The Unconsoled (42 page)

I became gradually conscious that Sophie had been rattling the dice for an inordinate period. In fact, the rattling had changed in character since she had first started to play with the dice. She now seemed to be shaking it with a feeble slowness, as though in time to some melody running through her head. I lowered the newspaper with a sense of alarm.

On the floor, Sophie was leaning on one stiffened arm, a posture that made her long hair plunge down over her shoulder, concealing her face entirely. She appeared to have become completely absorbed with the game, and her weight had tipped forward oddly, so that she was hovering right over the board. The whole of her body was rocking gently. Boris was watching her sulkily, passing his hands over the crack in his book.

Sophie went on and on shaking the dice, for thirty, forty seconds, before finally letting it roll out in front of her. She studied it dreamily, moved some pieces about the board, then began to shake the dice again. I could sense something dangerous in the atmosphere and decided it was time I took charge of the situation. Throwing the newspaper aside, I clapped my hands together and got to my feet.

'I have to be getting back to the hotel,' I announced. 'And I'd suggest, very strongly, you both go off to bed. We've all had a long day.'

I glimpsed Sophie's surprised expression as I strode out into the hall. The next moment she appeared behind me.

'You're going already? But have you had enough to eat?'

'I'm sorry, I know you've worked hard to prepare the meal. But it's got too late now. I have a very busy morning tomorrow.'

Sophie sighed and looked despondent. 'I'm sorry,' she said eventually. 'The evening wasn't very successful. I'm sorry.'

'Don't worry. It's not your fault. We were all rather tired. Now, I really have to be going.'

Sophie let me out sullenly, saying she would call me in the morning.

I spent the next several minutes wandering through the deserted streets trying to remember the way back to the hotel. I eventually came out onto a street I recognised, and began rather to enjoy the quiet of the night and the chance to be alone with just my thoughts and the sound of my footsteps. Before long, however, I felt again a certain regret about the way the evening had ended. But then the fact was, along with so much else, Sophie had succeeded in reducing my carefully planned time-table to chaos. And now here I was, reaching the end of my second day in the city having gained only the most superficial insights into the crisis I had come to assess. I recalled that I had even been prevented from keeping my morning's appointment with the Countess and the mayor, when I would have had the chance at last to hear for myself something of Brodsky's music. There was, of course, still plenty of time for me to make up lost ground; a number of substantial meetings still in front of me - such as that with the Citizens' Mutual Support Group - were certain to give me a much fuller picture of the situation here. Nevertheless, there could be no denying I had been placed under some pressure, and Sophie could hardly complain if I had not finished the day in the most relaxed of moods.

I had been strolling over a stone bridge thinking these thoughts. As I paused to gaze down into the water and at the row of lamps along the canalside, it occurred to me I still had the option of accepting Miss Collins's invitation to call on her. She had certainly intimated she was in a unique position to be of assistance, and now, with my time here growing ever more limited, I could see how a good talk with her might greatly expedite matters, providing me with virtually all the information I would by now have gathered myself had Sophie not had her way. I thought again of Miss Collins's drawing room, the velvet drapes and the weary furniture, and felt a sudden wish that I was there at this very moment. I began to walk again, over the bridge and into the dark street, resolving to call on her in the morning at the first opportunity.

PART III

21

I awoke to find bright sunlight pouring in through the vertical blinds and was seized by the panicky feeling I had let far too much of the morning slip by. But then I remembered my decision of the night before to pay a call on Miss Collins and got out of bed feeling much calmer.

The room was smaller and distinctly stuffier than my former one and I again felt annoyed at Hoffman for having obliged me to move. But the whole matter of the rooms no longer seemed as important as it had done the previous morning and as I washed and dressed I found no difficulty placing my mind firmly on the important meeting with Miss Collins upon which so much now depended. By the time I left my room, I had stopped worrying altogether about having slept in - the sleep, I knew, would prove invaluable in the long run - and was looking forward to a good breakfast over which I could organise my thoughts on the issues I would raise with Miss Collins.

