The Unconsoled (60 page)

Although Mrs Hoffman had been confident this was the performers' entrance, my immediate impression was that I had come in through the kitchens after all. I was in a wide bare corridor lit harshly with fluorescent ceiling strips. From all around came the sound of voices calling and shouting, the clanging of heavy metallic objects, the hissing of water and steam. Directly in front of me was a catering trolley beside which two men in uniforms were arguing furiously. One man was holding a long piece of paper which had unrolled almost to his feet, and was repeatedly thrusting his finger at it. I thought about interrupting them to ask where I might find Hoffman - my first concern now being to carry out an inspection of the auditorium, and of the piano itself, before the public began to arrive - but they seemed lost in their argument and I decided to walk on.

The corridor curved gradually. I encountered a good many people, but they all seemed very busy and somewhat fraught. Most of them, dressed in white uniforms, were hurrying with distracted expressions, carrying heavy sacks or else pushing trolleys. I did not feel inclined to stop any of them and carried on down the corridor assuming I would eventually reach some other section of the building where I would find the dressing rooms -and hopefully Hoffman or someone else who could show me the facilities. But then I realised a voice behind me was calling my name and turned to find a man running after me. He looked familiar, and then I recognised the bearded porter who had opened the dancing at the café earlier in the evening.

'Mr Ryder,' he said panting, 'thank God I've found you at last. This is the third time I've gone round the building. He's holding out well, but we're all anxious to get him to hospital and he's still insisting on not budging until he's spoken to you. Please, it's this way, sir. He's holding out well, though, God bless him.'

'Who's holding out well? What's happened?'

'It's this way, sir. We'd better go quickly, if you don't mind. I'm sorry, Mr Ryder, I'm not explaining anything. It's Gustav, he's been taken ill. I wasn't here myself when it happened, but a couple of the boys, Wilhelm and Hubert, they were working here with him, helping with the preparations, and they sent out the word. Of course as soon as I heard I sped over here and so did all the other boys. Apparently Gustav had been working very well, but then he went to the washroom and didn't come out for a long time. This not being at all like Gustav, Wilhelm went in and had a look. It seems, sir, when he went in, Gustav was standing over a sink, his head bowed over it. He wasn't so ill at that stage, he told Wilhelm he felt a bit giddy, that was all, and not to make a fuss. Wilhelm being Wilhelm, he wasn't sure what to do, especially with Gustav saying not to make a fuss, and so he went and got Hubert. Hubert took one look and decided Gustav had to lie down somewhere. So they got on either side of him to help him, and that's when they realised he'd passed out, still on his feet, gripping the sink. He was gripping the edges, really gripping them, and Wilhelm says they had to prise off his fingers one by one. Then Gustav seemed to come to a bit and they each took an arm and brought him out of there. And Gustav, he was saying again how he didn't want any fuss, how he was all right and could carry on working. But Hubert wouldn't hear of it and they put him in one of the dressing rooms, one of the empty ones.'

He had been leading the way down the corridor at a considerable pace, talking all the time over his shoulder, but now broke off as we dodged past a trolley.

'This is all very disturbing,' I said. 'Exactly when did this all happen?'

'I suppose it must have been a couple of hours ago. He didn't seem so bad at first and insisted all he needed was a few minutes to get his breath back. But Hubert was worried and sent out the word and we were all round here in no time, every one of us. We found a mattress for him to lie on, and a blanket, but then he seemed to get worse and we all talked about it and said he should get proper help. But Gustav wouldn't hear of it, he suddenly got very determined and said he had to speak to you, sir. He was very insistent, he said he'd go along to hospital soon enough if that's what we decided, but not before he'd spoken with you. And there he was getting worse right before our eyes. But there was no reasoning with him, sir, and so we went out searching for you again. Thank God I found you. It's this one here, the one on the end.'

I had imagined the corridor to be a continuous circuit, but I now saw that it came to an end at a cream-coloured wall ahead of us. The last door before the wall was ajar and, stopping at the threshold, the bearded porter peered cautiously into the room. Then he gestured to me and I stepped in after him.

There were a dozen or so people just inside the doorway who all turned to us, then hastily stood aside. I supposed these to be the other porters, but I did not pause to look at them carefully, my gaze being drawn to Gustav's figure on the other side of the small room.

He was lying on a mattress across the tiled floor, a blanket over his body. One of the porters was squatting down beside him saying something softly, but on seeing me stood up. Then within a moment the room had emptied, the door had closed behind me and I was alone with Gustav.

