David Golder, The Ball, Snow in Autumn & The Courilof Affair (2008) (16 page)

THAT
NIGHT HE
dreamed of Joyce, her features mingling with those of the little Jewish woman he’d seen on the Rue des Rosiers. It was the first time in a long while. The memory of Joy lay dormant within him, like his pain …

He woke up, his legs shaking and as tired as if he had walked for miles. All day long he sat wrapped in blankets and shawls looking out of the window; his cards lay untouched. He was shivering; an insidious, icy chill seemed to pierce him, right down to his bones.

Soifer arrived later that evening, but he too felt unwell and melancholy and hardly spoke. He left earlier than usual, hurrying down the dark street, his umbrella clutched to his chest.

Golder ate dinner. Then, when the maid had gone up to bed, he walked around the apartment, locking all the doors. Gloria had had all the chandeliers taken away. In every room, an electric bulb hung from a long wire; they swayed in the draught and lit up Golder’s reflection in the mirrors above the fireplaces. There he was, barefoot, holding his keys, with his wild, thick white hair and strikingly pale face, each day showing more and more of that bluish tint common amongst people with a heart condition.

The doorbell rang. Before answering it, Golder looked in surprise at the time. The evening papers had arrived long ago. Perhaps Soifer had had an accident…

“Is that you, Soifer?” he asked through the door. “Who is it?”

“Tubingen,” a voice replied.

Golder, his face suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, unfastened the security chain. His hands were unsteady and he grew impatient with himself as he fumbled about, but Tubingen waited without saying a word. Golder knew that he could remain like that, motionless, for hours on end. “He hasn’t changed a bit,” he thought.

Finally, he managed to unlock the door. Tubingen came in.

“Hello,” he said.

He took off his hat and coat, hanging them up himself, then opened his wet umbrella, set it in the corner, and shook Golder’s hand.

His long head was oddly shaped, in such a way that his forehead looked too big and luminous. He had a puritanical, pale face, with thin lips.

“May I come in?” he asked, pointing to the sitting room.

“Yes, please do … “

Golder saw him glance around the bare rooms and lower his eyes, like someone who has intruded on a secret.

“My wife has left,” he said.

“Biarritz?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ah,” murmured Tubingen.

He sat down; Golder sat opposite him, breathing with difficulty.

“How’s business?” he asked finally.

“The same as ever. Some good, some bad. You know that Amrum signed with the Russians?”

“What? For the Teisk shares?” Golder quickly asked, leaning forward suddenly as if he wanted to grasp a fleeting shadow. Then he let his hands drop back down and shrugged. “I didn’t know,” he said, sighing.

“Not for the Teisk shares. The contract stipulates the sale of a hundred thousand tons of Russian oil per year for five years, in Constantinople, Port Said, and Colombo.”

“But… what about Teisk?” Golder muttered.

“Not mentioned.”

“Ah.”

“I knew that Amrum had sent agents to Moscow twice, but nothing came of it.”

“Why?”

“Why? Perhaps because the Soviets wanted to get a loan of twenty-three million gold roubles from the United States and Amrum had to pay off three members of the government, including a senator. It was all too much. And they also made the
mistake of letting the evidence get stolen, which blew up in the press.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “Amrum has paid dearly for our Persian oilfields, Golder.”

“You’ve started up negotiations again?”

“Of course. Straight away. I wanted to own the whole of the Caucasus region. I wanted a monopoly on oil refinery and to become the sole distributor of Russian petroleum products in the world.”

Golder smirked.

“You wanted too much, as you yourself just pointed out. They don’t like giving foreigners such economic influence and consequently too much political power.”

“The fools. I’m not interested in their politics. People can do what they want in their own country. Once I was there, they wouldn’t have had their noses stuck into my business affairs, I can promise you that.”

“If it had been me…” Golder began musing out loud, “I would have started with Teisk and the Aroundgis. Then gradually, after a while,” he opened his hand and quickly closed it, “I would have snapped it all up. All of it. All of the Caucasus, all the oil…”

“That’s why I’ve come to see you; I want you to handle the deal.”