I was surprised, then, on arriving down at the breakfast room to be greeted by the sound of a vacuum cleaner. The doors to the room were closed and when I pushed them open a little I saw two women in overalls cleaning the carpet, the tables and chairs pushed against the walls. The prospect of facing such a crucial meeting without breakfast was not a happy one and I returned to the lobby more than a little disgruntled. I walked past a group of American tourists up to the reception desk. The desk clerk was sitting reading a magazine, but on seeing me rose to his feet.

'Good morning, Mr Ryder.'

'Good morning. I'm somewhat disappointed to find breakfast is not being served.'

For a second, the desk clerk looked puzzled. Then he said: 'Normally, sir, even at this hour, someone would have been able to serve you breakfast. But of course, today being today, naturally enough, a great many of our staff are over at the concert hall to assist with the preparations. Mr Hoffman has himself been there since the early hours. I'm afraid we're very much running at half strength. Unfortunately the atrium also has had to be closed until lunch time. Of course, if it's a matter of coffee and a few rolls…'

'It's quite all right,' I said coldly. 'I simply don't have time to wait around while it's organised. I'll just have to do without breakfast this morning.'

The desk clerk began to apologise again, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand and walked away.

I stepped out of the hotel into the sunshine. It was not until I had walked some distance alongside the heavy traffic that I realised I was not at all sure of the location of Miss Collins's apartment. I had not attended carefully the night Stephan had driven us there, and besides, with the streets now so crowded with pedestrians and traffic, nothing was recognisable. I paused a moment on the pavement and considered asking a passer-by for directions. It was just conceivable Miss Collins was sufficiently well known in the city for me to do this. In fact I was about to stop a man in a business suit striding towards me, when I felt someone touch my shoulder from behind.

'Good morning, sir.'

I turned to find Gustav, holding a large cardboard box whose dimensions virtually obscured the upper half of his body. He was panting heavily, but whether this was due solely to his burden or because he had come hurrying after me, I could not tell. In any case, when I greeted him and enquired where he was going, it was a little while before he could reply.

'Oh, I was just taking this to the concert hall, sir,' he said eventually. "The larger items were all transported by van last night, but then there are so many things still needed. I've been having to go back and forth between the hotel and the concert hall since early morning. Everyone's very excited over there already, I can tell you, sir. There's a real atmosphere there.'

'That's good to hear,' I said. 'I'm also very much looking forward to the event. But I wonder if you might be able to assist me. You see, I have an appointment at Miss Collins's apartment this morning, but I've just for the moment lost my way a little.'

'Miss Collins? Well then you're not far at all. It's this way, sir.

I'll walk with you, if I may. Oh no, don't worry, sir, it's directly on my route.'

His box was perhaps not as heavy as it looked, for once we started to walk, Gustav set a steady pace alongside me.

'I'm very glad we've coincided like this, sir,' he went on, 'because to be quite frank, there's a matter I'd been meaning to raise with you. In fact, I'd been meaning to raise it ever since we met, but somehow with one thing then another I never got around to it. And now tonight's almost upon us and I still haven't asked you. It's just something that came up a few weeks ago, at the Hungarian Café, at one of our Sunday gatherings. It wasn't long after we heard the news about you coming to our town, and of course, like everyone else, we were talking about it. And someone, I think it was Gianni, he was saying how he'd read you were a very decent sort, as different as you could get from these prima donna types, how you had a reputation for being very concerned about the ordinary citizen, he was saying all these things, sir. And there we were around the table, eight or nine of us, Josef wasn't there that night, we were watching the sun go down over the square and I think we each had the same thought all at once. At first we were all just sitting there in silence, none of us daring to say it aloud. In the end it was Karl, typical of him, Karl said what we were all thinking. "Why don't we ask him?" he said. "What have we got to lose? We should at least ask him. He sounds completely different to that other one. He might even agree, you never know. Why don't we ask him, it might be our last chance." And then we were all suddenly talking and talking about it, and ever since then, sir, to tell you the truth, we haven't sat together for any length of time without bringing up the topic. We'd be talking about something else, everyone laughing, and then this silence would come over us and we'd realise we were all thinking about it again. That's why I was starting to feel rather sorry for myself, sir. I thought, I'd seen you a few times, I'd had the honour of talking with you and yet I hadn't worked up the nerve to ask. Now here we are, the big event only hours away and I still haven't asked. How could I ever explain that to the boys on Sunday? As a matter of fact, when I got up this morning, sir, I said to myself, I must find him, I must at least put it to Mr Ryder, the boys are depending on it. But then everything was so busy, and you were bound to have so much to do, and I thought, well, I may well have lost my chance. So you see, I'm very glad we've coincided like this, I hope you won't mind my putting it to you, and of course, if you felt we were asking the impossible, then naturally that would be the last of it, the boys would accept that, oh yes.'

