All Days Are Night

Chapter 3

Jill had gone over to the window of her office and was looking out onto the grounds behind the hotel. It was a gorgeous day, almost all the deck chairs were occupied, children were playing in the meadow, and in the background, in the shade of some mighty trees that stood by the riverbank, a dozen guests were sitting in a circle. Most were barefoot, some only in shorts and T-shirt. They had sketch pads on their knees and were attentively watching Hubert, who was standing in their midst, talking. On a basket chair next to him sat a naked young woman. Hubert gestured expansively, it was as though he was painting a picture in the air.

His course was a rip-roaring success. Jill could have filled it twice over, that’s how many people had signed up for it. A model was easily found as well: Ursina, the masseuse who had a practice in the village and came to the hotel when required. Jill knew that Ursina had sometimes done modeling when she was a student, and she agreed without demur. She seemed completely uninhibited, stretching during breaks or walking around to inspect the guests’ handiwork. Jill waved at Hubert, but he didn’t see her, and she sat down at her desk to finish the schedules for the next month.

Hubert had recovered remarkably quickly from his breakdown. On the morning of the opening, Jill had been seriously worried about him. Arno had called her and told her to come right away. It was her day off, and she was still in her nightie, but fifteen minutes later she was standing next to Arno in Hubert’s room in the cultural center. Hubert was deathly pale, he had beads of sweat on his brow. Jill called the doctor, then she got a large glass of water from the kitchen. You’re dehydrated, she said to Hubert, and helped him to sit up. The doctor prescribed something to lower his blood pressure, but what he needed above all was rest.

My wife is coming, and so are three of my students, said Hubert. They’re under the impression that I’ve got a show.

Is that all you’re worried about? said Jill. Come on, I’ll take you back to my place, no one will think of looking for you there.

During the first few days at Jill’s, Hubert wasn’t up to much. When she asked him in the evening what he had done during the day, he shrugged. After a few days he began to read. Most of the books in the house were Jill’s mother’s, they were illustrated guides to the area, cookbooks, and English novels. This rather random library had led to an improvement of relations between Jill and her mother. There was nothing arcane about her mother’s handwritten marginalia in the cookbooks, but they showed Jill a life that had had no other end in view than to provide a good home for her husband and daughter.

Ever since Jill had moved into the vacation home, her parents came up less frequently. Jill’s father had bad knees, and the stairs were difficult for him. If they went anywhere for vacation, it was to spa hotels, where he could receive physiotherapy.

Hubert seemed to read anything that fell into his hands, a collection of local legends, a book of Alpine flora, a little volume of Engadin proverbs that were painted all over the houses hereabouts.

It’s easy to find fault, and harder to do, he read. There must have been an artist living in that house. Or what about this: A little wolf is present in every one of us.

Jill was in the kitchen, making their dinner.

Love your destiny, even if it is bitter, read Hubert. Do you think that’s true?

Why don’t you wash the lettuce, said Jill.

When she came home the next day, Hubert was sitting in front of the house, sketching. She walked around and looked over his shoulder. He was just copying a sgraffito from the book of proverbs. He leafed back through the pad and showed her the drawings he had done, careful copies of mermaids, crocodiles, and zodiacs graced with sayings. He tore out a sheet and handed it to her. A year is long, ten years are short, she read.

They shared a bed. Jill went to the bathroom first. When Hubert had turned out the light and lain down next to her, she sometimes scooted over to him, and they would embrace. When Jill turned around, she felt Hubert’s erection. Neither of them said anything, and after a while, Jill crept back to her side of the bed. One evening she asked him in earnest whether he would like to conduct a drawing class in the club and was astonished when he immediately said yes.

Jill was happier than she’d been for a very long time. Only now did she realize how solitary she had been these past years. When she remembered the time with Matthias, it was as though it had nothing to do with her present life. The memory of the sessions with Hubert, on the other hand, had remained vivid.

After she had talked Arno into inviting Hubert to hold another exhibition in the cultural center, she had been anxious for weeks. Then, when he sat in front of her in the hotel lobby again, everything was the way it had been before. And since Hubert had started living with her, she looked forward to coming home every evening. He frequently did the cooking. After dinner they often sat outside the house for hours, talking.

The first course Hubert offered was in landscape painting. A half dozen guests signed up for it. In the evening Jill met one of the participants, an old lady who had come with her granddaughter and had taken the course with her. The woman was enthusiastic, even her granddaughter had enjoyed it. Hubert too appeared to have enjoyed the day. When Jill came home, he had dinner ready. Well, how was it? she asked.

It’s amazing how many people paint in their free time, he said. There are no great geniuses among them, but at least they’re not beginners either.

You seem to have an admirer, said Jill.

Hubert looked at her with round eyes, then he said: Oh, do you mean Elena? She’s a teenager.

Actually, I was thinking of her grandmother, said Jill, laughing.

Since there were guests who stayed at the club for two weeks and wanted to carry on painting, Hubert offered a further course the following week, in portraiture. Obviously word had got out that he was a good teacher, at any rate the enrollment was twice the first week’s. At the end of the week, Jill asked him whether he would like to teach life drawing as well, that would certainly interest the younger set. And will you sit for us? he asked. If I can’t find anyone else I will, said Jill.

