The Unconsoled (32 page)

Sophie and I would then emerge nervously into the entrance hall. Boris, coming in behind his grandfather, would add: 'But it's not quite over yet. They'll attack once more, perhaps before morning.'

This assessment of the situation, which had been so obvious to grandfather and grandson they had not even bothered to confer, would be greeted with anguish by myself and Sophie.

'No, I can't stand it!' Sophie would wail, then break down sobbing. I would hold her in my arms in an attempt to comfort her, but my own features would be crumpling. Faced with this pathetic spectacle, Boris and Gustav would not show a flicker of disparagement. Gustav would place a reassuring hand on my shoulder, saying: 'Don't worry. Boris and I will be here. And after this last attack, that will be the end of it.'

'That's right,' Boris would confirm. 'One more battle is the most they'll take.' Then turning to Gustav he would say: 'Grandfather, perhaps this next time, I'll try reasoning with them again. Give them a last chance to back away.'

'They won't listen,' Gustav would say, shaking his head gravely. 'But you're right. We should give them a last chance.'

Sophie and I, overwhelmed with fear, would disappear deeper into the apartment weeping in each other's arms. Boris and Gustav would look at each other, sigh wearily, then, unbolting the front door, go back outside.

They would find the walkway dark, silent and empty.

'We might as well get some rest,' Gustav would say. 'You sleep first, Boris. I'll wake you if I hear them coming.'

Boris, nodding, would sit down on the top step of the stairway and, with his back against the front door, go promptly to sleep.

Some time later, a touch on his arm, and he would spring to his feet instantly awake. His grandfather would already be staring down at the street thugs gathering before them in the walkway. They would be more numerous than ever, the last confrontation having compelled them to recruit every one of their number from every dark recess of the city. Now they would all be there, dressed in torn leathers, army jackets, cruel belts, holding metal bars or bicycle chains - but their own sense of honour forbidding them to bring guns. Boris and Gustav would come slowly down the stairway towards them, pausing perhaps on the second or third step up. Then Boris, at a signal from his grandfather, would begin to speak, raising his voice so that it rang around the concrete pillars:

'We've fought you many times. There are even more of you this time, I can see. But you must each of you know in your hearts you cannot win. And this time my grandfather and I can't guarantee some of you won't get seriously hurt. There's no sense in this fighting. You must all have had homes once. Mothers and fathers. Perhaps brothers and sisters. I want you to understand what's happening. These attacks of yours, your continual terrorising of our apartment, has meant that my mother is crying all the time.

She's always tense and irritable, and this means she often tells me off for no reason. It also means Papa has to go away for long periods, sometimes abroad, which Mother doesn't like. This is all the result of your terrorising the apartment. Perhaps you're simply doing it because you're high-spirited, because you come from broken homes and you know no better. This is why I'm trying to get you to understand what's really happening, the real effects of your inconsiderate behaviour. What it could come to sooner or later is that Papa won't come back home at all. We might even have to move out of the apartment altogether. This is why I've had to bring Grandfather here, away from his important work in charge of a big hotel. We can't allow you to continue with what you've been doing. And this is why we've been fighting you. Now that I've explained things to you, you have a chance to think it all over and go back. If you don't, then Grandfather and I will have no choice but to fight you again. We'll do our best to knock you unconscious without doing any long-lasting damage, but in a large fight, even with our level of skill, we can't guarantee some of you won't end up with bad bruises, even broken bones. So take your chance and go back.'

Gustav would give a small smile of approval at this speech, then the two of them would survey again the brutish faces before them. A significant proportion would be looking uncertainly at each other, fear rather than reason causing them to re-consider. But then their leaders - horrific, scowling characters - would start up a war-like growl, which would steadily spread through their ranks. Then they would surge forward. Quickly, Boris and his grandfather would take up positions, back to back, moving neatly in formation, employing their own carefully developed blend of karate and other combat techniques. The street thugs would come at them from every direction, only to be sent spinning, stumbling, flying away emitting grunts of surprised horror, until once again the ground would be covered with unconscious bodies. For the next several moments Boris and Gustav would stand together waiting, watching carefully, until the thugs began to stir, some groaning, others shaking their heads trying to determine where they were. At this point, Gustav would take a step forward, saying:

'Now go, let that be the finish. Leave this apartment alone. This was a very happy home before you started to terrorise it. If you return again, my grandson and I will have no choice but to start breaking bones.'

