The Comfort of Strangers by Ian McEwan

Author:Ian McEwan
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Tags: Fiction - General, Italy, Violence, British - Italy, British, General, Literary, Erotic Fiction, Suspense fiction, Psychological, Suspense, Erotica, Fiction, Psychological fiction
ISBN: 9780679749844
Publisher: Vintage International
Published: 2002-08-15T07:00:00+00:00

Mary excused herself and, as soon as the doors at each end of the gallery had closed, Robert refilled Colin’s glass and steered him gently by the elbow round the furniture to a place where they could walk the gallery’s length unimpeded. Without quite releasing Colin’s elbow, Robert explained various aspects of his father’s and grandfather’s possessions; a famous cabinet-maker had constructed this priceless corner table with its unique inlay – they had stopped in front of it, and Robert ran his hand over its surface – for his grandfather in return for a legal service that had rescued the reputation of the craftsman’s daughter; how the murky paintings on the wall – first collected by his grandfather – were connected with certain famous schools, and how it had been shown by his father that certain brush-strokes were undeniably those of a master, no doubt shaping the course of an acolyte’s work. This – Robert had picked up a small, grey replica of a famous cathedral – was made of lead from a unique mine in Switzerland. Colin had to hold the model in two hands. Robert’s grandfather, he learned, had several shares in the mine, which was soon exhausted but whose lead was unlike any other in the world. The statuette, formed from one of the last pieces to be dug from the mine, had been commissioned by his father. They moved on, Robert’s hand touching, but not quite gripping, Colin’s elbow. This was grandfather’s seal, these were his opera glasses, also used by father, through which both men had witnessed the first nights of, or the memorable performances of – and here Robert listed several operas, sopranos and tenors. Colin nodded and, initially at least, prompted him with interested questions. But it was not necessary. Robert was guiding him towards a small, carved mahogany bookcase. It held father’s and grandfather’s favourite novels. All these books were first editions and bore the mark of a distinguished bookseller. Did Colin know the shop? Colin said he had heard of the place. Robert had brought him to the sideboard against the wall between two windows. Robert set down his glass and let his hands drop to his sides. He stood in silence, head bowed as if in prayer. Respectfully, Colin stood a few feet off and regarded the objects which suggested a memory game played at children’s parties.

Robert cleared his throat and said: ‘These are things my father used every day.’ He paused; Colin watched him anxiously. ‘Small things.’ Once again a silence; Colin combed his hair with his fingers and Robert stared intently at the brushes, pipes and razors.

When at last they moved on Colin said lightly, ‘Your father is very important to you.’ They arrived once more at the dining-table, by the champagne bottle which Robert emptied into their glasses. Then he ushered Colin towards one of the leather armchairs, but he himself remained standing in such a way that Colin had to turn uncomfortably into the light of the chandelier to see his face.

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