Michael Pearce - A Dead Man In Trieste

‘When he first came to Trieste, something happened to him. There was a great opening up — art, sunshine, the Mediterranean way of life, it all hit him together. All his life up till then he had been contained, controlled. Now, suddenly, he felt free. Things became possible that had not seemed possible before. Love, perhaps. Me.

‘He found it all in me, you see. Or thought he did. Love, art, release, freedom — everything. Of course, it was not there. I am much less than that. But perhaps for him, for a while, it was there.

‘For a while. But then, you see, I think he began to grow. This opening up did not stop there. He looked at things he had not noticed before, things he had never previously questioned. Things about society. About people. Perhaps he thought: I am free, why cannot they be free?

‘He began to look outwards, to involve himself more with other people. He began to help them. But, you know, in Trieste people are not just people, they are always part of something else. I don’t think he realized that. I don’t think he realized that though you may begin with helping people as individuals, you are soon, in Trieste, drawn on to helping other things. And that, I think, is what may have happened to him. He was drawn on and then it went wrong.

‘You asked me if I had any particular reason for thinking that. Yes, I do. Once — I remember when it was. There was a big reception at the Casa Revoltella and he asked me if I would come with him. Well, I did not want to go very much, it is not my kind of thing, pompous people, stiff uniforms — no, no. But he said: “Oh, do come, Maddalena! If I don’t have someone real to talk to, I shall go crazy! And there will be lots of colour and beautiful things and you can point them out to me.”

‘Well, I agreed. But then, on the day before it was going to happen, he came to me and said: “No, no, I can’t go. It would not be right. Someone else has asked me to take them, and I don’t want to. It would not be right.” “If you’re bothered about me, you needn’t be,” I said. “I’m quite happy not to go. Why don’t you take this other person?” “No,” he said. “It would be better for me not to go at all. That would make it clear.” Well, I tried to persuade him, but he would not have it, and I didn’t try too hard. It was not important to me. But afterwards I thought about it and I couldn’t understand it. Who was this other person? Why didn’t he want to go with them? And why was it so important? I did not find answers, but now the questions come back to me.’

She shrugged.

‘It may be nothing,’ she said. ‘Now when I tell it, it seems trivial. But it was a moment when I felt there was a side to Lomax, a part of his life, that I did not know. And that surprised me, for I felt that I knew everything about him. And now, after thinking about Lomax and searching and searching, trying to find what could have led to this, this is all I can think of. It is trivial, I know, perhaps silly, but it is all that I can come up with.’

‘And so, when you came back here to look for names, this was the name you were looking for?’

She nodded.

‘Do you think it might have been an Italian name?’

‘I hope not,’ she said.

The Mediterranean evening set in early and it was dark by the time Seymour got back to the Consulate. There was a light on. Koskash must still be there. Seymour hoped he had not stayed on because of him.

The front door was locked so he went round to the side door. It opened easily and he stepped in.

Koskash was at his desk. There were two men standing in front of him. They had their backs turned to the door and were blocking Koskash’s view so that for a moment none of them knew that Seymour had come in.

‘I can’t do it,’ Koskash was saying. ‘Not now.’

‘He needs them tonight,’ one of the men insisted.

‘I’m only half-way through doing them and I’ve got to go out.’

‘He needs them. Tonight.’

Koskash looked up and saw Seymour.

‘All right,’ he said reluctantly. ‘I’ll see what I can do. Tell him to come later. Not too much later. Between nine and nine thirty. And if he’s not here by nine thirty, it will be too bad, because I’ve got to go out.’

He ushered the men out.

‘Seamen!’ he said feelingly when he got back. ‘They just don’t understand. It’s always got to be done immediately. They can’t see that things take time.’

‘They’re lucky to catch you at this hour.’

‘They wouldn’t normally. It’s just that my wife and I are going out later this evening and this is a good place for her to pick me up.’

Seymour went on into the inner room. It was too early to go to the cinema or to have a meal and Lomax’s office, bare though it was, was more congenial than his hotel room.

He sat down at the desk and began to copy out the list of Lomax’s effects. It would be needed back in London by whoever was winding up Lomax’s estate.

Through the half-open door he could see Koskash working on assiduously. He saw him look at his watch.

‘Nine thirty,’ he said, catching Seymour’s eye, ‘and he’s not come. Seamen!’

There was a knock on the side door.

‘Ah!’

It was his wife, however. She was younger than Koskash and distinctly Slav in looks. She stopped when she saw Seymour, as if surprised, and then came forward, smiling.

‘Koskash had told me about you,’ she said. She called him Koskash. ‘I hope you will enjoy your stay, even though it will obviously be a short one. And comes at such a sad time.’

They chatted for a while and then she looked at her husband.

‘Oughtn’t we to go?’

Koskash had tidied his papers up but was hesitating by his desk.

‘There’s someone coming,’ he said.

‘At twenty to ten? Look, if we don’t leave soon, the meeting will have started.’

‘It’s — it’s for papers,’ said Koskash.

‘Oh! Oh, well, in that case — ’

‘I’ll be here for a bit longer,’ said Seymour.

Koskash looked at his wife.

‘That would be very kind,’ she said, smiling. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’

‘Not at all,’

‘Don’t hang around for him,’ said Koskash. ‘Leave when you want to and if he’s not come, well, too bad.’

He and his wife went off arm in arm.

Seymour went back to his desk. It didn’t take him long to finish his copying. Lomax hadn’t had many effects.

It was getting towards ten now. If he wanted to get to the cinema in time for the evening performance, he would have to leave now. The man had probably decided not to come.

He put the papers he had been working on in the empty drawer of Lomax’s desk, together with the envelope that Koskash had given him. Then he went out into the main office. Koskash had given him a key to the side door. He opened the door and went out.

As he stepped outside, he almost collided with a man about to come in. The man fell back with a surprised gasp.

‘Signor Lomax?’ he said hesitantly.

‘No. Seymour. Have you come for something?’

‘Si. Si.’

Seymour took him in. He was a young man in his twenties, wearing spectacles and in a cheap, dark suit. He brought his heels together and gave a little bow. Then he looked at Seymour uncertainly.

‘I was expecting Koskash,’ he said.

‘He’s just gone.’

‘I am sorry, I am late. They said to be here before nine thirty but I took a wrong turning. I do not know Trieste.’

Reassured by the reference to the deadline Koskash had appointed, Seymour went back into his room and fetched the envelope.

‘Was this what you were wanting?’

The man looked in the envelope and nodded. He seemed relieved.

‘Please will you thank Mr Koskash for me,’ he said.