This speech would hardly be necessary. The street thugs would know that this time they had been thoroughly defeated, that they were fortunate not to be more badly hurt. Slowly they would begin to clamber to their feet and hobble away, supporting each other in twos and threes, many moaning in pain.

Once the last thug had limped away, Boris and Gustav would exchange a look of quiet satisfaction, turn and go back up to the apartment. As they came in, Sophie and I - we would have witnessed the entire scene from the window - would welcome them back jubilantly. 'Thank God it's over,' I would say excitedly. 'Thank God.'

'I've already started to cook a celebratory meal,' Sophie would announce, beaming happily, all the tension now fallen from her face. 'We're so grateful to you and Grandfather, Boris. Why don't we all play a board game tonight?'

'I'll have to be going,' Gustav would say. 'I've got a lot to do back at the hotel. If there's any further trouble, let me know. But I'm certain that's the end of it.'

We would wave Gustav off as he went down the stairway. Then, closing the door, Boris, Sophie and I would settle in for the evening. Sophie would move in and out of the kitchen, preparing the meal, singing lightly to herself, while Boris and I lounged about on the floor of the living room, engrossed in the board game. Then, after we had been playing for an hour or so, at a point when Sophie was out of the room, I would suddenly look up at Boris with a serious expression and say quietly:

'Thank you for what you did, Boris. Now things can be as they were. The way they were before.'

'Look!' Boris shouted, and I saw he was standing beside me again, pointing over the wall. 'Look! It's Aunt Kim!'

Sure enough, down on the ground below us, a woman was waving frantically to attract our attention. She was wearing a green cardigan which she was holding tightly to herself, and her hair was blowing about messily. Noticing we had at last spotted her, she shouted something, but it was lost in the wind.

'Aunt Kim!' Boris called down.

The woman gesticulated and shouted something again.

'Let's go down,' Boris said, and began to lead the way, suddenly full of excitement once more.

I followed Boris as he ran down several flights of concrete stairs. As we came out at ground level, the wind immediately hit at us with great force, but Boris still managed to perform for the woman's benefit a staggering motion as though landing from a parachute jump.

'Aunt Kim' was a stocky woman of around forty, whose somewhat stern face was definitely familiar to me.

'You must be deaf, both of you,' she said as we came up to her. 'We saw you get off that bus and we were calling and calling, but were you listening? And then I come down here to get you and you're nowhere to be found.'

'Oh dear,' I said. 'We didn't hear anything, did we, Boris? It must be this wind. So' - I cast my gaze around me - 'you were watching us from your apartment.'

The stocky woman pointed vaguely to one of the countless windows overlooking us. 'We were calling and calling.' Then, turning to Boris, she said: 'Your mother's up there, young feller. She's just
longing
to see you.'

'Mother?'

'You'd better come on up straight away, she's just longing to see you. And you know what? She's been cooking all afternoon, getting the most fantastic feast ready for when you get home tonight. You're just not going to believe it, she says she's prepared everything, all your favourites, everything you can think of. She was just telling me all about it, and then we looked out of the window and there you were, getting off the bus. Listen, I've just spent half an hour looking for you guys, I'm frozen. Do we have to keep standing out here?'

She had been holding out her hand. Boris took it and we all started towards the section of the building she had indicated. As we got closer, Boris ran on ahead, pushed open a fire door and disappeared inside. The door was swinging shut as the stocky woman and I approached. She held it open for me, saying as she did so: 'Ryder, aren't you supposed to be somewhere else? Sophie was just telling me how her phone's been ringing all afternoon. People trying to track you down.'

'Really? Ah. Well, as you see, I'm here.' I gave a laugh. 'I brought Boris here.'

The woman shrugged. 'I suppose you know your business.'

We were standing in a dimly lit space at the bottom of a stairwell. On the wall next to me was a bank of mail boxes and some fire equipment. As we started up the first flight - there were at least five more flights above us - the clatter of Boris's running feet came from somewhere over our heads, and then I heard him shout: 'Mother!' There were exclamations of delight, more clatter of feet, and Sophie's voice saying: 'Oh my darling, my darling!' A muffled quality to her voice suggested they were embracing, and by the time the stocky woman and I arrived on the landing they had disappeared inside the apartment.

'Excuse the mess,' the woman said, ushering me in.

