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[转载]Hotel Pastis 茴香酒店(连载3)

(2011-03-23 23:55:31)
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书中自有颜如玉,向朋友推荐一个双语小说博客:http://blog.sina.com.cn/u/1669842415  英汉双语小说<<茴香酒店 Hotel Pastis>> (连载)与网友分享不一样的感受.望大家给力

  [转载]Hotel <wbr>Pastis <wbr>茴香酒店(连载3)

[转载]Hotel <wbr>Pastis <wbr>茴香酒店(连载3)

 ‘Liz called’ he said. ‘There’s an Executive Committee meeting at six, and that security analyst at Goodmans wants you to call him about the last quarter’s projections.’Ernest looked at the message-pad by the phone. ‘And the agents want to know if they can show someone the house tomorrow. A musician, they said – whatever that means nowadays.’

‘It’s probably the assistant drummer from a rock group.’

‘I know, dear. Most unsuitable, but what can you do ? They’re the ones with the money.’

Simon pulled a chair away from the table and sat down heavily. His back ached, and his shirt felt uncomfortably tight against his stomach. He was carrying too much weight. Too many lunches, too many meetings, not enough exercise. He looked at Ernest, who admitted to forty-eight but could have been ten years youger- slim, with a narrow, unlined face, close-cropped blond hair, immaculate in his dark blue suit and white shirt, no paunch, no jowls.That’s what years of self-discipline did for you, Simon thought. There was a rumour in the agency that Ernest had slipped away for a face-lift during one of his exotic holidays, but Simon knew it was the skin cream from the dermatologist in Harley Street-£50 a tube, and put through on expenses as office supplies. It was one of Ernest’s perks.

‘Shall I get Liz for you?’ Ernest picked up the phone, one eyebrow cocked , his mouth slightly pursed.

‘Ern,I don’t think I can face all that crap this evening. Ask Liz if she can fit it in tomorrow.”

Ernest nodded , and Simon reached among the bottles on the table for the Laphroaig. The galsses had all been packed. He poured the whisky into a tea-cup and half-listened to Ernest.

‘…well, if Mr Jordan gets  upset he’ll just have to go into the garden and eat worms. Mr Shaw has had to postpone the meeting. We have had a ghastly day. Our home is being dismantled around our ears, and we are not feeling like a captain of industry.’

 Ernest looked at Simon and rolled his eyes upwards as he listened to Liz’s reply. He cut her short.

  ‘I know, I know. We’ll deal with the little man from Goodmans tomorrow, when we’re feeling more like our old self. Do something diplomatic,dear. A tiny white lie. I know you can do it when you want to. I’ve heard you talking to that boyfriend of yours.’

  Ernest winced at her reply, and held the phone away from his ear.

   ‘And to you , dear. See you in the morning.’

 He put down the phone, glanced at the tea-cup in front of Simon , and frowned. He opened a packing carton, took out a cut-glass tumbler, polished it with the silk handkerchief from his top pocket and poured a large measure of whisky.

 ‘There.’ He removed the tea-cup and put it in the sink. ‘I know there are trying times, but we mustn’t let standards slip. A little water?’

  ‘What did she say?’

   ‘Oh, the usual wailing and gnashing of teeth.’ Ernest shrugged. ‘Apparently the Executive Committee meeting has already been put off twice, and they’ll all be in a snit. Especially Mr Jordan, but then it doesn’t take much to put our Mr Jordan in a snit, as we know.’

   He was right. Jordan, whose talent for handling dull clients was equalled only by his acute sense of self-importance, would feel slighted. Simon made a mental note to message him in the morning, and took a mouthful of whisky. He felt the shudder go down to his stomach, and remembered that he hadn’t eaten all day.

