Aperçu du sujet
The concierge called up from reception. ‘There’s a gentleman here to see you, Mrs Fischer.’ I checked my watch: Philip Brockway (my ex-husband) was early. I knew he wanted to borrow money. I had accused him of this when he telephoned and he denied it with such 5 vehemence that
The concierge called up from reception. ‘There’s a gentleman here to see you, Mrs Fischer.’ I checked my watch: Philip Brockway (my ex-husband) was early. I knew he wanted to borrow money. I had accused him of this when he telephoned and he denied it with such 5 vehemence that I knew I was right. All the same, I strolled along the walkway towards reception thinking not too unkindly of Philip – he was so pretty, with his pretty handsome weak face, his small girl’s nose and his thick tawny hair. I would play with him a while, make him take me out for a cocktail, before I gave in and paid him to leave me alone once more. 10 I pushed through the swing doors into the lobby and saw the man from the site, the man who had asked for Miss Carriscant. He was old, grey-haired, but broad-shouldered and stocky, dressed in black. […] ‘What do you want?’ I said. ‘Why are you – ’ ‘Miss Carriscant?’ 15 ‘No. No, I am not Miss Carriscant.’ He reached out and touched my bare arm, fleetingly, as if to reassure himself. His fingers felt dry, abrasive, heavily calloused. ‘Peter?’ I called the concierge. ‘This gentleman is leaving.’ ‘You are Kay Carriscant.’ 20 ‘I am Kay Fischer. You are making a tiresome and irritating error, Mr – ’ ‘All right, all right. You were once Kay Carriscant. You were born on the ninth of January 1904 in the afternoon. You see, I – ’ ‘Would you please leave me alone, Mr Whoever-you-are? This nonsense is beginning – ’ 25 ‘My name is Carriscant. Salvador Carriscant. Do you know who I am?’ ‘Of course not.’ The pungent1 denial in my voice, its plain tetchiness2, caused the look in his eye to change. A shadow of sadness crossed his gaze and a deep hurt was revealed there for an instant. For some reason this mellowed me and I felt sorry for him and his hopeless quest 30 for his Miss Carriscant. ‘What do you want?’ I said, with more kindness in my voice. ‘Who are you?’ His face seemed to tighten, drawn down as if there were a pain in his gut. He closed his eyes a second and pursed his lips. He sighed. ‘I am your father,’ he said. 1 Pungent = caustic 2 Tetchiness = irritability William Boyd, The Blue Afternoon,