The Unconsoled (49 page)

I stared at this for a second, and then spotted another nail on the other door post at exactly the same height. Immediately guessing the purpose of the rag and the nails, I rose to my feet again to examine them further. The rag turned out to be an old bath towel. When I opened it out and hung it across the two nails, I found it formed a perfectly good curtain over the missing section of the door.

I sat down again feeling much better and prepared myself once more for the opening bars. Then, just as I was about to start playing, I was yet again stopped by the creaking noise. Then I heard it once more, and I realised it was coming from the cubicle on my left. It now dawned on me not only that someone had been in the next cubicle the whole time, but that the sound insulation between the cubicles was virtually non-existent, and that I had remained unaware of the person until this point only because -for whatever reason - he had remained very still.

Furious, I rose again and pulled at the door, causing the latch to come loose again and the towel to fall to the ground. As I squeezed my way out, the man in the next cubicle, perhaps seeing no further reason to restrain himself, cleared his throat noisily. I hurried out of the room feeling thoroughly disgusted.

I was a little surprised to find Hoffman waiting for me in the corridor, but then remembered that he had indeed promised to do so. He was standing with his back to the wall, but as soon as I emerged straightened himself and stood to attention.

'Now, Mr Ryder,' he said smiling, 'if you'd follow me. The ladies and gentlemen are very eager to meet you.'

I looked at him coldly. 'What ladies and gentlemen, Mr Hoffman?'

'Why, the members of the committee, Mr Ryder. Of the Citizens' Mutual Support Group…'

'Look, Mr Hoffman…' I was very angry, but the delicacy of what I had to explain caused me to pause. Hoffman, at last noticing that something was troubling me, stopped in the middle of the corridor and gazed at me with concern.

'Look, Mr Hoffman. I'm very sorry about this meeting. But it is imperative I get to practise. I cannot do anything else until I've first been allowed to practise.'

Hoffman appeared genuinely puzzled. 'I'm sorry, sir,' he said, his voice lowered discreetly. 'But you didn't practise just now?'

'I did not. I was… I was unable to.'

'You were unable? Mr Ryder, is everything in order? I mean, you're not feeling unwell?'

'I'm perfectly well. Look' - I gave a sigh - 'if you must know, I was unable to practise in there because… well, frankly, sir, the conditions do not provide the necessary level of privacy. No, sir, let me speak. The level of privacy is inadequate. It might be fine for some people, but for me… Well, I'll tell you, Mr Hoffman, I'll tell you quite frankly. It's been the same since I was a child. I've never been able to practise unless I had complete, utter privacy.'

'Is that so, sir?' Hoffman was nodding gravely. 'I see, I see.'

'Well, I hope you do see. The conditions in there' -I shook my head - 'they are nowhere near adequate. Now the point is, I must, must, have satisfactory practice facilities…'

'Yes, yes, of course.' He nodded sympathetically. 'I think, sir, I have the solution. The practice room in the annexe will give you absolute privacy. The piano is excellent, and as for the privacy, I can guarantee it, sir. It is very, very private.'

'Very well. That sounds like the answer. The annexe, you say.'

'Yes, sir. I'll take you there myself as soon as you've finished your meeting with the Citizens' Mutual Support…'

'Look, Mr Hoffman!' I suddenly shouted, only just resisting the urge to grab his lapel. 'Listen to me! I do not care about this group of citizens! I do not care how long they are kept waiting! The fact is, if I am not able to practise, I will pack up and leave this city immediately, in the next hour! That's right, Mr Hoffman. There will be no lecture, no performance, nothing! You understand me, Mr Hoffman? You understand me?'

Hoffman stared at me, the colour draining from his face. 'Yes, yes,' he muttered. 'Yes, of course, Mr Ryder.'

'So I must ask you' - I managed to control my voice a little -'please. Kindly lead me to this annexe without further delay.'

'Very well, Mr Ryder.' He laughed oddly. 'I understand perfectly. After all, these are just ordinary citizens. What need is there for someone such as yourself…' Then he collected himself and said firmly: "This way, Mr Ryder, if you'd care to follow me.'

