Glancing behind me, I saw that Boris was in the process of falling asleep, his head against the cushioned arm-rest.
‘So, Mr Ryder,’ Stephan went on. ‘I assume you’re wanting to return to the hotel.’
‘Actually, Boris and I were on our way to someone’s apartment. In the centre, near the medieval chapel.’
‘The medieval chapel? Hmm.’
‘Is that going to be a problem?’
‘Oh, not really. No problem at all.’ Stephan steered round a tight corner into another narrow dark street. ‘It’s just that, well, as I mentioned, I was just on my way somewhere myself. To an appointment. Now let me see …’
‘Your appointment is an urgent one?’
‘Well actually, Mr Ryder, it is rather. It’s to do with Mr Brodsky, you see. In fact, it’s quite crucial. Hmm. I wonder, if you and Boris were generous enough to wait just a few minutes while I saw to it, then I could drive you wherever you want afterwards.’
‘Naturally you must attend to your business first. But I’d be grateful if there’s not too much delay. You see, Boris hasn’t had supper yet.’
‘I’ll be as quick as I can, Mr Ryder. I only wish I could take you immediately, but you see, I daren’t be late. As I say, it’s rather a tricky little mission …’
‘Of course, you must see to that first. We’ll be very happy to wait.’
‘I’ll try and make it as quick as possible. Though to be honest, I don’t see how I can take too many short cuts. In fact, it’s the sort of thing Father would usually handle himself, or else one of the gentlemen, but well, it’s just that Miss Collins has always had a soft spot for me …’ The young man broke off, suddenly embarrassed. Then he said: ‘I’ll try not to be long.’
We were now moving through a more salubrious district – closer, I guessed, to the city centre. The street lighting was much better and I noticed tram lines running alongside us. There was the occasional café or restaurant closed for the night, but for the most part the area was full of stately apartment buildings. The windows were all dark and our vehicle seemed the only thing for miles disturbing the hush. Stephan Hoffman drove in silence for a few minutes. Then he said suddenly, as though he had for some time been working himself up to it:
‘Look, it’s awfully impertinent of me. But are you sure you don’t want to go back to the hotel? It’s just that, I mean, with those journalists waiting for you there and everything.’
‘Journalists?’ I looked out into the night. ‘Ah yes. The journalists.’
‘Golly, I hope you don’t think I’m being cheeky. It’s just that I happened to see them as I was leaving. Sitting in the lobby with their folders and briefcases on their laps, looking very keyed up at the thought of meeting you. As I say, it’s none of my business and naturally you’ve got the whole thing worked out, I’m sure.’
‘Quite, quite,’ I said softly, and continued to look out of the window.
Stephan fell silent, no doubt deciding he should not press the matter further. But I found myself thinking about the journalists, and after a moment I thought I could perhaps remember some such appointment. Certainly, the image the young man had evoked of people sitting with folders and briefcases rang a bell. In the end, though, I could not recall with any definiteness such an item having been on my schedule and decided to forget the matter.
‘Ah, here we are,’ Stephan said beside me. ‘Now if you’d excuse me for a little while. Please make yourselves as comfortable as you can. I’ll be back as quickly as possible.’
We had come to a halt in front of a large white apartment building. Several storeys high, the dark wrought-iron balconies at each level gave it a Spanish flavour.
Stephan got out of the car and I watched him go up to the entrance. He stooped over the row of apartment buttons, pressed one, then stood waiting, a nervousness discernible in his posture. A moment later a light came on in the entrance hall.
The door was opened by an elderly, silver-haired woman. She looked slender and frail, but there was a certain gracefulness in her movement as she smiled and showed Stephan in. The door closed behind him, but by leaning right back in my seat I found I could still see the two of them clearly illuminated in the narrow pane to the side of the front door. Stephan was wiping his feet on the doormat, saying:
‘I’m sorry to come like this at such short notice.’
‘I’ve told you many times, Stephan,’ the elderly woman said, ‘I’m always here whenever you need to talk things over.’
