Family and Friends by Anita Brookner

Author:Anita Brookner [Brookner, Anita]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-82623-7
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2012-07-31T16:00:00+00:00

8

ON THE EVE of the move to Bryanston Square, Sofka sits in her drawing-room for the last time, and with uncharacteristic nervousness, twists a handkerchief between her hands. It is not that she regrets leaving this house, although it has seen her happiest times; but the house has recently witnessed an unpleasant incident which makes it uncomfortable, as though it were a witness to a life of ease which is no longer appropriate. One afternoon, Sofka has been disturbed by a sound of voices at the front door, and then by the housekeeper asking her if she will come. Sofka, surprised, has gone to the door and has seen there, standing patiently on the step, a woman who seems vaguely familiar. This woman is dressed in decent black, a black coat which has been very expensive in its time, a rather stylish black straw hat, and a silk scarf, in excellent taste, open at the neck. All this bears the signs of stringent upkeep, perhaps beyond the bounds of its natural life. The woman’s face is pale, expressionless, but composed; the pitiless blue eyes are direct. From a large tapestry bag at her feet, the woman produces some pieces of exquisite lace: collars, handkerchiefs, a shawl. ‘Madam,’ she says to Sofka. ‘I have these things for sale. I have no money. You understand.’ And with great dignity, and still with the pitiless gaze, she waits for Sofka’s response.

‘Irma,’ says Sofka, after a long pause. ‘Irma Beck. Is it you?’

At this the woman’s face crumples, the eyes close, veiling the hideous gaze, and her body sways towards the open door, righting itself only as helping hands assist her and support her into the drawing-room. With a great effort, equal on both sides, Sofka and the woman sit with coffee-cups and discuss in measured terms what is to be done. Of the past, by common consent, they do not speak. It is too dangerous, too painful. Collapses might take place, youthful hopes might be remembered, wave after wave of reminiscence might be activated, and the woman gives Sofka to understand that nothing now must be cherished; only a dry appraisal of the possible is to be allowed. At last, and fearfully, Sofka enquires, ‘Your children?’ For the first time the woman relaxes, and smiles. ‘Safe,’ she says. ‘Here.’

Rather than submit the woman to the indignity of receiving money, as if she were a beggar, Sofka arranges to visit her the following day, having carefully noted her address and calculating in her mind that she will use Lautner as an agent to transfer funds to this woman. In the meantime, they will continue to be two ladies who used, in the past, in another country, to know one another very slightly and who will keep up the acquaintance in as civilized a manner as can be guaranteed by the circumstances in which they find themselves.

As the woman, with bag intact, rises to leave, she extends her hand, and Sofka takes it. Then, wordlessly,

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