24

We walked a little way further along the corridor, then crossed a large laundry room containing several growling machines. Hoffman then ushered me through a narrow exit and I stepped out to find the double doors of the drawing room facing me.

'We'll take a short cut through here,' Hoffman said.

As soon as we entered the drawing room, I understood better his earlier reluctance to clear the room for me. It was packed to overflowing with people, laughing and talking, some of them dressed very flamboyantly, and my first thought was that we had stumbled into a private party. But as we slowly made our way through the crowd, I could make out several distinct groups. Some exuberant locals were occupying one section of the room. Another group appeared to be comprised of rich young Americans - many of whom were singing in unison some college anthem; while in yet another area a group of Japanese men had drawn several tables together and were also carrying on boisterously. Curiously, though these groups were clearly separate, there appeared to be much interaction between them. All around me, people were wandering from table to table, slapping one another on the back, taking photographs of each other and passing plates of sandwiches back and forth. A harassed-looking waiter in a white uniform was going among them with a coffee jug in each hand. I thought to look for the piano, but found myself too busy squeezing past people in an effort to keep up with Hoffman. Eventually I reached the other side of the drawing room where Hoffman was holding open another door for me.

I went through into a passageway, one end of which was open to the outdoors. The next moment I stepped out into a small sunny car park, which I quickly recognised as the one Hoffman had led me to the night we had driven to Brodsky's banquet. Hoffman ushered me towards a large black car, and a few minutes later we were moving slowly through the lunch-time congestion.

'The traffic in this town,' Hoffman sighed. 'Mr Ryder, would you like the air-conditioning? Are you sure? My goodness, look at this traffic. Thankfully we won't have to put up with it for long. We'll take the south road.'

Sure enough, at the next traffic lights Hoffman turned down a road on which the vehicles were moving much more smoothly, and in no time we were travelling at a good speed across open countryside.

'Ah yes, this is the wonderful thing about our town,' Hoffman said. 'No need to drive far before you find yourself in pleasant surroundings. You see, the air is improving already.'

I said something in agreement and fell silent, not wishing to be drawn into conversation at this point. For one thing I had begun to have misgivings about my earlier decision to perform
Asbestos and Fibre
. The more I thought about it, the more some recollection seemed to come back to me of my mother once expressing her irritation specifically with this composition. I considered for a moment the possibility of something altogether different, something like Kazan's
Wind Tunnels
, but then remembered the piece would take two and a quarter hours to perform. There was no doubting that the short, intense
Asbestos and Fibre
was the obvious choice. Nothing else of that length would provide quite the same opportunity to demonstrate such a wide range of moods. And certainly, on the surface at least, it was a piece one could expect my mother very much to appreciate. And yet there was still something - admittedly nothing more than the shadow of a recollection - that prevented me from feeling at ease with the choice.

Apart from a lorry far up ahead in the distance, we appeared now to be alone on the road. I watched the farmland going by on either side of us and tried again to recall this elusive fragment of memory.

'We won't be long now, Mr Ryder,' Hoffman said beside me. 'I'm sure you'll find the practice room in the annexe much more to your liking. It's very tranquil, an ideal place to practise for an hour or two. Very soon now, you'll be lost in your music. How I envy you, sir! You'll soon be browsing among your musical ideas. Just as if you were wandering through some magnificent gallery where by some miracle you'd been told you could pick up a shopping basket and take home whatever you fancied. Forgive me' - he gave a laugh - 'but I've always entertained just such a fantasy. My wife and I, walking together through some wonderful gallery full of the most beautiful objects. Apart from ourselves, the place is deserted. Not even an attendant. And yes, there is a shopping basket on my arm, we have been told we can take whatever we wish. There would be certain rules, naturally. We could not take more than could be held in the basket. And of course, we would not be permitted to sell anything later on - not that we would dream of abusing such a sublime opportunity in that way. So there we would be, my wife and I, walking together through this heavenly hall. This gallery, it would be part of some large country mansion somewhere, perhaps overlooking vast areas of land. The balcony would have a spectacular view. And great statues of lions at each corner. My wife and I, we would stand there gazing over the scenery, discussing which items we should take. In this fantasy, for some reason, there is always a storm about to break. The sky is a slate grey, and yet somehow the shadows are all as though the brightest summer sun were shining on us. Creepers, ivy, all over the terrace. And just my wife and I, our supermarket basket still empty, discussing our choice.' He laughed suddenly. 'Forgive me, Mr Ryder, I'm being indulgent. It's just that this is how I imagine it must be for someone like yourself, someone of your genius, left at a piano for an hour or so in tranquil surroundings. That this is how it must be for the inspired. You will wander amidst your sublime musical ideas. You will examine this one, shake your head, put it back. Beautiful as it is, it isn't quite what you were looking for. Ha! How beautiful it must be inside your head, Mr Ryder! How I would love to be able to accompany you on the journey you will embark on the moment your fingers touch the keys. But of course, you will go where I can't possibly follow. How I envy you, sir!'

