A conductor passed nimbly from one carriage to the next. He paused a moment on an outside ledge to close the door behind him and open the one in front, an acrobat in the service of ticket inspection, stepping from one moving carriage to the next, each with its own complement of passengers with different destinations and yet all part of the same train chugging forward at a snail’s pace. The war was stealing closer, though they did their best to deny it by avoiding the subject altogether.
At Lauterbrunnen, they found themselves back in the real world. Oscar saw the platform swarming with uniforms: the Swiss had mobilised a huge army. General Guisan, whose portrait hung in all the restaurants and cafés, had proclaimed that Switzerland would defend itself against any invader, whoever that might be. The man was a secret admirer of Germany, Oscar wanted nothing to do with him.
They changed trains and resumed their
Afterwards, he wondered whether he had said too much about himself. He had even told her about Dick, the brother who had left Holland years earlier, and whom he missed. His nostalgia for the days when they formed an unassailable duo – something not even Kate was aware of. Two musketeers. Covered front and back, even the flanks were protected. And so they had borne the early loss of their father, and, in the confidence of their young years, had helped to raise their mother’s spirits. His brother was seventeen at the time, he a year older.
Oscar had shed his natural reserve, but he managed to avoid going into what he did for a living. Something at the Dutch legation, of no particular interest. His vagueness elicited a quizzical glance from Lara, but she had not pressed him. Why had he talked so freely with her for two entire days, why did he feel so helplessly, unconditionally attracted to her? Why indeed. It was not for you to crack the codes of your soul. Oscar had dismissed the question as soon as it presented itself.
“Would it be alright if I looked you up in Fribourg?” he had said as the train entered the station of Berne, to which she had nodded, tapping the leather box containing her binoculars: “I’ll be on the lookout for you.”
When he went down the platform while the train pulled away close beside him, he had seen her through the window, sitting very still, hugging the box to her chest, her eyes closed.
“The terminal, Senhor, this is the last stop.” Oscar alighted from the tram and ambled across Rossio Square. Even in the late afternoon the heat was heavy. He was lost, stood still and looked about him, felt in his pockets for a city map. Any direction would do, he reckoned.
The sound of a doorbell rang through the house. She didn’t recognise it at first. Her bell never rang. Then Kate realised she had to answer it. As she approached the front door, she heard a slight shuffle of feet and someone whistling softly.
“Hello Miss,” Matteous said. He sounded so timid, she felt herself melt. It was almost unbearable, that shyness of his every time he greeted her. He had actually come to her house! She had not thought he would act upon her invitation.
“Matteous! Do come in, how good to see you!” She did not wish to overwhelm him with enthusiasm, but was unable to hide her delight at his coming. She had explained how to get to Barkston Gardens, and had written the address and the telephone number on a slip of paper, just in case. The note was in his hand. He put it down in front of her and said: “I can’t read, Miss, or write,” as though confessing to a crime.
Kate moved it out of sight as quickly as she could, mortified by her thoughtlessness. It had never come up at the hospital, but of course he couldn’t read or write, what did she expect? She found herself infected by his shyness, and for several minutes they strove to find a new balance.
“What I really want, Miss, is to be able to write a letter by myself. So I could send it to a newspaper, or a radio station. I have heard that people sometimes find their families that way.”
A black boy from an African wilderness, illiterate in a world steeped in the written word. It was enough to render anyone taciturn, timid, powerless.
