Ismail Kadare - The Concert

The signals went endlessly on, sometimes interspersed with bits of popular radio programmes…Germany will fulfil its responsibilities towards Europe …If the Russian tanks…The Balkans, troubled as ever… Non, je ne regrette rien … Talking of the Dead Sea…

They can’t get away from the Dead Sea this evening, can they, he thought, lifting his hand to take off his headset… But just as he did so…

“That’s what your Mao Zedong says,” said the Albanian communist. And this took the European leftist leader aback. “Does that mean he’s not your Mao any more?…”

That’ll do for now, growled the monitor, writing all this down on his notepad. Still on about the cooling-off in relations between Albania and China…He took off his earphones, and imagined what his head must look like without his headset. Small and insignificant…

From outside came the howling of the wind over the snow. It sounded like a primitive cry. He sat for a moment gazing at his headset almost in surprise, then slowly donned his magic ears again and went on listening.

SIMON DERSHA KNOCKED, then put his head round the door, Linda and Silva exchanged glances.

“May! use your phone?” he asked, “Ours is out of order.”

He was wearing his navy-blue suit, as he had been a few days ago, when he came to phone before and couldn’t get any answer. As he dialled, Silva thought back to that day. How time flew!

“But you’ve only dialled three digits!” said Linda, who’d been watching him.

When he hung up and turned to look at them the two women were astonished at how haggard he looked.

“Just like me!” he said almost guiltily. “I can’t think why I'm so absent-minded!”

“You can always try again," suggested Linda.

“What? Oh yes, of course,… But…” And he waved his hand as if to say there was no point.

Linda looked at Silva again. Simon made as if to go out, then changed his mind and came back to the phone. He reached out for it cautiously, as if it were red hot, and was just about to dial when the door opened and in came the boss, Simon immediately put down the phone.

“Go on, go on,” said the boss jovially, sitting down,

“No, thank you,” stammered the other, “I was only bothering you because our phone’s out of order,”

“Please! Make yourself at home!” the boss insisted. “You can come here and phone as often as you like. We don’t hesitate to trouble our friends if our phone’s on the blink!”

“Of course! Thanks very much,” said Simon, still edging towards the door.

“But you haven’t made your call! And all because of me! Am I such an ogre?”

“No, on the contrary! It’s my fault… Bet it isn’t important…Î can phone later…It’s not urgent.”

“As you like,’ said the boss.

Simon Dersha quietly let himself out. Linda and Silva smiled.

“A bit touched,’ said Linda, putting a forefinger to her temple.

“Do you think so?” said the boss. “I thought it was me that put him off.”

“No, He’d been hovering around the phone for ages, not daring to call properly. He just dialled three digits and made up some excuse.”

“How odd!” said the boss. “People really are funny!”

“I’ve noticed he acts a bit barmy whenever he wears that blue seit,” said Linda,

The boss guffawed.

“You have some peculiar ideas too!” he said, surreptitiously checking on his own jacket, He was just going to say something else when the phone rang.

“Hallo?” Thee his voice grew cold, as it always did when the call was for Linda or Silva. “Yes, she’s here.”

And he held the phone out to Silva.

It was Beseik Struga. Suva’s face lit up, as did Linda’s when she knew who was calling. Besnik’s voice was warm, but a little deeper than usual Perhaps he had a slight cold. Anyway, it was very attractive. He told her he’d got back from abroad the night before, but wouldn’t be able to see her for two or three days because he had to write a very urgent report.

“It doesn’t matter,’ said Silva. “When you’ve finished the report and had a bit of a rest…”

“What’s been happening about that…business? No news? H’mm …” A pause. “Well talk about it when we meet.”

“Yes, of course,” she said.

“Silva, I do hope you understand…I really can’t…”

“I quite understand, Besnik,” she said.

But he kept on as if he wasn’t sure she did, especially now he knew her brother’s situation hadn’t changed.

“I’ve been longing to see you. I thought of you over there, and I can prove it!”

He’s brought me another little present, thought Silva, smiling to herself. He did this every time he went abroad, Silva had noticed there was no one to beat him for bringing back souvenirs for his friends, especially his women friends.

“Is he back from Paris?” asked Linda when Silva hung up.

Silva nodded. After she’d sat down again at her desk her conversation with Besnik remained suspended over her for a while like a small cloud. She could remember his every word, the barest inflections of his voice, including a certain guilt when he spoke of her brother. Finally, the rest faded and this was the only impression that was left. As for what had happened since Besnik left, that could be described in one word: nothing. Skënder Bermema’s delegation had been postponed four times and he was still in Tirana: he had phoned her several times to say he hadn’t been able to get any further information.

One day he’d come back from China too, and he’d phone her as Besnik had today, to ask if anything had happened while he was away. And she’d say no. Nothing. She sighed.

“What did he say?” asked Linda, “What did he tell you about his trip?”

Silva looked at her blankly for a few seconds.

“Nothing,” she said.

Linda felt herself blushing. She shouldn’t have been so indiscreet. After a while, seeing her friend’s cheeks were still pink, Silva was afraid she might have offended her with her brusque “Nothing,” Yet she didn’t feel like explaining, especially as that would have meant telling Linda all about Arian’s problems.

But not long afterwards the boss was called out of the room, and no sooner had the door closed behind him than Silva prepared to say something to show Linda she hadn’t taken any notice of her indiscreet inquiry. Linda, however, kept her eyes fixed on her desk, and Silva was still trying to think of a way of beginning when the door opened and Simon Dersha reappeared with his customary hangdog expression.

“Look who’s here!” Silva whispered. Then: “Come on in, Simon! What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he answered, with a grimace. “I’d just like to use the phone, if you don’t mind.”

“Haven’t you tried again anywhere else since you were here?” said Silva, winking at Linda, whose sulks now disappeared as if by magic.

“All the other phones are being used,” said Simon, “And then…”

“It looks to me as if you don’t really want to make that call,” observed Linda. “You were very hesitant the last time…”

“Oh…” he quavered.

“What’s the matter, Simon?” Silva asked again.

“Perhaps it’s private and you’d like us to leave you alone?” Linda suggested.

“I didn’t say that!” Simon protested.

“And I noticed that when you asked to use our phone the other day you were wearing the same suit as now!”

“Oh, you’re diabolical!” growled Simon, heading for the door. “Absolutely diabolical!”

The door closed. They laughed.

“I think he must be a bit deranged!” Linda exclaimed.