Nocturnes: Five Stories of Music and Nightfall by Kazuo Ishiguro Read Free Book Online Page B

unbearable about it. Perspective, she needs perspective. And I kept saying to myself, look, I’m doing okay. Look at loads of other people, people we know. Look at Ray. Look what a pig’s arse he’s making
of his
life. She needs perspective.”
    “So you decided to invite me for a visit. To be Mr. Perspective.”
    At last, Charlie stopped and met my eye. “Don’t get me wrong, Ray. I’m not saying you’re an awful failure or anything. I realise you’re not a drug addict or a murderer. But beside me, let’s face it, you don’t look the highest of achievers. That’s why I’m asking you, asking you to do this for me. Things are on their last legs with us, I’m desperate, I need you to help. And what am I asking, for God’s sake? Just that you be your usual sweet self. Nothing more, nothing less. Just do it for me, Raymond. For me and Emily. It’s not over between us yet, I know it isn’t. Just be yourself for a few days until I get back. That’s not so much to ask, is it?”
    I took a deep breath and said: “Okay, okay, if you think it’ll help. But isn’t Emily going to see through all this sooner or later?”
    “Why should she? She knows I’ve got an important meeting in Frankfurt. To her the whole thing’s straightforward. She’s just looking after a guest, that’s all. She likes to do that and she likes you. Look, a taxi.” He waved frantically and as the driver came towards us, he grasped my arm. “Thanks, Ray. You’ll swing it for us, I know you will.”
    I RETURNED TO FIND Emily’s manner had undergone a complete transformation. She welcomed me into the apartment the way she might a very aged and frail relative. There were encouraging smiles, gentle touches on the arm. When I agreed to some tea, she led me into the kitchen, sat me down at the table, then for a few seconds stood there regarding me with a concerned expression. Eventually she said, softly:
    “I’m so sorry I went on at you like that earlier, Raymond. I’ve got no right to talk to you like that.” Then turning away to make the tea, she went on: “It’s years now since we were at university together. I always forget that. I’d never dream of talking to any other friend that way. But when it’s you, well, I suppose I look at you and it’s like we’re back there, the way we all were then, and I just forget. You really mustn’t take it to heart.”
    “No, no. I haven’t taken it to heart at all.” I was still thinking about the conversation I’d just had with Charlie, and probably seemed distant. I think Emily misinterpreted this, because her voice became even more gentle.
    “I’m so sorry I upset you.” She was carefully laying out rows of biscuits on a plate in front of me. “The thing is, Raymond, back in those days, we could say virtually anything to you, you’d just laugh and we’d laugh, and everything would be a big joke. It’s so silly of me, thinking you could still be like that.”
    “Well, actually, I
am
more or less still like that. I didn’t think anything of it.”
    “I didn’t realise,” she went on, apparently not hearing me, “how different you are now. How close to the edge you must be.”
    “Look, really Emily, I’m not so bad …”
    “I suppose the passing years have just left you high and dry. You’re like a man on the precipice. One more tiny push and you’ll crack.”
    “Fall, you mean.”
    She’d been fiddling with the kettle, but now turned round to stare at me again. “No, Raymond, don’t talk like that. Not even in fun. I don’t ever want to hear you talking like that.”
    “No, you misunderstand. You said I’d crack, but if I’m on a precipice, then I’d fall, not crack.”
    “Oh, you poor thing.” She still didn’t seem to take in what I was saying. “You’re only a husk of the Raymond from those days.”
    I decided it might be best not to respond this time, and for a few moments we waited quietly for the kettle to boil. She prepared a cup for me, though not