Visitors by Anita Brookner Read Free Book Online Page A

through the implacable crowds, and as she did so she felt the familiar dread that signalled the beginning of an attack. She stood on the edge of the pavement, her head bent, willing a taxi to notice her plight and pull over. By the time that one did so she was already so breathless that she had difficulty in telling the driver her address. Breathing as best she could she extracted a ten pound note from her bag and held it in front of her like a talisman. The cotton bedspread tipped out of the plastic bag as the taxi swung round Hyde Park Corner, and it was only the prospect of familiar surroundings that gave her the strength to retrieve it.
    When the taxi stopped outside her building she climbed out gracelessly, her bag dangling open. She dropped her keys, bent to pick them up, intent only on reaching her pills. As she straightened, with some difficulty, she became aware of a young man coming forward to help her. ‘Hi,’ he said, as she turned her desperate eyes up to his face. ‘I’m Steve.’ No doctor, no attendant, no guardian angel could have been more welcome. Indeed he was rather better than any of these, being utterly unimpressed by her plight, or perhaps simply not aware of it. The gaze with which he favoured her was neutral, yet he helped her indoors, sat her down in her own drawing room, vanished, and came back with a glass of water. ‘My pills,’ she managed to say. ‘Room on the right, bedside table.’ He vanished and reappeared once more, then stood, watching her calmly. Within minutes, it seemed, she was looking at him with amazed gratitude, cautiously restored to something likehealth. It was only the heat, she told herself, and nerves: Monty was right. There is nothing to be alarmed about. Nevertheless she retained from the experience the sensation of falling that was becoming habitual. If this young man had not been there she might indeed have fallen, might have had to clamber to her feet in full view of any passer-by. ‘Your room is next door,’ she said. ‘I’ll show you.’ She got to her feet and preceded him down the corridor. ‘In a minute,’ she announced, ‘I shall make tea. There is a fruit cake. I’m sure you must be hungry.’
    Why she was sure of this was not explained. He did not look hungry. He looked careful, expressionless. But he had been kind, and there was no-one else, no friend, no neighbour at hand to succour her. He was neatly made, of middle height, with a patient abstracted air, as if he too would rather be elsewhere. ‘No hurry,’ he said. ‘I’ll get my bag.’ It was a pity that the pills had such a sedative effect; she was ready for a nap, in her own room, in silence, the curtains drawn. She knew that she should be asking him questions, making it clear that she expected him to be out all day, showing him the kitchen and the bathroom, feeling a tug of despair at the complications still to come. And the coverlet was not yet in place, was still in the plastic bag, which she was carrying like a visitor, a stranger in her own home. Yet he seemed unoffended, took off his linen jacket and hung it in the wardrobe, as of right. In his position she would have offered thanks and a mild compliment on the aspect of the room, with its view of the silent sunny street, but he continued to say nothing. Fortunately, or unfortunately, she was too becalmed by the pill to care about this. Tea, she thought; I must have tea. ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ she said to the room generally; his back was towards her, andhe was extracting clothes from a large nylon holdall. Turning to face him at the door, she saw his bright incurious eyes on her, his closed lips wearing a half smile.
    ‘The tea,’ she repeated. ‘Do join me when you’re ready.’
    ‘Right you are,’ he said. ‘Take your time.’
    ‘If you want to wash,’ she suggested.
    ‘I bathe in the morning,’ he told her. ‘If that’s okay with you.’
    Mrs May also bathed in the morning. Fortunately there were two