Page 14 of The Unconsoled


  In fact the look on my face noted by Pedersen had not to do with ‘concern’, so much as the growing annoyance I was feeling towards myself. For the truth was that my forthcoming address to this city was not only far from ready, I had yet to complete even the background research. I could not understand how with all my experience I had arrived at such a state of affairs. I remembered how that very afternoon in the hotel’s elegant atrium, I had sat sipping the strong bitter coffee, reiterating to myself the importance of planning the rest of the day with care so as to make the best use of the very limited time. As I had sat watching the misty fountain in the mirror behind the bar, I had even pictured myself in a situation not unlike the one I had just encountered at the cinema, making a striking impression on the company with my easy authority over the range of local issues, producing at least one spontaneous witticism at Christoff’s expense memorable enough to be quoted throughout the town the next day. Instead I had allowed myself to be deflected by other matters, with the result that, during my entire time at the cinema, I had been unable to manage a single noteworthy comment. It was even possible I had created the impression of being less than urbane. Suddenly I felt again an intense irritation with Sophie for the chaos she had caused and for the way she had obliged me to compromise so thoroughly my usual standards.

  We came to a halt again and I realised we were standing in front of the hotel.

  ‘Well, it’s been a great pleasure,’ Pedersen said, holding out his hand to me. ‘I look forward to enjoying more of your company over the coming days. But now you must get some rest.’

  I thanked him, wished him a good night and entered the lobby as his footsteps faded away into the darkness.

  The young desk clerk was still on duty. ‘I hope you enjoyed the movie, sir,’ he said, handing me my key.

  ‘I did, very much. Thank you for suggesting it. It was very relaxing.’

  ‘Yes, many guests find it a good way to round off the day. Oh, Gustav reports that Boris was very happy with his room and went off to sleep immediately.’

  ‘Ah, good.’

  I wished him a good night and hurried across to the elevator.

  I arrived in my room feeling very grimy after the long day and, changing into my dressing gown, began to prepare for a shower. But then, as I was investigating the bathroom, an intense surge of weariness came over me, so that it was virtually all I could do to stagger back to my bed and collapse on top of it, sinking at once into a deep sleep.

  10

  I had not been asleep long when the telephone rang beside my ear. I let it ring for a while, then finally sat up on the bed and picked up the receiver.

  ‘Ah, Mr Ryder. It’s me. Hoffman.’

  I waited for him to explain why he was disturbing me, but the hotel manager did not continue. There was an awkward silence and then he said again:

  ‘It’s me, sir. Hoffman.’ There was another pause, then he said: ‘I’m down here in the lobby.’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Ryder, perhaps you were in the middle of something.’

  ‘Actually I was just getting a little sleep.’

  This remark seemed to stun Hoffman, for there followed another silence. I laughed quickly and said:

  ‘What I meant was, I was lying down, as it were. Naturally I won’t be having a full sleep until … until all the day’s business is concluded.’

  ‘Quite, quite.’ Hoffman sounded relieved. ‘Just catching your breath, so to speak. Very understandable. Well, in any case, I shall be here in the lobby waiting for you, sir.’

  I put down the receiver and sat on the bed wondering what to do. I felt as exhausted as ever – I could not have slept more than a few minutes – and it was tempting to forget the whole matter and simply go back to sleep. But I eventually saw the impossibility of doing so and got to my feet.

  I discovered I had fallen asleep in my dressing gown, and I was about to remove it and get dressed when it occurred to me I might go down and deal with Hoffman still wearing it. At this time of night, after all, I was unlikely to encounter anyone except Hoffman and the desk clerk, and my going down in such attire would emphasise subtly but pointedly the lateness of the hour and the fact that he was keeping me from my sleep. I stepped out into the corridor and made my way to the elevator feeling not a little annoyed.

  Initially at least, the dressing gown seemed to have the desired impact, for Hoffman’s opening words as I entered the lobby were: ‘I’m sorry to have disturbed your rest, Mr Ryder. It must be so tiring for you, all this travelling.’

  I made no attempt to hide my weariness. Passing a hand through my hair, I said: ‘It’s perfectly all right, Mr Hoffman. But I trust this won’t take too long. I am, in fact, feeling pretty tired now.’

  ‘Oh, this won’t take long, not long at all.’

  ‘Fine.’

  I noticed that Hoffman was wearing a raincoat and, underneath it, full evening dress with cummerbund and bow tie.

  ‘You’ll have heard, of course, the bad news,’ he said.

  ‘The bad news?’

  ‘It’s bad news, but let me say, sir, I am confident, very confident, it will not lead to anything serious. And before the evening is out, I trust you will be equally convinced of it, Mr Ryder.’

  ‘I’m sure I will,’ I said, nodding reassuringly. Then after a moment I decided the situation was hopeless and asked point blank: ‘I’m sorry, Mr Hoffman, but what bad news are you referring to? There’s been so much bad news lately.’

  He looked at me in alarm. ‘So much bad news?’

