The Unconsoled (12 page)

The telephone rang beside the desk clerk's hand, and excusing himself he picked up the receiver. As he listened, I noticed he looked towards me awkwardly a few times. Then he said: 'He's just here, madam,' and handed me the receiver.

'Hello,' I said.

For a few seconds there was silence. Then a voice said: 'It's me.'

It took me a moment to realise it was Sophie. But as soon as I did so, I became consumed by an intense rage towards her, and it was only Boris's presence that stopped me shouting furiously down the line. In the end I said very coldly: 'So. It's you.'

There was another short silence before she said: 'I'm calling from outside. In the street. I saw you and Boris go in. It's probably better he doesn't see me just now. It's way past his bedtime. Try not to let him know you're talking to me.'

I glanced down at Boris, who had dozed off on his feet leaning against me.

'So what exactly do you think you're doing?' I asked.

I heard her sigh heavily. Then she said:

'You've got every right to be angry. I… I don't know what happened. I can see how silly I've been now…'

'Look,' I interrupted, anxious that I would not be able to keep my anger under control much longer, 'where exactly are you?'

'On the other side of the street. Under the arches, in front of the antique shops.'

'I'll be out in a minute. Just stay where you are.'

I handed the receiver back to the desk clerk and was relieved to see that Boris had remained asleep throughout the call. In any case, at that moment, the elevator doors opened and Gustav stepped out onto the carpet.

His uniform did indeed look immaculate. His thin white hair had been wetted and combed. A puffiness around the eyes and a slight stiffness in his gait were the only signs of his having been fast asleep just a few minutes earlier.

'Ah, good evening, sir,' he said as he approached.

'Good evening.'

'You've brought Boris with you. How very kind of you to have gone to such trouble.' Gustav came towards us a few more steps, observing his grandson with a gentle smile. 'My goodness, sir, look at him. Fallen fast asleep.'

'Yes, he got very tired,' I said.

'He still looks so young when he's asleep like that.' The porter went on gazing tenderly at Boris for another moment. Then he looked up at me and said: 'I was wondering, sir, if you managed to talk to Sophie. I've been thinking all afternoon about how you might have got on.'

'Well, I did speak to her, yes.'

'Ah. And did you get any inkling?'

'Inkling?'

'Of what's preoccupying her?'

'Ah. Well, although she said several quite revealing things… to be frank, as I said to you earlier, it's very difficult for an outsider like myself to make much sense of these things. Naturally I did form one or two vague ideas about what might be troubling her, but really I feel more than ever it would be best if you yourself spoke to her.'

'But you see, sir, as I believe I explained to you before…'

'Yes, yes, you and Sophie don't talk directly, I remember,' I said with a sudden rush of impatience. 'Nevertheless, surely, if this is a matter of importance to you…'

'It's a matter of the utmost importance to me. Oh yes, sir, the
utmost
importance. It's for Boris's sake, you see. If we don't get to the bottom of this matter soon, he's going to become seriously worried, I know he is. There are clear signs already. And you only have to look at him, the way he is now, sir, you look at him like this, and you see he really is still so young. We owe it to him to keep his world free of such worries for a little while longer, don't you think so, sir? In fact, to call this matter one of importance to me is something of an understatement. Latterly I've hardly stopped worrying about it day and night. But you see…' He paused, gazing blankly at the floor in front of him. Then he shook his head a little and sighed. 'You say I should speak to Sophie myself. It's not quite that simple, sir. You have to understand the history of the situation. You see, we've had this… this
understanding
now for many years. Ever since she was young. When she was
very
small, of course, things were different then. Up until she was eight or nine, oh, Sophie and I, we'd talk all the time. I'd tell her stories, we'd go for long walks around the Old Town, hand in hand, just the two of us, talking and talking. You mustn't misunderstand, sir, I loved Sophie dearly then and I do so to this day. Oh yes, sir. We were
very
close when she was small. This understanding only started when she was eight years old. Yes, that's how old she was then. Incidentally, sir, this understanding of ours, it wasn't something I originally imagined going on for very long. I suppose I saw it as something that might last just a few days. That was all, sir, that was all I intended. The first day, I remember I was off work and I was trying to put up a shelf in the kitchen for my wife. Sophie kept following me about, asking this, offering to fetch that, trying to help me. I maintained my silence, sir, I maintained it completely. She soon became bewildered and upset, of course, I could see that. But it was what I had decided and I had to be firm. It wasn't easy for me, sir. Oh goodness me, it wasn't easy at all, I loved my little girl more than anything in the world, but I told myself I had to be strong. Three days, I said to myself, three days would be sufficient, three days and that would be the end of it. Just three days, then I'd be able to come in from work, pick her up again, hold her close to me, we'd tell each other everything. Catch up, so to speak. In those days, I was working at the Alba Hotel and towards the end of that third day, as you can imagine, I was longing for my shift to end so that I could get home and see my little Sophie again. You can understand my disappointment, then, when on returning to the apartment, Sophie refused to come and greet me when I called to her. What's more, sir, when I went and found her she looked away from me very deliberately and left the room without speaking. As you can imagine, I was very hurt. And I suppose I got a little angry - as I say, I'd had a very hard day and had been so looking forward to seeing her. I said to myself, if
that's
how she wants to behave, let her see where it leads. So I ate my supper with my wife, then went to bed not having said a single word to Sophie. I suppose things just went on from there. One day followed another, and before you knew it, it just became the norm between us. I don't want you to misunderstand me, sir, we weren't quarrelling as such, there ceased to be any animosity between us fairly quickly. In fact, it was in those days just as it is now. Sophie and I remained very considerate towards one another. It's simply that we refrained from speaking. I admit, sir, I didn't at that stage imagine the thing going on for as long as it has. My intention, I suppose, was always that at some opportune point - on a special day such as her birthday - we'd put it all behind us and go back to the way we'd been. But then her birthday came and went, Christmas also, it came and went, sir, and we somehow never resumed. Then when she was eleven, a certain sad little event occurred. In those days Sophie had this little white hamster. She called it Ulrich, she became greatly fond of it. She'd spend hours on end talking to it, taking it around the apartment in her hands. Then one day the creature disappeared. Sophie searched everywhere. Her mother and I also searched the apartment, we asked the neighbours about it, but to no avail. My wife did her best to reassure Sophie that Ulrich was safe - that he'd just gone on a little holiday and would be back before long. Then one evening, my wife had gone out and Sophie and I were alone in the apartment. I was in the bedroom with the radio up quite loud - there was a concert being broadcast - when I became aware that in the living room Sophie was sobbing uncontrollably. Almost immediately I guessed she'd at last found Ulrich. Or what remained of him - he'd been missing a few weeks by then. Well, the door between the bedroom and the living room was closed, and as I say, the radio was up loud, so it would have been perfectly conceivable I might not have heard her. So I remained in the bedroom, my ear close to the door, the concert playing behind me. I did of course think several times I'd go through to her, but then the longer I stood there at the door, the more odd it seemed that I should suddenly burst in. You see, sir, it wasn't as though she was sobbing so loudly. For a little while, I even sat down again, tried to pretend to myself I'd never heard her. But of course it just tore me up inside to hear her sob like that and I soon found myself standing at the door again, stooped over, trying to listen to Sophie over the sound of the concert. If she calls for me, I told myself, if she knocks or calls for me, then I'll go in. That's what I decided. If she shouts: "Papa!" then I'll go in, I'll explain I hadn't heard her before because of the music. I waited, but she neither called me nor knocked. The only thing she did, after some time of very distraught sobbing - it went straight to the heart, I can tell you, sir - she called out as though to herself - I emphasise this, sir, as though saying it to herself - she called out: "I left Ulrich in the box! It was my fault! I forgot! It was my fault!" What had happened, I ascertained later, was that Sophie had put Ulrich inside this little gift box. She'd wanted to take him out somewhere, she was often taking him out to "show" him things. She'd put him inside this little gift box she had, all ready to go out, but then something had happened, she'd been distracted and she hadn't gone out at all, and meanwhile she'd forgotten she'd put Ulrich inside the box. On this night I'm telling you about, sir, weeks later, she'd been doing something around the apartment and suddenly remembered. Can you imagine what an awful moment that would have been for my little girl! Suddenly remembering like that, perhaps hoping against hope she'd remembered incorrectly and rushing to the box. Of course, there was Ulrich, still inside. Listening through the door I couldn't of course determine at the time everything that had happened, but I more or less guessed the moment she shouted that out. "I left Ulrich in the box! It was my fault!" But I want you to understand, sir, she said this as though to herself. If she'd said: "Papa! Please come out…" But no. Even so, I did actually think to myself: "If she calls out like that again, I'll go in." But she didn't. She just went on sobbing. I could picture her holding Ulrich in her fingers, perhaps hoping he could still be saved… Oh, it wasn't easy for me, sir. But the concert was continuing behind me, and you see, I remained in the bedroom. I heard my wife come in much later and the two of them talking and Sophie crying again. And then my wife came into the bedroom and told me what had happened. "Didn't you hear anything?" she asked, and I said: "Oh dear, no, I was listening to the concert." The next morning, at breakfast, Sophie said nothing to me, and I said nothing to her. We just continued with our understanding, in other words. But I realised, there was no doubting it, I realised Sophie
knew
I'd been listening. And what was more, she wasn't resenting me for it. She passed me the milk jug, just as usual, the butter, she even took away my plate for me - an extra little service. What I'm saying, sir, is that Sophie understood our arrangement and respected it. After that, as you might imagine, things rather settled on that basis. You see, since we'd not brought an end to our understanding over the matter of Ulrich, it wouldn't have seemed right to bring it to an end until something at least as significant came along. Indeed, sir, to end it suddenly one day for no special reason would not only have been odd, really, it would have belittled the tragedy the whole Ulrich episode represented for my daughter. I do hope you can see this, sir. In any case, as I say, after that our understanding became, well, cemented, and even in these present circumstances it doesn't seem to me appropriate I should suddenly break such a long-standing arrangement. I dare say Sophie would feel much the same way. That's why, sir, I asked you, as a special favour, particularly since you happened to be walking that way this afternoon…'

'Yes, yes, yes,' I broke in, feeling another wave of impatience. Then I said more gently:
I
appreciate how things stand between you and your daughter. But I wonder, isn't it possible, this very matter - this matter of your understanding. Isn't it possible that this might itself be at the heart of what's bothering her? That it was this understanding of yours she was thinking about that time you saw her sitting so despondently in the café?'

This seemed to stun Gustav and for some time he remained silent. Finally he said: "That's never occurred to me before, sir, what you've just suggested. I'll have to give it some thought. I must say, it's never occurred to me before.' He was silent again for a few moments, a troubled expression on his face. Then he looked up and said: 'But why would she be so concerned about our understanding
now
? After all this time?' He shook his head slowly. 'May I ask you, sir? Is this an idea you formed from speaking to her?'

Suddenly I felt very weary and wished the whole affair to be taken off my hands.
I
don't know, I don't know,' I said. 'As I keep saying, these family matters… I'm merely an outsider. How can I judge? I was simply saying it's a possibility.'

'Certainly it's something I'll have to give some thought to. For Boris's sake, I'm prepared to examine every possibility. Yes, I'll have to give it some thought.' Again he fell silent, the troubled expression growing on his face. 'I wonder, sir,' he said eventually, 'if I might request another favour. When you next see Sophie, perhaps you wouldn't mind investigating this particular possibility. I know you'd go about it in a very tactful way. I wouldn't normally ask such a thing, but, you see, I'm thinking of little Boris here. I'd be so grateful.'

He looked at me appealingly. In the end I gave a sigh and said: 'Very well. I'll do what I can for Boris's sake. But I can only say again, for an outsider like me…'

Perhaps it was the mention of his name, but at that moment Boris started awake.

'Grandfather!' he exclaimed and, releasing me, made excitedly for Gustav with the obvious intention of embracing him. But at the last moment, the little boy seemed to remember himself and held out his hand instead.