I went through a tiny entrance hall into an open-plan room furnished with simple modern items. A large picture window dominated the room, and as I came in I saw Sophie and Boris standing together in front of it, their figures almost silhouettes against the grey sky. Sophie smiled briefly at me, then resumed her conversation with Boris. They seemed excited about something and Sophie kept hugging Boris's shoulders. From the way they were pointing out of the window, I thought that perhaps Sophie was recounting how she and the stocky woman had spotted us earlier. But as I moved closer I heard Sophie saying:

'Yes, really. Everything's virtually ready. We just have to heat a few things up, like the meat pies.'

Boris said something I did not catch, to which Sophie replied:

'Of course we can. We'll play whichever one you like. You can see which one you want once we've finished eating.'

Boris looked at his mother questioningly, and I noticed a guardedness had entered his manner, preventing him from becoming as excited as perhaps Sophie would have liked. Then, as he wandered off to another part of the room, Sophie stepped closer to me and shook her head sadly.

'I'm sorry,' she said quietly. 'It wasn't any good. If anything, it was worse than the one last month. The views are stunning, it's built right on a cliff edge, but it's just not sturdy enough. Mr Mayer agreed in the end. He thinks the roof could fall down in a strong gale, perhaps even within the next few years. I came straight back, I was home by eleven. I'm sorry. You're disappointed, I can tell.' She glanced across towards Boris, who was examining a portable cassette player left on a shelf.

'There's no need to get discouraged,' I said with a sigh. 'I'm sure we'll find something soon.'

'But I was thinking,' Sophie said. 'On the coach coming back. I was thinking there's no reason we can't start doing all sorts of things together now, house or no house. So as soon as I got in, I started cooking. I thought tonight we could have a great feast, just the three of us. I remembered the way Mother used to do it when I was small, before her illness. She used to cook lots and lots of different little things and put them all out for us to pick and choose. They were such great evenings and I thought, well, tonight there's no reason we couldn't do something like that, just the three of us. I hadn't really considered it before, not with that kitchen the way it is, but I had a good look around it and realised I was being silly. Okay, it's far from ideal but a lot of it works. So I started cooking. I've been cooking right through the afternoon. And I've managed to make just about everything. All Boris's favourites. It's just sitting there waiting for us, it just needs warming up. We'll have a great feast tonight.'

'That's good. I'm very much looking forward to it.'

"There's no reason why we can't, even in that apartment. And you've been so understanding about… about everything. I was thinking about it all. On the coach coming back. We've got to put the past behind us now. We've got to start doing things together again. Good things.'

'Yes. You're quite right.'

Sophie stared out of the window for a few seconds. Then she said: 'Oh, I nearly forgot. That woman kept phoning. All the time I was cooking. Miss Stratmann. Asking if I knew where you were. Did she get hold of you?'

'Miss Stratmann? Well no. What was she wanting?'

'She seemed to think there'd been a mix up over some of your appointments today. She was very polite, kept apologising for disturbing me. She said she was sure you were well on top of everything, she was just phoning to check up, that was all, she wasn't worried in the least. But then fifteen minutes later the phone would ring and it would be her again.'

'Well, it's nothing to be concerned about. Er… she was under the impression I should have been somewhere else, you say?'

'I'm not sure what she was saying. She was very nice, but she kept on phoning. I over-cooked a tray of chicken tarts because of that. Then, the last time she phoned, she asked if I was looking forward to it. To this reception this evening at the Karwinsky Gallery. You hadn't told me about it, but she said it like they were expecting me. So I said, yes, I was very much looking forward to it. Then she asked if Boris was, and I said yes, he was too, and so were you, that you were really looking forward to it. That seemed to reassure her. She said she wasn't worried, she was just mentioning it, that was all. I put the phone down and I was a little disappointed at first. I thought this reception might interfere with our feast. But then I saw I had time to get everything ready first, that we could all go and come back, as long as we didn't have to stay too long we could still have our evening together. And then I thought, well, it's a good thing really. A good thing both for me and for Boris, to go to a reception like this.' She suddenly reached out to Boris, who had come wandering back towards us, and hugged him roughly. 'Boris, you'll be a big hit, won't you? You won't mind all these people. You just be yourself and you'll really enjoy it. You'll be a big hit. Then before you know it, it'll be time to go home and then we'll have a really great evening, just the three of us. I've got everything ready, all your favourites.'