I muttered something nondescript and we travelled on in silence for a while. Then Hoffman said:

'My wife, in the early days before we married. I think that's how she saw our life together. Something like that, Mr Ryder. That we would enter arm in arm some beautiful deserted museum with our shopping basket. Though of course she would never have seen it in quite such fanciful terms. You see, my wife comes from a long line of talented people. Her mother was a very fine painter. Her grandfather one of the greatest poets in the Flemish language of his generation. For some unaccountable reason, he was neglected, but that alters nothing. Oh, there are others in the family, very talented, all of them. Being brought up in a family like that, she always took beauty and talent for granted. How could it have been otherwise? I tell you, sir, it led to certain misunderstandings. In fact it led to a very large misunderstanding early in our relationship.'

He fell silent again and for a while stared at the road unwinding before us.

'It was music that first brought us together,' he said eventually. 'We would sit in the cafés in Herrengasse and talk about music. Or rather, I talked. I suppose I talked and talked. I remember once walking through the Volksgarten with her and describing in great detail, perhaps for a full hour, my feelings about Mullery's
Ventilations
. Of course, we were young, we had time to indulge ourselves in such things. Even in those days, she didn't talk so much, but she listened to what I had to say and I could see she was deeply moved. Oh yes. Incidentally, Mr Ryder, I say we were young, but then I suppose neither of us was as young as all that. We were both the sort of age when we might already have been married for some time. Perhaps she was feeling some sense of urgency, who knows? In any case we talked of getting married, I was so in love with her, Mr Ryder, from the first I was very much in love with her. And she was so beautiful then. Even now, if you saw her, you'd see how very beautiful she must have been then. But beautiful in a special sort of way. You could see immediately she had a sensitivity to the finer things. I don't mind admitting to you, I was very much in love with her. I can't tell you what it meant to me when she agreed to marry me. I thought my life would be a joy, a continuous unbroken joy. But then it was just a few days later, a few days after she agreed to marry me, she came to visit me in my room for the first time. I was at that time working at the Hotel Burgenhof, and I was renting a room nearby in Glockenstrasse, beside the canal. Not exactly desirable, but a perfectly fine room. There were good bookshelves on one wall and an oak desk at the window. And as I say, it looked over the canal. It was the winter, a splendid sunny winter's morning, there was a beautiful light coming into the room. Of course, I had tidied everything, made it just so. She came in and looked around, she looked all around. Then she asked quietly: "But where do you compose your music?" I remember that very well, that actual instant, Mr Ryder, I remember it very vividly. I see it as a sort of turning point in my life. I don't exaggerate, sir. In many ways, I see it now, my present life started from that moment. Christine, standing by the window, that January light, her hand on the desk, just a few fingers as though to steady herself. She looked very beautiful. And she asked me that question with genuine surprise. You see, sir, she was puzzled. "But where do you compose your music? There's no piano." I didn't know what to say. I saw in an instant there had been a misunderstanding, a misunderstanding of catastrophically cruel proportions. Can you blame me, sir, if I felt the temptation to save myself? I wouldn't have told an out and out lie. Oh no, not even to save myself. But it was a very difficult moment. I think of it now and I feel a shudder go through me, even now as I tell you this. "But where do you compose your music?"