df.theedge-第17部分

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know。　Highly　helpful。
　　We　drank　coffee；　dawdling；　easy　together；　and　she　said　she　had　wanted　to　be　a　writer　and　had　found　a　job　with　a　publisher　（'which　real　writers　never　do；　I　found　out'）　but　was　very　much　happier　with　Merry　&　Co。；　arranging　mysteries。
　　She　said；　'My　parents　always　told　me　practically　from　birth　that　I'd　be　a　writer；　that　it　ran　in　the　family；　and　I　grew　up　expecting　it；　but　they　were　wrong；　though　I　tried　for　a　long　time；　and　then　I　was　also　living　with　this　man　who　sort　of　bullied　me　to　write。　But；　you　know；　it　was　such　a　relief　the　day　I　said　to　myself；　some　time　after　we'd　parted　and　I'd　dried　my　eyes；　that　I　was　not　really　a　writer　and　never　would　be　and　I'd　much　rather　do　something　else。　And　suddenly　I　was　liberated　and　happier　than　I　could　remember。　It　seems　so　stupid；　looking　back；　that　it　took　me　so　long　to　know　myself。　I　was　in　a　way　brainwashed　into　writing；　and　I　thought　I　wanted　it　myself；　but　I　wasn't　good　enough　when　it　came　to　the　point；　and　it　was　such　hard　work；　and　I　was　depressed　so　much　of　the　time。'　She　half　laughed。　'You　must　think　I'm　crazy。'
　　'Of　course　not。　What　did　you　write？'
　　'I　was　writing　for　a　women's　weekly　magazine　for　a　while；　going　to　interview　people　and　writing　up　their　lives；　and　making　up　lives　altogether　sometimes　if　I　couldn't　find　anyone　interesting　or　lurid　enough　that　week。　Don't　let's　talk　about　it。　It　was　awful。'
　　'I'm　glad　you　escaped。'
　　'Yes；　so　am　I；'　she　said　with　feeling。　'I　look　different；　I　feel　different；　and　I'm　much　healthier。　I　was　always　getting　colds　and　flu　and　feeling　ill；　and　now　I　don't。'　Her　eyes　sparkled　in　the　light；　proving　her　right。　'And　you；'　she　said；　'you're　the　same。　Lighthearted。　It　shows　all　over　you。'
　　'Does　it；　indeed？'
　　'Am　I　right？'
　　'On　the　button；　I　suppose。'
　　And　we　were　lucky；　I　thought　soberly；　paying　the　bill。　Lightheartedness　was　a　treasure　in　a　world　too　full　of　sorrows；　a　treasure　little　regarded　and　widely　forfeited　to　aggression；　greed　and　horrendous　tribal　rituals。　I　wondered　if　the　Fluted　Point　People　had　been　lighthearted　ten　thousand　years　ago。　But　probably　not。
　　Nell　and　I　walked　back　to　where　she　had　parked　her　car　near　the　office：　she　lived　twenty　minutes'　drive　away；　she　said；　in　a　very　small　apartment　by　the　lake。
　　To　say　good　night　we　kissed　cheeks　and　she　thanked　me　for　the　evening；　saying　cheerfully　that　she　would　see　me　on　Sunday　if　she　didn't　sink　without　trace　under　all　the　things　she　still　had　to　do　on　the　next　day；　Saturday。　I　watched　her　tail　lights　recede　until　she　turned　a　corner；　then　I　walked　back　to　the　hotel；　slept　an　untroubled　night；　and　presented　myself　next　morning　at　ten　sharp　in　the　Public　Affairs　office；　at　Union　Station。
　　The　Public　Affairs　officer；　a　formidably　efficient　lady；　had　gathered　from　Nell　that　I　was　one　of　the　actors；　as　they　had　helped　with　actors　before；　and　I　didn't　change　that　understanding。　She　wheeled　me　back　into　the　cavernous　Great　Hall　of　the　station　（which　she　briskly　said　was　250　feet　long；　84　feet　wide　and　had　a　tiled　arched　ceiling　88　feet　above　the　floor）　and　led　me　through　a　heavy　door　into　an　undecorated　downstairs　duplication　of　the　grandeur　upstairs；　a　seemingly　endless　basic　domain　where　the　food　and　laundry　and　odd　jobs　of　the　trains　got　seen　to。　There　was　a　mini　power　station　also；　and　painting　and　carpentering　going　on　all　over　the　place。
　　'This　way；'　she　said；　clattering　ahead　on　snapping　heels。　'Here　is　the　uniform　centre。　They'll　see　to　you。'　She　pushed　open　a　door　to　let　me　through；　said　briefly；　'Here's　the　actor　to　the　staff　inside；　and　with　a　nod　abandoned　me　to　fate。
　　The　staff　inside　were　were　good…natured　and　equally　efficient。　One　was　working　a　sewing　machine；　another　a　puter；　and　a　third　asked　me　what　collar　size　I　took。
　　There　were　shelves　all　round　the　room　bearing　hundreds　of　folded　shirts　of　fine　light　grey　and　white　vertical　stripes；　with　striped　collars；　long　striped　sleeves　and　buttoned　cuffs。　'The　cuffs　must　remain　buttoned　at　all　times　unless　you　are　washing　dishes。'
　　'Catch　me；　I　thought　mildly；　washing　dishes。
　　There　were　two　racks　of　the　harvest　gold　waistcoats　on　hangers。　'All　the　buttons　must　be　fastened　at　all　times。'
　　There　were　row　on　row　of　mid…grey　trousers　and　mid…grey　jackets　tidily　hung；　and　boxes　galore　of　grey；　yellow　and　maroon　striped　ties。
　　My　helper　was　careful　that　everything　he　gave　me　should　fit　perfectly。　'VIA　Rail　staff　at　all　times　are　well　turned　out　and　spotlessly　clean。　We　give　everyone　tips　on　how　to　care　for　the　clothes。'
　　He　gave　me　a　grey　jacket；　two　pairs　of　grey　trousers；　five　shirts；　two　waistcoats　（which　he　called　vests）；　two　ties　and　a　grey　raincoat　to　go　over　all；　and　as　he　passed　each　garment　as　suitable　he　called　out　the　size　to　the　man　with　the　puter。　'We　know　the　sizes　of　every　VIA　employee　right　across　Canada。'
　　I　looked　at　myself　in　the　glass　in　my　shirtsleeves　and　yellow　waistcoat；　and　the　waiter　Tommy　looked　back。
　　I　smiled　at　my　reflection。　Tommy　looked　altogether　too　pleased　with　himself；　I　thought。
　　'fortable？'　my　helper　asked。
　　'Very。'
　　'Don't　vary　the　uniform　at　all；'　he　said。　'Any　variation　would　mark　you　out　straight　away　as　an　actor。'
　　'Thank　you。'
　　'This　uniform；'　he　said；　'trousers；　shirt；　tie　and　vest；　is　worn　by　all　male　service　attendants　and　assistant　service　attendants　when　on　duty。　That's　to　say；　the　sleeping…car　attendants　and　the　dining…car　staff；　except　that　sometimes　they　wear　aprons　in　the　dining　car。'
　　'Thank　you。'　I　said　again。
　　The　chief　service　attendant；　who　is　in　charge　of　the　dining　car；　wears　a　grey　suit；　not　a　vest　or　an　apron。　That's　how　you'll　know　him。'
　　'Right。'
　　He　smiled。　'They'll　teach　you　what　to　do。　Now；　we'll　lend　you　a　locker　for　these　clothes　until　Sunday　morning。　Collect　the　clothes　and　put　them　on　in　the　changing　room　here　before　boarding；　and　take　your　own　clothes　with　you　on　to　the　train。　When　you've　finished　with　the　VIA　uniform；　please　see　that　we　get　it　back。'
　　'Right；'　I　said　again。
　　When　I'd　put　my　own　clothes　on　once　more；　he　took　me　along　a　few　passages　into　a　room　with　ultra…narrow　lockers　into　which　Tommy's　clothes　barely　slotted。　He　locked　the　metal　door；　gave　me　the　key；　showed　me　the　way　back　into　the　Great　Hall　and　smiled　briefly。
　　'Good　luck；'　he　said。　'Don't　spill　anything。'
　　'Thank　you；'　I　said；　'very　much。'
　　I　went　back　to　the　hotel　and　had　them　arrange　a　car　with　a　driver　to　take　me　to　Woodbine；　wait　through　the　afternoon　and　bring　me　back。　No　trouble　at　all；　they　said；　so　as　it　was　a　nice　bright　autumn　day　with　no　forecast　of　rain　I　curled　my　hair　and　put　on　some　sunglasses　and　a　Scandinavian　patterned　sweater　to　merge　into　the　crowd　at　the　races。
　　It　actually　isn't　easy　to　remember　a　stranger's　face　after　a　fleeting　meeting　unless　one　has　a　special　reason　for　doing　so；　or　unless　there　is　something　wholly　distinctive　about　it；　and　I　was　reasonably　certain　no　one　going　on　the　train　would　know　me　again　even　if　I　inadvertently　stood　next　to　them　on　the　stands。　I　had　spectacular　proof　of　this；　in　fact；　almost　as　soon　as　I'd　paid　my　way　into　the　paddock；　because　Bill　Baudelaire　was　standing　nearby；　watching　the　throng　ing　in；　and　his　eyes　paused　on　me　for　a　brief　second　and　slid　away。　With　his　carroty　hair　and　the　acne　scars；　I　thought；　he　would　have　trouble　getting　lost　in　a　crowd。
　　I　walked　over　to　him　and　said；　'Could　you　tell　me　the　time；　sir；　please？'
　　He　glanced　at　his　watch　but　hardly　at　me　and　said；　'One　twenty…five；'　in　his　gravelly　voice；　and　looked　over　my　shoulder　towards　the　gate。
　　'Thank　you；'　I　said。　'I'm　Tor　Kelsey。'
　　His　gaze　sharpened　abruptly　on　my　face　and　he　almost　laughed。
　　'When　Val　told　me　about　this　I　scarcely　believed　him。'
　　'Is　Filmer　here？'　I　asked。
　　'Yes。　He　arrived　for　the　lunch。'
　　'OK；'　I　said。　Thanks　again。'　I　nodded　and　walked　on　past　him　and　bought　a　race…card；　and　when　in　a　moment　or　two　I　looked　back；　he　had　gone。
　　The　racecourse　was　packed　with　people　and　there　were　banners　everywhere　announcing　that　this　was　the　opening　event　of　The　Great　Transcontinental　Mystery　Race　Train's　journey。　Race　Train　Day；　they　economical