The Unconsoled (35 page)

'You two, you've no idea how foolish you look! Do you know why? No, you wouldn't guess, you two, you'd never guess just how stupid, how unspeakably ridiculous you both look at this moment. You really wouldn't, it's typical, just typical of you both! Oh, I've meant to tell you for so long, ever since we met, well, you'll see for yourselves now, you can judge for yourselves now if you're fools or what. Look!'

Fiona jerked her head in my direction. Inge and Trude, both bewildered, once again stared at me. I made another concerted effort to announce myself, but to my dismay all I could manage was another grunt, more vigorous than the last but no more coherent. I took a deep breath, a panic now beginning to seize me, and tried again, only to produce another, this time more prolonged, straining noise.

'What on earth is she saying to us, Trude?' Inge said. 'Why's this little bitch speaking to us like this? How dare she? What's come over her?'

'It's my fault,' Trude said. 'It was my mistake. It was my idea to invite her into our group. It's just as well she's revealing her true colours before Mr Ryder's parents arrive. She's jealous, that's all. She's jealous that we met Mr Ryder today. While all she has are these pathetic little stories…'

'What do you mean you met him today?' Fiona exploded. 'You said yourself just now you didn't…'

'You know perfectly well it was as good as meeting him! Wasn't it, Trude? We're perfectly entitled to say we've met him now. It's just something you'll have to come to terms with, Fiona…'

'Well in that case' - Fiona was now almost shrieking - 'let's see you come to terms with
this
!' She flung her arm towards me as though announcing the most dramatic of stage entrances. Once more I did my best to oblige. This time, fuelled by my mounting anger and frustration, the straining noise was more intense than ever and I could feel the sofa shake with my effort.

'What's wrong with this friend of yours?' Inge asked, suddenly noticing me. But Trude was paying no attention.

'I should never have listened to you,' she was saying to Fiona bitterly. 'It should have been obvious from the start what a little liar you were. And we let our children play with those brats of yours! They're probably little liars too and now they've probably taught all our children how to tell lies. How ridiculous your party was last night. And the way you've decorated your apartment! How absurd! We were all laughing about it this morning…'

'Why don't you help me!' Fiona suddenly addressed me directly for the first time. 'What's the matter, why don't you do something?'

In fact, all this time I had been continuing to strain. Now, just as Fiona turned to me, I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror hung on the opposite wall. I saw that my face had become bright red and squashed into pig-like features, while my fists, clenched at chest level, were quivering along with the whole of my torso. Catching sight of myself in this condition took the wind right out of my sails and, losing heart, I collapsed back into the corner of the sofa, panting heavily.

'I think, Fiona dear,' Inge was saying, 'it's time you and this… this friend of yours went on your way. I don't think your attendance will be required this evening.'

'It's out of the question,' Trude shouted. 'We've got responsibilities now. We can't afford to indulge little birds with broken wings like her. We're no longer just a group of volunteers. We've got very important work to do and anyone not up to the mark will have to be let go.'

I could see tears appearing in Fiona's eyes. She looked at me again, now with growing bitterness, and I thought of trying just once more to declare my identity, but the thought of the figure I had glimpsed in the mirror made me decide against doing so. Instead, I staggered to my feet and went in search of the exit. I was still considerably out of breath from the straining, and when I reached the doorway I was obliged to stop a moment to lean against its frame. Behind me, I could hear the two women continuing to talk in heated tones. At one point, I heard Inge say: 'And what a disgusting person to bring to your apartment.' With an effort, I hurried out across the small hallway and, after some moments of fumbling frantically at the locks of the main door, succeeded in letting myself out into the corridor. Almost at once, I began to feel better and proceeded towards the staircase in a more composed manner.

17

Going down the successive flights of stairs, I looked at my watch and saw that it was high time we were setting off for the Karwinsky Gallery. Naturally I felt considerable regret about the situation I was having to leave behind, but clearly my priority had to be to ensure our punctual arrival at the evening's important event. I resolved nevertheless to attend to Fiona's problems in the reasonably near future.

