I glanced back to wish her good night, and would have done so in a less cursory manner had Stephan not continued to lead me away. Indeed, as we made our way across the floor, I could hear people wishing me good night on all sides, and although I smiled and waved as best I could, I was conscious I was not making as gracious an exit as I might. But Stephan was clearly preoccupied and, even while I was still returning good nights over my shoulder, he tugged at my arm and said:
‘Mr Ryder, I’ve been thinking. Perhaps I’m just getting above myself now, but I really think I ought to try the Kazan. I’ve remembered your advice earlier, just to stick to what I’ve prepared. But really, I’ve been thinking and I feel I might be able to conquer Glass Passions. It’s within my capabilities now, I really believe that. The real problem is time. But if I really go at it, really work at it, at night and everything, I think I might be able to do it.’
We had entered the darkened section of the atrium. Stephan’s heels echoed in the emptiness, the flip-flopping of my slippers marking a counterpoint. I could make out in the gloom, somewhere to our right, the pale marble of the large fountain, now silent and still.
‘This is none of my business, I know,’ I said. ‘But in your position I would just carry on with what you were originally going to play. It’s what you’ve chosen and that should be good enough. Anyway, in my opinion, it’s always a mistake to change a programme at the eleventh hour …’
‘But Mr Ryder, you don’t quite understand. It’s Mother. She …’
‘I’m aware of everything you told me earlier. And as I say, I don’t wish to interfere. But with respect, I think there comes a point in one’s life when one must stand by one’s decisions. A time to say: “This is me, this is what I’ve chosen to do.” ’
‘Mr Ryder, I appreciate what you’re saying. But I think perhaps you’re only saying it – I know you’re advising me with the best of intentions – but I think you’re only saying what you’re saying because you don’t believe an amateur like me could possibly give a decent rendering of the Kazan, particularly with the limited time I have left. But you see, I was thinking hard about it all through dinner, and I really believe …’
‘Really, you miss my point,’ I said, feeling a touch of impatience with him. ‘You really miss my point. What I’m saying is you have to make a stand.’
But the young man seemed not to be listening. ‘Mr Ryder,’ he went on, ‘I realise it’s awfully late and you’re getting tired. But I wondered. If you could just give me a few minutes, even fifteen minutes, say. We could go now to the drawing room and I could play you a snatch of the Kazan, not all of it, just a snatch. Then you could advise me whether I have any chance at all of coming up with the goods by Thursday night. Oh, excuse me.’
We had reached the far end of the atrium and we paused in the dark while Stephan unlocked the doors leading out to the corridor. I glanced back and the area where we had been dining looked hardly more than a small illuminated pool in the darkness. The guests seemed to be seated again, and I could see the figures of the waiters milling around with their trays.
The corridor was very dimly lit. Stephan locked behind us the doors to the atrium and we made our way side by side, not talking. After a while, when the young man had glanced towards me a few times, it occurred to me he was waiting for my decision. I gave a sigh, saying:
‘I’d certainly like to help you. I have much sympathy for you in your present situation. It’s just that it’s got so late now and …’
‘Mr Ryder, I realise you’re getting tired. May I make a suggestion? What if I were to go into the drawing room by myself and you could stand outside the door and listen. Then as soon as you’d heard enough to form your opinion, you could go quietly off to bed. Of course, I won’t know if you’re still standing out there or not, so I’ll have every incentive to perform to my utmost right to the end – which is just what I need. You could tell me in the morning whether I have any chance at all for Thursday night.’
I thought about this. ‘Very well,’ I said eventually. ‘Your proposal strikes me as very reasonable. It serves both our needs very conveniently. Very well, we’ll do as you say.’
‘Mr Ryder, that’s jolly good of you. You’ve no idea what a help this is to me. I’ve been in such a quandary.’
