The Unconsoled (75 page)

The bearded porter stepped forward and coughed awkwardly. 'He passed away half an hour ago, sir. He'd had trouble on and off over the years, but he'd been very fit, and so it was very unexpected for us. Very unexpected.'

'I'm very sorry.' I found that indeed I felt great sorrow at this news. 'Very sorry indeed. I'm very grateful to you, to all of you, for coming out here like this to tell me. As you know, I had only known him for a few days, but he had been very kind to me, assisting me with my bags and so on.'

I could see the bearded porter's colleagues all looking at him, egging him on to say something. The bearded porter took a deep breath.

'Of course, Mr Ryder,' he said, 'we came to find you because we knew you'd want to hear the news quickly. But also' - he suddenly lowered his gaze - 'but also, you see, sir, before he passed away, Gustav, he kept wanting to know. Wanting to know if you'd made your speech yet. That's to say, the little speech you were going to make on our behalf, sir. Right to the end, he was very keen to hear news of it.'

All the porters had now lowered their eyes and were waiting silently for my response.

'Ah,' I said. 'So you're not aware then of what occurred in the auditorium.'

'We've all been with Gustav until just now, sir,' said the bearded porter. 'He's only just now been taken away. You must excuse us, Mr Ryder. It was very rude of us not to be present while you were giving your address, especially if you were so good as to remember your little promise to us and…'

'Look,' I broke in gently, 'many things didn't go as planned. I'm surprised you haven't heard, but then I suppose, as you say, in these circumstances…' I paused, then, taking a breath, said in a firmer voice: 'I'm sorry, but the fact is, many things, not just the little speech I had prepared for you, did not go ahead as planned.'

'So you're saying, sir…' The bearded porter trailed off, then hung his head in disappointment. The other porters, who had all been staring at me, one by one lowered their eyes again. Then one of them near the back of the group burst out in an almost angry tone:

'Gustav kept asking. Right to the end he kept asking. "Any news of Mr Ryder yet?" He kept asking that.'

A number of his colleagues quickly pacified him, and there then followed a lengthy silence. Finally the bearded porter said, still looking down at the grass:

'It makes no difference. We'll all carry on trying, just the same. In fact we'll now try harder than ever. We won't let Gustav down. He was always our inspiration and nothing will change now he's gone. We've got an uphill struggle, we always have had, we know that, and it's not going to get any easier now. But we won't let standards slip, not one little bit. We'll remember Gustav and we'll keep at it. Of course, your little speech, sir, if it had been possible, it would have been… it would have helped us, no doubt about it. But of course, if at the time it seemed to you inappropriate…'

'Look,' I said, now beginning to lose patience, 'you'll all find out soon enough what occurred. Really, I'm surprised you haven't made it your business to find out more about the larger concerns of your community. What's more, you seem to have no idea what sort of life I have to lead. Of the vast responsibilities I have to carry. Even now, as I stand here talking to you, I'm having to think about my next engagement in Helsinki. If everything hasn't quite gone as planned for you, I'm sorry. But you really have no right to come bothering me like this…'

The words faded in my mouth. In the distance over to my right was a path leading from the concert hall into the surrounding woods. I had for some time been aware of a stream of people emerging from the building and disappearing off behind the trees - on their way home, presumably, for a couple of hours' rest before the start of the day. I now spotted among them Sophie and Boris, walking purposefully along the path. The little boy had once more placed his arm supportively around his mother, but otherwise there was nothing about them to alert the casual onlooker to their distress. I tried to see the expressions on their faces, but they were too far away, and the next moment they too had vanished behind the trees.

'I'm sorry,' I said more gently, turning back to the porters, 'but you must all excuse me now.'

'We won't let standards slip,' the bearded porter said quietly, still looking at the ground. 'We'll do it one day. You'll see.'

'Excuse me.'

Just as I was moving away the waiter came rushing back, pushing the old men aside to reach his trolley. Remembering the plate I was still holding behind my back, I thrust it at him.

