The young man suddenly went silent, perhaps regretting having talked so freely. But I could see another part of him was eager to carry on with his revelations, and so I asked:
‘What happened when you were ten?’
‘Well, I’m ashamed to admit this, and to you of all people, Mr Ryder. But when I was ten, well, I just stopped practising. I’d turn up at Mrs Tilkowski’s not having practised my passages at all. And when she asked why I hadn’t, I’d just not speak. This is awfully embarrassing, it’s like someone else I’m talking about, and I just wish by some magic it could be. But that’s the truth, there you are, that’s how I behaved. And after a few weeks of this, there was nothing for it but for Mrs Tilkowski to inform my parents that if things didn’t change, she could no longer carry on with me. I later found out Mother lost her temper a little and shouted at Mrs Tilkowski. Anyway it all ended rather badly.’
‘And after that you went to another teacher?’
‘Yes, a Miss Henze, who wasn’t at all bad. But she was hardly Mrs Tilkowski. I still didn’t practise, but Miss Henze wasn’t so strict. Then when I was twelve, it all changed. It’s hard to explain just what happened, it may sound a little odd. I was just sitting in the lounge of our house one afternoon. It was very sunny, I remember I was reading this football magazine, and my father came wandering into the room. I remember he was wearing his grey waistcoat and his shirt-sleeves were rolled up and he stood in the middle of the floor and stared out through the window out into the garden. I knew Mother was out there, sitting out on the bench we used to have in those days under the fruit trees, and I was waiting for Father to go out and sit with her. But he just kept standing there. He had his back to me, so I couldn’t see his face, but whenever I looked up I could see he was staring out into the garden to where Mother was. Well, the third or fourth time I looked up and Father still hadn’t gone out, something suddenly dawned on me. I mean, that’s when I realised. That my mother and father had barely spoken to each other for months. It was very odd, this realisation just came over me, that they’d hardly spoken at all. It’s odd I hadn’t noticed it earlier but I hadn’t, not until that moment. But then I saw it very clearly. All in a rush, a number of different instances came back to me – times when previously Father and Mother would have said something to each other, but in fact they hadn’t. I don’t mean they’d been totally silent. But, you know, this coolness had come between them and I hadn’t seen it until that moment. I can tell you, Mr Ryder, it was a very strange feeling, that realisation coming over me. And almost at the same time this terrible other thing occurred to me – that this change must have dated back to when I’d lost Mrs Tilkowski. I couldn’t be certain, because so much time had gone by, but once I’d thought about it I was sure that’s when this thing had first started. I can’t remember now if Father ever went out into the garden or not. I didn’t say anything, just pretended to keep reading my football magazine, then after a while I went up to my room, lay down on the bed and thought it all over. It was after that I started to work hard again. I started practising really very diligently and I must have made a lot of progress, because after a few months Mother went to see Mrs Tilkowski to ask if she’d consider taking me back. I can see now it must have been quite a humiliation for Mother, having shouted that last time, and she must have had to do a lot of work on Mrs Tilkowski. Anyway, the result was, Mrs Tilkowski agreed to take me back, and this time I worked hard all the time, practising and practising. But you see, I’d lost those crucial two years. The years between ten and twelve, you know better than anyone how crucial they are. Believe me, Mr Ryder, I tried to make up for those lost years, I did everything I could, but really it was just too late. Even now I often stop and ask myself: “What on earth could I have been thinking of?” Oh, what I’d give now to have those years again! But you see, I don’t think my parents really appreciated how damaging those missing two years would be. I think they thought once I’d got Mrs Tilkowski back, so long as I worked hard, they wouldn’t make much difference. I know Mrs Tilkowski tried to explain it to them on more than one occasion, but I think they were so full of love and pride for me they just didn’t take on board the reality of the situation. For quite a few years, they went on assuming I was making fine progress, that I was really gifted. It was only when I was seventeen it really hit them. There used to be a piano competition in those days, the Jürgen Flemming Prize, it was organised by the Civic Arts Institute for promising young people in the city. It used to have a reputation of sorts, though it’s stopped now due to lack of funds. When I was seventeen, my parents had this idea I should enter it, and my mother actually went about seeing to all the preliminaries for getting me entered. That was when they first realised how short of the mark I was. They listened very carefully to my playing – it was probably the first time they really listened – and they realised I’d only humiliate myself and the family by entering. I was quite keen to have a go anyway, but my parents decided it would damage my confidence too much. As I say, that was the first time they noticed how weak my playing was. Until then, their high hopes, and I suppose their love for me, just prevented them from listening at all objectively. That was the first time they took on board just how much damage those missing two years had done. Well, after that, naturally enough, my parents became very disappointed. Mother in particular seemed to resign herself to the idea that it had all been for nothing, all the effort she’d gone to, all the years with Mrs Tilkowski, that time she’d gone to beg her to take me back, all of it, she seemed to think of it all as a big waste. And she got rather despondent and stopped going out very much, stopped going to the concerts and functions. Father, though, he’s always kept up some hope for me. That’s typical of him really. He’ll always keep hopeful right to the end. Every now and again, every year or so, he asks to hear me play, and whenever he does, I can see he’s full of hope for me, I can see him thinking: “This time, this time it’ll be different.” But so far, each time I finish playing and look up I can see he’s crestfallen again. Of course he does his best to hide it, but I can see it clearly enough. But he’s never given up hope, and that’s meant a lot to me.’
