Iza's Ballad Read Online Free PDF Page A

her hand to her mouth in horror, but Vince just laughed so she didn’t think he had stumbled on the truth. ‘My stomach feels too full,’ he said later. ‘Give me a laxative.’
    She had shut herself away in the kitchen for the last three weeks and wouldn’t let Iza say anything about Vince’s impending death. Iza didn’t force the issue; she heard the old woman moving about, listened for a while, then went out and left her alone. The old woman knew she meant well, that she wanted to sort out the future so there would be no terrible surprises if what was forecast to happen should happen; she wanted to discuss with her what was to be done about the house and about her life. But it isn’t proper to speak about what should happen after someone’s death while he’s still alive. Until Antal arrived, until Lidia finally rose from her position beside the bed, however unconscious Vince was, there was still hope.
    Offices were just closing for the night and the street filled up. She walked a little faster because she didn’t want to meet anyone. She gazed at passers-by as they headed home. There was something determined about their expressions, a kind of frozen gaiety. No one ambled or meandered, all were rushing to get home. The shops were full, children were crying, the traffic was heavier. Car indicators were flashing. She envied them their hurry in some way; she had never consciously thought about how someone was waiting for them. No one was waiting for her, only the dog, Captain.
    She pulled up her collar to cover her face and looked at the ground so if someone greeted her she might not be obliged to notice them. It started raining: a sharp, slow rain, not even quite rain yet, just a spray, and the pavement suddenly flashing light and the windows misting up. Her face, her brow and skin registered the dampness though not a drop had fallen at her feet. Invisible rain was what Vince had called it. The dragon spout stood empty, open-mouthed, as if it were gasping for air. Kolman wasn’t around: she didn’t have to talk to anybody.
    The first thing she saw at the gate was Captain. She turned her gaze from him and leaned against the table that stood under the entrance arch from autumn through to spring. The caution was unnecessary. Captain took no notice of her and was not looking for tenderness. She didn’t know whether she welcomed this or felt worse for the animal’s indifference. Iza was right: Captain was stupid.
    Now she was alone for the first time since the morning, utterly alone.
    She could let herself go, allow herself to rest on the arm of the wickerwork chair and wonder what life would be like once all sense of responsibility had been removed. She didn’t want to be at home, she feared the evenings, feared the two beds, one of which had finally become redundant. She couldn’t sit here for ever, of course; she had to go in. Go in now, or half an hour later – what did it matter? She set off towards the yard, then stopped again. A light had gone on inside, in the bedroom.
    It wasn’t terror she felt but something else. She sank back into the chair, put her string bag down on the ground, and stared at the lit window. The light inside seemed much more real than Vince’s face with its mysterious expression had been just now. Perhaps this is what reality was, that burning lamp inside; that none of the events of the last few months had actually happened, that Vince was still alive, the afternoon had been no more than a dream, that the eleven weeks that had just passed, and that the sight of Vince’s wasted body that had grown so terribly hollow as if it had been preparing for ages to become a vehicle of mortality, were all just dreams and reality was the small, comical, slightly plump figure of Vince as he once was, who was waiting for her at home and who was not really ill.
    She felt weaker than she had done at any moment that afternoon. She shut her eyes and rested her head against the back of the chair. The