The Unconsoled (15 page)

'You're very right, Mr Ryder. Very right to reprimand us. Seventeen years and seven months. That's a long time. A mistake such as ours might have been made anywhere, but then not to rectify it for so long? I can see how we must look to an outsider, to someone like yourself, sir, and I feel thoroughly ashamed, let me say so. I make no excuses. It took us an eternity to admit our error. Not, I dare say, to see it. But to admit it, even to ourselves, that was difficult and took a long time. We had, you see, plunged deep with Mr Christoff. Virtually every council member had at some time invited him to his house. He had been regularly seated next to Mr von Winterstein at the annual civic banquets. His photograph had adorned the cover of our city almanac. He had written the introduction to the programme for the Roggenkamp Exhibition. There were yet other implications. Things had gone further. There was for instance the unfortunate case of Mr Liebrich. Ah, but excuse me, I think I've just spotted Mr Kollmann over there' - he craned his neck again, looking towards the back of the cinema - 'yes, that's Mr Kollmann, and with him, if I'm not mistaken, it's so difficult to see in this light, with him is Mr Schaefer. Both these gentlemen attended this morning's welcoming reception and I know they'd both be utterly delighted to meet you. Furthermore, on this matter we're discussing, I'm sure both these gentlemen will have much to say. I wonder if you'd care to go over and meet them.'

'I'd be honoured. But just now you were about to tell me…' 'Ah yes, of course. The unfortunate case of Mr Liebrich. You see, sir, for many years before Mr Christoff's arrival, Mr Liebrich had been one of our most respected violin teachers. He taught the children of the best families. He was highly admired. Now Mr Christoff, not long after his first recital, was asked his opinion on Mr Liebrich and he let it be known that he didn't care much for Mr Liebrich at all. Not for his playing nor his teaching methods. By the time of Mr Liebrich's death a few years ago, he had lost virtually everything. His pupils, his friends, his place in society. That was just one case that sprang to mind. To admit that we'd been wrong about Mr Christoff all along - can you imagine the enormity of it, sir? Yes, we were weak, I admit it. Then again we had no idea things would reach the present level of crisis. People seemed by and large happy still. Year after year slipped by and if some of us had doubts we kept them to ourselves. But I don't defend our negligence, sir, not for a second. And I, in my position on the council at that time, I know I'm as culpable as anyone. In the end, and I feel thoroughly ashamed to admit this, in the end it was the people of this city, the ordinary people who forced us to face up to our responsibilities. The ordinary people, their lives by this point growing ever more miserable, were at least a clear step ahead of us. I remember the exact moment this fact first dawned on me. It was three years ago, I was walking home after the latest of Mr Christoff's recitals - it was, I remember, Kazan's
Grotesqueries for Cello and Three Flutes
. I was hurrying home through the darkness of Liebmann Park, it was quite chilly, and I could see Mr Kohler the chemist walking a little way in front of me. I knew he'd also been at the concert and so I caught up with him and we started talking. At first I was careful to keep my thoughts to myself, but eventually I asked him if he'd enjoyed Mr Christoff's recital. Yes, he had, Mr Kohler said. There must have been something about the way he'd said it, because I recall asking him again a few moments later if he'd enjoyed the concert. This time Mr Kohler said yes, he'd enjoyed himself, but perhaps Mr Christoff's performance had been a little functional. Yes, "functional" was the word he used. As you can imagine, sir, I thought carefully before I next spoke. In the end I decided to throw caution to the wind, and I said: "Mr Kohler, I tend to agree with you. There was a certain dryness to it all." To which Mr Kohler remarked that "cold" was the word that had sprung to his mind. By then we'd reached the park gates. We wished each other good night and parted. But I remember I hardly slept that night, Mr Ryder. Ordinary people, decent citizens like Mr Kohler were now expressing such views. It was clear the pretence could no longer continue. It was time for us - all of us in positions of influence - to own up to our error, however far-reaching the implication. Ah, but excuse me, that is most definitely Mr Schaefer seated beside Mr Kollmann. Both of those gentlemen will, I know, have interesting viewpoints about what occurred. Being a generation younger than myself, they'll have seen things from a slightly different angle. Besides, I know how much they were longing to meet you this morning. Please, let's go over.'

