The Unconsoled (8 page)

'It's all right,' I said to Boris quietly. 'We'll be there soon.'

Boris did not respond and I saw that he was staring at Geoffrey Saunders's lurching figure before us.

As we continued to walk, my anger at my old schoolmate began to subside. Besides, I had not forgotten that we were entirely reliant on him to show us the way to our bus stop. After a few moments I drew up closer to him, wondering if we were still on talking terms. To my surprise I heard Geoffrey Saunders muttering away to himself softly:

'Yes, yes, we'll talk over all these things when you come round for your cup of tea. We'll talk over everything, spend a nostalgic hour or two discussing schooldays and old schoolfriends. I'll have my room tidied, and we can sit on the armchairs, on either side of the fireplace. Yes, it does look rather like the sort of room one might rent in England. Or at least might have done a few years ago. That's why I took it. Reminded me of home. Anyway, we could sit on either side of the fireplace and talk about the lot. The masters, the boys, exchange news of mutual friends we're still in touch with. Ah, here we are.'

We had emerged into what looked like a small village square. There were a few small shops - where presumably the inhabitants of this district bought their groceries - all of them closed and gridded up for the night. In the middle of the square was a patch of green not much bigger than a traffic island. Geoffrey Saunders pointed to a solitary street lamp in front of the shops.

'You and your boy should wait over there. I know there's no sign, but don't worry, it's a recognised bus stop. Now, I'm afraid I'll have to leave you.'

Boris and I stared across to where he had pointed. The rain had stopped, but a mist was hovering around the base of the lamppost. There was nothing stirring around us.

'Are you sure a bus will come?' I asked.

'Oh yes. Naturally, at this time of night it might take a little while. But certainly it'll come in the end. You have to be patient, that's all. You might get a little chilly standing here, but believe me the bus is well worth the wait. It will come out of the darkness, all brightly lit up. And once you step on board, you'll find it's very warm and comfortable. And it always has the most cheerful crowd of passengers. They'll be laughing and joking, handing out hot drinks and snacks. They'll make you and your boy very welcome. Just ask the driver to let you off at the medieval chapel. It's just a short journey by bus.'

Geoffrey Saunders bade us good night, then turned and walked off. Boris and I watched him disappear down an alleyway between two houses, then began to make our way over to the bus stop.

5

We stood beneath the street lamp for several minutes, surrounded by silence. Eventually I put my arm around Boris saying: 'You must be getting cold.'

He pressed himself against my body, but said nothing, and when I glanced down at him I saw he was gazing thoughtfully along the darkened street. Somewhere far away a dog began to bark, then stopped. When we had been standing like that for a time, I said:

'Boris, I'm sorry. I should have arranged things better. I'm sorry.'

The little boy remained silent for a moment. Then he said: 'Don't worry. The bus will come soon.'

I could see across the little square the mist drifting in front of the short row of shops.

'I'm not sure a bus is coming, Boris,' I said eventually.

'It's all right. You've got to be patient.'

We went on waiting for several more moments. Then I said again:

'Boris, I'm not at all sure a bus is going to come.'

The little boy turned to me and sighed wearily. 'Stop worrying,' he said. 'Didn't you hear what the man said? We just have to wait.'

'Boris. Sometimes things don't happen as you expect. Even when someone tells you it will.'

Boris gave another sigh. 'Look, the man said, didn't he? Anyway, Mother will be waiting for us.'

I was trying to think of what to say next when the sound of a cough made us both start. Turning, I saw, just beyond the light cast by the street lamp, someone leaning out of a stationary car.

'Good evening, Mr Ryder. Excuse me, but I was just going by and happened to see you. Is everything all right?'

I took a few steps towards the car and recognised Stephan, the hotel manager's son.

'Oh yes,' I said. 'Everything's fine, thank you. We were… well, we were waiting for a bus.'

'Perhaps I could give you a lift. I was just on my way somewhere, a rather delicate mission Father's entrusted me with. I say, it's rather chilly out there. Why don't you jump in?'

The young man got out and opened the passenger doors front and back. Thanking him, I helped Boris into the rear seat and got into the front. The next moment, the car had begun to move.

'So this is your little boy,' Stephan said as we sped through deserted streets. 'How very nice to meet him, though he looks a bit exhausted just now. Oh well, let him rest. I'll shake his hand another time.'

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 under-standing 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.'