In his excitement, the young man increased his pace. The corridor turned the corner and became very dark, so much so that as we hurried down it I had more than once to put my hand out for fear of veering into one or the other wall. Apart from at its very end, where some light was coming in from the glazed doors leading to the hotel lobby, there appeared to be no lighting whatsoever. I was making a mental note to raise the matter with Hoffman the next time I saw him when Stephan said: ‘Ah, here we are,’ and came to a halt. I then became aware we were standing by the drawing-room doors.
Stephan jingled about with more keys, and when the doors eventually opened I could see nothing beyond them except blackness. But the young man stepped eagerly into the room, then peeked his head back out into the corridor.
‘If you could give me just a few seconds to find the score,’ he said. ‘It’s somewhere in the piano stool, but everything’s such a mess in there.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t go until I’ve formed a clear opinion.’
‘Mr Ryder, this is so good of you. Well, I won’t be a second.’
The doors closed with a rattle and for a few minutes there was silence. I remained standing in the darkness, glancing now and then to the end of the corridor and the light from the lobby.
Then at last Stephan commenced the opening movement of Glass Passions. After the first few bars, I found myself listening more and more intently. It was clear at once the young man was far from familiar with the piece, and yet, beneath the uncertainty and stiffness, I could discern an imagination of an originality and emotional subtlety that quite surprised me. Even in its present rough form, the young man’s reading of Kazan seemed to present certain dimensions never glimpsed in the great majority of interpretations.
I leaned forward closer to the doors, straining to catch his every hesitant nuance. But then, towards the end of the movement, fatigue suddenly engulfed me and I remembered how late it was. It occurred to me there was no real need to hear any more – given adequate time, the Kazan was very obviously within his capabilities – and I began to walk slowly away in the direction of the lobby.
II
11
I was woken by the ringing of the telephone on the bedside cabinet. My first thought was that I had again been disturbed after only a few minutes, but then I saw from the light that it was now well into the morning. I picked up the receiver, seized by a sudden concern that I had overslept.
‘Ah, Mr Ryder,’ Hoffman’s voice said. ‘You slept well, I hope.’
‘Thank you, Mr Hoffman, I slept very well. But of course I was just now in the process of getting up. With such a busy day in front of me’ – I gave a laugh – ‘it’s high time I was making a start.’
‘Indeed, sir, and what a day you have before you! I can well understand your wish to conserve your energy as much as possible at this point of the morning. Very wise, if I may say so. And particularly after giving us so much of yourself last night. Ah, that was such a marvellously witty address! The whole town is talking of nothing else this morning! In any case, Mr Ryder, since I knew you would be rising about this time I thought I might call you and let you know the situation. I am happy to inform you that 343 is now fully prepared. May I suggest you commence your occupancy of it immediately? Your belongings, if you have no objection, will be transferred while you are having your breakfast. 343, I know, will be so much more satisfactory than your present room. I do apologise once again for this mistake. It grieves me that it was made. But as I think I explained last night, it can sometimes be very hard to gauge these things.’
‘Yes, yes, I quite understand.’ I looked around the room and felt a desperate sadness starting to engulf me. ‘But Mr Hoffman’ –
with an effort I brought my voice under control – ‘there’s a slight complication. My boy, Boris, he’s now here with me at this hotel and …’
‘Ah yes, and very welcome the young man is too. I’ve looked into the matter and he has been transferred to 342 adjoining you. In fact, Gustav saw to the young man’s move earlier this morning. So you’ve nothing at all to worry about. Please, then, return to 343 after breakfast. You’ll find all your belongings there. It’s just one floor up from where you are now, I’m confident you’ll find it much more to your taste. But of course if you’re unhappy with it, please let me know immediately.’
I thanked him and replaced the receiver. I then climbed out of bed, looked around me again and took a deep breath. In the morning light my room did not look anything so special – just a typical hotel room – and it occurred to me that I was indeed displaying an unseemly attachment to it. Nevertheless, as I showered and dressed, I found myself growing increasingly emotional again. Then suddenly the thought came to me that before going down to breakfast, before anything, I should go and check that all was well with Boris. For all I knew, he was at this moment sitting alone in his new room in a state of some disorientation. I quickly finished dressing and, taking one last look behind me, went out of the room.
