The Bay of Angels by Anita Brookner Read Free Book Online

mirrored by a figure exactly opposite. The lights were on in nearly all the kitchens so generously exposed to my view across the central well of the building. It was four o’clock in the afternoon and already growing dark. When I shut the front door on the removal men I turned reluctantly to the bedroom, the darkest room of all. Its one advantage was concealment. I was not anxious to be seen. To my decrepitude of the previous evening was now added a layer of dust from the day’s activities. I wished it were later than it was, time to take a bath and go to bed. As it was I telephoned my mother.
    ‘Darling! What a lovely surprise!’ Her voice sharpened with anxiety. ‘Are you all right?’
    It was not our usual day for telephoning. Saturday evening was when we usually caught up with each other’s news. ‘Is she all right?’ I could hear Simon asking in the background.
    ‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘I just wanted to remind you of the new phone number.’
    ‘As if I needed reminding! Was it a terrible day? Did the men come when they said they would?’
    ‘Everything’s fine,’ I repeated. ‘It’s all done. It seems a bit strange, that’s all.’
    ‘You’ll soon come to terms with it. But moving is always a melancholy business. I expect you’re tired.’ There was a pause. ‘You’re sure you’re all right?’
    This was how our conversations tended to go when we had been separated for any length of time. I’m all right. Are you all right? Are you sure you’re all right? I had never confided in my mother. There were things she did not need to know, nor did she wish to know them. My private life was as guarded as hers was, and we were both obscurely glad of this.
    ‘What did you do yesterday?’ I asked.
    ‘Well, we had an early lunch at Queenie’s. You remember; we took you there once.’
    ‘I know it.’ I had in fact been there many times with my friends but did not remind her of this.
    ‘Then we came back here. Simon had his rest, and I went out for a walk.’
    ‘Where did you go?’
    ‘Oh, round and about. You know I love to walk.’
    I did not know this. She had never gone out much when we lived in Edith Grove. In France, however, she evidently liked to be out of the house, on those mysterious afternoons when others slept. I suspect that she found it difficult to remain at close quarters with a man she still regarded as a miraculous stranger. I also suspected that she was not entirely at home in Simon’s house, though there was nothing to dislike except its unfamiliarity, and perhaps the fact that he had lived in it with his first wife. This fact, once mentioned, had not been referred to again by either of them.
    ‘Then the Thibaudets came to dinner.’
    ‘What did you cook?’
    ‘Gazpacho. Roast chicken. Lemon sorbet, which we bought in town. Armelle seemed to think it a very light meal, but we had a pleasant evening.’
    ‘What’s the weather like?’
    ‘Mild, a bit damp. What’s it like where you are?’
    ‘Pouring.’ I had no need to look out of the window. I could hear the rain splashing onto the forecourt.
    ‘You’ll be in college tomorrow. You’ll feel better then.’
    I supposed that I would. My work was interesting, my tutor well disposed. He had once asked me to check a footnote for him, and seemed pleased by my ability to do this without asking further questions. I reminded myself that I had yet to unpack my books, which were still lying about in cartons. I felt acutely lonely.
    ‘It won’t be long before you’re back with us. There was a definite feeling of spring in the air this morning.’
    ‘I’ll ring you on Saturday as usual.’
    ‘Is there any food in the house?’
    ‘Not much.’
    ‘Then you’d better go out shopping. And make up your bed. I expect you’re longing for it.’
    ‘I am rather.’ I was. ‘Love to you both. Until Saturday.’
    I went out, bought bread, cheese, the makings of a salad, a battery for my radio. I was surprised to see people in the