Interpreters Read Online Free PDF Page B

kept locked when he was out. No one was ever allowed in there except by special invitation. He had lovely things in there that he collected on all his business trips. Persian carpets. Swiss clocks. Venetian glass vases. Japanese lacquered boxes. Lovely things. And he’d say something like, ‘I saw you today outside school with your hands in your pockets,’ and then bang! Or ‘I heard you whistling – no girl should ever whistle. You’re not a market woman,’ and then bang! And boy, could he hit hard! He kept a special comb in his study and it was one of my jobs to make sure all the fringes on his Turkish carpet were combed absolutely straight. And he’d call me in and say, ‘Look at this – do you call this straight?’ – and then bang!
    How was he with your mother?
    Every morning, he would announce what he wanted for supper and then hand my mother the exact amount of money. He’d literally count it out into the palm of her hand. When he came home from work, he’d go and sit in his study and ring a bell. At which point my mother would carry in his supper tray. I used to dream of putting poison in his wine or ground glass in his sauerkraut. Then he would change and go out for the evening. Berlin was full of cabarets and nightclubs in those days. You’ll know that – you’ve seen the films. You’ve read those books.
    Isherwood. Yes.
    He must have had a lovely time, don’t you think? Occasionally I’d catch sight of him with one of his girlfriends in a restaurantor café on my way home from school at lunchtime. They were always very glamorous, his women, with their bright red lipstick and smart tailored jackets. Well, he was pretty popular wih women. Handsome, clever, well-off, charming…
    Charming?
    Very charming. (SILENCE) We had a furnace in the cellar. And he’d come into my bedroom and look around and say, ‘Where did you get that ridiculous toy?’ or ‘Who gave you that stupid book?’ or ‘What’s that thing you’re sewing when you could be doing something useful?’ And then I’d have to go down to the cellar with him and he’d open the lid of the furnace and I had to drop the toy, or book, or collection of silk butterflies or whatever else it was, into the flames. And he’d smile as he watched. And if I ever cried, he’d hit me very hard. Here, on the back of my head. Once – it was one of the very few times my grandparents visited from Holland – I remember my grandfather gave me the most beautiful wooden ark. He had made it himself out of old cigar boxes. And in the animals went. Two by two. (SILENCE) I opened my hand like this and in they went. Two by two. And then my father took the ark and he put it on the cellar floor and he made me stamp on it until there was nothing left but a pile of splinters. And in they all went.
(LONG SILENCE)
    And your mother?
(SILENCE)
    Sorry?
    Tell me about her.
    I told you – she was the kindest person there was.
    Did he hit her too?
    Sometimes. When the mood took him. When his supper was late, or one of his mistresses had stood him up.
(SILENCE)
    Tell me about her.
    Who?
    Your mother.
    Everyone loved my mother. Except my father, I suppose. Even my father’s mistresses liked her. It wasn’t just that they felt sorry for her; they really liked her as a person. Once – my God, I haven’t thought about this for years. Once, one of them – one of the mistresses – came to our house when my father was at work. I must have been about eleven, I suppose. The woman had a little white dog. One of those fluffy, yappy things. I’d seen her eating with my father in town. They always sat at a window table. She used to put the dog on her lap and feed it bits of meat from her plate. My father must have hated that! I didn’t know how my mother would react to this woman coming in to her house – I think she could somehow tolerate all the infidelity and philandering so long as it wasn’t shoved right under her nose. They came into the living room and sat down. I