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me up, Bertrand.”
    “Are you mad?”
    “Then let me lift you.”
    “I do not wish to—Ah, hold on—No, stop!”
    I grabbed his thighs and hoisted him in the air, burying my face in his crotch. He wobbled dangerously, then braced himself against the shed wall.
    “ Oh, là ,” he said. “ Mais … Oh! ”
    “What can you see?” I asked—rather indistinctly, as I had a mouthful of warm cloth.
    “Well, really… Oh, mon dieu …”
    I could make a good guess at what Bertrand was watching, as he started stiffening in his pants. I pressed my face into him. It’s amazing what you can get away with on a crowded railway station platform in broad daylight.
    “Let me down. Assez .”

    He sprang to the ground and landed nimbly.
    “Well? What did you see?”
    Bertrand shrugged. “He was sucking him.”
    “Who? Who was sucking whom?” In recounting such things, mere pronouns are inadequate.
    “ Le blond . The engineer. He was on his knees, sucking the chauffeur.”
    “My God. Quick. Pick me up. I want to see—”
    “Mitch—”
    “I wanna see his cock—”
    “Mitch, for God’s sake—” Bertrand was clearing his throat.
    “What’s the matter? You’ve seen it. it’s only fair that I—Oh. Right.” It was the conductor, bearing down on us with a face like thunder.
    “What are you doing, gentlemen?”
    “Just getting a little light exercise, if it’s any of your business, which I doubt,” I replied. “We are traveling to London for a gymnastics competition.”
    He knew very well the kind of gymnastics we were practicing for, but he was in no position to comment.
    “Please, could you get back on the train, sir? We are about to depart.”
    “It doesn’t look like it.” Nearly all the passengers were out on the platform—even Daisy Athenasy and Hugo Taylor, surrounded by people. The soldiers were sniffing around Miss Athenasy like dogs; Hugo Taylor was chatting with “my” sergeant.
    “Come on, Bertrand. Let’s go and talk to our friends.”
    “This is private railway property, sir.”
    “Private? Yes, we saw just how private it was. Come, Bertrand.”
    We left the conductor steaming, his back to the shed door.
    Frankie was flitting around the stars, trying to keep the
soldiers’ hands off Daisy’s dress, trying at the same time to get a good look at their legs.
    “Oh, chaps, thank God you’re here! Give me a hand getting Daisy back on the train!”
    “Is she…” I made a face, crossing my eyes and sticking out my tongue to suggest intoxication.
    “Just a touch,” said Frankie. “Come on, Daisy dear. Back on the nice warm train. You’ll catch your death out here. Hugo, could you give me a—Oh, this is hopeless.” Hugo Taylor had detached himself from the throng with the sergeant, and they were strolling up the platform, deep in conversation. How nice life must be for the rich and famous…
    “Where the hell is Joseph?” growled Daisy Athenasy, tottering on her heels. “Joseph! I want Joseph!”
    “Joseph is on the train, I’m sure.” Frankie assured her. “And so is nice Mr. Dickinson. So shall we—Ups-a-daisy, Daisy! Honestly,” he added, turning to me as Miss Athenasy staggered onto the carriage step, “I could murder that bloody Peter Dickinson. Never there when you want him, always there when you don’t.”
    “Let me help.” I took Daisy by the elbow and pushed her onto the train. She slipped, screamed, but managed to right herself. I wondered just how much of whatever-it-was she had taken.
    “Will she be all right?”
    “Oh, yes,” said Frankie. “She’s always like this. She only stayed sober for the photographs because I hid her stuff. She raised merry hell.”
    “Is she injecting?”
    “Not if I can help it.” He lowered his voice. “So far, she has restricted herself to sniffing. Not a very ladylike habit, in my opinion, especially when she falls asleep with a runny nose. Oh, the things I have to do in my job. Hello, looks like we’re about to get