‘Well actually, Miss Collins, it wasn’t … Well, it’s not about the usual stuff. I wanted to talk to you about something else, a quite important matter. Father would have come himself, but, well, he was so busy …’
‘Ah,’ the woman interrupted with a smile, ‘something else your father’s put you up to. He’s still giving you all the dirty work.’
There was a playful note in her voice, but Stephan seemed to miss it.
‘Not at all,’ he retorted earnestly. ‘On the contrary, this is a mission of a particularly delicate and difficult nature. Father entrusted me with it and I was very happy to accept …’
‘So I’ve now become a mission! And one of a delicate and difficult nature at that!’
‘Well no. That’s to say …’ Stephan paused in confusion.
The elderly woman seemed to decide she had teased Stephan enough. ‘All right,’ she said, ‘we’d better go inside and discuss this properly over some sherry.’
‘How kind of you, Miss Collins. But actually, I mustn’t stay long. I’ve got some people waiting out in the car.’ He indicated in our direction, but the elderly woman was already opening the door into her apartment.
I watched her lead Stephan through a small and tidy front parlour, through a second doorway and down a shadowy corridor decorated on either side with little framed water-colours. The corridor ended at Miss Collins’s drawing room – a large L-shaped affair at the back of the building. The light here was low and cosy, and at first glance the room looked expensively elegant in an old-fashioned way. On closer inspection, however, I could see much of the furniture was extremely worn, and that what at first I had taken for antiques were in fact little better than junk. Once luxurious couches and armchairs sat about the place in states of disrepair and the full-length velvet drapes were mottled and frayed. Stephan seated himself with an ease that betrayed his familiarity with the surroundings, but continued to look tense as Miss Collins busied herself at the drinks cabinet. When she eventually handed him a glass and sat down near him, the young man burst out abruptly: ‘It’s to do with Mr Brodsky.’
‘Ah,’ Miss Collins said. ‘I rather suspected as much.’
‘Miss Collins, the fact is, we wondered if you might consider helping us. Or rather, helping him …’ Stephan broke off with a laugh and looked away.
Miss Collins tilted her head thoughtfully. Then she asked: ‘You’re asking me to help Leo?’
‘Oh, we’re not asking you to do anything you’d find distasteful or … well, painful. Father understands perfectly how you must feel.’ He gave another short laugh. ‘It’s just that your help could prove crucial just at this stage in Mr Brodsky’s … recovery.’
‘Ah.’ Miss Collins nodded and appeared to give this some thought. Then she said: ‘May I take it from all this, Stephan, that your father’s having only limited success with Leo?’
The teasing in her voice seemed to me more pronounced than ever, but again Stephan failed to notice it.
‘Not at all!’ he said crossly. ‘On the contrary, Father’s worked wonders, made enormous strides! It hasn’t been easy, but Father’s perseverance has been remarkable, even to those of us used to the way Father goes about things.’
‘Perhaps he hasn’t persevered enough.’
‘But you’ve no idea, Miss Collins! No idea! Sometimes he’s come home exhausted after a gruelling day at the hotel, so exhausted he’s had to go straight upstairs to bed. I’ve had Mother come down complaining and I’ve gone up there,
up to their room, and found Father snoring away on his back, collapsed right across their bed. As you know, it’s been an important understanding for years that he goes to sleep on his side, never on his back, he always snores so badly otherwise, so you can imagine Mother’s disgust at discovering him like that. It’s usually God’s own job for me to rouse him but I have to because otherwise, I told you before, otherwise Mother refuses to go back into the bedroom. She’ll just hover out in the corridor with her angry look, she won’t go back in until I’ve woken him up, undressed him, got him in his bathrobe and guided him into the bathroom. But what I’m meaning to tell you is that, well, even when he’s that tired, sometimes the phone’s gone and it’s been one of the staff to say Mr Brodsky’s right on the edge, that he’s been demanding a drink, and, do you know, Father somehow finds more energy from somewhere. He pulls himself together, that look comes into his eyes, he gets dressed and goes off into the night, not to return for hours. He said he’d get Mr Brodsky fit and he’s giving everything he’s got, every last bit to accomplish what he said he would.’
