Free Making Things Better by Anita Brookner Page B

We should be gone by this evening. But we’d like to take possession in, say, ten days’ time. That should give you time to make your arrangements, if you haven’t already done so, that is. Now, if you’ll excuse us . . .’ He turned briskly away. The interview was at an end.
    Herz had gone out again, drunk more coffee, and waited for the nearest estate agent’s doors to open. The girl who seemed to be some sort of secretary still had her coat on, and was obviously preparing to make herself a cup of tea. He took no notice. ‘I need a flat,’ he said tersely, more tersely than he thought he had it in him to say. ‘Two rooms, kitchen and bathroom. Independent central heating. Balcony. As soon as possible. Today in fact.’
    She looked at him in surprise. ‘You’re in a hurry,’ she observed. ‘Tea? I can’t get going without it. Take a seat.’
    He took a seat. Outside the windows the day was now fully fledged, young men with briefcases striding along with an air of purpose. He was no longer that sort of man, not that he ever had been. He had taken only what had been ordained for him, and would go on doing so. This act of buying a flat seemed to him a monstrous aberration, but presumably people did this every day of the week. Buying and selling, getting and spending were the order of the day.
    â€˜I’m Melanie,’ said the girl. ‘My card. I can show you two properties this very morning, if you’re free. I’ve got Clarence Court and Chiltern Street. Both very central, both in good repair.’
    â€˜I don’t like the sound of Clarence Court,’ he said, recovering some composure. ‘It sounds too dainty. I’d like to see Chiltern Street, if you don’t mind.’
    â€˜Sure. It’s a lovely flat. The last owner put a lot of work into it.’
    â€˜Why did he leave?’
    â€˜She. Got work in the States, left in something of a rush. It’s only been empty for a couple of weeks. We’re handling the sale: she left everything in our hands. So if you like it it’s all quite straightforward. Shall we go?’
    As soon as he saw the flat all his doubts were resolved. It was on the second floor of a narrow building which had been well maintained. The ground floor was occupied by a dress shop, the first by what he supposed was a workroom, from which he could hear a chatter of voices. The flat itself was small, admittedly, but light and calm. Someone, the previous owner, no doubt, had laid a hardwood floor and installed a miniature kitchen. The windows looked out onto Chiltern Street at the front and onto a small patio at the back; as he peered out he could see two girls install themselves with coffee cups. This gave an illusion of company which might be welcome. There was little room for additional furniture: he would need only a bed, and perhaps two more chairs. The bed was a priority; the rest could wait.
    â€˜I want it,’ he said simply.
    â€˜Great. If you’ll come back with me to the office my boss should be in by now. I told you about the lease, didn’t I?’
    â€˜The lease?’
    â€˜Rather short, I’m afraid. Eight years.’
    He calculated. With a bit of luck he would be dead before the lease ran out. ‘I’ll take it,’ he said, with an air of finality that convinced them both.
    He hired a van, packed his clothes, and prepared to leave, though the actual leaving might take some time. Edgware Road now belonged to the past. He could hear men moving about downstairs in the shop, but they no longer disturbed him. He was in a hurry to be gone. If necessary he would sleep in one of the chairs until the bed arrived. All this had happened rather more quickly than he had anticipated, as if under some kind of enchantment. The afternoon of the following day was spent on purchases which gave him a thrill of ownership. ‘Household Requisites’, he read at the entrance to