Most of the participants in the life-drawing class were men. Sometimes in the evening Hubert showed Jill sketches he had made of the students: malicious little caricatures of a shy young fellow who hardly dared look up from his page; a fat, bald fifty-year-old who as he worked jammed the tip of his tongue between his lips; another, still older man whose eyes were wide with terror as though they had seen Death. We’ll hang them up in the lobby next week, said Jill, to help recruit the next group.

Hubert spent more and more time at the club. Jill saw him from her window talking to the guests or disappearing with a group of youths in the direction of the football field. In the evening he would collect her in her office.

Do you want to take the car? she asked. I’m acting tonight.

It was the same play Hubert had seen her in before. He said he would stay and watch it again, maybe he would find some hidden depths in it this time. They ate together on the terrace, then he walked her to the tiny dressing room behind the stage. The costumes hung in the props room, a windowless annex stuffed full of scenery, clothes stands, and props that were used in the various productions. The dressing room was jammed full, but no one seemed to object to Hubert’s presence there. Jill loved the atmosphere of the performances, her male and female colleagues were excited, saying break a leg and pretending to spit over one another’s shoulders.

Hubert stood in the wings for the whole performance, watching. When Jill had an exit, she remained standing so close to him that he could feel the warmth of her body. He whispered something, but she covered his mouth with her hand. The audience laughed, and Jill had to go out again, to receive the contents of the chamber pot over her dress. For the final ovation the cast dragged Hubert out onto the stage with them, even though he had contributed nothing to the performance, and he laughed and bowed along with the others.

Most of them had kept their costumes on and headed straight for the bar to celebrate with the guests, and Jill and Hubert were the last two in the dressing room. Jill had hung up the wet dirndl to dry. In her old-fashioned undies she sat in front of one of the two mirrors, her face shining. Hubert had disappeared into the props room, and Jill was taking off her makeup. Suddenly he stood behind her, in lederhosen and checkered shirt, almost the identical costume to the yokel whom Jill had married in the play.

Aren’t you natty, she said, laughing and getting up. You should wear lederhosen more often.

Hubert took a step toward her and took her in his arms and kissed her on the mouth.

Toni! How could you! she resumed her role. You could at least wash your hands after milking.

Toni’s answer was a certain laugh line in every performance, but Hubert didn’t speak, just went on kissing Jill. He held her so hard it almost hurt. She responded to his kiss, and as though that was an invitation, he started undressing her. He kissed her on the throat and collarbone, and when they were both standing there in their shirts, he turned her around and penetrated her. Not so rough, said Jill, you’re hurting me. But Hubert seemed not to hear. In the mirror she caught a glimpse of his eyes, they were glazed like a drunk’s.

Be gentle, she whispered, I haven’t slept with a man in a long time.

During the early days in the club she had had occasional affairs with guests, and for one season she and the chef had been an item. But he had gotten transferred by the club to southern Turkey, and she hadn’t wanted to go with him. Over time, she had felt less and less like getting involved with a man and had contented herself with the occasional flirtation.

Hubert moved faster and faster, then he groaned, jerked once or twice, and collapsed heavily against her. After a while he picked himself up and stepped away from her. Jill could feel the sperm trickling down her leg.

Come on, she said and took him by the hand.

It was dark in the theater, the only light was from the green emergency exit signs. They lay in the bed that stood on the edge of the stage.

Are you sure no one will come in? whispered Hubert.

Don’t worry, said Jill, no one before the cleaners in the morning. They embraced and kissed, then Jill sat on top of Hubert and pulled her chemise over her head. It was strange, making love onstage. Jill shut her eyes and moved slowly. Hubert lay very still now. When she opened her eyes once briefly, she saw him looking up at her with a startled expression.

Gillian was seventeen. She was standing by the window of the vacation home with her bare elbows propped on the rough sill, looking up at the sky. The night was full of noises and smells. She was in love, at that time she was often in love, little things were enough to get her dreaming as well as stop the dreams. Everything that happened to her seemed to turn into feeling right away.

She shut the window and went down the stairs. The house was locked, but you didn’t need a key to leave it. It was cool outside. She was barefoot and wasn’t wearing a jacket, and she was freezing, but that was part of it too. She walked along the road toward the river, ready at any time to duck among the grass if a car passed. After a while the road entered a wood, not much farther to go now. She hardly saw anything in the wood and had to walk more slowly. From the main road on the other side of the gully she heard the occasional car, but there were things closer at hand that she heard too, in the wood, as though the darkness was subtly moving, a little quiver in the atmosphere. When she got to the serpentines that led down to the river, she could already make out the hotel lights. The forest was thinner here, and she could see farther. She ran along the tight curves and over the bridge, the soles of her feet scorched by the rough asphalt.

She walked around the big building, past the brightly lit entrance. As she turned the corner, she heard voices and laughter. The door to the kitchen stood open, where the cooks worked in their white tunics and checked pants. They were just tidying up now. It took a while before one of the trainees, a boy with long hair, saw her. He went to the door, said hello, and offered her a cigarette.

We’re almost finished, he said, and lit one himself. Then he stuck his head back in the kitchen and called out: Hey, Edo, your girlfriend’s here!

She liked the sound of that. She was Edo’s girlfriend, even though she had only met him a week ago, in the pub by the railway station. He had bought her a beer and told her about working in the hotel.