Golder shrugged his shoulders.

“No. I’m out of it now. I’m ill… half dead.”

“Did you keep your Teisk shares?”

“Yes,” said Golder, hesitating, “I don’t know why…They were hardly worth anything. I could sell them as scrap paper…”

“That’s true enough, but only if Amrum wins the concession. Then I’ll be damned if they’re worth even that. But if/win…”

He fell silent. Golder shook his head.

“No,” he said, clenching his teeth, a look of suffering on his face. “No.”

“Why not? I need you. And you need me.”

“I know. But I don’t want to work any more. I can’t. I’m not
well. My heart… I know that if I don’t give up work entirely, and right away, I’m a dead man. I’m not interested. What for? I don’t need much now, at my age. I just need to stay alive.”

Tubingen shook his head.

“I’m seventy-two years old,” he said. “In twenty or twenty-five years’ time, when all the Teisk oil wells start producing, I’ll have been dead a very long time. I think about that sometimes… when I’m signing a ninety-nine-year lease! By then, it won’t just be me, but my son and my grandsons and their children who will all be in the hands of the Lord. But there will always be a Tubingen. And that’s why I keep going.”

“But I don’t have anyone,” said Golder, “so, what’s the use?”

“You have children, like I do.”

“I have no one,” Golder repeated, angrily.

Tubingen closed his eyes. “There would still be something that you’d created.”

He slowly opened his eyes and appeared to look straight through Golder.

“Something,” he repeated eagerly in the deep voice of a man who is revealing the secret thing most dear to his heart, “something that you’d built, that was lasting…”

“And what is it that’s lasting for me? Money? Oh, it’s not worth the trouble … unless you could take it with you …”

“
The Lordgiveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord
” Tubingen recited quietly, with the droning intonation of a puritan brought up on the Scriptures since childhood. “That’s the law. There’s nothing you can do.”

Golder sighed deeply.

“No. Nothing.”

“IT’S
ME,” SAID
Joyce. She came so close that she was nearly touching him, but he didn’t move.

“Anyone would think you didn’t recognise me.”

Then she cried out “Dad!” as she had in the past.

Only then did he shudder and close his eyes, as if blinded by a dazzling light. He stretched out his hand so weakly that it barely touched hers before it dropped down on to his knee; still he said nothing.

She pulled a footstool up to his armchair, sat down, and took off her hat, vigorously shaking her head in the way that was so familiar to him… Then she waited, silently.

“You’ve changed,” he whispered, in spite of himself.

“Yes,” she said with a bitter laugh.

She was taller and thinner, with an indefinable look of weariness, distress, and resignation.

She was wearing a magnificent sable coat. She threw it down on the floor behind her, revealing her neck and, in place of the pearls Golder had given her, an emerald necklace, as green as grass, its stones so pure and enormous that Golder stared at it for a moment, speechless with disbelief. Finally, he laughed harshly.

“Ah, yes, I see now… You’ve sorted yourself out too … So why have you come then? I don’t understand …”

“It’s a gift from my fiance,” she said quietly, with no emotion. “I have to get married soon.”

“Ah … Congratulations,” he added, with difficulty.

She didn’t reply.

He thought for a moment, wiped his forehead several times, then sighed, “Well then, I wish you …” He hesitated. “So he’s rich, is he? You should be happy …”

“Happy!” She let out a cry of despair and turned towards him. “Happy? Do you know who I’m going to marry?”

He didn’t answer.

“Old Fischl,” she shouted, “that’s who!”

“Fischl!”

“Yes, Fischl! What did you think I would do? I have no money now, do I? My mother gives me nothing, not a penny. You know her, she’d rather see me starve to death than give me any money, wouldn’t she? So, what do you expect? It’s lucky he wants to marry me … Otherwise I would have just had to sleep with him, wouldn’t I? Although that might have been better, easier at least, one night with him from time to time … but that’s not what he wants, you see? The horrible old pig wants to get his money’s worth!” Her voice suddenly quivered with hatred. “Oh, I’d like to … ” She stopped, ran her fingers through her hair and pulled it with all her might with a look of despair.