Pedersen got to his feet and I watched his crouched figure edging down the row muttering apologies. On reaching the aisle, he straightened and gestured to me. Weary though I was, there seemed nothing for it but to join him, and I too rose and began to make my way towards the aisle. As I did so, I noticed that an almost festive mood was pervading the cinema. Everywhere people were exchanging jokes and little remarks as they watched the film, and no one seemed to mind at all my pushing past. On the contrary, people seemed to tuck their legs to one side or jump to a standing position with eagerness. A few people even rolled right back in their seats, feet stuck up in the air, squealing with delight as they did so.

Once I reached the aisle, Pedersen began to lead the way up the carpeted slope. Somewhere among the rear stalls, he halted and with an ushering motion said:

'After you, Mr Ryder.'

9

I once more found myself pushing past people, this time with Pedersen directly behind me, whispering apologies on our behalf. Before long we came upon a group of several men huddled together. It took me a moment to ascertain that a game of cards was in progress, some participants leaning forward from the row behind, while others leaned back from the row in front. They looked up as we approached, and when Pedersen announced me they all rose to a half-standing position. They seated themselves again only when I was comfortably installed in their midst, and I found myself shaking numerous hands proffered out of the darkness.

The man nearest me was dressed in a business suit, with his collar unbuttoned and his tie loosened. He smelt of whisky and I noticed he was having difficulty focusing on me. His companion, looking over his shoulder, was thin, with an oddly freckled face, and seemed more sober, though he too had his tie loosened. I did not have time to take in the rest of the company before the drunken man shook my hand a second time, saying:

'I hope you're enjoying the film, sir.'

'I am indeed. In fact, it happens to be one of my all-time favourites.'

'Ah. Well then, it's fortunate that's what's showing tonight. Yes, I too like this film. A classic. Mr Ryder, would you care to take over this hand?' He held his cards up to my face.

'No thank you. Please don't interrupt your game on my account.'

'I was just telling Mr Ryder,' Pedersen said behind me, 'that life here wasn't always the way it is today. Even you gentlemen who are younger than me, I'm sure you'll be able to vouch…'

'Ah yes, the good old days,' the drunken man said dreamily. 'Ah yes. Things were good here in the good old days.'

"Theo's thinking about Rosa Klenner,' said the freckled man behind him, causing laughter all around.

'Nonsense,' the drunken man protested. 'And stop trying to embarrass me in front of our distinguished guest.'

'Oh yes, oh yes,' his friend went on. 'In those days Theo here was completely in love with Rosa Klenner. That's to say, the present Mrs Christoff.'

'I was never in love with her. Anyway, I was already married by then.'

'All the more pitiful then, Theo. All the more pitiful.'

'It's complete nonsense.'

'I can remember, Theo,' a new voice said from the row behind, 'you used to bore us for hours talking about Rosa Klenner.'

'I didn't know her true nature in those days.'

'It was precisely her true nature that appealed to you,' the voice went on. 'You've always hankered after women who wouldn't look at you for three seconds.'

'There's some truth in that,' the freckled man said.

'There's no truth at all…'

'No, let me explain to Mr Ryder.' The freckled man put his hand on his drunken friend's shoulder and leaned towards me. 'The present Mrs Christoff - we still tend to call her Rosa Klenner - she's a local girl, one of us, grew up with us. She's still a beautiful woman, and in those days, well, she had us all captivated. She was very beautiful and very distant. She used to work at the Schlegel Gallery, which has closed now. She used to be there behind a desk, no more than an attendant really. She used to be there on Tuesdays and Thursdays…'

'Tuesdays and
Fridays
,' the drunken man interrupted.

'Tuesdays and Fridays. Sorry. Naturally, Theo would remember. After all, he used to go to the gallery - it was just this little white room - he used to go there all the time and pretend to be looking at the exhibits.'

'Nonsense…'

'You weren't the only one, were you, Theo? You had a lot of rivals. Jürgen Haase. Erich Brull. Even Heinz Wodak. They were all regulars.'

'And Otto Roscher,' Theo said nostalgically. 'He was often there.'

'Was that so? Yes, Rosa had a lot of admirers.'

