crunch. "Okay, Jemima, you don't collect two hundred quid, you just go. I didn't even pack. I stepped over the bodies and went to this bloodstock auction in Maison Lafitte that I'd read about in the Trib. I wanted to see horses. I was still half-stoned, and that was all I could think of: horses. That's all we ever did till my father had to sell up. Ride and pray. We're Shropshire Catholics," she explained gloomily, as if confessing the family curse. "I must have been smiling. Because this dishy middle-aged man said, 'Which one would you like?' And I said, 'That big one in the window.' I was feeling... light. Free. I was in a movie. That feeling. I was being funny. So he bought her. Sarah. The bidding was so quick I didn't really follow it. He had some Pakistani with him and they were sort of bidding together. Then he just turned to me and said, 'She's yours. Where do you want her sent?' I was scared stiff, but it was a dare, so I thought I'd see it through. He took me to a shop in the Elysees, and we were the only people. He'd had the riff-raff cleared out before we got there. We were the only customers. He bought me ten thousand quids' worth of tat and took me to the opera. He took me to dinner and told me about an island called Crystal. Then he took me to his hotel and fucked me. And I thought: With one leap she clears the pit. He's not a bad man, Thomas. He just does bad things. He's like Archie the driver."

"Who's Archie the driver?"

She forgot him for a while, preferring to stare at the fire and sip her coffee. Her shivering had stopped. Once, she winced and drew in her shoulders, but it was her memory, not the cold, that was troubling her. "Jesus," she whispered. "Thomas, what do I do?"

"Who's Archie?"

"In our village. He drove an ambulance for the local hospital. Everyone loved Archie the driver. He came to all the point-to-points and looked after people if they were hurt. He scraped up the bodies at the kids' gymkhanas, everything. Nice Archie. Then there was an ambulance strike, and Archie went and picketed the hospital gates and wouldn't let in the casualties because he said the drivers were all blacklegs. And Mrs. Luxome, who cleaned for the Priors, died because he wouldn't let her in." Another shudder passed over her. "Do you always have a fire? Seems silly, a fire in the tropics."

"You have them at Crystal."

"He really likes you. You know that?"

"Yes."

"You're his son or something. I kept telling him to get rid of you. I felt you coming closer, and I couldn't stop you. You're such a creep. He doesn't seem to see it. Perhaps he doesn't want to. I suppose it's Dan. You saved Dan. Still, that doesn't last forever, does it?" She drank. "Then you think: Okay, fuck it. If he won't see what's happening under his nose, that's his tough luck. Corky's warned him. So's Sandy. He doesn't listen to them."

"Why've you been going through his papers?"

"Caro told me a whole lot of stuff about him. Dreadful things. It wasn't fair. I knew some of it already. I'd tried not to, but you can't help it. Things people say at parties. Things Dan picks up. Those dreadful bankers, boasting. I can't judge people. Not me. I always think I'm in the hot seat, not them. The trouble is, we're so bloody straight. My father is. He'd rather starve than cheat the taxman. Always paid his bills the day they came in. That's why he went bust. Other people didn't pay him, of course, but he never noticed that." She glanced at him. Her glance became a look. "Jesus," she whispered again.

"Did you find anything?"

She shook her head. "I couldn't, could I? I didn't know what to look for. So I thought, fuck it, and I asked him."

"You what?"

"I tackled him with it. One night after dinner. I said, 'Is it true you're a crook? Tell me. A girl's got a right to know.' "

Jonathan took a deep breath. "Well, that was honest at least," he said, with a careful smile. "How did Roper take it? Did he make a full confession, swear never to do wrong again, blame it all on his cruel childhood?"

"He went tight-faced."

"And said?"

"Said I should mind my bloody business."