Agota Kristof - The Book of Lies

Claus counters Peter's gaze. "Yes, Peter. Lucas will probably come back."

"They say that he's hiding in the forest and that he roams the streets of the town after dark. But that's just talk."

Peter shakes his head. "Come to my room, Claus. I'll show you Lucas's letter."

Claus reads: "I entrust the house and the bookshop that forms part of it to Peter N.-on the condition that he maintain the premises in their present state-until my return or, failing that, the return of my brother Claus T. Signed: Lucas T."

Peter says, "He underlined 'in their present state.' Now, whether you are Claus or Lucas, this house belongs to you."

"Listen, Peter, I'm only here for a short time, on a thirty-day visa. I'm a foreign citizen, and as you know, foreigners are not allowed to own any property here."

Peter says, "But you can accept the profits from the bookshop which I've been depositing in a bank every month for the last twenty years."

"What do you live on, then?"

"I have a government pension, and I rent out Victor's house. I only take care of the bookshop for you two. I keep careful accounts, you can check them."

Claus says, "Thank you, Peter. I don't need the money, and I don't wish to check the accounts. I came back only to see my brother."

"Why didn't you ever write to him?"

"We decided to separate. It had to be a total separation. The border wasn't enough. We needed silence as well."

"Yet you came back. Why?"

"The test has lasted long enough. I'm tired and ill. I want to see Lucas again."

"You know that you won't see him again."

A woman's voice calls from the next room.

"Is there someone there, Peter? Who is it?"

Claus looks at Peter. "You've got a wife? You're married?"

"No, it's Clara."

"Clara? She isn't dead?"

"We thought she was, yes. But she was just in prison. Shortly after Lucas disappeared she came back. She had no job and no money. She was looking for Lucas. I let her stay at my place, that is, here. She has the small room, the child's room. I take care of her. Do you want to see her?"

"Yes, I'd like to see her."

Peter opens the door of the room.

"Clara, a friend has come to see us."

Claus goes into the room. Clara is sitting in a rocking chair in front of the window, with a blanket over her knees and a shawl around her shoulders. She is holding a book, but she's not reading it. She is staring into space through the gap in the window. She is rocking.

Claus says, "Hello, Clara."

Clara doesn't look at him; she recites in a monotonous voice, "It's raining as usual. Fine, cold rain, falling on the houses, the trees, the graves. When they come to see me the rain trickles over their distorted faces. They look at me and the cold grows more intense. My walls no longer protect me. They never protected me. Their solidity is mere illusion, their whiteness is stained."

Her voice changes suddenly. "I'm hungry, Peter! When do we eat? With you the meals are always late."

Peter returns to the kitchen.

Claus says, "It's me, Clara."

"You?"

She looks at Claus, holds out her arms to him. He kneels down at her feet, rests his head on her knees. Clara strokes his hair. Claus takes Clara's hand, presses it against his cheek, against his lips. A thin, wizened hand, covered with the marks of old age.

She says, "You left me alone for a long time, too long, Thomas."

Tears run down her face. Claus wipes them away with his handkerchief.

"I'm not Thomas. Have you no memory of Lucas?"

Clara closes her eyes, shakes her head, "You haven't changed, Thomas. You've aged a little, but you are still the same. Kiss me."

She smiles, revealing her toothless gums.

Claus draws back, stands up. He goes to the window, looks out to the street. The main square is empty and dark in the rain. Only the lighted entrance of the hotel is visible in the dark.

Clara starts rocking again. "Go away. Who are you? What are you doing in my room? Why doesn't Peter come? I want to eat and go to bed. It's late."

Claus leaves Clara's room, he finds Peter in the kitchen. "Clara is hungry."

Peter carries a tray in to Clara. When he comes back he says, "She likes her food. I take her a tray three times a day. Fortunately, she sleeps a lot because of her medication."

"She must be a burden to you."

Peter serves up stew with some pasta. "No, not really. She doesn't bother me. She treats me as if I were her valet, but I don't mind. Eat up, Claus."

"I'm not hungry. Does she ever go out?"

"Clara? No. She doesn't like to, and in any case she would just get lost. She reads a lot and likes looking at the sky."

"What about the insomniac? His house must have been opposite, there where the hotel is now."

Peter gets up. "Yes, that's right. I'm not hungry either. Come, let's go out."

They walk down the street. Peter points out a house. "That's where I lived at that time. On the second floor. If you're not too tired, I can show you where Clara used to live."

"I'm not tired."

Peter stops in front of a two-story building on Station Road.

"This is it. This house will soon be demolished, like nearly all the houses on this street. They are too old and unsanitary."

Claus shivers. "Let's go back. I'm frozen."

They part in front of the hotel entrance. Claus says, "I've been to the cemetery several times, but I can't find Grandmother's grave."

"I'll show you tomorrow. Come to the bookshop at six o'clock. It will still be light."

In an abandoned part of the cemetery, Peter sticks his umbrella in the ground.

"Here's the grave."

"How can you be so sure? There's nothing here but weeds. No cross, nothing. You could be mistaken."

"Mistaken? If only you knew how many times I came here looking for your brother Lucas. Even afterward, later, when he was no longer here. This spot has been the end of an almost daily walk for me."

They go back into town. Peter attends to Clara, then they drink brandy in what used to be Lucas's room. The rain falls on the windowsill, drips into the room. Peter goes to get a cloth to mop up the water.

"Tell me about yourself, Claus."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Over there, is life easier?"

Claus shrugs his shoulders. "It's a society based on money. There is no place for questions about life. I've spent thirty years in mortal solitude."

"Did you never have a wife, a child?"

Claus laughs. "Women, yes. Lots of women. No children."

After a silence he asks, "What did you do with the skeletons, Peter?"

"I put them back in their place. Do you want to see them?"

"We mustn't disturb Clara." "We don't need to cross the room. There's another door. Don't you remember?"

"How could I remember?"

"You might have noticed as you went past. It's the first door on the left as you come to the landing."

"No, I didn't notice."

"The door does blend in with the wallpaper."

They enter a small space separated from Clara's room by a thick curtain. Peter switches on a flashlight, illuminating the skeletons.

Claus whispers, "There are three of them."

Peter says, "You don't need to whisper. Clara won't wake up. She takes strong sedatives. I forgot to tell you that Lucas dug up Mathias's body two years after the burial. He told me that it was easier for him, he was tired of spending his nights at the cemetery to keep the child company."

Peter shines the flashlight on a mattress beneath the skeletons.

"That's where he slept."

Claus touches the mattress, the gray army blanket that covers it.

"It's warm."

"What's on your mind, Claus?"

"I'd like to sleep here, just for one night. Do you mind, Peter?"

"This is your home."

Report drawn up by the authorities of the town of K. for the attention of the embassy of D.