The small dressing room contained no furniture, not even a wooden chair. It was windowless and, though the ventilation grid near the ceiling was emitting a low hum, the air felt stale.

The floor felt cold and hard, and the overhead light had either been extinguished or was not working, leaving the bulbs around the make-up mirror as our only source of light. I could see well enough, though, how Gustav's face had gone an odd grey colour. He was lying on his back, quite still except when every now and then some wave passed over him causing him to press his head back deeper into the mattress. He had smiled at me the moment I had entered, but had said nothing, no doubt saving himself for when we were alone. He now said, in a voice that was weak, but otherwise surprisingly composed:

'I'm very sorry, sir, to have dragged you here like this. It's most galling this should have happened, and tonight of all nights. Just when you're about to do your great favour for us.'

'Yes, yes,' I said quickly, 'but look here. How are you feeling?' I crouched down beside him.

'I don't suppose I'm so well. And in time I think I ought to go along to the hospital and have a few things checked out.'

He paused as another wave swept over him, and for a few seconds a quiet struggle ensued there on the mattress during which time the elderly porter closed his eyes. Then he opened them again and said:

'I had to speak to you, sir. There was something I had to speak to you about.'

'Please, let me assure you at once,' I said, 'that I remain as committed as ever to your cause. In fact, I'm very much looking forward to demonstrating to all the assembled tonight the unfairness of the treatment you and your colleagues have endured over the years. I fully intend to highlight the many misunderstandings…'

I stopped, realising he was making an effort to attract my attention.

'I didn't doubt for a minute, sir,' he said after a pause, 'you'd be as good as your word. I'm very grateful to you for standing up for us like this. But it was about something else I wished to speak to you.' He paused again and another silent struggle commenced under the blanket.

'Really,' I said, 'I wonder if it wouldn't be wise to go straight away to the hospital…'

'No, no. Please. Once I go to hospital, well, then it might all be too late. You see, it's really time now I spoke to her. To Sophie, I mean. I really must speak to her. I know you're very busy tonight, but you see, no one else knows. About the situation between me and Sophie, about our
understanding
. I know it's a lot to ask, sir, but I wondered if you might go and explain things to her. There's no one else who could do it.'

'I'm sorry,' I said, genuinely puzzled. 'Explain what exactly?'

'Explain to her, sir. Why our understanding… why it has to finish now. It won't be easy to persuade her of it, after all these years. But if you could try and make her see why we have to try and end it now. I realise it's a lot to ask of you, but then it's a little while yet until you're expected on the stage. And as I say, you're the only one who knows…'

He trailed off as another wave of pain engulfed him. I could sense all his muscles bracing themselves under the blanket, but this time he continued to gaze at me, somehow keeping his eyes open even as his whole frame shook. When his body had slackened again, I said:

'It's true, there's a little time yet until I'm required. Very well, I'll go and see what I can do. I'll try and make her understand. In any case, I'll bring her here as quickly as possible. But let's hope you'll recover very soon and the present situation will prove to have been not as crucial as you feared…'

'Sir, please. I'd be very grateful if you'd bring her here quickly. Meanwhile I'll of course do all I can to hold out…'

'Yes, yes, I'll set off straight away. Please be patient, I'll be as fast as I can.'

I rose to my feet and started for the door. I had almost reached it when a thought occurred to me and, turning, I made my way back to the figure on the floor.

'Boris,' I said to him, crouching down again. 'What about Boris? Should I bring him here too?'

Gustav looked up at me, then took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he had not spoken for some moments, I said:

'Perhaps it's best he doesn't see you in this… this present condition.'

I thought I saw the faintest of nods, but Gustav remained silent, his eyes still closed.

'After all,' I went on, 'he has a certain picture of you. Perhaps you'll want him to remember you that way.'

This time Gustav nodded more definitely.

'I just thought I should ask you,' I said, rising to my feet again. 'Very well. I'll bring just Sophie here. I won't be long.'

I had reached the door again -I was already turning the handle - when he suddenly shouted behind me:

'Mr Ryder!'

Not only had he called surprisingly loudly, his voice had contained such a peculiar intensity I could hardly believe it had emerged from Gustav. And yet when I looked back at him, his eyes were again closed and he seemed quite still. I hurried to him once more with some apprehension. But then Gustav opened his eyes and looked up at me.