  I gave a laugh. ‘I mean the fighting in Africa and so on. Everywhere, bad news.’ I gave another laugh.

  ‘Oh, I see. I was of course referring to the bad news about Mr Brodsky’s dog.’

  ‘Ah yes. Mr Brodsky’s dog.’

  ‘You’ll agree, sir, this is most unfortunate. The timing of it. One can proceed with the utmost care, and then something like this happens!’ He gave an exasperated sigh.

  ‘Yes, it’s awful. Awful.’

  ‘But as I say, I am confident. Yes, confident it will not lead to any major setback. Well now, may I suggest we go off at once? Actually, now I think of it, you were quite right, Mr Ryder. This is a much better time to set off. It means we shall arrive neither too early nor too late. Quite right, one must take these things calmly. Never get panicked. Well, sir, let’s be off.’

  ‘Er … Mr Hoffman. I seem to have made a little misjudgement about my attire for this occasion. Perhaps you’ll allow me a few minutes to go back upstairs and change into something else.’

  ‘Oh’ – Hoffman glanced fleetingly at me – ‘you look splendid, Mr Ryder. Please don’t worry. Now’ – he looked anxiously at his watch – ‘I suggest we be on our way. Yes, this is just the right sort of time. Please.’

  Outside the night was dark and the rain was coming down steadily. I followed Hoffman around the hotel building, down a path and into a small outdoor car park containing five or six vehicles. There was a solitary lamp fastened to a fence post by which I could make out the large puddles on the ground before me.

  Hoffman ran across to a large black car and held open its passenger door. As I made my way towards it I could feel wetness seeping through my carpet slippers. Just as I was stepping into the car, one foot sank deep into a puddle, completely soaking it. I let out an exclamation but Hoffman was already hurrying around to the driver’s side.

  Hoffman drove us out of the car park as I did my best to dry my feet on the soft flooring. When I looked up we were already out in the main street and I was surprised to see how heavy the traffic had become. Moreover, many shops and restaurants had now come awake, and crowds of customers were milling about inside the illuminated windows. As we continued, the traffic grew steadily until somewhere near the heart of the city, amidst three lanes of vehicles, we came to a complete standstill. Hoffman looked at his watch then banged his hand against the wheel in frustration.

  ‘How unfortunate,’ I said sym
pathetically. ‘And when I was out only a little while ago, the whole town seemed to be asleep.’

  He appeared very preoccupied and said absent-mindedly: ‘The traffic in this town, it just gets worse and worse. I don’t know what the solution is.’ He banged the steering wheel again.

  For the next few minutes, we sat in the car in silence as we edged slowly forwards. Then Hoffman said quietly:

  ‘Mr Ryder has been travelling.’

  I thought I had misheard him, but then he said it again – this time with a suave little wave of his hand – and I realised he was rehearsing what he would say upon arrival to explain our lateness.

  ‘Mr Ryder has been travelling. Mr Ryder – has been travelling.’

  As we proceeded through the dense night-time traffic, Hoffman continued occasionally to mutter things under his breath, most of which I failed to catch. He had gone into a world of his own and appeared to be growing increasingly tense. Once, after we had failed to reach a green light in time, I heard him mutter: ‘No, no, Mr Brodsky! He was magnificent, a magnificent creature!’

  Then at last we took a turning and found ourselves driving out of the city. Before long the buildings disappeared and we were travelling on a long road with dark open spaces – perhaps farmland – to either side. The traffic grew sparse enabling the powerful car to pick up speed. I could see Hoffman relaxing visibly, and when he next addressed me he had regained much of his usual urbane manner.

  ‘Tell me, Mr Ryder. Is everything at the hotel to your satisfaction?’

  ‘Oh yes. Everything’s fine, thank you.’

  ‘You’re happy with your room?’

  ‘Oh yes, yes.’

  ‘Your bed. It’s comfortable?’

  ‘Very comfortable.’

  ‘I ask because we do pride ourselves on our beds. We renew our mattresses at very frequent intervals. No other hotel in this town renews as many mattresses as we do. This I know for a fact. The mattresses we throw out would be considered serviceable for several further years by many of our so-called rivals. Did you know, Mr Ryder, that if one were to stand up, lengthways, end to end, all the used mattresses we throw out during five financial years, one would be able to make a line along our main street starting at the civic chambers, going right along to the fountain, round the corner of Sterngasse and as far down as Mr Winkler’s pharmacy?’

  ‘Really. That’s most impressive.’

