'I see.' He looked gravely down at the ground, thinking to himself. Over his shoulder I could see the others watching us anxiously. Then the surgeon said:
'Perhaps you wouldn't mind looking in the boot. There might be something there to help us. Some sharp implement with which I could carry out the operation.'
I thought about this, then said: 'I'll be happy to go and look. But perhaps first I should go and have a word with Mr Brodsky. You see, I do know him to some extent and I really should speak to him before… before such a drastic step is taken.'
'Very well,' the surgeon said. 'But my feeling - my professional opinion - is that we've wasted a great deal of time already. Please be as quick as you can.'
I went over again to Brodsky and looked down into his face.
'Mr Brodsky…' I began, but he interrupted immediately.
'Ryder, help me. I have to get to her.'
'To Miss Collins? I think there are other things just now to be concerned with.'
'No, no. I must speak with her. I see it. I see it very clearly now. My mind's very clear now. Since this happened, I don't know, I was on my bicycle, something hit me, some vehicle, a car, who knows? I must have been drunk, I don't remember that part, but I can remember the rest of it. I can see it now, I can see everything. It's him. All the time, he's wanted it to fail. It's him, he's done all this.'
'Who? Hoffman?'
'He's the lowest. The lowest. I couldn't see it before, but now I see it all. Since the vehicle hit me, whatever it was, a car, a truck, since then I can see it all. He came to me tonight, very sympathetic. I was waiting in the cemetery. Waiting and waiting. My heart pounding. I've been waiting all these years. You don't know, Ryder? I've been waiting a long time. Even when I was drunk, I was waiting. Next week, I used to say. Next week I'll stop drinking and go to her. I'll ask her to meet me at St Peter's Cemetery. Year after year I said this. And now at last there I was, waiting. On Per Gustavsson's tomb where I used to sit sometimes with Bruno. I was waiting. Fifteen minutes, then half an hour, then an hour. Then
he
comes. He touches me, here, on the shoulder. She's changed her mind, he says. She's not coming. Not even coming tonight to the concert hall. He's kind as usual. I listen to him. Drink whisky. It will calm you. This is special. But I can't drink whisky, I say. How can I drink whisky? Are you crazy? No, drink whisky, he says. Just a little. It'll steady you. I thought he was being kind. Now I see it. Right from the start, he never meant it to work. He believed I could never do it. I could never do it because I'm this… this
piece of dung
. That's what he thought. I'm sober now. I drank enough to kill a horse, but since that vehicle, I'm sober. I can see it all clearly now. It's him. He's lower than me. I won't let him succeed. I'll do it. Help me, Ryder. I won't let him. I'm going to the concert hall now. I'll show everyone. It's ready, the music, it's all here in my head, all here. I'll show everyone. But she has to come. I've got to speak to her. Help me, Ryder. Get me to her. She has to come, just sit in the concert hall. She'll remember then. He's the lowest, but I can see it clearly now. Help me, Ryder.'
'Mr Brodsky,' I said interrupting. 'There's a surgeon present. He's going to have to perform an operation. It might be a little painful.'
'Help me, Ryder. Just help me get to her. Your car? Your car? Take me. Take me to her. She'll be in that apartment. I hate it. How I hate it, hate it. I used to stand outside. Take me to her, Ryder. Take me now.'
'Mr Brodsky, you don't seem to realise your condition. There's little time to be lost. In fact, I promised the surgeon I'd search the boot. I'll be back in just a moment.'
'She's so afraid. But it's not too late. We could have an animal. But never mind that now, never mind the animal. Just come to the concert hall. That's all I ask. Just come to the hall. That's all I ask.'
I left Brodsky and went to the car. Opening the boot I found that Hoffman had crammed it untidily with assorted items. There was a broken chair, a pair of rubber boots, a collection of plastic cartons. Then I found a torch, and when I shone it around the boot I discovered a small hacksaw lying in a corner. It looked a little oily, but when I ran a finger along the blade the teeth felt sharp enough. I closed the boot and made my way over to where the others were standing talking around the stove. As I approached, I could hear the surgeon saying:
'Obstetrics is a dull field now. Not like when I was studying.'
'Excuse me,' I said. 'I found this.'
