Alex and the Ironic Gentleman

by Adrienne Kress

  Anyway, Alex left her bike by the door, and was led hastily by the conductor down the narrow passage. The train lurched violently, and Alex felt nervous as they rushed along. After all, that very old man had seemed extremely adamant that she not board the train. What was he frightened of ? But she followed obediently, occasionally checking over her shoulder, for what she wasn’t quite sure.

  Suddenly the passage opened up on a grand dining carriage. Alex gazed open-mouthed. Plush, purple curtains were drawn across its windows, so that not a shard of sunlight filtered into the room. Instead it was lit by a giant chandelier, which hung, swaying with the movement of the train, over a long, dark rosewood dinner table laid out for dinner with complete sets of silverware, china, and crystal glasses.

  Alex immediately relaxed. This train was nothing to worry about. At most you could call it stuffy or pompous, and that didn’t seem threatening, at least not to Alex. She smiled and shook her head. And she realized that, while some very old men could be extremely wise due to their advanced years, some were simply senile. Alex concluded that the one with the mop most definitely had no idea what he was talking about. This train was beautiful. It was elegant. Some would even go as far as to call it Grade-A classy.

  Alex was so lost in her thoughts that she had to run to catch up to the conductor, who had already sped through the room and was heading into the next carriage. She quickly ran to catch up. They entered the adjoining carriage, which was, if you can believe this, even more spectacular. This room, too, had plush curtains covering the windows, but also a shiny wooden floor, and at the far end was a stage outlined in small fairy lights. On it, in three rows, were seats behind white stands with “Jimmy C and His Orchestra” written across each.

  The conductor stopped in the middle of the wooden floor and spun on his heel to face Alex.

  “Welcome to our party!” he said, his arms outstretched and a broad smile on his face.

  As if on cue, the far door swung open and a young woman entered. She was very pretty, with light blonde hair, cut, Alex realized with a smile, much like her own. Around it she wore a band with one large peacock feather stuck in the front. A black-sequined dress hung loosely off her slim form, and a long string of white pearls dangled from her neck. She played with it nervously with her fingers.

  “Jimmy C, darling, why ever did you step outside? That is so unlike you! And now we are incredibly behind! Why, it’s almost time now, and I haven’t even changed yet!”

  Jimmy C smiled. “Angel, I don’t know what possessed me, honestly. I guess the stop just got me rather excited. I’m terribly sorry! But look, look who I met!” And he turned to Alex. “Isn’t it wonderful! A new friend!”

  Alex smiled shyly at the pretty blonde woman.

  “Jimmy C! What a surprise! Well, hello there. My name is Angel.” She bent down and kissed Alex hastily on both cheeks.

  “Um . . . I’m Alexandra, but people call me Alex,” said Alex, unsure how to respond.

  “Alex! What a wonderful name! But, darling, I hope you don’t mind if I rush things along a bit. Time is of the essence, you see. Let’s get you a compartment and leave Jimmy C to set up!”

  “Um, sure.”

  With a bright smile Angel grabbed hold of Alex’s hand and hurried back through the door from which she had just appeared. Alex was whisked down a narrow aisle with compartments on one side. Nameplates in brass hung on the doors. When they arrived at the one marked “Angel,” they stopped.

  “Now,” said Angel, slightly out of breath, “we have a guest compartment right next to mine. Isn’t that exciting?” Alex nodded. Angel pushed open the door.

  The compartment was small but luxurious. The walls and furnishings were all made of that same dark wood as the large dining table. Against the far wall was a deep, comfy chair with deep-red cushions on which lay a variety of sparkly tops and skirts. And above it were those same purple drapes drawn across the window. There was one small bed against the wall with a small reading lamp and storage cabinets overhead.

  “If you wouldn’t mind unpacking your things as quickly as possible, and changing, it would be wonderful!”

  Alex nodded.

  “Good. I’ll meet you in the corridor—shortly, I hope!” And she left, closing the door behind her.

