Afterchanging, he went back to the office and sat smoking at his desk whilecontemplating the reflection of his upper body in the darkened window pane.What he saw was an elderly man with white hair and a meticulously trimmed whitebeard covering his chin and mouth. His eyes followed the outline of his suit;the black contrasting with the white of his shirt, and the black bow tie aroundhis neck. To his sorrow, he was forced to accept that he could not meet his owneyes in the window. I look like my own ghost – in some English drama, hethought, and rose with apprehension to his feet. He walked over to the windowand pulled down the white roller blind. Then he resumed his position at thedesk. It was a heavy table and he had covered it with a smooth white cloth fromwhich shone the faint reflection of the ceiling lamp. There were two stemglasses on the cloth. He stared at the ash on the end of his cigarette, reachedout for the ashtray between the glasses and noticed how his hand was shaking.Then he flicked off the ash. He stubbed the glow on the ashtray, extinguishedthe cigarette and rotated his arm to check the time. With sudden impatience hestood up again and went to the mirror hanging beside the door. He adjusted hisbow tie, brushed the lapels of the dinner jacket and brushed off tiny specks ofdandruff from his shoulders. He studied his shoes, discovered a stain, bentdown and rubbed it with his thumb. There was a grandfather clock between themirror and the door. He opened the door of the clock and checked the time againsthis wristwatch. All of a sudden he inclined his head and seemed to belistening. There was the sound of a door closing.
Heswitched off the ceiling light and put on the desk lamp instead. Then hestooped and took a dark bottle from the space under the table, but stopped allof a sudden and angled his head again, as though listening. There was a knockat the door. 'Come in,' he said, spreading out his arm in a gesture of greetingas a woman appeared in the doorway. She was in her twenties, tall, slim andwearing a long, red dress. Leaning against the doorframe, she was in shadow,out of breath.
'Don'tbe embarrassed,' he said to reassure her.
As hesaid the last word, the woman raised her chin and looked him in the eyes. Heliked the way she fell so easily into the role, liked the self-assurance shedisplayed, and perhaps this was the moment he liked best of all – when she cameinto the light from the desk lamp.
'Niceto see you again!' she said, almost in a whisper.
'Afterfar too long,' he answered, feeling his windpipe constrict with self-pity. Hestared at the ceiling, swallowed the lump in his throat and, in a dream,repeated: 'Far too long.' He collected himself and went round the table wherehe sat down on the swivel chair and fixed his eyes on her.
Theyeyed each other in silence.
Atlast she coughed and said: 'Coming here is like returning to a secret place.'
Hewas quiet.
'It'swith me all the time, everywhere.'
'Whatis?'
Sheconsidered and said at last: 'Longing.'
'Whenyou're here, I forget what it means to wait,' he said and nodded towards thebottle. 'Sherry?'
'Yes,please.'
Hewas about to take the bottle, but hesitated and looked up at her. 'Perhaps youwould pour?'
She strodeacross the floor, took the bottle and poured a glass for each of them. Then sheraised her glass, swirled the liquid around and inhaled the aroma before gazingdreamily at a point in the distance. She sipped at the sherry and put the glassdown. Bit by bit she began to roll down the long glove reaching up over herelbow. 'It was the driver,' she said. 'He wouldn't let me go.'
Shearticulated every word, with slow emphasis, as though she were worried abouthow the message would go down. Reidar had closed his eyes, as if in meditation.In the end, he inclined his head, opened his eyes and said' in measured tones:'Well? Why not?' His eyes had taken on a curious yet also caring expression.
'Hewanted to have me,' she said, dropping the glove on the floor. Her fingers werelong, her nails sharp and painted red. She took off the other glove too -protracted movements, finger by finger, until she had released her forearm fromthe tight-fitting material. 'He was brutal.'
'Was hea stranger, or did you already know him?'
Shelowered her gaze and deliberated. At length, she looked up and said: 'Ask meagain later.'
Reidaracknowledged this clever response with a smile, drew the glass to his lips,sipped the sherry, swallowed and put it down. With a look of satisfaction hestudied the hand resting calmly on the glass. 'There's something I have to talkto you about,' he said in a light tone of voice. 'Something important.'
Shetook a few paces to the left, walked past the large grandfather clock andstopped in front of the mirror. She gazed at herself. 'I was concerned that youhad to wait,' she said, turning back to him. 'But, on the other hand, itappeals to me that a young man shows such obvious interest.'
Hereached out and removed the ashtray from the cloth. He put it on the windowsill, beside a small cassette player which he switched on. Low, tinny violintones poured forth from the player's small loudspeaker.
Shestood stock still, listening with closed eyes. 'Schubert?'
Henodded as she undid the zip on the waist of her dress. Then she began to undothe row of small, white buttons running down the front of her dress. When shewas finished, she freed her shoulders. The dress fell in a bundle around her ankles.She looked down at herself. She was wearing two old-fashioned brown shoes withheels and a string of artificial pearls which she had wound around her neckseveral times. Otherwise nothing.
Reidarcontemplated her from under half-lowered eyelids. When, eventually, he didmove, the chair gave a loud, piercing creak. As if the sound were a signal, thewoman stepped out of the dress onto the floor. She raised her hand and caressedher breasts. The skin on her upper arms was nubbled. 'What did you want to talkabout?' she asked, crossing the floor with long strides.
'Forgiveness,'came the quiet answer.
Shestood for a few seconds looking at the table, her mind elsewhere, as though theword was forcing its way inside her, until finally she scrambled up and layface down on the white cloth. She supported herself on her elbows, took theglass out of his hand and sipped. At last she answered: 'We've talked aboutthat before.'
Henodded.
Thesilence lingered until she passed back the glass and said: 'You and I shouldhave gone to a concert together. Schubert.'
'Where?'he asked.
Shepaused.
Heregarded her with a blank expression.
'Vienna?'she asked, looking up.
Heshook his head.
'Salzburg?'
Heshook his head, his eyes closed.
Asmile formed on her lips. 'London?'
Henodded.
Thewoman lay listening to the music with closed eyes until, without undue haste,she rolled over onto her back and stared at the ceiling.
'It'snever easy to obtain forgiveness,' she said ruminatively.
Hecleared his throat.
'It'sa two-way thing,' she said.
Hedidn't answer.
Theyboth listened to the music without speaking. After a while she got up onto herknees. The warm light from the ceiling light cast a dark, reddish almost, glowon her skin. He pushed the chair back a little and took in the view from themirror.