Making Things Better
Page 24
He dialled the Bonn number, let the telephone ring a number of times, able now to test his resolve. ‘Fanny?’ he said. ‘How are you?’
There was a laugh at the other end of the line. ‘I don’t quite know, Julius. Quite nervous, to tell you the truth.’
‘I am too. It’s only to be expected. It’s a long time since we last left home.’
‘I hate to think how changed you will find me.’
‘But, dear, we are changed; that is inevitable. In any event I have the strongest feeling that I shall know you straight away. What are you doing about your flat?’
‘A friend will be staying here. Not indefinitely, of course, although she has once or twice mentioned that we pool our resources. But I have never liked the idea of living with another woman. I think I should rather be alone, though I have been very lonely.’ Her voice trailed away, as if she had turned aside for a moment. When she came back to him he had the impression that she had had to make a conscious effort to retrieve her composure.
‘I too have been lonely,’ he said gently. ‘I realize that now that there is a prospect of company. This is a great upheaval for us both, Fanny, but we will still both be free agents. There is no need to panic.’
‘I do feel rather frightened,’ she said. ‘But, as you say, we are both free. It’s just that I thought it such a lovely gesture on your part. And it will be good to have someone to talk to after this long isolation.’
‘You will soon forget about that. There will be people around you.’ Around us, he silently corrected himself. ‘And plenty to do,’ he added lamely. He wondered what had become of her recently rediscovered authority. He would have preferred her brisker, more authoritative, more her old self. ‘Is someone there to get you to the airport on time? You were always a terrible timekeeper.’
She laughed. ‘I’m afraid you remember me too well. Yes, the friend I mentioned will see me off. And you?’
‘Oh, don’t worry about me.’
There was silence. Neither of them knew how to finish this conversation, in which so much had been left unsaid. Don’t worry about me? he thought. But that is exactly what I want you to do. I want, for once, to be greeted with a loving smile, in response to which my own smile will broaden without restraint. Instead he said, ‘Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’ And Fanny, let us try to be happy. This last remark he managed to suppress. ‘Goodnight, dear. Until tomorrow.’
For the pleasure of knowing that there would be a tomorrow he was willing to pay a great price. Briskly now he set about his own arrangements, wrote a note to Bernard, and one to Sophie. He did not particularly want to speak to either of them, was anxious to keep any exchange of news for Fanny alone. He passed, as he knew he would, a disturbed night, but told himself that this was inevitable. From time to time he felt the familiar discomfort of restricted breathing, but this was now so familiar that he accepted it as a mild disability, which must be disregarded. All efforts must be directed towards getting himself to Geneva. After that there would be time to take care, to take advice, to take precautions.
He looked round the flat for the last time, felt a little sadness, but not the sadness he had expected to feel. In the taxi he congratulated himself on making so discreet a departure. His breath was shorter now, but there was only one further effort to make, and then all would be taken care of. At the airport smiles of appreciation were directed at other passengers too distracted to return them. He succeeded in picking up his suitcase, negotiated all the hazards. He drank a cup of coffee at a small glass-topped table, newly indifferent to the effort he would soon have to make.
The pain began quite suddenly, unlike anything he had experienced before. When his flight was called he got up, fumbled for his pills. His shaking hand sent them flying, rolling across the dirty floor. Making an effort not to gasp he lurched forward, crushing the pills beneath his feet. Then, with the empty box still clutched in his hand, the ghost of a smile still on his face, he struggled mightily, exerting his last strength to join the other travellers on their journey.
Anita Brookner
MAKING THINGS BETTER
Anita Brookner is the author of twenty-one beautifully crafted novels, including Fraud, Undue Influence, and Hotel du Lac , which won the Booker Prize. An international authority on eighteenth-century painting, she became the first female Slade Professor at Cambridge University. She lives in London.
ALSO BY ANITA BROOKNER
A Start in Life
Providence
Look at Me
Hotel du Lac
Family and Friends
A Misalliance
A Friend from England
Latecomers
Lewis Percy
Brief Lives
A Closed Eye
Fraud
Dolly
A Private View
Incidents at the Rue Laugier
Altered States
Visitors
Falling Slowly
Undue Influence
The Bay of Angels
FIRST VINTAGE CONTEMPORARIES EDITION, APRIL 2004
Copyright © 2002 by Anita Brookner
Vintage and colophon are registered trademarks and Vintage Contemporaries is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
The Library of Congress has cataloged the Random House edition as follows:
Brookner, Anita.
Making things better: a novel / Anita Brookner.
p. cm.
1. Middle-aged men—Fiction. 2. Midlife crisis—Fiction. I. Title.
PR6052.R5816 M35 2003
823’.914—dc21
2002069860
www.vintagebooks.com
www.randomhouse.com
eISBN: 978-0-307-42676-5
v3.0