  Alex stood silently in the middle of the room. She wasn’t sure exactly what to make of everything. She had never been on a train before, true, but she had never heard of one that looked quite like this. And she hadn’t even bought a ticket yet. She bit her bottom lip. I hope it isn’t that expensive, she thought, reaching into her bag and taking out her camera.

  She took a few quick shots of her room and then drew back the curtains to take a picture of the view. But she found that to be impossible as the window was painted black. Which seemed kind of a strange thing to do. Especially as the curtains would be more than effective at keeping the light out.

  Alex drew the curtains again and looked at the clothes on the chair. She had better change. She didn’t know why she had better change. She just knew that Angel was anxious that she did, and did so as quickly as possible. Once she was given a moment to get her bearings, she would ask Angel what was going on. Choosing a satin blue camisole that was quite long enough to be a dress for her, Alex hastily changed her clothes and picked up a beaded headband similar to the one Angel was wearing. She shrugged and put it on, adjusting it in the mirror. She joined Angel (now dressed in pale pink) in the corridor and was whisked off back toward the dining room.

  Jimmy C and His Orchestra had begun to play some discreet dinner music. He waved as they flew past, causing the percussionist to compulsively smash the cymbals together, and then the trumpet section to pick up the coda, resulting in the trombonist missing his solo, which made him run off to his room.

  There were already four other people seated at the large wooden table of the dining carriage, dressed just as impeccably as Angel. At the head was a large bear of a man dressed in a tuxedo. He was going bald at the top of his head and had a small pencil moustache. He was fiercely buttering a roll when Angel introduced Alex.

  “Everyone, I would like you all to meet Alex,” said Angel.

  “Is that supposed to be a dress?” asked the man at the head, keeping his focus on his roll.

  “Alex, this is Arnold Van Brusen. He produces plays.” Angel whispered the last bit.

  Alex nodded. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Van Brusen.”

  He snorted in reply.

  Next Angel introduced Fifi and Pudding, fraternal twins dressed in red.

  Fraternal?

  “Pudding has a mole on her left shoulder and is an inch shorter than Fifi,” explained Angel. The two small brunettes smiled at Alex, and she smiled back.

  “And that is Stuart Nickleman.” Angel pointed to a small man in a beige suit nervously tapping a fork on the table. He smiled a weak smile in her direction and then faced front, furrowing his eyebrows deeply.

  “When do we eat? We’re behind schedule enough as it is!” said Arnold Van Brusen, his mouth full of roll.

  “Soon, soon!” replied Angel, giving Alex a gentle but firm push on the back. “Now, Alex darling, why don’t you sit between the twins?”

  The twins giggled and pulled out the chair for her. Alex sat down and smiled at them both, wishing she could have sat with Angel instead. She had so many questions. What had the very old man been worried about? What were they all late for? Why hadn’t she been asked to buy a ticket? And why on earth were they sitting down to dinner so early in the morning?

  “What do you do?” asked Arnold Van Brusen, finally looking Alex in the eye.

  “What do I do?”

  “Yes, for a living. For example, I am a producer, that is what I do. Do you understand now?”

  “Um . . . all right. Well, I’m a kid, I guess.”

  “Well, that isn’t much of anything. We’ve all been kids once, you know. I don’t see why you’re so proud of that.” And he grabbed another roll.

&nb
sp; “Honestly, Van Brusen, you are an incorrigible fool, aren’t you?” said a voice from behind. Alex looked up to see a young man, arm linked with a young woman in silver, standing in the entranceway. They were shockingly thin—or was it fashionably thin?—with long, angular limbs and prominent cheekbones.

  “You must forgive him. Van Brusen had a traumatizing childhood,” said the young man, placing a hand on the back of Alex’s chair. “Something to do with a pastry shortage in his native village, I believe.”

  “Oh, Freddy, you’re so funny!” laughed the woman in silver, sitting down at the table. Freddy moved to join her.

  “What the devil are we waiting for!” bellowed Van Brusen, suddenly standing up. He threw his napkin on the table and stormed off through a pair of swinging doors that led to the kitchen.

  “Brusey seems a bit testy tonight,” the woman in silver giggled.