I was going along the corridor of the third floor searching for 342 when I heard a noise and saw Boris running towards me from the far end. He was running in a curious manner and I stopped in my tracks at the sight of him. Then I saw he was making steering motions with his hands and guessed he was impersonating someone in a speeding car. He was muttering furiously under his breath to an invisible passenger on his right and showed no sign of noticing me as he went hurtling past. A door was ajar further down the corridor, and as Boris approached it he yelled: ‘Look out!’ and swerved sharply into the room. From within came the sound of Boris’s vocal impression of things crashing. I walked up to the door and, checking that it was indeed 342, stepped inside.
I found Boris lying on his back on the bed, both feet high in the air.
‘Boris,’ I said, ‘you shouldn’t run around shouting like that. This is a hotel. For all you know, people might be asleep.’
‘Asleep! At this time of day!’
I shut the door behind me. ‘You shouldn’t make all this noise. There’ll be complaints.’
‘Tough luck if they complain. I’ll just get Grandfather to deal with them.’
His feet were still in the air and now he began languidly clapping his shoes together. I took a chair and watched him for a moment.
‘Boris, I have to talk to you. What I mean is, we have to talk, both of us. It’s good for us. You must have so many questions. About all this. Why we’re here in the hotel.’
I paused to see if he would say anything. Boris went on clapping his feet together in the air.
‘Boris, you’ve been very patient until now,’ I went on. ‘But I know there’s all kinds of things you’re wanting to ask. I’m sorry if I’ve always been too busy to sit and talk to you about them properly. And I’m sorry about last night. That was disappointing, for both of us. Boris, you must have so many questions. Some of them won’t have easy answers, but I’ll try and answer them the best I can.’
For some reason as I said this – perhaps it was to do with my old room and the thought that I might now have left it behind for ever – a powerful sense of loss welled up inside me and I was obliged to pause a moment. Boris went on clapping his feet for a little longer. Then his legs appeared to grow tired and he allowed them to flop onto the bed. I cleared my throat, then said:
‘So Boris. Where shall we begin?’
‘Solar Man!’ Boris shrieked suddenly and chanted loudly the opening bars of some theme tune. With this he crashed over, disappearing into the gap between the bed and the wall.
‘Boris, I’m being serious. For goodness sake. We’ve got to talk these things over. Boris, please, come out from there.’
There was no reply. I sighed and got to my feet.
‘Boris, I want you to know that whenever you want to ask me anything, you can just ask. I’ll stop whatever I’m doing and come to talk things over with you. Even if I’m with people who seem very important, I want you to understand, they’re not as important to me as you. Boris, can you hear me? Boris, come out from there.’
‘I can’t. I can’t move.’
‘Boris. Please.’
‘I can’t move. I’ve broken three vertebrae.’
‘Very well, Boris. Perhaps we’ll talk when you’re feeling better. I’m going downstairs now to get some breakfast. Boris, listen. If you like, after breakfast, we could go back to the old apartment. If you want, we can do that. We could go and get that box then. The one with Number Nine in it.’
There was still no response. I waited a moment longer, then said: ‘Well, think about it, Boris. I’m going down to have breakfast now.’
With that, I left the room, closing the door quietly behind me.
I was shown into a long sun-filled room adjoining the front of the lobby. The large windows appeared to face the street at pavement level, but opaque glass had been used on the lower panes to give some privacy, and the sound of the traffic passing outside could be heard only in muffled tones. Tall palms and ceiling fans gave the place a vaguely exotic air. The tables had been arranged in two long rows and, as the waiter led me down the gangway between them, I noticed most of the tables had already been cleared.
The waiter seated me near the back and poured me some coffee. As he went away, I saw the only other guests present were a couple talking in Spanish near the doorway and an old man reading a paper a few tables from me. I supposed I was perhaps the last guest down to breakfast, but then again, I had had an exceptionally demanding night and saw no reason to feel any guilt about it.