'Ah,' the surgeon said, turning to me. "Thank you. And you've spoken with Mr Brodsky? Good.'
I suddenly felt resentful at having been drawn into this whole affair to the extent that I had, and I said, perhaps a little tetchily, looking around at the ring of faces:
'Aren't there proper resources in this town for eventualities like this? Did you say you'd called an ambulance?'
'We called for one about an hour ago,' Geoffrey Saunders spoke up. 'From that call box over there. Unfortunately, ambulances are in short supply tonight on account of the big event at the concert hall.'
I looked where he was pointing and saw that indeed, standing some way back from the road, almost where the darkness of the forest began, was a public telephone box. The sight of it suddenly brought back to me the urgent business I had been in the midst of, and it occurred to me that by telephoning Sophie now I would not only be able to give her some advance warning, I would be able to get some directions as to how I might reach her apartment.
'If you'd excuse me,' I said, moving off. 'I have an important call to make just now.'
I walked towards the trees and entered the telephone box. As I searched through my pockets for some coins, I could see through the glass panel the figure of the surgeon walking slowly towards the supine Brodsky, the hacksaw held tactfully behind his back. Geoffrey Saunders and the others were circling uneasily, looking down into their tin cups or at their feet. Then the surgeon turned and said something to them, and two of the men, Geoffrey Saunders and a young man in a brown leather jacket, went over reluctantly to join him. For a few seconds the three of them stood looking down grimly at Brodsky.
I turned away and dialled Sophie's number. The phone rang for some time, then Sophie, sounding sleepy and slightly alarmed, came on the line. I took a deep breath.
'Look,' I said, 'you don't seem to realise just how much pressure is on me now. Do you suppose this is easy for me? I've very little time left now and I've still not had a second to inspect the concert hall. Instead there are all these other things people expect me to do. You think tonight's easy for me? Do you realise what tonight is? My parents, they're coming tonight. That's right! They're coming at last, tonight! They may well be there at this very moment! And look what happens. Do they leave me free to prepare? No, they give me one thing to do after the other. This confounded question-and-answer session for one thing. They've actually brought in an electronic Scoreboard. Can you believe it? What am I supposed to do? They take so much for granted, all these people. What do they want me to do, on this night of all nights? But it's the same as everywhere else. They expect everything from me. They'll probably turn on me tonight, it wouldn't surprise me. When they get unhappy about my answers, they'll turn on me, and then where will I be? I might not even get as far as the piano. Or my parents might leave, the moment they start to turn on me…'
'Look, calm down,' Sophie said. 'It'll be all right. They never turn on you. You always say they'll turn on you and so far no one, not a single person in all these years, has turned on you…'
'But don't you understand what I'm saying? This isn't just any night. My parents are coming. If they turn on me tonight, it will be… it will be…'
'They're not going to turn on you,' Sophie broke in again. 'You say this every time. From all over the world you phone to say the same thing. Whenever you reach this point. They're going to turn on me, they're going to find me out. And what happens? A few hours later you call again, and you're very calm and self-satisfied. I ask you how it went and you sound mildly surprised I should even bring it up. "Oh, it was fine," you say. Always just something like that and then you move onto other things, like none of it's worth discussing…'
'Wait a minute. What are you referring to? What phone calls are these? These phone calls, do you realise how much trouble I go to to make them to you? Sometimes I'm frantically busy, but I still somehow find a few minutes in my schedule to call, just to make sure you're all right. And more often than not it's you, you pour out all your problems to me. What do you mean implying I talk the way you say…'
"There's no point in going into it. The point I'm making is that everything will be fine tonight…'
'It's all very well for you to say that. You're just like all these others. You just take it for granted. You think all I have to do is turn up and everything else will just follow…' I suddenly remembered Gustav lying on his mattress in the unfurnished dressing room and stopped abruptly.
'What's the matter?' Sophie asked.
For a few moments more I continued to collect myself. Then I said:
'Look. There's something I meant to tell you. It's bad news. I'm sorry.'
Sophie was silent at the other end.
'It's your father,' I said. 'He's been taken ill. He's at the concert hall. You have to come immediately.'
I paused again, but Sophie still did not speak.
