Peter Stamm - All Days Are Night

He made his way back to the cultural center. He was pretty sure that Arno would be underwhelmed by his idea, but he didn’t care. It had sprung organically from the situation in which he found himself and was the logical continuation of his earlier work. Whereas he had always been at pains to arrest time, now for the first time it would be incorporated into his work. He doubted that anyone would notice, but the main thing was that it convinced him.

In the cultural center, he headed straight to Arno to tell him the good news, but he wasn’t in his office. Presumably the committee meeting was in progress where they were talking about the exhibition. He thought of calling him, but he liked the idea of the committee racking their brains over something while he had already solved their problem for them. He would tell Jill about his project tonight, that was plenty early enough.

He drove down into the village to buy the things he needed, a rope, soft pencils, a few coarsely woven red place mats that would be easy to pull apart. Then he drove back to the cultural center and climbed up to the attic. The roof wasn’t insulated and it was warm in the long space, and smelled of dust and old junk. There were all kinds of things standing around, and after looking for a while, Hubert found a dozen white steles. They were a little tall to be ideal. He carted six of them down to the ground floor and carried them into the kitchen and washed them with warm water and soap. They were full of spiderwebs, and it took a long time to get them more or less clean. Then he stood them up in the entrance hall and tried out what their best positions were. In the end, he decided to stand them all in a row.

Jill was waiting in the hotel lobby.

No sooner had they sat down than Jill said she had some good news for Hubert. And I’ve got some for you, he said. You start.

We’ve found someone to stand in for you, said Jill, a young woman artist from Germany who was going to come up anyway. Thea Genser, perhaps you know her? Arno talked to her on the phone a couple of days ago, now she’s coming a little earlier than planned and bringing a series with her that she’s completed recently.

Hubert shook his head and smiled, that wouldn’t be necessary, he had had an idea himself.

When? asked Jill.

Hubert told her of his plan.

But we’ve committed to Thea now, said Jill. She’s been here before too.

You could at least have spoken to me, said Hubert.

Arno was trying to reach you all this time, said Jill, but you kept ignoring him. I’ll try and have a word with him.

The dining room was starting to empty when a young man joined them. When he had finished his plate of hors d’oeuvres and went up to the buffet, Jill explained that it was part of the concept of the vacation club that no one was to sit alone. Hubert wouldn’t have minded talking to her quietly a little longer, but now the young man cut in and told them about a hike he’d been on. Twelve hundred meters, up and down, he said. Jill praised his fitness. When she got up to get her dessert, she laid her hand briefly on his shoulder. Hubert followed her to the buffet, but only to get a cup of coffee.

Who the hell is that? he asked. Is there something going on between the two of you?

It’s part of the job, explained Jill. It’s called talking to the guests.

What if the guest gets on your wick? asked Hubert.

No sooner had Jill finished her apple strudel than she said she had to get changed and made up for her performance.

Will we meet at the bar later?

After she was gone, the young man told Hubert the whole story of his hike again, as though he hadn’t heard it already. Hubert got up and went over to the bar.

There were a few couples on sofas and armchairs by the windows, in their midst stood a hotel employee asking questions in a broad Frankish accent. It seemed to be a kind of quiz, whoever knew the answer had to call out a word, Hubert didn’t understand it.

He went outside for a stroll in the grounds. When he came back, the doors to the theater were open, he sat as far away from the two dozen or so hotel guests who were waiting for the show to begin. The young man from dinner was sitting in the front row.

The play was banal enough, but for all that Hubert sometimes had to laugh. The other members of the audience seemed to entertain no reservations. In one scene the beautiful daughter emptied a full chamber pot over the ugly sister’s dress. Jill had to take off her dirndl and stand there onstage in old-fashioned underwear, which brought her a separate little round of applause. She wasn’t especially good, though better than the others, and she clearly enjoyed it. At the end, even the ugly daughter got her man, Toni, a yokel in lederhosen. To tumultuous applause the cast bowed, and the lights came on.

Hubert waited at the bar, but instead of Jill there was Arno suddenly in front of him. He was carrying a roll of paper under his arm. Jill called me, he said.

I’ve got an idea for the exhibition, said Hubert.

I’m sorry, but it’s too late, said Arno. Hubert thought he could detect some schadenfreude in his voice. I’ve covered over all the posters. He unrolled one of the pale blue posters he was carrying. Thea Genser, Durch Wasser/Through Water .

She takes pictures of empty swimming pools in winter, said Arno, it’s outstanding work.

I don’t understand the title, said Hubert. He ordered another beer and watched Jill and the young man from dinner in animated conversation. Arno said he had to go on. Hubert took his glass and went over to Jill, who was just laughing heartily.

Armin was suggesting I always wore underwear like that.

He can’t actually be that stupid, said Hubert.

They were both silent.

I think he wants to get inside your pants himself, said Hubert.

Excuse me, said Jill to Armin.

She took Hubert by the arm and walked him over to the door.

Will you please stop insulting our guests, she said. I think it’s best you go home.

I’m not at home here, he said and emptied his glass.

Jill took it from him and said, if he liked, he could spend the night at her house.

When Hubert woke up, Jill was standing by the window, opening the curtains. The sun was shining. Jill went to him and sat on the edge of the bed.

Sleep well?

What time did you get home? he asked.

Not so late that I had trouble getting up in the morning. If you want to have breakfast with me, you’d better get a move on.

After Jill had gone off to work, Hubert looked up his e-mails on her computer and answered the most urgent ones. Although he had been pretty drunk the night before, he had taken the car. Now he walked to the cultural center, he was in no particular hurry.

In front of the building was an old minivan with German plates. A young woman was carrying a big wooden crate inside. Hubert held the door open for her. Only then did he notice the light blue poster that had been plastered over the larger, black one, giving the appearance of a window in a dark room. The steles he had set up yesterday in the entrance hall were parked in a corner, on the floor was a pile of aluminum frames in bubble wrap. The young woman had been in one of the guest rooms, and shortly after she came back. She walked up to Hubert and held out her hand. Hi, I’m Thea. Hubert, he said. Oh, she said. Well, I hope you don’t mind that I’m having the exhibition here now. He shrugged and grabbed one of the steles and carried it up to his room.

He spent the rest of the day pulling single threads out of the place mats, until there were just enough left for one to guess the original shape and size. Music started playing in the building, punctuated by the unctuous voice of a radio announcer. Hubert went into the entrance hall, where Thea was just unpacking her pictures and propping them against the wall. On the floor among the packing materials was a tinny little transistor radio. He asked her if she’d mind switching it off.