When I finally reached the ground floor, I was greeted by a sign marked 'Car Park' on the wall and an arrow pointing the way. I went past several storage cupboards, then out through an exit.

I emerged at the rear of the apartment buildings, on the other side from the artificial lake. The evening sun was now low in the sky. There was an expanse of green land before me, sloping gradually away into the distance. The car park, immediately in front of me, was simply a rectangle of grass that had been fenced off, like a corral on an American ranch. The ground had not been concreted, though the to-ing and fro-ing of vehicles had worn it down virtually to bare earth. There was enough space for perhaps fifty cars, but at this moment there were only seven or eight, each parked some way away from the other, the sunset glancing off their bodywork. Near the back of the car park I could see the stocky woman and Boris loading the boot of an estate car. As I moved towards them, I noticed Sophie sitting in the front passenger seat, gazing emptily through the windscreen at the sunset.

The stocky woman was closing the boot as I came up to them.

'I'm sorry,' I said to her. 'I didn't realise you had so much to load up. I'd have given a hand except…'

'It's all right. This one here gave me all the help I needed.' The stocky woman ruffled Boris's hair, then said to him: 'So don't worry, okay? You're all going to have a great evening. Really. She's cooked all your favourites.'

She bent down and gave Boris a reassuring squeeze, but the little boy seemed to be in a dream and stared off into the distance. The stocky woman held out the car keys to me.

'There should be plenty of petrol. Take care how you drive.'

I thanked her and watched her walk off towards the apartment buildings. When I turned to him, Boris was staring at the sunset. I touched his shoulder and led him round the car. He climbed into the back seat without speaking.

Evidently the sunset was having an hypnotic effect, for when I got in behind the wheel Sophie too was still staring into the distance. She seemed hardly to notice my arrival, but then, as I was familiarising myself with the controls, she said quietly:

'We can't let this house business drag us all down. We can't afford to. We don't know when it'll be, the next time you're back with us. House or no house, we've got to start doing things,
good
things together. That's what I realised this morning, coming back in the bus. Even with that apartment. And that kitchen.'

'Yes, yes,' I said and put the key into the ignition. 'Now. Do you know the way to the gallery?'

The question brought Sophie out of her trance-like condition. 'Oh,' she said, putting her hands up to her mouth as though she had just remembered something. Then she said: 'I could probably find the way from the city centre. But from here, I don't know.'

I sighed heavily. I could sense things were in danger of slipping out of control again, and I felt returning some of the intense annoyance I had experienced earlier in the day about the way Sophie had brought such chaos into my life. But then I heard her voice beside me say brightly:

'Why don't we ask the car park attendant? He might know.'

She was pointing to the entrance of the car park where, sure enough, there was a little wooden kiosk housing a uniformed figure, visible from the waist up.

'All right,' I said. 'I'll go and ask him.'

I got out and made my way towards the wooden kiosk. A car in the process of leaving the enclosure had paused beside the kiosk, and as I came closer I could see the attendant - a bald, fat man - leaning over his hatch, smiling jovially and gesturing to the driver. Their conversation went on for some time and I was on the verge of stepping in between them when the car at last started to pull away. Even then, the attendant continued to follow the vehicle with his eyes as it drove off along the long curving road that ran the perimeter of the housing estate. Indeed, he too seemed to have become transfixed by the sunset and, although I coughed directly under his hatch, he continued to gaze dreamily after the car. In the end I simply barked: 'Good evening.'

The plump man started, then, looking down at me, replied: 'Oh, good evening, sir.'

'I'm sorry to disturb you,' I said. 'But we happen to be in something of a hurry. We need to get to the Karwinsky Gallery, but you see, being a visitor to this town I'm not at all sure of the quickest route from here.'