'The catering this morning has been appalling,' I said coldly, before hurrying off.

38

The path cut a completely straight line through the woods so that I could see clearly to the tall iron gate at the far end. Sophie and Boris had already covered a surprising amount of ground, and although I walked as fast as I could, after a few minutes I had hardly reduced the distance between us. I was continually impeded, furthermore, by a group of young people walking a little in front of me who, whenever I tried to overtake, increased their pace or else spread themselves right across the path. In the end, when I could see that Sophie and Boris were about to reach the street, I broke into a run and burst through the young people, no longer caring what sort of impression I created.

After this I maintained a steady trot, yet was still not even within hailing distance as Sophie and Boris passed through the gate. By the time I reached the gate myself, my breath was coming in gasps and I was obliged to pause.

I had come out onto one of the boulevards near the heart of the city. The morning sun was lighting up the opposite pavement. The shops were still closed, but there was already a fair number of people walking about, going off to their day's work. I then saw, over to my left, a queue in the process of boarding a tram, and Sophie and Boris bringing up its rear. I broke out again into a trot, but the tram must have been further away than I had thought for, although I kept up a good pace, I did not reach it until after the entire queue had boarded and the vehicle was about to pull away. Only by waving frantically did I manage to stall the driver and struggle aboard myself.

The tram lurched forward as I staggered down the central aisle. I was so out of breath I only vaguely registered that the carriage was half full, and only when I collapsed into a seat near the rear did it occur to me I must have walked past Sophie and Boris. Still panting, I leaned to one side and looked back up the aisle.

The carriage was divided into two distinct sections separated by an exit area in the middle. In the front portion, the seating was arranged as two long rows facing one another, and I could see Sophie and Boris sitting together on the sunny side of the tram not far from the driver's cabin. My view of them was obscured by some passengers standing in the exit area hanging onto straps, and I leaned further over into the aisle. As I did so, the man sitting opposite me - in our half of the carriage, the seats were arranged in pairs facing one another - slapped his thigh and said:

'Another sunny day by the look of things.'

He was dressed neatly, if modestly, in a short zip-up jacket, and I supposed he was some sort of skilled workman - an electrician perhaps. I smiled at him quickly, upon which he began to tell me something about a building he and his colleagues had been working in for the past several days. I listened to him vaguely, occasionally smiling or making an assenting noise. Meanwhile my view of Sophie and Boris became further obscured as more and more people rose to their feet and crowded around the exit doors.

Then the tram stopped, the passengers got out and my view improved. Boris, looking as self-possessed as ever, had one hand on Sophie's shoulder and was regarding the other passengers suspiciously as though they presented a threat to his mother. Sophie's expression was still hidden from me. I could see her though, every few seconds, making an irritated waving motion through the air, perhaps at some insect flying around her.

I was about to adjust my position again when I realised the electrician had somehow got onto the topic of his parents. They were now both in their eighties, he was telling me, and though he did his best to visit them once a day, this was becoming increasingly difficult due to his current job. A thought suddenly came to me and I interrupted him saying:

'Excuse me, but speaking of parents, it seems mine were here in this city some years ago. Just as tourists, you know. It would have been a good few years ago now. It's just that the person who told me was only a child at the time and had no clear memory of them. So I was just wondering, since we were talking about parents, and well, I don't mean to be rude, but I assume you must be well into your fifties, I wondered if you yourself had any memory of their visit.'

'It's quite possible,' the electrician said. 'But you'll have to describe them a little.'

'Well, my mother, she's quite a tall woman. Dark hair, shoulder length. A rather bird-like nose. That would make her look a little stern, even when she wasn't intending to be.'

The electrician thought for a moment, looking out at the city going by outside. 'Yes,' he said, nodding. 'Yes, I think I can remember a lady just like that. It was just for a few days. Looking around at the sights, that sort of thing.'

'That's it. You remember then?'

'Yes, she seemed very pleasant. This would have been, oh, at least thirteen, fourteen years ago. Maybe even longer than that.'

