The Unconsoled

  ‘He won’t be long, Mr Brodsky. In fact, here he is.’

  A small man emerged with a tape measure and began to measure up Brodsky.

  ‘What’s this? What’s this?’ Brodsky muttered impatiently. Then he said to me: ‘I have no suit. They had one ready, it was delivered to my house, they say. Who knows? I had the accident, I don’t know where it is now. They’ll just have to get me a new one. A suit and a dress shirt, I want the best tonight. She’ll see what I meant, all those years.’

  ‘Mr Brodsky,’ I said, ‘you were telling me about Miss Collins. Do I understand you’ve managed to persuade her to come tonight after all?’

  ‘Oh, she’ll be coming. She promised. She won’t break her promise a second time. She never came to the cemetery. I waited and waited but she never came. But that wasn’t her fault. It was him, that hotel manager, he made her afraid. But I told her it’s too late for fear now. We’ve been afraid all our lives and now we have to be brave. At first she wasn’t listening. What have you done? she kept asking. She wasn’t the way you usually see her, she was almost crying, holding her hands up to her face, almost crying, not even caring the neighbours could hear it all. The dead of night and she was saying, Leo, Leo – yes, she calls me that now – Leo, what have you done to your leg? There’s blood. And I said it’s nothing, it doesn’t matter. An accident, but there was a doctor passing by, never mind that now, I told her, much more important, you have to come tonight. Don’t listen to that wretch from the hotel, that … that bell-boy. There’s very little time left. Tonight she’d see what I’d always meant. All those years, I wasn’t the fool she thought. And she was saying she couldn’t come, she wasn’t ready, and besides, she said, all those wounds, they’d open again. And I said don’t listen to that bell-boy, that hotel janitor, it’s too late for that. And she pointed and said, but what’s happened, your leg, it’s bleeding, and I said never mind, I shouted at her then. Never mind, I said. Don’t you see it, I have to have you come! You have to come! You have to see for yourself, you have to come! Then I could see it, that she knew how serious I was. I could see her eyes, how things changed behind them, how the fear went, how something came alive, and I knew I’d won at last and that cleaner of hotel lavatories had lost. And I said to her, quietly now, I said to her: “So you’ll come?” And she nodded calmly and I knew I could trust her. Not a trace of doubt, Ryder. She nodded and I knew I could trust her so I turned and went away then. I came here, this good man – where is he? – he brought me here in his van. But I would have walked, there’s nothing so wrong with me now.’

  ‘But Mr Brodsky,’ I said, ‘are you sure you’re well enough to go on stage? After all, you’ve had a terrible accident …’

  I had not intended it, but my taking up of this theme had the effect of setting off another round of shouting. The surgeon pushed his way to the front and, raising his voice above the others, punched his fist into his hand for emphasis.

  ‘Mr Brodsky, I insist! Even if it’s only for several minutes, you must relax!’

  ‘I’m fine, I’m fine, leave me be!’ Brodsky shouted and began to walk. Then, turning back to me – I had remained stationary – he called: ‘If you see that bell-boy, Ryder, tell him I’m here. Tell him that. He thought I’d never get this far, he thinks I’m dog-shit. Tell him I’m here. See how he likes it.’ With that he went off down the corridor, pursued by the arguing crowd.

  I continued in the opposite direction, looking for some sign of Hoffman. There were now fewer orchestra members standing about the corridor and many of the dressing-room doors had closed. At one point I was thinking of doubling back and peering in more closely through those doorways that were open, when I caught sight of Hoffman’s figure in the corridor up ahead of me.

  He had his back to me and was pacing slowly with his head bowed down. Although I was too far away to hear him, it was clear he was rehearsing his lines to himself. Then as I came nearer he suddenly lurched forward. I thought he was about to fall, but then realised he was once more performing the curious movement I had watched him practising in Brodsky’s dressing-room mirror. Stooping right over, he brought up his arm, the elbow jutting outward, and began to bang his forehead with his fist. He was still doing so when I came up behind him and coughed. Hoffman straightened with a start and turned to me.

  ‘Ah, Mr Ryder. Please don’t worry. I’m sure Mr Brodsky will be here any moment now.’