For once, the evening was free. He could take a book and go to a corner table in the Connought, but he didn’t feel like eating alone. He could call some friends, but dinner with friends would mean edging around the subject of Caroline and the divorce. Dinner with someone from the agency would be all the usual tired gossip about clients and new business prospects and office politics.He looked down the table, narrowing his eyes against the sun as it reflected needles of light from the bottles. He would miss this room.(to be continued)

他说:“丽莎来电,六点钟有个主管汇报,好汉公司的证券分析师要你打电话给他,谈谈上一季的计划。”恩尼斯看着电话旁的留言条,“还有,中介公司询问,明天晚上可以让人看房子吗?他们说那是位音乐家——谁知道现今音乐家代表的是什么意思?”

    “也许是摇滚乐团里的助理鼓手吧!”

    “亲爱的,我明白。那真是最不合适的了,但是你能怎么办呢?他们才有钱啊!”

    赛蒙从桌边拉出一张椅子,沉重地坐了下来。他的背疼痛,肚子部位的衬衫绷得很紧,怪不舒服的。他已经发福太多。有太多的午餐约会,太多的会议,运动却严重不足。他看着四十八岁但看起来却只有三十八的思尼斯,依然苗条,窄小的脸庞光滑而不显皱纹,金色头发剪得服贴,穿着深蓝色西装与白衬衫,没有中广的小腹,也没有双下巴。赛蒙心想,这就是多年的自律带给你的成果。广告界有个传闻:恩尼斯在出国度假时动了拉皮手术;但是赛蒙知道,这完全得益拜哈利街一位皮肤科医师的Ru霜(一罐50英镑),而且还要放在办公室经常Xing地使用。这便是恩尼斯保持神采飞扬的法宝之一。

    “要我帮你接通丽莎吗?”恩尼斯拿起话筒,挑了挑眉,嘴角紧缩。

    “恩,我不认为我可以面对今晚的厄运。问问丽莎,是否可以将主管会议挪至明天?”

    恩尼斯点点头,赛蒙则在桌上的瓶瓶罐罐中找寻拉芙洛威士忌(laphroaig)。玻璃杯早已打包,他只得把威士忌倒人茶杯,不经意的听着恩尼斯说话。

    “……嗯,如果乔登先生发了狂,他可以到花园里,抓虫子吃。萧先生必须将会议延后。今天真背,我们的家乱七八糟,这种情况一点也无法掌控。”

    恩尼斯看看赛蒙,在聆听丽莎的回应时眼睛往上翻,他打断了她的话。

    “我知道,我明白。等我们比较能够掌握状况,明天便会和好汉公司的那个小人打交道。亲爱的,耍点外交手腕吧!撒点小谎!我知道,只要你愿意,一定做得到。我就听过你和男朋友蘑菇过。”

    恩尼斯不想听丽莎的回答,把话筒拿开耳朵。

    “亲爱的,看你的了。明天见。”

    他放下话筒,瞥了赛蒙面前的茶杯一眼,皱了皱眉。他打开了一只打包的纸箱,取出一只杯子,并用从他西装口袋拿出的丝质手帕擦了擦,倒了一大杯威士忌。

    “喏,给你!”他把茶杯拿走,放入水槽。“我知道凡事总需要尝试,但是得保持一定的水准。要来点水吗?”

    “她怎么说?”

    “哦,还不是又哭又叫,咬牙切齿。”恩尼斯耸耸肩,“很显然的,主管会议已经流会两次,他们一定气坏了!特别是乔登先生,而我们也知道,要让乔登先生先发狂,是不需煞费周章的。”

    他说的没错。乔登与无聊的客户打交道的本领,和他自负的本质可以相提并论,他自然会觉得受到了轻视。赛蒙今早才安抚了乔登一番。他接着又啜了一口威士忌。他感觉颤栗的感觉直达胃部,他这才记起,自己一整天还没吃过东西。

    第一次,他觉得夜晚是自由的、他可以拿着一本书,坐在科诺餐厅(connaught)角落的桌子旁,不过他并不想独自用餐。他大可打电话给朋友,但是这么一来,与朋友的晚餐势必围绕着卡洛琳与离婚的主题打转。但是与广告公司的同事一块吃饭,又总是脱离不了客户、新契机与办公室政治等老话题。他低头看着桌面,眯着眼睛看着阳光反射到瓶子上射出的光线。他会想念这个房间的。(未完待续)

 



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