“I’d like to kill him,” she said slowly.

Golder managed to laugh.

“But why? It’s a very good idea, it’s wonderful! Fischl… He’s rich, you know, when he’s not in prison, and you’ll cheat on him with your young man … what was his name … your little gigolo? And you’ll be very happy. Come on! This was how you were meant to end up, you little slut, it was written all over your face … Still… still, it’s not what I used to dream of for you, Joyce…”

His face grew even paler. “Why should it matter to me, dear Lord?” he thought frantically. “Why should it matter to me? Let her sleep with whomever she likes, let her go wherever she pleases…”

But his proud heart was bleeding, as it had in the past.

“My daughter…” (in spite of everything, everyone thought she was Golder’s daughter) “and Fischl!”

“I’m so unhappy, if you only knew …”

“You want too much, my girl. Money, love, you have to choose … But you’ve made your choice, haven’t you?” He winced in pain. “No one’s forcing you, are they? So, why are you whining? It’s what you want.”

“Oh, this is all your fault, all of it! It’s all because of you! How am I supposed to live with no money? I’ve tried, I swear to you I’ve tried… If you could have seen me last winter… You
remember how cold it was? Just like it always is, right? And there I was walking around in my little grey autumn coat… the last thing I bought for myself before you left. Wasn’t I a pretty sight! But I can’t, I just can’t doit, I’m not cut out for it, I’m telling you! It’s not my fault! Then I got into debt, had all sorts of financial troubles… So, to put an end to them, I did what I had to do, didn’t I? If it hadn’t been him, it would have been someone else. But Alec, Alec! You say I’ll cheat on Fischl. Of course I will! But if you think he’s going to make it easy for me, you’re very wrong. Oh, you don’t know him! Once he’s paid for something, he watches over it, you know, he doesn’t let it out of his sight. He’s a dirty … a dirty old man! Oh, Ijustwanttodie, I’m so miserable, I’m so alone. I’m suffering, Dad. Help me. You’re all I have!”

She clasped his hands and wrung them in despair.

“Speak to me!” she shouted. “Say something! Otherwise I’m going to walk out of here and kill myself. Remember Marcus? They say he killed himself because of you… Well, you’ll have my death on your conscience too, do you hear me?”

Her shrill, childlike voice echoed eerily in the empty rooms.

Golder clenched his teeth.

“So you think you can frighten me, do you? Don’t think I’m a fool! And besides, I haven’t got any more money. Just leave me alone. You mean nothing to me. You know very well… You’ve always known… You’re not my daughter… You’re … You’re Hoyos’s daughter and you know it! Well, go and see him. Let
him
protect you, let
him
look after you, let
him
work to support you. It’s his turn now. As for me, well, I’ve done quite enough for you, you’re no longer my problem. Go away, you mean nothing to me any more. Just get out!”

“Hoyos? Are you sure? Oh, Dad! If you only knew! Alec and I meet at his place … and we… with him right there …” She hid her face in her hands. He could see tears running through her fingers.

“Dad, you’re all I have! I have no one else in the world!” she repeated, in despair. “I couldn’t care less that you’re not my father, you have to believe me… You’re all I have! Help me, I’m begging you. I want so much to be happy. I’m young, I want to live, I want… I want to be happy!”

“You’re not the only one, my poor darling… Leave me now, leave me…”

He made a vague gesture with his hand that simultaneously pushed her away and drew her closer. Then he gave a sudden shudder and allowed his fingers to stroke her neck, her bowed head, her short, golden, sweet-smelling hair… Oh, he had missed touching her so much, missed feeling beneath his hand that blossoming, urgent spark of life, as in the past… and…

“Oh, Joyce!” he whispered, his heart breaking. “Why did you come, Joyce? I was at peace …”

“My God, where else could I go?” She was nervously wringing her hands. “Oh, if you would… if only you would …”

Golder shrugged his shoulders. “What? You want me to give you Alec for life, buy him for you, like I used to buy you toys and jewellery? Is that it? But I can’t do it now. It’s too expensive. Did your mother tell you I still had money?”