'You must bring Boris too,' he said very quietly. 'He's not so small now. Let him see me like this. He has to learn about life. Face up to it.'

The eyes closed again and as his features tightened I thought he was suffering another fit of pain. But this time there was something different, and as I looked down in concern I realised that the old man was crying. I continued to watch for a moment, not sure what to do. Finally I touched his shoulder gently.

'I'll be as quick as I can,' I whispered.

When I came out of the dressing room, the other porters, who were all crowded near the doorway, turned to me with anxious looks. I pushed my way past them, saying firmly:

'Please keep a careful watch on him, gentlemen. I have to carry out an urgent request and so you'll have to excuse me for the moment.'

Someone started to ask a question, but I hurried on without stopping.

My plan was to find Hoffman and insist on being driven immediately to Sophie's apartment. But then, as I continued briskly along the corridor, I realised I had no idea where to look for the hotel manager. Moreover, the corridor itself had taken on a very different aspect from the time I had come down it with the bearded porter. There were still a few catering trolleys being pushed about, but it had now become overwhelmingly dominated by persons I could only suppose were members of the visiting orchestra. Long rows of dressing rooms had appeared on either side of me, many with their doors open, and the musicians were standing about in twos and threes, chatting and laughing, sometimes calling across the corridor to one another. Occasionally I would pass a closed door from behind which came the sounds of some instrument, but on the whole their mood struck me as surprisingly frivolous. I was about to stop and ask one of them where I might find Hoffman when I suddenly caught sight of the hotel manager himself through the half-open door of a dressing room. I went up to it and pushed it a little further.

Hoffman was standing before a full-length mirror, studying himself carefully. He was in full evening dress and his face, I noticed, had been made up excessively so that some of the powder had fallen onto his shoulders and lapels. He was muttering something under his breath, never taking his gaze off his reflection. Then, as I continued to watch from the door, he performed a curious action. Bending forward suddenly at the waist, he brought his arm up very stiffly so that the elbow was jutting outwards, and thumped himself on the forehead with his fist -once, twice, three times. Throughout it all he did not take his eyes off the mirror or cease his whispering. Then he straightened and looked at himself silently. It occurred to me he was about to repeat the whole action again and so I quickly cleared my throat and said:

'Mr Hoffman.'

He started and stared at me.

'I've disturbed you,' I said. 'I do apologise.'

Hoffman looked around him in a bewildered manner, then seemed to regain his composure.

'Mr Ryder,' he said with a smile. 'How are you feeling? I trust you're finding everything here to your satisfaction.'

'Mr Hoffman, something of great urgency has come up. What I need just now is a car to take me to my destination as quickly as possible. I wonder if this could be arranged without delay.'

'A car, Mr Ryder? Now?'

'It's a matter of the utmost urgency. Of course I intend to return here very promptly, in plenty of time to fulfil my various commitments.'

'Yes, yes, of course.' Hoffman looked vaguely troubled. 'A car should be no problem at all. Of course, Mr Ryder, in normal circumstances I could have provided you also with a driver, or else I would have gladly driven you myself. Unfortunately, just at this moment, my staff have their hands very full. And as for myself, I have so many things to see to, as well as a few modest lines to rehearse. Ha ha! As you know, I will be making a short speech myself tonight. And as trivial as it undoubtedly will seem alongside your own contribution, and indeed, that of our Mr Brodsky, who incidentally is a little late, I feel nevertheless I must prepare myself the best I can. Yes, yes, Mr Brodsky is a little late, it's true, but there's nothing to worry about. In fact, this is his dressing room, I was just checking it over. A perfectly good dressing room. I'm fully confident he'll be here at any moment. As you know, Mr Ryder, I personally have been overseeing Mr Brodsky's, er, recovery, and what a satisfying thing it has been to witness. Such motivation, such dignity! So much so that tonight, on this crucial night, I have utter confidence. Oh yes. Utter confidence! Indeed, a relapse at this stage, that would be unthinkable. A disaster for this whole city! And naturally a personal disaster for me. Of course this is the most trivial of concerns, but nevertheless, you'll forgive me, let me say it, for myself, a relapse on this crucial night, at this point, ah yes, for me it would mark the end. On the very brink of triumph, it would be my finish. A humiliating finish! I could look no one in this town in the face again. I would have to hide. Ha! But what am I doing, talking of such improbable scenarios? I have utter confidence in Mr Brodsky. He will be here.'