Читать книгу Ventoux онлайн

68 страница из 86

‘It’s true,’ he said.

Peter had something serene about him. He did not seem to belong in a floating brothel, which, come to that, applied to his father and mother, too. They were more like an extravagant, gallery-owning couple, specializing in Russian art.

When we had finished our beers, Madame Olga gave Peter a nod. He nodded back. On board Sweet Lady Jane, there was a lot of communication with short nods.

We climbed onto the roof.

‘So, tomorrow the whores will arrive,’ said André.

‘The girls,’ said Peter. ‘We never call them whores. It doesn’t sound nice, my father thinks.’

‘How many of them are there, actually?’ asked André.

‘Four.’

‘Are they pretty?’

‘We wouldn’t get any customers if they weren’t.’

André thought for a moment. ‘And do you get a free turn?’

Peter looked at him. Then he started laughing. At first a short hiccup, which turned into longer howls and ended with a regular shaking, as if he had convulsions.

‘Sorry,’ said Peter, when he came to his senses a little. ‘But I thought it was a funny question. No, I’m not allowed any turns at all.’ He threatened to fall into a coma of laughter again.