“Yes.”

“Look at how I live. I barely have enough to see me through until I die. But it would only last
you
a year.”

“But why don’t you do what you did before?” she begged desperately. “Get back into business, make money? It’s so easy…”

“Really! Is that what you think?”

Once again, with a kind of fearful tenderness, he touched her fine golden hair. “Poor little Joyce…”

“It’s funny,” he thought, painfully. “I know exactly what will happen. In two months’ time, she’ll have had enough of sleeping with her Alec … or whoever else it is… and that will be that… But Fischl! Oh, if it were only someone else … anyone else! But Fischl!” He was filled with hatred. “The bastard will talk about ‘Golder’s daughter, whom I married even though she had nothing… nothing but the clothes on her back!’”

He leaned forward abruptly, took Joyce’s face in both hands and raised it up, digging his old, hard nails into her delicate skin with a kind of urgency. “You… you… If you didn’t need me, you’d have left me here to die all alone, wouldn’t you? Well, wouldn’t you?”

“Would you have sent for me?” she whispered.

She smiled. He looked helplessly at her tear-filled eyes and her beautiful, full red lips that opened slowly, like a flower.

“My little girl,” he thought. “Perhaps, after all, she
is
mine, who knows? And anyway, what does it matter, for God’s sake, what difference does it make?”

“You really know how to get what you want from your old man, eh, Joy?” he whispered passionately. “Your tears… and the idea ofthat pig being able to buy something that was mine, right? Right?” he repeated wildly, with a mixture of hatred and savage tenderness. “So then, you want me to try? You want me to make you some more money before I die? Are you prepared to wait a year? A year from now, you’ll be richer than your mother everwas.”

He let her go and stood up. He could feel the heat and energy of life coursing through his old, weary body once more—all the strength and passion he had felt in the past.

“Tell Fischl he can go to hell,” he continued. His voice had become precise, matter-of-fact. “And if you weren’t a complete fool, you’d send your Alec packing as well. No? If you let him spend all your money, what will you do after I’m gone? You don’t care, is that it? You think you’ll always be able to fall back on Fischl? Oh, I’m nothing but an old fool,” he growled. He took Joyce by the chin, gripping it so tightly that she winced in pain. “You will do me the honour of signing the marriage contract I will have drawn up for you, and no questions asked. I’m not going to kill myself for your little gigolo. Understood? Do you want some money now?”

She nodded without replying. He let go of her, opened a drawer.

“Listen to me, Joy … Tomorrow you will go and see Seton, my lawyer. I’ll instruct him to send you a hundred and fifty pounds every month…”

He quickly scribbled some figures in the margin of a newspaper that was lying on the table.

“That’s just about what I used to give you. A bit less. But you’ll have to make do with it for a while longer, my child, because it’s all that I have left. Later on, after I get back, you can get married.”

“But where are you going?”

He shrugged his shoulders angrily.

“Do you really care?”

He put his hand on her neck. “Joyce … If I die while I’m away, Seton will take care of everything to protect your interests. All you have to do is listen to him. Sign whatever he tells you to sign. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

He took a deep breath. “So … that’s it then…”

“Daddy, darling…”

She had slipped on to his lap, buried her head in his shoulder, closed her eyes.

He looked at her with a faint smile—a mere quiver of the lips that he quickly repressed. “How loving people are when they’re poor, eh? This is the first time I’ve seen you like this, my child…”

“And the last…” he thought, but he said nothing. He was happy simply to stroke her eyelids and neck. He did so for a long while, as if he were sculpting her features so he could remember them for a very long time to come.