She had arranged with her father that he would come and pick her up at half past ten. When she told Edo, he made fun of her. She always had the feeling he didn’t quite take her seriously. He was in his fourth year as a trainee chef, so he was three years older than her, and even had his own car, an old rust bucket of a Fiat. When she went to the pub the following day, she told her father there was no need to collect her, someone would drive her home. He wanted to know who, and they had a fight about it. Edo wasn’t in the pub that evening, and she had to walk home, it was over an hour. The next day she plucked up all her courage, went to the hotel after lunch, and asked for Edo. He was standing beside the back door smoking with a couple of his colleagues. She went up to the men, pretending she had turned up by chance. It was his hour off, said Edo, with a complacent smirk. Do you want to see my room? There was great hilarity among the others. He blushed. She said if he liked they could go for a walk.

As soon as she was alone with Edo, he behaved quite differently. Even his voice changed, got quieter and more careful. They walked along the riverbank, the path led through tall grass and bushes, and it was so narrow they had to go Indian file. Gillian went ahead and felt Edo’s eyes on her back. After a couple hundred yards, they sat down on the riverbank in the shade of some trees. The current was strong, Edo snapped off twigs and dropped them in the water, where they were pulled in as though by some mysterious power and immediately swept away. He told her about his plans. After his military service, he wanted to go abroad, to Africa or Asia. While Gillian was sweating over Latin and math, Edo would be seeing the world. She lay down and shut her eyes and waited for him to kiss her. But Edo went on talking. Their dreams could hardly be more different, but his enthusiasm was infectious. When they walked back, Gillian’s arm brushed against some nettles. Edo looked at the reddened place. He hesitated for a moment, then he raised her arm to his mouth and kissed it. It was as though she had been waiting for that moment. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Edo, called the apprentice again, it’s your girlfriend! Then he turned to her and said, we’re all going swimming together, do you feel like coming?

Swimming? Now? She laughed disbelievingly.

Edo stepped out and kissed her on the mouth. They smoked silently. One after the other, the cooks emerged from the kitchen, said goodbye, and disappeared into the darkness. The last to go was the head chef. Don’t forget to lock up, he said to Edo, he was making him responsible.

Come on, said Edo to her and to his colleague, once the boss was gone. Inside there were three trainees busy cleaning and wiping, a big fellow with a pimply face, a smaller boy who looked like he was still a kid, and a round girl with thin braids.

Come on, said Edo again. They all went into the storeroom for two liter bottles of cooking wine. Edo went on ahead down narrow passages, then they passed through a metal door and found themselves in a corridor of the hotel. Edo stopped in front of a door labeled SWIMMING BATHS.

It was pitch-black inside and smelled of chlorine. Gillian felt someone take her hand and guide her. Careful, steps. Then they were suddenly standing in front of the pool. A little moonlight came in through the big plate glass windows. Outside she could sense the park, big trees and shrubbery. When she turned, she saw the others were already undressing. The boys let their clothes fall on the floor and ran hunched over to the pool and dropped into it. From the water they looked tensely at the two girls. The cook was still in her underclothes, she had enormous breasts and wide hips. She got completely undressed, and with unexpected grace walked over to the pool and down the steps into the water. The boys had turned to her, and together they swam to the glass wall at the far end. Gillian took advantage of the moment to take her clothes off too and get in the water. Edo left the group and swam over to her. She only had a vague memory of the next hour, kisses and touchings and whisperings. The other trainees climbed out of the water, they chased each other around the pool, careful not to make any noise. She watched the boy with long hair wrestling with the fat girl, who broke away and ran off a few paces, wheezing with laughter. The boy caught up to her, there was more wrestling. Later on they disappeared down a corridor in the darkness. The two other trainees stretched out on deck chairs and passed the wine bottles back and forth. Edo kissed Gillian’s throat, and instantly she forgot the others. She shut her eyes, he put his arms around her, she let him, but she didn’t dare touch him. He stopped kissing her, laid his head on her shoulder, as though he didn’t need it anymore. She couldn’t see his face, but she felt his hand. She was lifted up till she was almost on the surface of the water. Suddenly a brief, stabbing pain, and he was inside her. She didn’t feel pleasure, but she could feel her body as rarely before. Afterward there was an emptiness in her that hadn’t previously existed.

She pushed off from the wall and swam to the steps. Edo came after her. Side by side they sat on one of the top steps in the shallows, paddling at the water with their hands, which touched sometimes as though by chance. I love you — had he said, or had she wanted him to? I love you, she whispered, and he, I love you too. Suddenly there was blue light everywhere, she didn’t know what was happening, then she saw that it came from the water. One of the trainees had switched on the underwater lighting. The other leapt up from his deck chair and ran over to him, wine bottle in hand, and the two fought over the light switch. They kept interrupting their struggle to take a pull on the bottle. Edo had turned onto his front. She saw her body and his glow yellowishly, only the parts that were outside the water were gray. The water seemed viscous, oily, spilling over her belly. She hoped it would get dark again, she felt Edo going away from her in the light. She wanted to draw him to her, but he freed himself and stepped out of the pool. He hissed at the two fighters and switched the light off, but he didn’t go back in the pool.