On the contrary, as I sat watching the palms waving gently under the rotating fans, a feeling of contentment began to come over me. I had, after all, reason enough to be well satisfied with what I had achieved in the short time since my arrival. Naturally there were still many aspects to this local crisis that remained unclear, even mysterious. But then, I had not yet been here twenty-four hours and answers to questions were bound to present themselves before long. Later in the day, for instance, I would be visiting the Countess, when I would have the opportunity not just to refresh my memory of Brodsky’s work from his old gramophone records, but to talk over the whole crisis in detail with both the Countess and the mayor. Then there was the meeting with the citizens most directly affected by the current problems – the importance of which I had stressed to Miss Stratmann the previous day – and the encounter with Christoff himself. In other words, several of my most significant appointments still lay in front of me, and it was pointless to attempt to draw any real conclusions or even to begin thinking about finalising my speech at this stage. For the time being, I was entitled to feel pleased with the amount of information I had already absorbed, and could certainly afford a few minutes of indulgent relaxation as I ate my breakfast.
The waiter returned bearing cold meats, cheeses and a basket of fresh rolls, and I began to eat unhurriedly, pouring the strong coffee into my cup a little at a time. When eventually Stephan Hoffman appeared in the room, I was in something approaching a tranquil mood.
‘Good morning, Mr Ryder,’ the young man said, coming towards me with a smile. ‘I heard you’d just come down. I don’t want to disturb your breakfast, so I won’t stay long.’
He remained hovering beside my table, the smile still on his face, clearly waiting for me to speak. Only then did I remember our arrangement of the previous night.
‘Ah yes,’ I said. ‘The Kazan. Ah yes.’ I put down my butter knife and looked at him. ‘It is of course one of the most difficult pieces ever composed for piano. Given that you’ve only just started to practise it, it hardly surprised me to hear certain rough edges. Nothing much more than that, simply rough edges. With that piece there’s little one can do but devote time. A lot of time.
’
I paused again. The smile had faded from Stephan’s face.
‘But on the whole,’ I went on, ‘and I don’t say such things lightly, I thought your rendering last night showed exceptional promise. Provided you have enough time, I’m certain you’ll give a very fair account of even that difficult piece. Of course the question is …’
But the young man was no longer listening. Coming a step closer to me, he said:
‘Mr Ryder, let me get this clear. You’re saying practice is all it will take? That it’s within my grasp?’ Suddenly Stephan’s face contorted, his body doubled over and he hammered his fist into his raised knee. Then he straightened, took a deep breath and beamed with delight. ‘Mr Ryder, you’ve no idea, no idea what this means to me. What marvellous encouragement, you’ve no idea! I know this sounds immodest, but I’ll tell you, I always felt it, deep within myself, I always felt I had it. But to hear you say so, you of all people, my God, it’s priceless! Last night, Mr Ryder, I played on and on. Each time I felt tiredness coming over me, whenever I was tempted to stop, a little voice inside would say: “Wait. Mr Ryder may still be outside. He may need just a little more to make his assessment.” And I’d put even more into it, everything, I went on and on. When I finished, about two hours ago, I must confess I did go up to the door and peek out. And of course, I found you’d gone to bed – very sensibly. But it was so good of you to have stayed as long as you did. I just hope you didn’t sacrifice too much sleep on my account.’
‘Oh no, no. I stayed at the door for … a certain period. Enough to make my assessment.’
‘It was so kind of you, Mr Ryder. I feel like someone else this morning. The clouds have lifted from my life!’
‘Now look, you mustn’t get the wrong idea. What I’m saying is that the piece is within your capabilities. But whether you have enough time left before …’
‘I’ll make sure I have enough time. I’ll take every single opportunity to get to the piano and practise. I’ll forget about sleep. Don’t you worry, Mr Ryder. I’ll do my parents proud tomorrow night.’