‘That’s very commendable. But exactly how far is he getting?’
‘I assure you, Miss Collins, the progress has been astonishing. Everyone who’s seen Mr Brodsky recently has remarked on it. There’s so much more going on behind those eyes. His comments too, they have more and more meaning by the day. But most crucially, his ability, Mr Brodsky’s great ability, that’s returning without a doubt. By all accounts, the rehearsals have been going extremely promisingly. The orchestra, they’ve been completely won over by him. And when he’s not been rehearsing at the concert hall, he’s been busy working things out by himself. You can often catch little snatches of him at the piano now as you wander about the hotel. When Father hears that piano, he’s so encouraged you can see he’s ready to sacrifice any amount of sleep.’
The young man paused and looked at Miss Collins. For a moment she seemed far away, leaning her head to one side as though she too might catch a few notes from a distant piano. Then a gentle smile returned to her face and she looked again at Stephan.
‘What I’ve heard,’ she said, ‘is that your father sits him up in that hotel drawing room, sits him up in front of the piano like he’s some manikin, and Leo stays there for hours gently swaying on the stool without touching a note.’
‘Miss Collins, that’s quite unfair! Perhaps there were occasions like that in the early days, but it’s a very different story now. In any case, even if he does sit there silently sometimes, surely you must remember this, it hardly means nothing’s going on. Silence is just as likely to indicate the most profound ideas forming, the deepest energies being summoned. In fact, the other day, after a particularly long silence, Father actually went into the drawing room and there was Mr Brodsky staring down at the piano keys. After a while he looked up at Father and said: “The violins need to be harsh. They must sound harsh.” That’s what he said. There may have been silence, but inside his head, there’d been a whole universe of music. What he’ll show us all on Thursday night, it’s thrilling to think about. Just so long as he doesn’t falter now.’
‘But you said, Stephan, you wanted me to help in some way.’
The young man, who had become increasingly animated, now collected himself.
‘Well yes,’ he said. ‘That’s what I’ve come here tonight to speak to you about. As I say, Mr Brodsky’s been rapidly regaining all his old powers. And, well, naturally, along with his great talents, various other things are now re-emerging. To those of us who never knew him very well before, it’s been something of a revelation. These days he’s often so articulate, so urbane. Anyway, the point is, along with everything else, he’s started to remember. Well, to put it bluntly, he talks about you. Thinks and talks about you all the time. Last night, just to give you an example – this is embarrassing but I’ll tell you – last night he started to weep and couldn’t stop. He just kept weeping, pouring out all his feelings for you. It’s the third or fourth time it’s happened, though last night’s was the most extreme instance. It was almost midnight, Mr Brodsky hadn’t emerged from the drawing room, so Father went to listen at the door and heard him sobbing. So he went in and found the place in complete darkness, and Mr Brodsky bowed over the piano, weeping. Well, there was a suite vacant upstairs, so Father took him up there and had the kitchen bring up all Mr Brodsky’s favourite soups – he tends only to eat soups – and plied him with orange juice and soft drinks, but frankly, last night, it was touch and go. Apparently he was attacking the cartons of juice feverishly. If Father hadn’t been there, it’s very possible he would have cracked, even at this late stage. And all the time he continued to talk about you. Well, the point I’m getting at – oh dear, I shouldn’t stay too long, I’ve got people waiting in the car – my point is, with so much of the future of our city depending on him, we have to do everything to ensure he’ll pull through this last bit. Dr Kaufmann agrees with Father, we’re close to the last hurdle now. So you see how much hangs in the balance.’
Miss Collins continued to look at Stephan with the same distant half-smile, but still said nothing. After a moment, the young man went on:
‘Miss Collins, I realise what I’m saying might well be opening up old wounds. And I appreciate you and Mr Brodsky haven’t spoken to each other now for many years …’
‘Oh, that’s not quite accurate. Only earlier this year, he shouted obscenities at me as I was strolling across the Volksgarten.’