'He's holding out well,' I went on after another moment. 'But you have to come straight away. Boris too. In fact, that's why I was calling. I have a car. I'm on my way now to pick you both up.'
For what seemed a long time, the line remained silent. Then Sophie said:
'I'm sorry about yesterday evening. At the Karwinsky Gallery, I mean.' She paused and I thought she was going to go silent again. But then she continued: 'I was pathetic. You don't have to pretend. I know I was pathetic. I don't know what it is, I just can't manage in situations like that. I'm going to have to face it. I'll never be the sort who can travel with you from city to city, accompanying you at all these functions. I just can't do it. I'm sorry.'
'But what does that matter?' I said gently. "That gallery yesterday, I'd forgotten all about it. Who cares what sort of impression you make on people like that? They were awful people, every one of them. And you were by far the most beautiful woman there.'
'I can't believe that,' she said, laughing suddenly. 'I'm an old crow now.'
'But you're ageing beautifully.'
'What a thing to say!' She laughed again. 'How dare you!'
'I'm sorry,' I said, laughing also. 'I meant you hadn't aged at all. Not so anyone would notice.'
'Not so anyone would notice?!'
'I don't know…' Confused, I gave another laugh. 'Perhaps you looked haggard and ugly. I can't remember now.'
Sophie laughed once more, then fell silent. When she next spoke, her voice had become earnest again. 'But I was pathetic. I can't ever travel with you while I'm like this.'
'Look, I promise, I won't be travelling much longer now. Tonight, if it goes well, you never know. That might be it.'
'And I'm sorry I haven't found anything yet. I promise I'll find something for us soon. Somewhere really comfortable.'
I could not find an immediate response to this and for a few seconds we were both silent. Then I heard her say:
'Do you really not mind? About the way I was yesterday? The way I always am?'
'I don't mind at all. You can behave in any way you like at functions like that. Do whatever you want. It doesn't make any difference. You're worth more than the whole room of them put together.'
Sophie said nothing. After a while I went on:
'It's partly my fault too. About the house, I mean. It's not fair just leaving it to you to find one. Perhaps from now, provided tonight goes well, we can do it differently. We could look for something together.'
The line remained silent and for a second I wondered if Sophie had gone away. But then she said in a distant, dreamy voice:
'We're bound to find something soon, aren't we?'
'Yes, of course. We'll search together. Boris too. We'll find something.'
'And you're coming by soon, aren't you? To take us to Papa?'
'Yes, yes. I'll be coming as quickly as I can. So try and be ready, both of you.'
'Yes, all right.' Her voice still sounded distant and lacking in urgency. 'I'll wake Boris up now. Yes, all right.'
When I stepped out of the phone box, it was my impression there were definite signs of dawn in the sky. I saw the crowd around Brodsky and, as I came closer, spotted the surgeon down on his knees, sawing away. Brodsky appeared to be accepting his ordeal in silence, but then, just as I reached the car, he let out a hideous cry that rang through the trees.
'I have to be going now,' I said to no one in particular, and indeed no one seemed to hear me. But then, as I closed my door and started the engine, their faces all turned to me with horrified expressions. Before I could close my window, Geoffrey Saunders had come running up.
'Look here,' he said angrily. 'Look here. You can't go just yet. Once he's freed, we'll need to take him somewhere. We'll need your car, can't you see that? Surely that's common sense.'
'Look, Saunders,' I said firmly. 'I appreciate you've got problems here. I'd like to help more, but I've done all I can. I've got things of my own to worry about now.'
'That's typical of you, old chap,' he said. 'Just typical.'
'Look, you just haven't the faintest. Really, Saunders, you haven't the faintest. I've got more responsibilities than you could ever imagine. Look, I just don't lead the sort of life you do!'
I had bellowed this last statement, and I noticed that even the surgeon had stopped his work and was looking over at me. For all I knew Brodsky too had for the moment forgotten his pain and was staring at me. I felt self-conscious and said in a more conciliatory tone:
'I'm sorry, but I've got something very urgent to attend to. By the time you're all through, by the time Mr Brodsky's in any condition to be transported anywhere, I'm certain the ambulance will have arrived. In any case, I'm sorry, but I can't wait a minute longer.'