  ‘Indeed, Mr Hoffman. In fact, if you were just now rehearsing your speech of apology to the audience for Mr Brodsky’s nonappearance, I’m pleased to inform you it will not be required. Mr Brodsky is now here.’ I gestured down the corridor. ‘He’s just arrived.’

  Hoffman looked astonished and for a second froze completely. Then he collected himself and said:

  ‘Ah. Good. What a relief. But then of course, I was always … I was always very confident.’ He laughed, looking up and down the corridor as though hoping to catch sight of Brodsky. Then he laughed again and said: ‘Well, I’d better go and see to him.’

  ‘Mr Hoffman, before you do that, I’d very much appreciate you giving me the latest news regarding my parents. They are, I trust, safely in this building by now? And your idea of the horse and carriage – I believe I heard it as I was driving past the front of the building earlier on – I trust it created the impact you were hoping for?’

  ‘Your parents?’ Hoffman looked confused again. Then he put his hand on my shoulder and said: ‘Ah yes. Your parents. Now let me see.’

  ‘Mr Hoffman, I’ve been trusting you and your colleagues to take good care of my parents. Neither is in the best of health …’

  ‘Of course, of course. There’s no need to worry. It’s simply that, with so many things to consider, and Mr Brodsky being a little late, though you tell me he has now appeared … Ha ha …’ He trailed off and once more cast his gaze down the corridor. I asked quite coldly:

  ‘Mr Hoffman, where are my parents at this moment? Do you have any idea?’

  ‘Ah. At this precise moment, I have to be honest, I do not myself … But I can assure you they are in the most capable hands. Of course, I would dearly wish to oversee personally every aspect of the evening, but you must understand … Ha ha. Miss Stratmann. She would know exactly where your parents are. She has been instructed to keep a close eye on the situation regarding your parents. Not that there is any danger of their ever being in want of attention while they’re with us. On the contrary I have had to ask Miss Stratmann to watch carefully that they don’t become exhausted on account of the hospitality that will inevitably be showered on them from all directions …’

  ‘Mr Hoffman, I take it you have no idea where they are at this point in time. And where is Miss Stratmann?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure she’s here somewhere. Mr Ryder, let’s walk along and go and see how Mr Brodsky is doing. I’ve no doubt we’ll soon come across Miss Stratmann along the way. She may even be in the office. In any case, sir’ – he suddenly adopted a more commanding manner – ‘we won’t achieve a great deal standing here.’

  We set off together down the corridor. As we walked, Hoffman seemed to recover completely his composure and he said with a smile:

  ‘Now we can be certain it will all go well. You, sir, look like a man who knows exactly what he’s doing. And with Mr Brodsky here, all is now set. Everything will go just as planned. A splendid evening lies before us all.’

  Then his step altered and I noticed he was staring at something in front of us. Following his gaze, I saw Stephan standing in the middle of the corridor with a troubled expression. The young man saw us and came towards us quickly.

  ‘Good evening, Mr Ryder,’ he said. Then, lowering his voice, he said to Hoffman: ‘Father, perhaps we could have a word.’

  ‘We’re very busy, Stephan. Mr Brodsky has just now arrived.’

  ‘Yes, I heard. But you see, Father, it’s to do with Mother.’

  ‘Ah. Mother.’

  ‘It’s just that she’s still in the foyer and
I’m due on in fifteen minutes. I saw her just now, she was just wandering about the foyer, and I told her I was going on soon and she said: “Well, dear, I have to see to a few things. I’ll try and catch the end of your performance at least, but I’ll just have to see to a few things first.” That’s what she said, but she didn’t look that busy. Really, though, it’s time you and Mother were both taking your seats. I’m on in less than fifteen minutes.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I’ll be along in just a moment. And your mother, I’m sure she’ll finish whatever she’s doing very soon. Why get so worried? Just go back to your dressing room and get yourself ready.’

  ‘But what is it Mother’s got to do in the foyer? She’s just standing there, chatting with anyone who happens by. Soon she’ll be the only one left there. People are taking their seats now.’

  ‘I expect she’s just stretching her legs before settling down for the evening. Now, Stephan, calm yourself. You’ve got to get the evening off to a good start. We’re all counting on you.’

