Ivan Klima - Waiting for the Dark, Waiting for the Light

that will tell you which chewing-gum brings the greatest happiness to the greatest number.'

'As you well know, I haven't had a passport for fifteen years and I can't make these comparisons as easily as you can.'

'That's enough,' said Alice. 'You see each other once a year. Do you have to argue? We all have our faults — it's just easier to see other people's.'

Am I to take that personally?' asked Peter.

'It didn't occur to me that you would. But if you do, you probably have a reason.'

Just as another argument seemed about to erupt, one of the boys ran into the room and asked his father to come and help settle some less essential dispute, leaving Pavel alone with Alice.

'I don't mean to make excuses for myself,' he said, though in fact his greatest wish was to vindicate himself in her eyes, 'but I really did hope that I could do what I enjoyed doing and what I think I'm good at, and that people might occasionally learn something from it. And sometimes I think they do. Yes, I have to do things I detest. That's the price I pay. Almost everyone pays it, one way or another.'

'Peter only meant that you were destroying yourself. What you destroy in yourself can't be fixed, and that's not just true of alcoholic livers and smoked-out lungs.' Perhaps she wanted to add: or children killed before they are born. But she merely refilled his glass. He quickly downed his drink. They could hear children's voices coming from the next room. 'Would a little walk in the park help? I mean, since you were out drinking last night?'

The dry leaves rustled under their feet. The red of the honeysuckle contrasted sharply with the blue sky. She put her arm through his. The low sun surrounded her head with a shining halo. If only he could kiss her and hold her as he once had. But he knew that there was no point, so he merely said, 'It's beautiful here, and you are getting prettier and prettier. You seem to belong here for always.'

'Would you want to replace these statues with me?'

'It would certainly improve the park.'

'It would be fine during the day,' she agreed, 'but I'd be afraid at night. I don't know whether you heard about what happened. There's a club near here where the local big-shots hold weddings and banquets. One morning about a month ago, an escaped prisoner showed up with a machine-gun and killed everyone there. A cook, a waitress and three customers.'

'Why did he do it?'

'No one knows. Perhaps he went berserk, or perhaps he was drunk or just desperate. Or maybe he had always had murder in his heart and finally got his hands on a weapon.'

'Did they catch him?'

'They got him at the scene of the murder. He laid the corpses neatly side by side, then sat down, had a cigarette and waited. Actually, he must have been smoking two at a time, because when they found him, the ground all around him was littered with butts. The police just shot him. Anyway, I doubt they'd approve of me as a statue. They don't even approve your screenplays.'

'The fact that they don't approve isn't so important. I have screenplays ready that I don't even think. . ' he stopped and then added, 'I think they're quite different.'

'Different from what?'

'Different from what I do now.'

'That's good,' she said encouragingly. 'Can they be filmed?'

He shook his head.

'Some day perhaps?'

He shrugged his shoulders. 'I don't know what will happen some day — or even if I'll still be around.'

'No one knows, only God.'

Now that he'd finally found the courage to mention his screenplays, he was disappointed she hadn't given him a chance to tell her more about them.

'But I believe that nothing this bad can last forever,' she said.

'Do you really believe that?'

'Yes. The world is like an enormous set of scales. When evil begins to outweigh good, angels cram themselves in

on the lighter side. You can't see them, but there they are, restoring the balance.'

'You're that kind of angel, Alice.'

'Oh, you're always talking blasphemy. I believe in change because I don't want to stay here for the rest of my life. At least I don't want that for Peter. Actually, I quite like it, and the children love it. Growing up in a castle is quite different from growing up in some prefab high-rise. There's space here. Everywhere you go you can reach out and touch the past.'

Even the trees here were ancient. They must have witnessed many wars, many deaths, countless conversations. He noticed the imprint of a horseshoe in the sand on the pathway. Who could possibly go riding here?

'I'm glad you're not unhappy,' he said. 'People usually use their children as an excuse to explain why they are not living their own lives.' He wondered if he dared speak of himself as a potential father in front of her. Then he said, 'I think that if I'd had children, I'd be doing something completely different. Of course, you can only be decent for yourself. But you need to have someone, someone for whom you want to make the effort. I know that how I live is my own fault, but what good is it to know that?'

'You have Eva.'

He shook his head.

'OK, I'm sorry. But a person always has something more than just work and people he loves.'

'You mean God?'

'You don't think so?'

He shook his head. 'I don't see the slightest sign of his presence anywhere.'

'I'm sorry about that, Pavel.'

Now he ought to say: I am too, Alice. If I'd been able to see it then, our lives would have been different. But I could never believe that God was made man and let himself be crucified and then rose from the dead, or that centuries or thousands of years after my death I would rise again and return to my body to be judged for some actions lost in time. But it seemed absurd to talk to her about that. And besides, problems of dogma were not essential to her faith.

'When they tried Peter and me back then,' he recalled, 'they assigned me this old lawyer. When I got a year in jail, he told me: you're young, and it won't be easy, but you have to realize that what you can't avoid, you have to accept. There's no point in resisting the yoke. He told me that before the war, he'd been in America and watched them breaking in young colts on a ranch. The ones that resisted and bucked and kicked got beaten the hardest. At the time what he said made me angry. It seemed like a filthy morality he was preaching. But I've had many occasions to remember it since. I actually think he meant well.'

'It's a nice story,' she said. 'Except that we're not horses.'

FILM

I

The man from the archives is elderly and unremarkable. He's wearing an army shirt, black trousers and grey shoes. Ella is dressed completely in purple because she knows purple excites men. Despite his greyness, the man does indeed give her a hungry look, but he addresses her politely: my dear Mrs Fuková. He listens to what she has to say with an obliging expression, but his grey eyes are crafty.

'Of course, I know his films,' he says. 'He was one of our best documentary-makers. Hardly anyone was a match for him in his field, but now. . well, you understand.'

Ella is chilled by the little word 'was'. 'But he's not entirely banned,' she objects quietly. 'Occasionally they let him make something. He has the odd contract, but it's never the kind of film that lets him show what he can really do. It's very painful for him.'

'My dear Mrs Fuková, who said anything about a ban? No one is banned in this country. Your spouse is simply. . shall we say, not in favour at the moment.'

'That's why I asked your wife. I just thought you might be able to arrange something. I understand you choose films for the president to watch. If you were to send him one of his films. . ' Ella gropes for the right words. She's grown used to shady dealings in her shop, but even so, she feels oddly embarrassed and uncertain. Her husband—