Stephan laughed awkwardly, unsure how to handle Miss Collins’s tone. Then he went on with some earnestness: ‘Miss Collins, no one’s suggesting you have any sort of extended contact with him. Good lord, no. You wish to put the past behind you. Father, everyone, they appreciate that. All we’re asking, just one small thing, it might make such a difference, it would so encourage him and mean so much to him. We hoped you wouldn’t mind us at least putting it to you.’
‘I’ve already agreed to attend the banquet.’
‘Yes, yes, of course. Father told me, we’re so grateful …’
‘On the strict understanding there’ll be no direct contact …’
‘That’s completely understood, absolutely. The banquet, yes. But actually, Miss Collins, it was something further we wanted to ask of you, if you could just bear to think about it. You see, a group of gentlemen – Mr von Winterstein among them – will be taking Mr Brodsky to the zoo tomorrow. Apparently in all the years, he’s never visited it. His dog can’t be admitted, naturally, but Mr Brodsky has finally consented to leave it in good hands for just a couple of hours. It was felt that an outing of this sort would help calm him. The giraffes in particular we thought might be relaxing. Well, I’ll come to the point. The gentlemen wondered if you might possibly care to join the group at the zoo. Even say just a word or two to him. You wouldn’t need to travel out with the party, you could just join them there, just for a few minutes, exchange a pleasant remark with him, perhaps say a few uplifting things, it could make all the difference. A few minutes, then you could be on your way. Please, Miss Collins, if you’d give this some consideration. So much might hang on it.’
While Stephan had been speaking, Miss Collins had risen from her seat and moved slowly over to her fireplace. She now remained standing quite still for several seconds, one hand resting on the mantelpiece as though to steady herself. When eventually she turned to Stephan again, I saw that her eyes had become moist.
‘You see my problem, Stephan,’ she said. ‘I may have been married to him once. But for many years now, the only times I’ve encountered him, he’s been shouting abuse at me. So you see, it’s hard for me to guess what sort of conversation he’d best enjoy.’
‘Miss Collins, I swear to you he’s a different man now. These days he’s so polite and urbane and … but surely, you’d remember. If you could even just think about it. There’s so much at stake.’
Miss Collins sipped her sherry thoughtfully. She seemed about to reply, but just at this point I heard Boris shift
behind me in the back of the car. Turning, I saw that the little boy must have been awake for some time. He was gazing through his window out across the still and empty street, and I sensed a sadness about him. I was about to say something, but he must have realised my attention was on him, for he asked quietly without moving:
‘Can you do bathrooms?’
‘Can I do bathrooms?’
Boris sighed heavily and went on gazing out into the darkness. Then he said: ‘I’d never done tiles before. That’s why I made all those mistakes. If someone had shown me, I could have done them.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you could have done. This is the bathroom in your new apartment?’
‘If someone had shown me, I could have done them all right. Then Mother would have been happy with the bathroom. She’d have liked the bathroom then.’
‘Ah. So she’s not happy with it at the moment?’
Boris looked at me as though I had said something immensely stupid. Then, with heavy irony, he said: ‘Why would she cry about the bathroom if she liked it?’
‘Why indeed? So she cries about the bathroom. I wonder why she does that.’
Boris turned back to his window and I could now see by the mixed light coming into the car that he was struggling not to burst into tears. At the last moment he managed to disguise his upset as a yawn and rubbed his face with his fists.
‘We’ll sort all these things out eventually,’ I said. ‘You’ll see.’
‘I could have done it all right if someone had shown me. Then Mother wouldn’t have cried.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you’d have made a very good job of it. But we’ll sort everything out soon.’
I straightened in my seat and gazed through the windscreen. There was hardly a lit window anywhere down the street. After a while I said: ‘Boris, we have to have a good think now. Are you listening?’
There was silence from the back of the car.
‘Boris,’ I went on, ‘we’ve got to make a decision. I know earlier we were on our way to join Mother. But now it’s got very late. Boris, are you listening?’
The Unconsoled Page 7