  The young man thought about this, then seemed suddenly to remember me.

  ‘You’ve been so kind, Mr Ryder,’ he said with a smile. ‘Your encouragement has been invaluable.’

  ‘Your encouragement?’ Hoffman looked at me in astonishment.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Stephan said. ‘Mr Ryder has been extremely generous with both his time and his praise. He’s been listening to me practise and he’s given me the greatest encouragement I’ve had in years.’

  Hoffman was looking from one to the other of us, a smile of incredulity hovering on his lips. Then he said to me:

  ‘You’ve been spending time listening to Stephan? To him?’

  ‘I have indeed. I tried to tell you this once before, Mr Hoffman. Your son has considerable gifts and, whatever else occurs tonight, I feel sure his performance will prove a sensation.’

  ‘Why, you really think so? But the fact remains, sir, that Stephan here, he … he …’ Hoffman appeared to become confused, and with a quick laugh slapped his son on the back. ‘Well then, Stephan, it seems you might have something for us.’

  ‘I hope so, Father. But Mother’s still in the foyer. Perhaps she’s waiting for you. I mean, it’s always awkward, a woman sitting by herself at an occasion like this. Perhaps that’s all it is. As soon as you go in and take your seat, she might come and join you. It’s just that I have to go on very soon now.’

  ‘Very well, Stephan, I’ll see to it. Don’t worry. Now you get back to your dressing room and get yourself ready. Mr Ryder and I have just a few things to deal with first.’

  Although Stephan still looked unhappy, we left him and continued on our way.

  ‘I should warn you, Mr Hoffman,’ I said when we had gone a little further down the corridor. ‘You may find Mr Brodsky has adopted a somewhat hostile attitude towards … well, towards yourself.’

  ‘Towards me?’ Hoffman looked surprised.

  ‘That’s to say, when I saw him just now, he was expressing a certain annoyance with you. He seemed to have some sort of grievance. I thought I ought just to let you know.’

  Hoffman mumbled something I could not hear. Then, as the corridor continued its gradual curve, what was obviously Brodsky’s dressing room – a small crowd was loitering outside it – appeared ahead of us. The hotel manager slowed down, then stopped altogether.

  ‘Mr Ryder, I’ve been thinking over what Stephan just said. On second thoughts, I think I’d better go and see to my wife. Make sure she’s all right. After all, the nerves on a night like this, you understand.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then you’ll forgive me. I wonder, sir, if I could ask you just to check that all is well with Mr Brodsky over there. I myself, yes, really’ – he looked at his watch – ‘it’s time I was taking my seat. Stephan’s quite right.’

  Hoffman gave a short laugh and hurried off in the direction from which we had come.

  I waited until he was out of sight, then walked towards the gathering around Brodsky’s doorway. Some people seemed to be standing there out of simple curiosity, while others were conducting heated arguments in subdued tones. The grey-haired surgeon was hovering close to the door, emphasising something to an orchestra member, repeatedly waving his hand in an exasperated manner towards the interior of the dressing room. The door itself, I was surprised to see, was wide open, and as I approached it the little tailor I had seen earlier popped his head out, shouting: ‘Mr Brodsky wants a pair of scissors. A large pair of scissors!’ Someone went hurrying off and the tailor disappeared again inside. I pushed my way through the crowd and looked into the room.

  Brodsky was sitting with his back to the doorway, studying himself in his dressing mirror. He was now wearing a dinner jacket, both shoulders of which the tailor was pinching and tugging. He had on also a dress shirt, but as yet no bow tie.

  ‘Ah, Ryder,’ he said, seeing my reflection. ‘Come in, come in. You know, it’s a long time since I’ve worn clothes like these.’

  He sounded much calmer than when I had last encountered him and I was reminded of the commanding air he had displayed in the cemetery that moment he had appeared in front of the mourners.

  ‘Now, Mr Brodsky,’ the tailor said, straightening himself, and for a few moments the two of them considered the jacket in the mirror. Then Brodsky shook his head.

  ‘No, no. A little tighter still,’ he said. ‘Here and here. Too much material.’

