“Then I’ve no idea where I live,” was his helpless reply. He was so downcast that I had to battle against an impulse to invite him indoors and offer him hospitality overnight, but I quickly dismissed the idea. The flat did not belong to me and besides it is difficult to deal with people in his condition. “The name is Alan Lock,” he added quite unnecessarily. It seemed to me that considering how many people this good man had got out of their beds he could just as well be called Alarm Clock and make a ringing sound. We stood in silence for a short time while he dug an earthenware ashtray belonging to the pub out of the pocket of his winter coat. A look of surprise came over him before he sank back into deep thought. I was beginning to shiver from the cold and I was relieved when he shoved the ashtray back into his pocket and said: “If you say that your friend lives here then I must be moving on once more. Good night.” I watched him make for the door of the next house and then closed the door. Back in the room I took a wee warming dram of plum brandy and was just getting ready for bed when the ringing started all over again. Once more it was Mr. Alan Lock. My patience wearing thin, I asked him what he wanted this time, but before he could answer me there was a sound from the neighbour’s house, where Mr. Lock had apparently just rung the bell, and a hoarse male voice broke the silence of the night. “Hoi! Are you the one who’s just been ringing my bell?” he asked in a menacing tone. Mr. Lock glanced over his shoulder, gestured with his hand and with an unflappable calm said: “That’s right. Wait there, I’ll be right with you.” The neighbour slammed his door with an expletive. Mr Lock turned his attention back to me and said: “What was it I wanted? Oh yes: this friend of yours, Mr. Johnson, what does he look like?” ( 98 )
Ukázka elektronické knihy, UID: KOS241654
There are times when a person seems to have infinite reserves of patience, and this was one of them. Rather than start to yell my head off I described Otto Johnson to him as best I could. I explained that he was of medium build with brown hair and eyes. “Don’t you think we look alike?” Mr. Lock asked. “No, I don’t.” “You could have got us mixed up.” Such was my consternation at his train of thought that I was lost for a reply and simply stared after him as he departed. Back in bed I thought over what had happened and on falling asleep I dreamed that I was living in a town full of identikit little homes, the inhabitants all wearing the same clothes and living in rooms equipped with the same mass-produced furniture. It was one of the most terrible dreams I have ever had, because all the people in this town looked exactly alike, the same build, the same faces, the same eyes and hair, a vision so appalling that I broke out in a cold sweat. I tried to recognise my friend Johnson among these countenances, but time and again the same mask stared back at me from all the faces. There was frost in the air when I left in the morning, and the tracks of the errant pilgrim were half obscured by fresh snow, making me reflect on how his journey might have ended. I was just locking the door when I suddenly felt faint. There was a brass name-plate above it. It said: ALAN LOCK This was the end of my story and before long we retired to bed. On the whole my audience was satisfied. Miss Barbara in particular showed her appreciation, which was what mattered most. Grandpa promised that the following evening he would tell the story of how he served under ( 99 )
Ukázka elektronické knihy, UID: KOS241654
General Radetzky in Italy where a beautiful countess fell in love with him. Privately I thought to myself that worse things could have happened to us and that we would somehow survive Grandpa’s story. I knew the tale by heart. I’d heard it for the first time when I was a small boy and could never rid myself of the feeling that I’d read something similar in an almanac of some kind. Naturally I could be mistaken and I wouldn’t like to do Grandpa an injustice. Miss Barbara offered me her hand to say good night and then we all stumbled to our rooms in the darkness. I opened the window and lit a cigarette. I could hear forest murmurs on Castle Hill and in quiet moments the babbling of the river. The stars were shining and the night was warm. A bat winged its way past my window.
( 100 )
Ukázka elektronické knihy, UID: KOS241654