Tutor by Peter Abrahams

Author:Peter Abrahams [Abrahams, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, C429, Kat, Extratorrents
ISBN: 9780345459558
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2002-06-25T00:00:00+00:00

So many characters to keep track of: Julian had never understood the responsibility that weighed on the shoulders of the auteur. He had to encompass all his people, their strengths and weaknesses, hopes and fears, habits, desires, casts of mind, all within his head. As he ate a working Sunday brunch at his desk—coffee, plain yogurt, toast with strawberry jam, an excellent deep red jam with whole berries, imported from France—he felt sincere admiration for masters like Tolstoy and Dickens, so adept at riding herd on vast swarms of characters. On the other hand, had either of them created a new form? He felt a little thrill, the auteur of At Home, a complex tale with a deceptively domestic setting; a work-in-progress.

Through his window upstairs in the carriage house, Julian saw cars coming up the long lane. They parked in front of the big house and women got out. Ah. The J. P. Morganettes. He watched them going inside, some actually moving with what they must have considered a certain style; but herd could not have been more apt.

Julian gazed at the blank page marked Ruby, tried to get back to work. His concentration, the sine qua non of the artist, had been broken. Not his fault: these bourgeois sightings could be so disturbing. Suddenly he couldn’t sit still, felt the need for action, understood how even a lesser artist like Hemingway had swung back and forth between his work and outdoor pursuits.

But what action? He could think of only one possibility, earlier rejected as clumsy and therefore risky as well. Now, a way to give clumsiness grace suddenly presented itself, as needed, and he phoned the tennis club.

“Checking the court time for Gardner, please?” he said.

Rustle, rustle. “Four o’clock.”

A good match time. Scott’s hangover, if any, would have cleared by then.

Julian called the house at 37 Robin Road.

“Hello,” said Brandon.

“Hi, Bran. Julian here.”

“Oh, hi, Julian.”

“How’re you doing?”

“Not bad.”

Julian laughed. “Sounds like you had a rough night.”

“Sort of.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll never tell.”

Brandon laughed.

“Your dad there by any chance? I just wanted to check the schedule.”

“He’s gone to play tennis. And I think Mom’s in the bath.”

“Another time, then. And Bran?”

“Yeah?”

“Nothing beats a Bloody Mary for what you’ve got, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

Brandon laughed again. Julian heard a tiny interruption in the line. “Got another call here,” Brandon said.

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