  “Oh, if only Charles would get here soon, then the chef could start serving,” said Fifi sadly.

  Alex looked at Fifi. “Is that everybody, then?”

  “Of course. But Charles is so particular.”

  “Then why is the table set for so many?”

  “That’s an excellent question.” Angel thought hard. “It does seem silly that we did that.”

  “And a waste of china,” added the woman in silver.

  “Good point, Geraldine. Well, we’ll just have to remedy that at the next meal. How clever you are, Alex!” And Angel beamed at Alex, which made her feel a bit more relaxed, though really not quite satisfied with the answer.

  “Children are notoriously clever. I can never decide if that’s a good or a bad thing,” a new, smooth voice added.

  Alex watched as a tall man entered the carriage and sat by Angel. He was probably approaching fifty and had thinning, white-blonde hair. He wore a dark-blue smoking jacket with a white cravat about his neck and managed to speak flawlessly with a pipe dangling out of the side of his mouth. And he looked at Alex carefully, with extremely pale blue eyes.

  “Charles!” exclaimed Angel. “Good, now quickly, everyone, let’s eat!”

  THE FIFTEENTH CHAPTER

  In which Alex experiences some good food, good company, and some dancing.

  Dinner was an odd affair. If she had had the opportunity to think it over, she might have found a better way of describing it, but at the pace things were moving, “odd” was the only word Alex had time to come up with. She felt like she was in a movie stuck on fast-forward. No sooner had the soup been served than it was whisked away from beneath her nose. With the salad, she had at least managed to snag a tomato before losing her plate to yet another server who passed her by in a blur. They were given slightly under a minute to shove down the main course, and it wasn’t until the dessert was served, along with a large bottle of champagne, that things suddenly reverted to a more normal speed.

  The champagne’s arrival seemed to excite the party. Angel pleasantly smiled in Charles’s direction. He popped the cork and started to pour. There was a moment where he paused over Alex’s glass. Possibly he was unsure of whether a child should be offered alcohol—Alex couldn’t quite tell—but he continued and filled her glass as well. Once everyone had some champagne, Charles rose to his feet, gave a quick toast, and downed the drink in one gulp.

  Alex took a small sip. The moment she swallowed she felt an incredible sensation. Suddenly she had energy flowing though her veins instead of blood, and though she hadn’t slept for two days now, she felt she might never need to sleep again.

  Quickly, Alex set her glass aside. If one sip affected her that way, she probably shouldn’t drink any more. The rest of her party finished their drinks in one gulp like Charles, after which Angel announced, “Let’s dance.” And they all got up and moved to the other carriage.

  Dance? thought Alex as she was dragged along with the rest. She’d only just begun to catch her breath from dinner.

  Jimmy C and His Orchestra were playing full force now, and everyone began to dance with everyone else, often being tossed by the train to the other end of the carriage. The music was fast, and everyone was doing the Charleston—which is a dance that involves kicking and fast footwork and, well, looks rather frenetic. Stuart Nickleman was kind enough to show Alex a few basic steps, and after a few songs, Alex decided to stop fighting it and began to enjoy herself genuinely. After all, there were probably worse ways to travel to Port Cullis than in a crazy, high-speed party. And certainly everyone she had met seemed friendly enough. So they went on dancing away, song after song, dance after dance, until everyone was very tired and sweaty.

  At this moment, when things seemed to be winding down a bit, Angel stood up on stage and began to sing a ballad. She had a very beautiful voice, and everyone stood to listen to her, except for Freddy and Geraldine, who danced together slowly. Alex smiled calmly to herself. She didn’t feel tired, exactly, just content, and everything had a dozy sort of feel. Memories of her uncle and Mr. Underwood were faded and kind of a pastel pink color. She felt as if she could listen to Angel sing forever. As she hazily scanned the room, she got the impression the others were thinking the same thing, too. Except for Charles. Who obviously couldn’t have been thinking the same as he was staring right at Alex. Her heart paused for a moment. She came out of her trancelike state and looked away quickly. When she looked back, Charles was looking at Angel like everyone else.