We were now speeding down a wide avenue flanked by tall office buildings. Although we sometimes passed rows of neatly parked cars, ours still seemed to be the only vehicle moving for miles.
‘And it was your father’s idea,’ I asked, ‘that you should perform on Thursday night?’
‘Yes. There’s faith for you! He first suggested it six months ago. He hasn’t heard me play for almost two years, but he’s showing real faith in me. Of course he gave me every chance to say no, but I was so moved that he should show such faith in me after all those disappointments. So I said yes, I’d do it.’
‘That was very brave of you. I do hope it turns out to be the correct decision.’
‘Actually, Mr Ryder, I said yes because, well, even though I say so myself, I think I’ve made something of a breakthrough recently. Perhaps you’ll know what I’m talking about, it’s rather hard to explain. It’s as though something in my head, something that was always blocking my progress, like a dam or something, it’s like it’s suddenly burst and a whole new spirit’s been allowed to flow. I can’t quite explain it, but the fact is I think I’m a significantly better pianist now than when Father last heard me. So you see, when he asked if I wanted to perform on Thursday night, nervous though I was, I said yes. If I hadn’t, it wouldn’t have been fair on him, after all the faith he’s invested in me. That’s not to say I’m not worried about Thursday night. I’ve been working on my piece very hard and I’ll admit, I am a bit worried. But I know I’ve got a very good chance of surprising my parents. In any case, you see, I’ve always had this fantasy. Even when my playing was at its most wretched. I had this fantasy of spending months somewhere locked away, practising and practising. My parents wouldn’t see me for months and months. Then one day I’d suddenly come home. A Sunday afternoon probably. In any case some time when Father would be home too. I
’d come in, hardly say a word, just go to the piano, lift the lid, start playing. I’d not even have taken my coat off. I’d just play and play. Bach, Chopin, Beethoven. Then on to the modern stuff. Grebel. Kazan. Mullery. I’d just play and play. And my parents would have followed me into the dining room and they’d just be looking on in astonishment. It would be beyond their wildest dreams. But then, to their amazement, they’d realise that even as I played I was reaching greater and greater heights. Sublime, sensitive adagios. Astounding fiery bravura passages. I’d climb higher and higher. And they’d be standing there in the middle of the room, Father still absently holding the newspaper he’d been reading, both of them completely astounded. In the end I’d finish with some stunning finale, then at last I’d turn to them and … well, I’ve never been sure what happens after that. But it’s a fantasy I’ve had ever since I was thirteen or fourteen. Thursday night may not turn out quite like it, but it’s possible it could be pretty close. As I say, something’s changed and I’m sure I’m almost there now. Ah, Mr Ryder, here we are. Well in time, I’m sure, for your journalists.’
The city centre had been so silent and devoid of traffic I had not recognised it. But, sure enough, we were now approaching the entrance of the hotel.
‘If you don’t mind,’ Stephan went on, ‘I’ll drop you and Boris off here. I have to take the car round to the back.’
In the rear, Boris was looking tired, but was still awake. We got out, and I made sure the little boy had thanked Stephan before leading him towards the hotel.
7
The lights had been dimmed in the lobby and the hotel in general seemed to have fallen into quiet. The young desk clerk I had met on first arriving was on duty again, though he appeared to be fast asleep in his seat behind the reception desk. As we approached, he looked up and, recognising me, made an effort to wake himself up.
‘Good evening, sir,’ he said very cheerfully, but the next moment his weariness seemed to overtake him again.
‘Good evening. I’ll need another room. For Boris.’ I put my hand on the little boy’s shoulder. ‘As close to mine as possible please.’
‘Let me see what I can do, Mr Ryder.’
‘Actually, your porter here, Gustav, he happens to be Boris’s grandfather. I wonder if by any chance he’s still in the hotel.’
‘Oh yes, Gustav lives here. He has a little room up in the attic. But just now, I think he’d be asleep.’
‘Perhaps he wouldn’t mind being woken up. I know he’ll want to see Boris straight away.’
