Sadly, she didn’t find any people at the car while looking, but found a pitcher of orange juice while there, and was cold enough so Doctor Munoz could drink without an issue. She even got him a crystal cup for it, and put off her cigarette so it didn’t disturb our tea. The rest of the trip was tranquil, looking at the countryside, having tea and juice and scones and sandwiches.
On a small side-note; seems like every time I’m with people I’m eating, this is the second time on the book and it’s not being three chapters yet.
But I digress.
We could see Southampton from the windows. I had been there once, during the war to retrieve sensitive documentation and equipment for the radios, but didn’t have the opportunity to do much sightseeing. I could bet I wasn’t going to do it this time either. The train slowly stopped as we were getting closer to Central Station.
I was about to go for my things, as the cart with the tea service disappeared through a door, but I stopped midway to the room. Mr. Athenida’s voice came from the ceiling, preceded by a small chime. He coughed for a moment before speaking, but he could be heard loud and clear.
—Ladies and gentleman. Due to a couple of logistical problems regarding our ship, we will be spending the night on board of the train. Dinner will be served from now until midnight in one of our two dining cars, and refreshments will be provided for the night. We hope you’ll be comfortable and on board of the train in all moment. Thank you.
—I guess we’ll have to make due tonight— Ursula said, when I returned to the table—. Do you want to go there to eat, or you’d prefer to grab something and eat here?
—There, I guess— Munoz put the magazine back in the pile—, but in a few hours. We just ate. Hey, would you mind the lights?
I moved my finger and the electric light fixtures of the car turned on. There was something special in using magic to make electricity work; it was joining two ends of the large rope of life. Besides, electrical appliances were as close as magic as the humans were going to get in a very long time, and even with all their limitations was always a surprise how creative they were with their inventions, designs and whatnots.
—Yes, maybe later— Ursula stood up and straightened her dress—, but I can really use a drink now. I’m going to change. Are you coming?
—Sure— I said, while fixed my clothes—. Perhaps we can find my friend there!
Ursula returned a couple of minutes later, wearing a cocktail dress, a long pearl necklace and Foglia with a feather as a headband. How did she managed to change her entire ensemble in the time I took to tie my shoe would be beyond comprehension if we weren’t magical. She looked like she was going to a party, or a soiree, not just to get drinks in a dinner car on a train. We went alone, since was no way on Earth to convince Doctor Munoz to accompany us, and walked to the centre of the train, since the two cars were in the middle of the thing, instead of being thrown to the edges.
It was clear we weren’t in a regular train by the time we opened the door to the dining car. It wasn’t car sized, or car looking, or anything that was remotely close to reference the fact that it was on board of a train. It was a two-floor large room with a stained-glass chandelier, wooden walls, half a dozen tables with deep purple tablecloths, a full liquor bar on a side, and windows that seemed to be more proper in a gothic church that on a moving vehicle. And I’m not even mentioning the things that caught my attention in the moment we stepped in, like the band playing jazz on an improvised stage on the corner. Or the bodiless gloved hands who were cleaning and tidying up. Or even the rows and rows of colourful bottles of alcohol and related beverages which floated away of hands and heads, but came flying as soon as you asked for one. The bar was magnificent and completely out of place.
—I see they take the refreshments very seriously— Ursula observed with a smile on her face—. Come, I want to sit upstairs.
Upstairs was an open balcony overlooking the bar with less tables but with more ashtrays and a couple of mustard sofas and armchairs. The place in itself gave the atmosphere of a gentlemen’s club, but less posh than the Reform in London, of which my father was a member. We sat on one of the few empty tables and asked for a bottle of…I don’t really remember of what, it was the first of a few strong ones, and my memory is a bit of a blur due to it.
I do recall; however, a small part of a conversation Ursula and I had before stumbling our way down the stairs to greet Leslie, who was sitting alone.
—I do have a question. Why…why on hell are you here? —I asked, though I think it sounded ruder than in my head—. Sorry, I mean, of all the things you could do…why this?
I did a small wave and multicoloured sparkles flew in a small cloud. Boy, let me tell you; no one warns you about accidental magic when you are a bit tipsy. Tipsy. My head was tospy-turvy by that point, and Ursula was no better. She had to stop midway through drinking her liquor, she chuckled, tried to put her glass down but missed the table and dropped it all the way to the ground floor. She froze, looking at the place where the drink should’ve been if suspended in mid-air, before turning to me and asking to repeat my question.
—Sometimes you want to do something good, not just exist, you know? I…yeah, that’s it. Helping others and not just hoarding money like some sort of f…f…fairy tale dragon. It’s —she giggled— harder than it seemed at first, though.
—I think your train of thought just derailed there.
—Perhaps, but I’m still sure about it.
We stumbled our way down the stairs to the main area. More people had joined and the place was beginning to look like a party from “The Beautiful and the Damned” from F. Scott Fitzgerald. The lights were lower but richer, like candles instead of electricity. More drinks were flying and being poured than before, and certainly people looked far tipsier than ever. Ursula introduced herself, but by the looks everyone around took of her, it really didn’t matter. Leslie was the only one not drinking, and explained to us that in America people were going through a time called “Prohibition” or something like that.
—Besides, I’m in no age to drink— she added.
—How…how old are you? You seem like a kid —Ursula’s filters also seemed to have taken a spontaneous holiday —. Sixteen?
—Eighteen— her hands were fidgeting with a small white envelope, which caught her attention—. Oh, before I forget, or either of you falls on a table or something. Did you get your assignments? I got mine before coming here.
We’ve been there at the bar for the last two hours or so. If the assignments were somewhere, it was probably back in our car. We began laughing at the idea of being fired before we even got to the place, and shared a last drink before the music changed. After that, I remember dancing a lot with someone and going to…well, going to bed with them. Though I don’t recall who they were, and were gone before I woke up.
Woke up the following morning with a splitting headache that made impossible for me to open my eyes. The drapes were drawn, and was late in the morning, almost noon. By the snoring I heard from next door, either Ursula or Doctor Munoz hadn’t woken up yet. A modest breakfast service was laid out in the table of the sitting area, with a kettle still hot.
I ate, in silence, staring at a blank point at the wall, as you do, waiting for the headache to be gone or for the sweet release of death. Whatever came first. However, what came first was Ursula in an elegant nightgown and bathrobe and with me and drank the strongest smelling coffee I’d smelled in my life.
We were like that, eating and drinking in silence, for a while before the third door opened and Doctor Munoz came through it, and, unlike the day before where he mildly acknowledged our presence, began chatting. Probably it was because of the difference in temperature. The day before it was a nice and warm day of winter, though one of the last ones. That day, nonetheless, it was freezing cold, I could see my breath at moments, though the cool air really helped with my throbbing head.
—Both of you were sound asleep when we left— he said and, when he saw the confounded look in our faces, added—. You know we left Southampton a couple hours ago, right?
—What, when, how? —Ursula quickly stood up, but dropped in her chair with a nauseated expression, like she was about to threw up.
—I don’t feel the train moving— I said to Doctor Munoz, while Ursula ran to the bathroom, trying to sense the moving on the tracks—.
—Technically it is, but not the way you’re thinking.
I stood up, more cautiously than Ursula. Stumbled my way to the closest window and braced myself to open the drapes. The light wasn’t as blinding as I expected and immediately knew why. We were in a closed environment, with the other cars laid in a row next to us. I heard a foghorn and knew where we were.
In the cargo hold of a humongously large ship.
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