I nodded enthusiastically. "That would tie in with what Miss Stratmann told me. Yes, that was my mother. Tell me, did she seem to be enjoying herself here?'

The electrician thought hard, then said: 'From what I recall, she appeared to like it here, yes. In fact' - he had spotted my look of concern - 'in fact, I'm
certain
she did.' He reached forward and patted my knee in a kindly manner. 'I'm jolly certain she enjoyed it here. Look, just think about it. She's bound to have done, isn't she?'

'I suppose so,' I said and turned to the window. The sun was now moving across the interior of the tram. 'I suppose so. It's just that…' I gave a deep sigh. 'It's just that I wish I'd known at the time. I wish someone had thought to inform me. And what about my father? Did he seem to be enjoying himself?'

'Your father. Hmm.' The electrician folded his arms, a slight frown on his face.

'He would have been quite thin by then,' I said. 'Greying hair. He had a favourite jacket. A tweed one, pale green, with leather elbow patches.'

The electrician continued to think. Then finally he shook his head. 'I'm sorry. I can't say I remember your father.'

'But that's impossible. Miss Stratmann assured me they came here together.'

'I'm sure she's right. It's just that I personally can't remember your father. Your mother, yes. But your father…' He shook his head again.

'But that's ridiculous! What would my mother have been doing here alone?'

'I'm not saying he wasn't with her. It's just that I don't remember him. Look, don't upset yourself so much. I wouldn't have been so frank if I'd known it was going to upset you like this. I've got a terrible memory. Everyone says so. Just yesterday I left my tool box at my brother-in-law's house where I had my lunch. I lost forty minutes going back to get it. My tool box!' He gave a laugh. 'You see, my memory's terrible. I'm the last person to trust about something important like this. I'm sure your father would have been here with your mother. Particularly if that's what other people are saying. Really, I'm the last person to rely on.'

But I had now turned away from him and was once more looking towards the front of the carriage, where Boris had finally given in to his emotions. He was now being embraced by his mother, and I could see his shoulders moving with his sobs. Suddenly there seemed nothing of importance other than to go to him and, muttering a quick apology to the electrician, I rose and began to make my way up the carriage.

I had almost reached them when the tram turned a sharp curve and I was forced to grab a nearby pole to keep my balance. When I looked again, I realised that Sophie and Boris had remained quite unaware of my approach, even though I was now standing very close to them. They were still in a deep embrace, their eyes closed. Patches of sunlight were drifting over their arms and shoulders. There was at that moment something so private about their comforting of each other that it seemed impossible even for me to intrude. And as I went on gazing at them, I began to feel, for all their obvious distress, a strange sense of envy. I moved a little closer until I could almost feel the very texture of their embrace.

Then at last Sophie opened her eyes. She watched me expressionlessly as the little boy continued to sob into her breast.

'I'm sorry,' I said to her eventually. 'I'm very sorry about everything. I only heard about your father just now. Of course, I came after you as soon as I heard…'

Something about her expression made me stop. For another moment, Sophie went on regarding me coldly. Then she said tiredly:

'Leave us. You were always on the outside of our love. Now look at you. On the outside of our grief too. Leave us. Go away.'

Boris broke away from her and turned to look at me. Then he said to his mother: 'No, no. We've got to keep together.'

Sophie shook her head. 'No, it's useless. Leave him be, Boris. Let him go around the world, giving out his expertise and wisdom. He needs to do it. Let's just leave him to it now.'

Boris stared at me in confusion, then back at his mother. He might have been about to say something, but at that moment Sophie stood up.

'Come on, Boris. We've got to get off here. Boris, come on.'

Indeed the tram was slowing down and other passengers were getting up from their seats. A few people pushed past me, and then Sophie and Boris squeezed by. Still clutching my pole, I watched Boris moving away down the aisle towards the exit. At one point he glanced back at me, and I heard him say:

'But we've got to stay together. We've got to.'

I then saw Sophie's face behind him, gazing at me with an odd detachment, and I heard her voice say: