"Picnic At Lac Du Sang" - читать интересную книгу автора (Masterton Graham)

miles away. When she had first met him, Patricia had said that he looked
like Lawrence of Arabia, trying to see through the glitter of a distant
mirage. In the end, their marriage had turned out to be the mirage.
'So, you're a great musician, Mr Jeffries?' asked Mme Leduc. 'Some of my
girls are learning the piano. You will have to give them some pointers.'
'Francois is exaggerating, as usual,' said Vincent. 'I write scores for
television commercials - incidental music, links, stuff like that. Do you
know the Downhome Donut music? That was mine. Right now Francois and I are
working on a Labatt's beer ad together.'
'You should hear what he's written!' said Baubay. 'Is it dramatic? Is it
sweeping? Do bears go to the woods to dress up as women?'
They entered a large, high-ceilinged living room. It probably overlooked
the garden, but Vincent couldn't tell because all the windows were tightly
covered by bleached white calico blinds, through which the sunlight
filtered as softly as the memory of a long-lost summer day. The floor was
pale polished hardwood, with antique scatter-rugs, and the furniture was
all antique, too, gilded and upholstered in creams and yellows. There were
huge mirrors everywhere, which at first gave Vincent the impression that
he had walked into a room crowded with fifteen or sixteen girls.
Madame Leduc clapped her hands and called, 'Attention, mes petites! Mr
Baubay has arrived and he has brought a friend for us to entertain!'
Immediately, the girls came forward and clustered around them. Now Vincent
could see that there were only seven of them, but he still felt
overwhelmed, and more than anything else he wished that he were someplace
else. He had never been simultaneously so aroused and so embarrassed in
his whole life. All of the girls were pretty: two or three of them were
almost as beautiful as Mme Leduc. There was a redhead with skin as white
as milk, and a long-haired brunette with dark slanting eyes that he could
have drowned in. There were three blondes - one bubbly and curly, the
other tall and mysterious with hair so long that she could have wrapped
herself in it, like a silky curtain. There was another brunette who stood
more shyly behind her friends, but she had a face so perfect that Vincent
couldn't take his eyes off her.
What struck him most of all, though, was the way in which the girls were
dressed. He didn't quite know what he had expected: Fredericks of
Hollywood lingerie, maybe, or satin wraps like the one that Mme Leduc was
wearing. But they all wore plain white cotton nightdresses, almost
ankle-length, and one of them was even wearing white socks. Vincent
supposed that Mme Leduc had wanted them to look younger than they really
were, like schoolgirls; but even so none of them could have been older
than 18 or 19.
'Mr Jeffries is a musician, girls,' Mme Leduc announced. 'Perhaps he'll be
kind enough to play for us while we bring him something to drink.' She
winked at Baubay, and Vincent saw her wink. She must have sensed how
nervous he was, and, yes, it was a good idea, asking him to play the
piano. It would help to relax him. 'You like champagne, Mr Jeffries? Or
may I call you Vincent?'
'Sure you can call me Vincent. But right I think I'd prefer a beer, if you
don't mind.'
'Anything you want,' she said. She looked into his eyes for almost ten