  ‘It won’t take a moment, Mr Brodsky.’ The tailor hurriedly took off the jacket and, giving me a quick bow as he passed, disappeared out of the door.

  Brodsky went on looking at his reflection, fingering thoughtfully his winged collar. Then he picked up a comb and made some adjustments to his hair – which I noticed had been rubbed with a shiny lotion.

  ‘How are you feeling now?’ I asked, moving closer to him.

  ‘Good,’ he said slowly, continuing to attend to his hair. ‘I feel good now.’

  ‘And your leg? You’re sure you can perform with such a severe injury?’

  ‘My leg, it’s nothing.’ He put down his comb and considered the effect. ‘It wasn’t so bad as it looked. I’m fine now.’

  As Brodsky said this, I could see in the mirror the surgeon – who had all the time remained near the doorway – take a step into the room with the look of someone no longer able to contain himself. But before the latter could say anything, Brodsky shouted at the mirror with some ferocity:

  ‘I’m fine now! The wound is nothing!’

  The surgeon retreated back to the threshold, but from there continued to stare angrily at Brodsky’s back.

  ‘But Mr Brodsky,’ I said quietly, ‘you’ve lost a limb. That can never be a trivial matter.’

  ‘I lost a limb, it’s true.’ Brodsky was attending again to his hair. ‘But that was years ago, Ryder. Many years ago. When I was a child perhaps. It was all so long ago, I don’t quite remember. That fool of a doctor, he didn’t realise. I was all caught in that bicycle, but it was just the artificial leg, the one that was trapped. The fool didn’t even realise it. Calls himself a surgeon! All my life, it feels like it, Ryder, I’ve been without that leg. How long ago was it now? You start to forget, once you get to this sort of age. You don’t even mind it any more. It gets to be like an old friend, a wound. Of course, it troubles you from time to time, but I’ve lived with it so long. It must have happened when I was a child. A railway accident, maybe. In the Ukraine somewhere. In the snow maybe. Who knows? It doesn’t matter now. It feels like it’s been this way all my life. Just one leg. It’s not so bad. You get by. That fool of a doctor. He sawed off the wooden leg. Yes, there was blood, it’s bleeding still, I need scissors for it, Ryder. I’ve sent out for scissors. No, no, not for the wound. The trouser leg, I mean this trouser leg here. How can I conduct with this trouser leg flapping empty like this? But that idiot of a doctor, that hospital intern, he cut off the wooden one, so what can I do now? I have to’ – he mimicked with his fingers scissors cutting across the mate
rial just above the knee – ‘I have to do something. Make it as elegant as possible. That fool, not only does he ruin my wooden leg, he grazes the stump. It’s years since the wound’s bled like this. What an idiot, with his face so serious. A very important man he thinks himself, and he saws off my wooden leg. Cuts the end of my stump. No wonder it keeps bleeding. Blood everywhere. But I lost it years ago. A long time ago, that’s how it feels now. I’ve had a lifetime to get used to it. But now the idiot with his saw, it’s bleeding again.’ He looked down and rubbed something into the floor with his shoe. ‘I’ve sent out for scissors. I have to look my best, Ryder. I’m not a vain man. I don’t do this because I’m vain. But a man must look decent at a time like this. She’ll see me tonight, she’ll remember tonight through all the years we’ve got left. And this orchestra, it’s a good orchestra. Here, let me show you.’ He reached forward and held a baton up to the light. ‘A good baton. There’s a particular feel, you can tell. It makes a difference, you know. For me, the point is always important. The point must be just so.’ He stared at the baton. ‘It’s been a long time, but I’m not afraid. I’ll show them all tonight. And I won’t compromise. I’ll take it the whole way. Like you say, Ryder. Max Sattler. But what an idiot, that man! That fool! That hospital janitor!’

  These last words Brodsky shouted with some relish into the mirror and I saw the surgeon – who had been looking on from the doorway with an expression of astonishment – retreat sheepishly out of view.

  With the surgeon finally gone, Brodsky for the first time displayed signs of strain. He closed his eyes and leaned over to one side in his chair, breathing heavily. But then, the next moment, a man burst into the room proffering a pair of scissors.