"The Karwinsky Gallery.' The man thought for a moment, then said: 'Well, to be honest, it's not at all straightforward, sir. In my opinion, the simplest thing would be for you to follow that gentleman who just left. In that red car.' He pointed into the distance. 'That gentleman, as luck would have it, lives very near the Karwinsky Gallery. I could of course try and give you directions, but I'd have to sit and work it all out first, all those different turnings, particularly towards the end of your journey. I mean, when you come off the highway and you have to find your way through all those little roads around the farms. Simplest by far, sir, just to follow that gentleman in the red car. If I'm not mistaken, he lives just two or three turnings on from the Karwinsky Gallery. It's a very pleasant area and that gentleman, he and his wife very much like it there. It's the countryside out there, sir. He tells me he has a nice cottage with hens in the back yard and an apple tree. A nice sort of area for an art gallery, even if it's a bit out of the way. Well worth the drive, sir. The gentleman in that red car, he says he doesn't ever think of moving even though it's quite some way for him to come every day, here to this estate. Oh yes, he works here, he works in the administration block' - the man suddenly leaned right out of his hatch and pointed to some windows behind him - 'that block over there, sir. Oh no, these aren't all residential apartments by any means. To run an estate of this size, oh, it requires a lot of paperwork. That gentleman in the red car, he's been working here right from the first day the water company began building here. And now he oversees all the maintenance work on the estate. It's a big job, sir, and it's a long way for him to have to commute each day, but he says he never thinks about moving nearer. And I don't blame him, it's very nice out there. But here I am chattering on, and you must be in a hurry. I do apologise, sir. As I say, if you just follow that red car, that's by far the simplest way to do it. I'm sure you'll enjoy the Karwinsky Gallery. It's a nice part of the country, and the gallery itself, I'm told it has some very beautiful objects.'

I thanked him tersely and walked back to the car. When I climbed back in behind the wheel, Sophie and Boris were again gazing at the sunset. I started the engine without speaking. Only after we had bumped past the wooden kiosk -I gave the car park attendant a quick wave - did Sophie ask: 'So you found out the way?'

'Yes, yes. We just follow the red car that left just now.'

As I said this, I realised how angry I still was at her. But I said nothing further and moved the car onto the road that circled the edge of the estate.

We passed block after block of apartments, the sunset reflected in the countless windows. Then the housing estate vanished and the road turned into a highway bound on either side by fir forests. The road was virtually empty, offering a clear view, and before long I spotted the red car up ahead, a small dot in the distance, travelling at an easy speed. Given the sparse traffic, I saw no necessity to follow hard up behind him and I too dropped to a leisurely speed with a respectful distance still between us. All the while, Sophie and Boris had both remained dreamily silent, and eventually I too began to get lulled into a tranquil mood watching the sun setting over the deserted highway.

After a little time, I found myself replaying in my head the second goal scored by the Dutch football team in a World Cup semi-final against Italy some years ago. It had been a stupendous long-range shot and had always been one of my favourite sporting memories, but now, to my annoyance, I found I had forgotten the identity of the goal scorer. The name of Rensenbrink came drifting through my mind, and certainly he had been playing in that match, but in the end I felt certain he had not been the scorer. I saw again the ball floating through the sunshine, past the curiously transfixed Italian defenders, drifting on and on, beyond the outstretched hand of the goalkeeper. It was frustrating to have forgotten such a detail and I was systematically going through the names of all the Dutch footballers I could recall from that era, when Boris suddenly said behind me:

'We're too near the centre of the road. We're going to crash.'

'Nonsense,' I said. 'We're fine.'

'No, we're not!' I could feel him banging the back of my seat. 'We're too near the centre. If something comes the other way, we'll crash!'

I said nothing, but moved the car a little more towards the edge of the road. This seemed to reassure Boris and he became quiet again. Then Sophie said:

'You know, I have to admit, I wasn't at all happy when I first heard. About this reception, I mean. I thought it would spoil our evening together. But when I thought about it some more, and especially when I realised it wouldn't stop us having our meal tonight, I thought, well, it's a good thing. In some ways, it's exactly what we need. I know I can do well at it, and Boris too. We'll both do well, and then we'll have something to celebrate when we get back. The whole evening, it could really seal things for us.'