  When Angel finished singing, she smiled softly. Then she announced into the microphone, “Nap Time!”

  And the fast-forward button was pushed again. Everyone quickly left the dance floor and rushed to their separate compartments. Alex found herself standing alone in the middle of the dance floor, watching the orchestra pack up their instruments and vanish somewhere into the train. Only Jimmy C remained. He sat himself at the piano and softly began to play.

  Alex walked over to Jimmy C and leaned against the piano. “Jimmy C?”

  “Yes, beautiful?”

  “I’ve just been wondering. When do you think we will be arriving at Port Cullis?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t know something like that, beautiful. You’d have to ask Angel.” He smiled and closed his eyes. At which point Alex felt a soft hand on her shoulder.

  “Alex, darling. It’s time to rest up,” said Angel. “No dawdling. Come, come, we don’t want to waste any time.”

  “Angel,” asked Alex, as they jogged along the aisle back to their compartments.

  “Yes?”

  “When do you think we’ll get to Port Cullis?”

  Angel stopped in front of her door. “What time is it now?”

  “I don’t really know,” replied Alex. For the first time it occurred to her that she didn’t. The meal had passed by in a flash, but the dancing had gone on forever.

  “Well, once we figure that out, then we’ll know. Don’t worry about it now, though. You get some rest. You are quite the little dancer.” She beamed at Alex as she went into her room.

  Alex felt a great sense of release as she fell back onto her little bed. The pillow was really soft and the sheets were nice and cool. Lying there, she took off the headband and watched the beads glint in the light of the bedside lamp. Everything would be just fine, she realized. Soon they would be arriving in Port Cullis, where she would find some way of tracking down Mr. Underwood, and when she found him they would track down the treasure. And everything would be wonderful.

  Alex closed her eyes and felt herself gently drifting off to sleep. When . . .

  “Darling, we’ve overslept! Quick, you need to change! I’ll be waiting for you outside!”

  Alex opened her eyes to see Angel smiling down at her.

  “Sorry . . . ,” said Alex, sitting up slowly.

  “Don’t just sit there, darling, get ready!” Angel left the room quickly.

  Sometimes we have such a deep sleep that we feel as though we’ve only just shut our eyes before we are woken up again. Alex wondered if maybe that was what had happened. She didn’t feel particularly tired anymore
. Gosh, how long had she been asleep then, she wondered, as she changed into a gold camisole identical to the blue one except that it was . . . gold.

  She tentatively poked her head out of her door to find Angel waiting for her.

  Once again she took Alex’s hand and pulled her back down the aisle and over the dance floor, where Jimmy C and His Orchestra were playing some light dinner music. Jimmy C waved to the two of them as they rushed past, causing the snoozephone player to choke on his reed, at which the tambourinist fell on the floor laughing.

  And then Alex and Angel were back in the dining car.

  Where Arnold Van Brusen sat fiercely buttering a roll.

  And Fifi was sitting giggling to herself.

  And Stuart Nickleman was tapping a knife on the table.

  THE SIXTEENTH CHAPTER

  In which Alex experiences some good food, good company, and some dancing.

  Alex stood paralyzed in the entranceway as Angel took her seat at the table. “Alex,” she whispered. “Alex!” she whispered louder. Alex turned to Angel. “Your seat is over there.” Angel indicated the seat next to Fifi.

  Alex nodded numbly and walked to her seat and sat down.

  “What kind of a dress is that?” asked Van Brusen.

  Alex turned and looked at him. “It’s a camisole,” answered Alex. “I wore a blue one last time.”

  “Like I would remember something like that,” snorted Van Brusen. “I have more important things to think about, you know. I am, after all, a producer.” Then he stood up and threw his napkin on the table. “Damn and blast!” he yelled. “Do we have to wait on his majesty every time?”

  “Calm down, Arnold,” said Angel softly. “You know it takes Charles about fifteen more minutes. Surely you can wait fifteen more minutes.”

  Obviously, Van Brusen couldn’t wait fifteen more minutes, because he stormed off once again through the swinging doors that still led to the kitchen.