  ‘Mr Ryder, let me speak frankly. I’ve been giving much thought to the matter of your room. Naturally in the days leading to your arrival, I spent a long time considering which room to give you. Most hotels would have a simple answer to the question: “Which is the best room in the house?” But this is not the case in my hotel, Mr Ryder. Over the years, I’ve given so much individual attention to so many different rooms. There have even been times when I’ve become – ha ha! – some would say obsessed, yes, obsessed, with one room or another. Once I see the potential of a particular room, I spend many days thinking about it, and then I take the greatest care in having it renovated to match my vision as closely as possible. I am not always successful, but on a number of occasions the results, after much work, have come close to what I pictured in my head, and of course, that is very satisfying. But then – perhaps it’s some sort of defect in my nature – no sooner have I completed the renovation of one room to my satisfaction, I am seized by the potential of another. And before I know it, I find myself devoting great time and thought to the new project. Yes, some would call this obsessional, but I see nothing so wrong with it. Few things are as dull as a hotel with room after room completed along the same tired concepts. As far as I am concerned, each room must be thought about according to its own unique characteristics. In any case, what I’m getting at, Mr Ryder, is that I have no one favourite room in the hotel. So after a lot of thought, I concluded you’d be most happy in the room you are presently occupying. But having met you, I am now no longer certain.’

  ‘Oh no, Mr Hoffman,’ I said, interrupting. ‘The present room is fine.’

  ‘But I’ve been thinking about it on and off all day since meeting you, sir. It seems to me you’d be more temperamentally suited to another room I have in mind. Perhaps in the morning I’ll show it to you. I’m quite sure you’ll like it better.’

  ‘No, Mr Hoffman, really. The present room …’

  ‘Let me be frank, Mr Ryder. Your coming has put the room you’re now occupying under its first true test. You see, this is the first time I’ve had a truly distinguished guest in that room since its reconceptualisation four years ago. Of course, there was no way I could predict that you yourself would one day honour us. But the fact is, I worked on that room with someone very much like yourself in mind. What I’m trying to say, you see, is that it’s only now, with your arrival, that it’s been properly put to the use for which it was intended. And, well, I can see quite clearly that I made several crucial misjudgements four years ago. It’s so difficult, even with my experience. No, without doubt I’m dissatisfied. It is not a happy match. My proposal to you, sir, is that we move you to 343, which I feel is much closer to your spirit. You’ll feel much calmer there and sleep better. And as for your present room, well, I’ve been thinking about it on and off all day. I have a good mind to have it demolished in its present form.’

  ‘Mr Hoffman, really, no!’

  I had shouted this and Hoffman took his eyes off the road to stare at me in surprise. I laughed and, quickly recovering, said:

  ‘What I meant was, please don’t go to such trouble and expense on my account.’

  ‘It would be for my own peace of mind, I assure you, Mr Ryder. My hotel is my life’s work. I made a bad mistake concerning that room. I see nothing for it but demolition.’

  ‘Mr Hoffman, that room … The fact is, I feel a lot of affection for it. I really am very happy there.’

  ‘I don’t understand, sir.’ He seemed genuinely puzzled. ‘The room is clearly not correct for you. Now that I’ve met you, I can state that with some certainty. You don’t have to be so polite. I am surprised to find you so peculiarly attached to it.’

  I gave a sudden laugh, perhaps an unnecessarily loud one. ‘Not at all. Peculiarly attached?’ – I gave another laugh – ‘It’s just a room, nothing more. If it needs to be demolished, then demolished it must be! I’ll gladly move to another room.’

  ‘Ah. I’m very pleased you see it that way. It would have been a source of great frustration to me, Mr Ryder, not simply during the rest of your stay, but throughout the years to come, to think that you once stayed at my hotel and were forced to endure such an unsuitable room. I really can’t think what could have been going on in my mind four years ago. A complete miscalculation!’

  We had been speeding through the darkness for some time without encountering other headlights. Off in the distance I could see what may have been a few farmhouses, but otherwise there was little to break the empty blackness to either side. We travelled on in silence for a little while. Then Hoffman said:

  ‘This is a cruel stroke of luck, Mr Ryder. That dog, well, it wasn’t young, but it might easily have lasted another two or three years. And the preparations had been going so well.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s such bad timing.’ Then, turning to me with a smile, he went on: ‘But I’m confident. Yes, I’m confident. He won’t be deflected now, not even by something like this.’

  ‘Perhaps Mr Brodsky should be offered another dog as a sort of present. Perhaps a young puppy.’

  I had said this without much thought, but Hoffman made a show of considering it respectfully.

  ‘I’m not sure, Mr Ryder. You must realise, he was extremely attached to Bruno. He kept little other company. He’ll be in a state of mourning. But you may be right, we must alleviate his loneliness now that Bruno has gone. Perhaps some other animal. Something soothing. A bird in a cage, say. Then in time, when he is ready, another dog could be introduced. I’m not sure.’

  He fell silent for the next several minutes and I thought hi
s mind had gone on to something else. But then suddenly, as he stared at the dark road unwinding before us, he muttered intensely under his breath:

  ‘An ox! Yes, an ox, an ox, an ox!’

  But by this stage I was tired of the whole business of Brodsky’s dog and I leaned back in my seat without speaking, determined to relax for the remainder of the journey. At one point, in an attempt to find out something about the event to which we were travelling, I said to him: ‘I hope we shan’t be very late.’