The desk clerk glanced worriedly at his watch. ‘Well, anything you say, sir,’ he said uncertainly and picked up the phone. After a short pause, I heard him get through.
‘Gustav? Gustav, I’m very sorry. This is Walter. Yes, yes, I’m sorry to wake you. Yes, I know, I’m very sorry. But please listen. Mr Ryder has just come in. He has your grandson with him.’
For the next few moments, the desk clerk listened, nodding several times. Then he put the receiver down and smiled at me.
‘He’s coming immediately. He says he’ll see to everything.’
‘Jolly good.’
‘Mr Ryder, you must be very tired now.’
‘Yes, I am. It’s been an exhausting day. But I believe I have one more appointment. There should be some journalists waiting here for me.’
‘Ah. They finally left an hour or so ago. They said they’d arrange another appointment. I suggested they deal directly with Miss Stratmann so that you’re not bothered by them. Really, sir, you look very tired. You should stop worrying about such things and go off to bed.’
‘Yes, I suppose so. Hmm. So they left. First they turn up early, then they leave.’
‘Yes, sir, very annoying. But I would say, Mr Ryder, you should just go to bed now and sleep. You really ought to stop worrying. I’m very sure everything will be taken care of.’
I was grateful to the young clerk for these comforting words and indeed for the first time in hours began to feel a sense of relaxation coming over me. I put my elbows up on the reception desk and for a moment or so began to doze off there on my feet. I did not go quite to sleep, however, for I remained aware all the while of Boris leaning his head heavily against my side, and of the desk clerk’s voice, continuing in the same reassuring tones, just in front of my face.
‘Gustav won’t be long now,’ the latter was saying, ‘and he’ll see to it your boy’s comfortable. Really, sir, there’s nothing more to worry about. And Miss Stratmann, we’ve known her at this hotel for a long time. A most efficient lady. She’s looked after the affairs of many important visitors in the past and they’ve all been a hundred per cent impressed by her. She just doesn’t make mistakes. So you can leave her to worry about those journalists, there won’t be any problems. And as for Boris, we’re going to give him a room just across the hall from you. It has a very fine view in the morning he’s bound to enjoy. So Mr Ryder, I really think you should just go off to sleep now. There’s nothing more you could conceivably achieve today. In fact, if I may be so bold, I’d recommend you leave Boris to his grandfather once you’ve all got upstairs. Gustav will be here any minute, he’s just putting on his uniform, that’s what’s holding him up just a little. He’ll be down soon in all his finery, that’s Gustav for you, uniform immaculate, not a thing out of place. Once he appears, you should just get him to take charge of everything. He’s going as fast as he can. He’ll just be tying his shoe-laces at this very moment, sitting on the edge of his little bed. Any moment now he’ll be ready, he’ll jump to his feet, though he’ll have to take care not to hit his head on the rafters. A quick comb of his hair and then he’ll be out into the corridor. Yes, he’ll be here any second, and you can just go off to your room, unwind a little then get a good night’s sleep. I’d recommend you take a night cap, one of the special cocktails you’ll find ready-mixed in your mini-bar. They’re quite excellent. Or perhaps you’d prefer some hot beverage to be brought up to you. And you could listen to some soothing music on the radio. There’s a channel that broadcasts from Stockholm at this time of the night, just quiet late-night jazz, very soothing indeed, I often use it myself to wind down. Or else if you need to really unwind, may I suggest you go along and see the movie? Many of our guests are doing just that at this very moment.’
This last remark – this talk of a movie – brought me out of my drowsiness. Straightening, I said:
‘I’m sorry, what’s that you just said? Many of your guests have gone off to a movie?’
‘Yes, there’s a cinema just round the corner. They have a late-night performance. Many guests find popping round there and watching a film helps them to unwind at the end of a hard day. You could always do that as an alternative to taking a cocktail or a hot beverage.’
The telephone rang beside the desk clerk’s hand, and excusing himself he picked up the receiver. As he listened, I noticed he looked towards me awkwardly a few times. Then he said: ‘He’s just here, madam,’ and handed me the receiver.
‘Hello,’ I said.
For a few seconds there was silence. Then a voice said: ‘It’s me.’
It took me a moment to realise it was Sophie. But as soon as I did so, I became consumed by an intense rage towards her, and it was only Boris’s presence that stopped me shouting furiously down the line. In the end I said very coldly: ‘So. It’s you.’
There was another short silence before she said: ‘I’m calling from outside. In the street. I saw you and Boris go in. It’s probably better he doesn’t see me just now. It’s way past his bedtime. Try not to let him know you’re talking to me.’
I glanced down at Boris, who had dozed off on his feet leaning against me.
‘So what exactly do you think you’re doing?’ I asked.