'I never spoke to her,' Theo said. 'Except once, when I asked her for a catalogue.'

'The thing that became apparent about Rosa,' the freckled man continued, 'ever since we were all teenagers, was that as far as she was concerned all the local males were beneath her. She developed a reputation for turning down advances in the cruellest possible ways. That's why poor souls like Theo here, very wisely, never said a word to her. But then whenever someone of note, an artist, a musician, a writer, someone like that passed through the town, she'd pursue them with no shame whatsoever. She was always on this or that committee, which meant she had access to virtually every celebrity visiting the town. She'd get to go to all the receptions and half an hour into an event she'd have the guest in a corner, talking and talking, staring into his eyes. Of course, there was a lot of speculation - about her sexual behaviour, I mean - but no one could ever prove anything. She was always very clever. But if you saw the way she flung herself at visiting celebrities, you couldn't doubt she'd have relations with at least some of them. She certainly charmed a whole lot of them, she was extremely attractive. But as for the local men, she wouldn't look at them.'

'Hans Jongboed always claimed to have had a fling with her,' the man called Theo put in. This caused much laughter, several voices nearby repeating derisively: 'Hans Jongboed!' Pedersen, however, was stirring uneasily.

'Gentlemen,' he began, 'Mr Ryder and I were just discussing…'

'I never spoke to her. Except that once. To ask for a catalogue.'

'Ah, Theo, never mind.' The freckled man slapped his friend on the back, causing the latter to slump forward a little. 'Never mind. Look at her plight now.'

Theo seemed lost in thought. 'She was like that about everything,' he said. 'Not just about love. She'd only really have any time for members of the artistic circle, and then only for the real elite. You couldn't get any respect from her otherwise. She was disliked here. Long before she ever married Christoff, she was disliked.'

'If she wasn't so beautiful,' the freckled man said to me, 'she'd have been universally hated. As it was, there were always men like Theo here willing to fall under her spell. Anyway, Christoff arrived in this town. A professional cellist, and one with a distinguished track record! Rosa made a completely unashamed go for him. Didn't seem to care what any of us thought. She knew what she wanted and went about it quite ruthlessly. It was admirable in an appalling sort of way. Christoff was charmed and they got married during his first year here. Christoff was what she'd been waiting for all that time. Well, I hope she's got her money's worth. Sixteen years of being his wife. It hasn't been so bad. But what now? He's finished here. What's she going to do now?'

'She won't even get a job in a gallery now,' Theo said. 'She's hurt us too much over the years. Hurt our pride. She's through in this city, every bit as much as Christoff himself.'

'One school of thought has it,' the freckled man said, 'that Rosa will leave town with Christoff and not ditch him until they're well settled elsewhere. But Mr Dremmler here' - he indicated someone in the row in front - 'is convinced she'll stay on here.'

The man in the row in front turned at the mention of his name. Evidently he had been listening to the discussion, for he now said with some authority: 'What you've got to remember about Rosa Klenner is that she's got a really timid side to her. I was at school with her, we were in the same year. She's always had it, that side to her, and it's her curse. This city isn't good enough for her, but she's too timid to leave. You notice, for all her ambitions, she's never attempted to leave us. This timid side to her, a lot of people don't notice it, but it's there. That's why my bet's on her staying. She'll stay and try her luck again here. She'll be hoping to hook some other celebrity passing through. After all, she's still a beautiful woman for her age.'

A high reedy voice somewhere nearby said: 'Maybe she'll go for Brodsky.'

This provoked the largest burst of laughter yet.

'It's perfectly possible,' the voice went on in a mock-hurt tone. 'All right, he's old, but she's no longer so young. And who else is there here in her league?' Again there was much laughter, spurring the speaker on. 'In fact, Brodsky's the best course for her. I'd recommend it to her. Anything else and all the resentment the town now feels towards Christoff will stay with her. But if she becomes Brodsky's mistress, or even Brodsky's
wife
, ah, by far the best way to obliterate her connection with Christoff. And it means she can just carry on in her… her present
position
.'

By this point there was laughter all around us, with people even three rows in front turning and displaying their mirth. Next to me, Pedersen cleared his throat.