We had turned a corner into a busy boulevard. Gustav fell silent as we crossed at a set of lights and it was not until we were on the other side walking past a row of Italian cafés that he said:

'I'm sure you've guessed what I'm going to ask, sir. All we're requesting is a small mention. That's all, sir.'

'A small mention?'

'Just a small mention, sir. As you know, many of us, we've worked and worked over the years to try and change the attitude in this town towards our profession. We may have had a small effect, but by and large we've failed to make a general impact and, well, it's perfectly understandable, there's frustration setting in. We're none of us getting any younger, there's a feeling that things may never really change. But one word from you tonight, sir, that could alter the course of everything. It could be an historic turning point for our profession. That's how the boys see it. In fact, sir, some of the boys believe this is our last chance, at least for our generation. When will we get a chance like this again? That's what they keep asking. So here I am, I've put it to you, sir. Of course, if you feel it's not quite the thing, and I could well understand your feeling that way, after all you've come here to address some very important issues, and what I'm talking about is a small matter. Big for us, but seen overall, I appreciate, it's a small matter. If you felt it was impossible, sir, please say so and that'll be the last you'll hear of it.'

I thought for a moment, conscious that he was watching me intensely from around the edge of his box.

'What you're suggesting,' I said after a while, is that I make some small mention of you during… during my address to the people of this town.'

'No more than a few words at the most, sir.'

Certainly, the notion of coming to the help of the elderly porter and his colleagues in such a way had its appeal. I thought for a moment, then said: 'Very well. I'd be happy to say something on your behalf.'

I heard Gustav take a deep breath as the impact of my reply sank in. Then he said quite quietly:

'We'd be forever indebted to you, sir.'

He was about to say more, but I had somehow become taken by the idea of frustrating, for a while, his attempts to express his gratitude to me.

'Yes, let's think about it, how could we do it?' I said quickly, assuming a preoccupied air. 'Yes, I could say as I came up to the podium something like: "Before I begin, there's a small yet rather important point I'd like to make." Something like that. Yes, that would be easy enough.'

I suddenly saw quite vividly the gathering of sturdy old men around a café table, the looks on their faces - of disbelief, of unfathomed joy - as Gustav announced the news to them. I saw myself entering their midst, quietly and modestly, and their faces turning to me. All the while, I was conscious of Gustav walking by my side, no doubt virtually bursting to finish thanking me, but I nevertheless kept up my talk.

'Yes, yes. "
A
small but important point," I could say to them. "There is something which I, having seen many other cities around the world, find somewhat peculiar here…" Perhaps "peculiar" is too strong a word. Perhaps I might say "eccentric".'

'Ah yes, sir,' Gustav broke in. ' "Eccentric" would be a fine word. None of us wants any antagonism stirred up. But this is precisely why you're such a unique opportunity for us. You see, even if in a few years' time another celebrity agreed to come to our town, and even if we were to succeed in persuading him to speak for us, what are the chances of his having your sort of tact, sir? "Eccentric" would be a perfect way to put it, sir.'