A quarter of an hour later, they said goodbye outside the staff rooms. The apprentice with the long hair was snogging the fat girl. The others would surely go on drinking into the early hours.

I have to go home, said Gillian. Edo didn’t even ask her if she wanted to come up to his room. He kissed her, but it felt different from before.

Barefoot and with wet hair, she ran home. The next day she had a cold.

Oh, that’s nice, said Jill and she went on moving. When she had come and opened her eyes, she could feel a tear running down her cheek. Hubert asked if anything was the matter. Nothing, she said, and laughed, I’m happy.

They were lying side by side when they heard the door to the dressing room.

Someone’s just thrown their costumes down on the floor and left them, said a man’s voice.

Jill pulled the covers over their heads, and they waited breathlessly for the voices to go away. Then they stood up, crept back into the dressing room, and quickly put on their clothes.

Their having slept together changed their lives less than Jill had expected, it was as though the nights were a different world into which they dived together. The next morning Jill had only a dreamy recollection of the night just past. When they made love, Hubert always wanted to leave the light on. He didn’t take his eyes off her when she got undressed. His hands went all over her body. Sometimes he got up to look at her from a distance, or he would bend her knees and spread her legs like a doctor checking the flexibility of a joint, until, half laughing, half irritably, she would grab him by the hair and pull him to her and kiss him. His kisses were chaste like a child’s, as if he were far away and unattainable. He moved and swung her around like an object. Sometimes she had to tell him not to be rough with her. The nicest moments were when they lay there side by side, touching each other abstractedly. Once she asked him if he had found her desirable when he painted her back then.

Of course I did, he said, maybe that’s why I didn’t succeed in painting you.

And now? she asked.

Why should I paint you? You’re here.

A few days later he asked if it would bother her if Lukas came up here on vacation. Jill didn’t know what to say, the idea made her a little bit nervous.

Astrid would bring him, he said.

Does she know about me? asked Jill.

Yes, he said, but not that we knew each other before.

Hubert and Jill drove down to the station to collect Lukas.

You didn’t say she was bringing her boyfriend, said Jill.

That’s because I didn’t know, said Hubert angrily, and went off to welcome Astrid, Lukas, and Rolf.

During the ride back there was silence. Only Astrid made an effort at conversation. She talked to Hubert as to an invalid, praised the beauty of the scenery and the weather as though they were all his doing. She made no mention of their last visit. While Astrid spoke, she leaned forward. Rolf and Lukas clowned around behind Astrid’s back. Jill parked outside the house.

Come on, said Hubert to Lukas, I’ll show you your room.

The two of them disappeared upstairs. Astrid and Rolf followed Jill.

Why don’t we sit outside for a bit?

Astrid asked what work Jill did.

I’m in charge of entertainment in the vacation club next to the cultural center.

Astrid asked what that involved, but her interest didn’t seem very deep. I’ve never gone to such a club, what kind of people take their holidays like that?

Rolf said he had gone to a club once when he was a young man. Loads of singles, and a party every night. Fun, I suppose.

People who don’t know what to do with themselves, said Astrid.

For a moment, Jill felt sorry for Rolf.

In our club we mostly get families with children, she said. Recently, Hubert’s started giving painting classes there.

Oh! said Astrid, apparently genuinely taken aback.

There was silence. Astrid stretched out and sighed, as though to prove that she felt at ease. After a while, Hubert and Lukas came out of the house holding hands.

What train were you going to take? asked Hubert.

I haven’t picked one yet, said Astrid.

The trains always leave at twenty of, said Hubert, if we hurry, you can be on the next one.

Shouldn’t we take a little walk? asked Astrid. Seeing as we’ve come all the way up here.

Rolf pulled a map out of his rucksack and said he had seen there was a power place very close by, he wouldn’t mind seeing that. Hubert rolled his eyes, but Jill said that was a good idea.

You don’t believe in that flummery, do you? asked Hubert.

It’s nothing you have to believe in, said Rolf. Most of those places are just very beautiful and have a special resonance.

They walked along the road for a while, then followed a narrow path into a small dip and then up a slope. There, surrounded by a wooden fence, was a large boulder exhibiting many small indentations.

That’s a stone with cup and ring marks, said Rolf, you find them all over Europe. Presumably they were prepared by Bronze Age people for purposes of worship. Look, here’s a zodiac.

And there was a wheel with spokes etched into the stone, though, admittedly, it didn’t look terribly ancient. Jill traced it with her finger. Rolf silently contemplated the stone.

Well, feel anything? asked Hubert with a grin.

Take your time, said Rolf amiably enough. You need to find a silent place in your thoughts. You won’t see your reflection in a rapidly flowing stream.

While Rolf was inspecting the rock, Astrid stood silently by. She seemed to be thinking about something. Lukas had run farther on up the slope. There were a few stunted birches up there. He had sat in the grass and was looking down at the grown-ups. Jill wondered what the little boy made of them. When she’d been a girl she had known power places long before she had understood what they were, places she had withdrawn to, that had a significance for her that no one outside could grasp.

It’s all about creating a hierarchy of space, said Rolf to Hubert — surely that’s what you do as an artist, isn’t it?

On their way back, Astrid involved Jill in a conversation, and they walked so slowly that the two men were away off by themselves in no time. Lukas kept running back and forth between the two couples, till Astrid told him to stay with them. Rolf and his father had something to discuss. When they caught up to the men outside the house, Jill looked questioningly at Hubert. Then Rolf and Astrid said goodbye to Lukas, and Hubert drove them to the station.

Jill suggested a game to the boy, or offered to read him a story, but he shook his head and disappeared inside. When Hubert returned, she asked him what Rolf had had to discuss with him.

Search me, said Hubert. It was something about reconciliation. I told him I couldn’t see us getting reconciled as I didn’t have a problem with him. Then we talked about Astrid. I wonder how much longer they’ll be together.

She sounded me out, said Jill. She wanted to know how long we’ve been together and how we got to know each other, all those sorts of things. I almost had the sense she was jealous.

Of course she’s jealous, said Hubert. What did you tell her?

That you’re happy, said Jill.

The two weeks with Lukas went by quickly. Jill was amazed how much time Hubert had for the boy. Often they went hiking, or in the evening they told her how they had spent the whole day damming a mountain stream or clambering around on some rocks. Sometimes they came into the club and visited her in her office or swam in the pool. When Hubert was teaching his course, Lukas played with the visiting children. As the only Swiss kid, he was quite a hit with his funny accent. On days that Jill had off, they went on trips together. Lately, there had been some sightings of the bear that was supposed to be in the area. Lukas often asked about it, he seemed to be at once afraid of it and fascinated by it. Every time he heard something rustle, the boy asked if it was the bear.

Sure, said Hubert, he’s coming after us.

Don’t frighten him, said Jill.

Lukas only calmed down once they were above the tree line. While Hubert and Lukas went scrambling over the rocks, Jill dropped off to sleep. When she opened her eyes, the sky overhead seemed almost black, although the sun was still shining. There was no sign of Hubert or Lukas, only sometimes she heard a laugh or shout in the distance. It seemed to her as though her accident had never happened. She was married with a child and had a perfectly normal life, like everyone else. The past years were an illusion, the life of somebody else.

That evening she put Lukas to bed for the first time. She told him off for skimping on brushing his teeth and watched as he slipped into his pajamas. Then she had to help him look for his teddy bear, and he wanted to hear all about the real bear again.

Have you seen him ever? he asked.

No, said Jill. He’s very shy, he likes to stay out of sight.

Doesn’t he have a family, then? asked the boy.

No, said Jill, I think he’s still a juvenile. He’s just exploring. He’s curious about the world. I think bears like to be by themselves.

I don’t, said Lukas.

I don’t either, said Jill. She kissed the boy on the forehead and called Hubert.

When Lukas was picked up at the end of two weeks by Astrid, Hubert seemed to be less affected than Jill. She had said goodbye to him after breakfast and gone to the office, but she was unable to concentrate on her work. She stood by the window and looked out onto the grounds. We are all one big family here, her boss liked to say. For a week or two at a time they lived that illusion, on “du” terms, taking their meals together around big tables, playing sports and guessing games, flirting with each other. But on the day of departure, it all fell apart. At breakfast the guests were in a hurry, the parents were short with their children for not getting a move on, there was a line at reception, because they all wanted to pay their bill, and the lobby was full of islands of luggage on which the children sat like little castaways. Many went off without saying goodbye. At noon, there was a hush over the whole place, meanwhile the maids were working frantically upstairs, removing the traces of the departed. In the afternoon the next load of visitors arrived, and everything started all over again.

Jill went home earlier than usual. Hubert was sitting in the garden, sketching. When she went up to him, he shut the pad with a clack.

There, we’ve got our peace and quiet back again, he said. Would you like a glass of wine? He told her he’d had lunch with Astrid, and she had told him her relationship with Rolf was at a crisis. I don’t know what the problem is, he said, she didn’t want to say anything in front of Lukas, and just dropped hints. I think he wants children, and she doesn’t. He seems to be the conventional one in that relationship. An esoteric and a square.

Is it square to want children? asked Jill.

She’s just too old for him, said Hubert, I told her that all along.

And does Astrid want you back now? asked Jill.

So what if she does? said Hubert after a brief hesitation, as though the possibility had only just occurred to him.

The semester starts in a month, he said over breakfast. Jill looked at him and didn’t say anything. The college only needs me to be there a couple of days a week, he said, three at the most. The rest of the time I could spend here. What do you think?

She nodded. If that’s what you want.

Hubert would drive down on Wednesday evening and come back just after midnight on Friday, on the last train. When Jill picked him up at the station in the car, he was in a good mood, talking about the students, his time with Lukas, visits to galleries and cinemas. After the vacation, there were fewer guests at the hotel, and the painting course was suspended, but that left Hubert time to get on with his own work. When Jill asked him about it, he was evasive. He didn’t like talking about a current project, he said. In the evenings, he withdrew. He had set up a kind of studio in Jill’s old room upstairs. He would disappear into there while Jill read or watched TV. Around midnight she would knock on Hubert’s door. He stuck his head out, gave her a kiss, and said he’d be along in a minute. She undressed and brushed her teeth. She stood in front of the mirror for a long time waiting, but Hubert didn’t come.

In mid-September he said he needed to stay in the city for a while, the term was beginning, and there was lots of organizational stuff to take care of.

How long? asked Jill.

I can’t tell you yet, maybe a week or ten days.

Why didn’t you tell me sooner? she asked. That way I could have gotten used to the idea a bit.

At night she dreamed of Matthias for the first time in ages. They had a child together, a boy who looked like Lukas. In the morning she couldn’t remember any details, she was left with just a picture, a family photograph of her and Matthias in mountain scenery, and the boy between them.

Hubert phoned every other day. He didn’t have much to say for himself, and Jill didn’t know what to say either.

Things are the same, she said, will you be coming on Saturday?

Yes, he said, almost certainly.

You can come whenever you want, she said, but I’d just like to know first.

She felt worse after that call than before. She had taken Saturday off but still got up early. She spent more time than usual in her bath. She wasn’t a particularly gifted or enthusiastic cook, but she wanted to make a welcome feast for Hubert. The village butcher recommended the beef pot roast and explained how to prepare it. Back at home, she put the meat on to cook and laid the table and decorated it with the few remaining flowers she could find in the garden. When everything was ready, the phone rang. It was Hubert. He said he wouldn’t be coming today after all. He hadn’t been able to call her any earlier. Astrid wasn’t doing well, she needed him.

Are you with her now? she asked.

I need to go, he said.

Jill sat in front of the house, but it was cooler than she expected and she went back inside. She started to clean the house. When she took Hubert’s dirty clothes down to the laundry room, she sniffed them, and that settled her a bit. She tried to imagine what it would be like on her own again. In a few years she’d be fifty, and for the first time she had the sense that it was too late for certain things in her life.

She vacuumed the stairs. Outside Hubert’s workroom she hesitated. Since he had moved in there, she had hardly set foot in the place, she didn’t want to bother him, or pressure him. She switched off the vacuum and opened the door. The sudden silence unsettled her, it was like the silence of childhood seeping out of the room and wrapping her up. Jill was about to close the door when she changed her mind and sat down in the threadbare armchair in the corner. The room looked almost the way it had when she was a child. Hubert had left hardly any traces of his occupation, only he had cleared the table, and there were some piles of books, notebooks, and sketch pads on the floor. The ceiling lamp gave a weak yellowish light. She went over to the desk and opened a pad that was lying there. She picked up a pencil, as though she were going to sketch something herself. The pages of the book were covered with pencil cross-hatching. Some were so heavy that they formed shiny reflective surfaces, and you couldn’t see the individual lines anymore, still they had a spatial effect. Other pages seemed to be unfinished, they looked like dream landscapes, like maps, a juxtaposition of small crosshatched spaces going in different directions and forming unpredictable patterns with their occasional intersections. Jill hadn’t a clue what to make of these drawings. Were they artworks or desperate attempts to kill time? As she leafed on, she saw that it was the block with the nude drawings Hubert had done of her the first time he had stayed the night here. Presumably they weren’t anything special, just quick sketches. Not one of them was intact, it looked as though Hubert had crossed them all out before he had embarked on the cross-hatching. Jill was suddenly convinced that he wouldn’t be back.

She started covering one of the sketches with her own hatchings, the one of her kneeling on the bed with her hands behind her back, as though chained. The pencil was too hard, so she took another one. She deleted the picture, as though burying her unprotected body under a layer of graphite, making a fossil that no one would ever discover.

It was almost midnight. Jill took off her socks and stepped out of the house barefoot. The air was cool, and the ground under her feet was cold. She walked down the road. A couple of years ago they had built a new bridge over the gorge, but she took the old way. The road down into the gorge was blocked off, in the spring floods there had been a landslide and the underpinnings needed to be secured. Jill scrambled over the barrier and walked past the machines that stood around like sleeping animals. There were lights on in some of the rooms in the cultural center, and the hotel was lit up as well. She crossed the meadow to the annex where the pool was. It had been rebuilt when the club took over the building. She peered in through the big windows, but she couldn’t see anything except the glimmer of some light switches. She leaned against the cold glass and looked out at the starry sky. Someone must have opened a window, because there was music coming from the hotel. Today it was Captain Jack Sparrow’s turn again, The Curse of the Black Pearl. Jill was freezing. She remembered she had a spare jacket in her office. She went around the annex to the main entrance.

Sitting at reception was a young Greek boy who had started there this season and whose name Jill couldn’t seem to remember. He asked her if she was going to the open-air concert. She said she had just stepped in to collect something from her office. When she came down in her wool jacket and a pair of sandals she slopped around in at work, a couple of employees were standing in the hallway. They wore colorful clothes and looked as though they were in disguise. The men greeted Jill rambunctiously.

Are you coming to the open-air? asked Ursina.

She was one of the few who came from here, she could even speak Romansh, but she was down on the locals and seemed to prefer the hotel to the village.

I don’t know, said Jill, I just came in to pick something up.

Oh, come on, said the masseuse and put her arm around Jill. When did you last dance?

At reception a couple of the men were teasing the Greek boy, who was on night duty and who therefore couldn’t come with them. Outside a minibus drew up.

Marcos is driving, said Ursina. Jill was pulled along by the others and finally clambered into the bus.

They took the main road up the valley. Marcos had put on a CD, a tinny-sounding guitar with a melancholy woman’s voice. From the backseats the men complained — wasn’t there any other music? — but the driver ignored them. Jill, on the front seat, asked what the music was.

Fado, he said, from Portugal, Amália Rodrigues.

And what is she singing?

Marcos didn’t say anything, at first Jill thought he didn’t understand her question, but then she realized he was listening. When the guitar was playing on its own, he embarked on his halting translation.

What a strange way my heart has to live. Lonesome heart, independent heart, not for me to command. If you don’t know where you’re going, why do you want to run.

That’s nice, said Ursina.

Her voice was very near. Jill saw that she had craned forward to listen. Marcos didn’t say anything. Only when they turned off the main road after half an hour and followed a narrow little mountain road into a side valley, did he ask what sort of concert they were going to.

It’s a Goa party, said Gregor, a young cook, from the backseat. Trance, you know.

He explained the difference between the various techno forms to Marcos. Jill didn’t listen, she was so tired her eyes were falling shut. They passed a village, and a little later a spectrally illuminated campsite. There were torches stuck in the ground, big fires were burning, and some of the brightly colored tents were lit from inside. Marcos slowed to walking pace. In the headlights Jill saw strange figures walking up or coming down the mountain, some were moving as though dancing, others had drooping shoulders. Finally they got to the entrance of the festival area. You couldn’t see the stage from there, but you could already hear the music, a monotonous boom-boom-boom. Marcos asked what time he should come back for them.

Tomorrow morning, Ursina said, laughing.

Someone said they would make it back on their own. There were shuttle buses. Suddenly everyone dispersed, only Ursina was left with Jill, and she took her hand and led her to the entrance.

Even as they approached the stage, Ursina started to move to the music. She had on a crop top, and her hair was in two braids.

Aren’t you cold? asked Jill.

She envied Ursina’s slim form and suppleness.

Not much farther now, said Ursina, and pulled her through the crowds. Most of the audience was half Jill’s age, and she felt badly out of place, but no one seemed bothered by her presence. The feeling was very relaxed. The music was now like a carpet of sound, she could hear sitars, a sort of crunching, and then the voice of an old man saying something in English about visions and peace. The DJ onstage lifted an arm and then made short hacking movements with his hand in the direction of the people, and suddenly a rhythm boomed out. The tones were so low that Jill felt them right through her body and had to put something against them. The people started bopping around on command, a mass of bodies, moving in time. Some rowed with their arms, as though swimming through molasses, others stood almost still, only twitching a shoulder or twisting their heads from side to side. Jill could not escape the rhythm and began dancing in spite of herself. Ursina turned briefly to her, smiled, and with a complicated and yet completely harmonious movement screwed her arms up into the air. Over the stage hung cloth sails lit by black light, the psychedelic patterns that were projected on a screen behind the DJ changed to the pulse of the music. Jill tried to empty her mind. Once, she felt a hand on her shoulder, it was Gregor the cook standing beside her. He was yelling something into her ear, but she couldn’t understand a word. At the same time she felt him press something into her hand. Jill looked down and saw a small pill in the flash of a beam. Gregor pointed to his mouth, yelled something else, this time Jill could make out: Fun! and No problem! She hesitated, then put the pill in her mouth. The cook pushed on and laid his hand on the shoulder of Ursina, who was a few feet away. She saw them put their heads together. Then Ursina shook her head, turned to her, and shook it again with a cross expression. Jill shut her eyes and went on dancing. The music seemed to be coming to some sort of climax that never happened. Sometimes the bass stopped, and there were spherical sounds left hanging before a rhythm set up again, sometimes it just accelerated steadily. For a while Jill kept up, then she gave up and drifted, and was pulled into the maelstrom of noises. She had the sense of going floor by floor through a tall building, and everywhere was music, colored lights, and dancing people. Suddenly someone held her. Jill opened her eyes and saw Ursina standing beside her.

Come, said Ursina, you need to rest.

I’m not tired, said Jill.

Ursina took her hand and led her to a stall where they were giving out water.

You need to drink a lot, she said, otherwise you’ll keel over.

I need to pee, said Jill.

A long line had formed in front of the toilet huts on the edge of the area. The music was less loud here, and mixed with the sound of a mountain stream flowing past them. Jill must have lost her sandals somewhere, at any rate she was barefoot and she felt the cold dew that had settled on the meadow. She wasn’t wearing a watch and had no idea what time it was.

Are you doing all right? asked Ursina.

I haven’t felt this good in ages, said Jill.

Where’s Hubert? asked Ursina. I haven’t seen him lately.

Hubert is history, said Jill.

I like him, said Ursina, he’s an amazing painter. Suddenly Jill’s mood swung and she could hardly breathe. Now everything was clear, Hubert had been sleeping with Ursina all along. That was why he had practically stopped painting and had destroyed the nude drawings he had done of her. Presumably Hubert wasn’t in the city at all, he was with the masseuse in her apartment. Or he was here at the party somewhere. Ursina looked at her in horror.

What are you talking about? she said. You’re insane.

Jill closed her eyes, she felt dizzy. She was almost falling over, but Ursina took her in her arms and helped her to sit.

I’m sorry, said Jill, and she hugged Ursina.

What are you sorry about?

I don’t know, said Jill, everything. I’m sorry about everything. I need to pee again. She had to laugh.

You haven’t been yet, said Ursina.

Jill went on dancing. Sometimes she stood still, only moving her head and her shoulders. Or she flew over the landscape without beating her wings. Clouds blew past her in accelerated motion. She dipped into a blue sea, saw underwater landscapes, schools of fish shooting concertedly at incredible speed in and out of bright coral. She seemed to be always a fraction of a second ahead of the music, her movements were producing the music, controlling it. The beats shaped the room, they felt like huge invisible bubbles flying toward her and bouncing off her. The dancers had lifted their arms and kept pushing the bubbles away into the air, they flew higher and higher, floating over the dark valley. Far below she could see the wood, the railway line, and the road. The music grew quieter and finally gave way to the monotonous pouring of the wind. Jill saw snowcapped peaks, then chains of mountains, one behind the other, and in between them green valleys, the Po basin with its sleeping towns, and in the distance the lights of the port cities and the black plain of the sea. She no longer felt the weight and shelter of the mountains, she had the feeling of weightlessness to which she surrendered without fear.

When she opened her eyes, she was lying on the ground with her head in Ursina’s lap. Someone had covered her with a windbreaker. In front of them was a big flickering fire and some people Jill didn’t know. Her thoughts were clearer.

Won’t the music ever stop? she asked. What time is it?

Ursina shook her head and looked at her watch. Half past three.

Where are the others?

I’ve no idea, said Ursina. They’ll find their way back, don’t worry about them.

Jill sat up. I don’t want to go back, she said, not knowing what she meant. I want to know what was in the pill that Gregor gave me.

Some shit or other, said Ursina, you should be more careful. Have you really finished with Hubert?

He has with me, said Jill. Oh, I’ve no idea, maybe he hasn’t. He’s with his ex-wife, apparently she’s not doing well. I don’t think he’ll come back.

I can’t imagine that, said Ursina.

Jill laughed. And why not?

Because you’re the most lovable person I’ve ever met, said Ursina. If I was into women, you’d be my first choice.

She looked Jill in the eyes. I mean it, you’re the spirit of the club, everyone says so. I know a couple of people in the village who think you’re a bit strange, but that’s only because you have such a quiet life.

Ursina got up and said, come on, let’s dance, I’m getting cold.

The crowd in front of the stage was hardly any smaller than before. Another DJ was now spinning, but the music was identical. Ursina stayed close to Jill. They bought something to eat at a stall, a vegetarian dish with Oriental spices, mushy and overcooked, and then they danced some more. The sky slowly brightened. Ursina tapped Jill on the shoulder and pointed up at the peaks that were glowing red in the first beams of the sun. The other dancers had noticed it too, some just stood still and looked. Jill and Ursina had made their way to the edge of the crowd and watched the light slowly wander down the mountain slopes until at last it reached the festival area.

I think I’ll go home, said Jill. I don’t have as much stamina as you.

Do you want me to go with you? asked Ursina.

Jill shook her head. I can make my own way.

She took a shuttle bus down to the train station. There were a couple of tired characters on the bus, one or two of them looked unwell. No one spoke, silence was a tonic at the end of the noisy night. Jill felt very sober and clearheaded, as though she had woken up from a long period of unconsciousness. At the station she got coffee from a machine and sat down on the platform in the sun. She looked at her filthy feet. The bottom of her skirt was dirty as well. In the train she thought about what Ursina had said. She felt like a child found in a game of hide-and-seek. After the breathless excitement of being hidden, it felt like a relief, she could move freely again, everything had just been a game. For six years she had hidden herself up here and not even noticed that no one was looking for her. Over time she had felt so comfortable in her hiding place that it felt like the whole of life. Only in spring, when the snow refused to melt, did she sometimes think of moving back to the city. Perhaps the reason she had asked Hubert to put on a show at the cultural center was so that he could get her out of this life that wasn’t hers. That’s what she would say to him if he came back: You should do whatever you want, you don’t owe me anything.

She transferred onto the bus. The driver said good morning and something about the weather. In the front row sat an old woman with a traveling bag, who was the only other passenger. She and the driver talked in Romansh. Jill didn’t understand. She was thinking that before long the larches would change color, that the first snow would come soon, and then stay until March or April. She couldn’t imagine getting through another winter here alone, the cold days and long nights.

The bus stop was about two hundred yards from her house. As Jill walked along the road, she mapped out the day ahead. She would shower and wash her hair, then sit in the garden with cappuccino and a cigarette and read the Sunday paper. She probably wouldn’t eat anything at lunchtime, the vegetarian dish was still heavy in her stomach, and she had a funny taste in her mouth. Perhaps she would go into the office briefly in the afternoon and take care of something, just so as not to feel so useless, and maybe have a little chat with someone. The new guests would be standing around uncertainly, because they didn’t yet know their way around the building and weren’t used to the rules of the club. We all call each other by first names. The pool? That’s along the corridor and down the stairs. Dinner is anytime after half past six. The winner of the Trivial Pursuit quiz will be announced afterward. I hope you have a very enjoyable stay here. She tried to work out what time Hubert might arrive, if he set off early, if he breakfasted first with Astrid and Lukas, if he waited until after lunch.

Jill stood under the shower, washed the dirt off her feet, and suddenly she knew she would give up her job and leave here. Not immediately, there was no hurry. Perhaps Hubert would come with her and they would make a new start together somewhere, but her decision had nothing to do with his. The game was over, she was free and could go anywhere.