Making Things Better Read Free Page A

then a film, if she had the time. Thus armed with purpose he went out to buy
The Times.

2
    As he stepped out into Chiltern Street, under a cloudy sky, Herz could see that this was to be a day for memories. Dreams he would have to postpone for future nights. He reflected, as he always did, on the strength of that early imprinting which left so many faces intact. He could see, as if he had just left her at the bus stop, his mother’s friend Bijou Frank, who always came to tea on Saturday afternoons, when he was with Freddy in Brighton and his father at the shop. They were living in Hilltop Road at that time, in a flat that was too big for them. They had stayed there when they first came to London because Hubertus, who had many contacts, had arranged it through a friend of his. This friend happened to be a connection of Ostrovski, the owner of the music shop which had taken them both on. So that in their early days they were entirely dependent on Germans, and on what had been decided for them in Berlin.
    This eased the transition to a considerable extent but had kept them from making new friends. In any event they had not felt welcome, had been aware that critical eyes surveyed them in the street. Neighbours made no approaches. It was charitable to suppose that they had as yet little idea of circumstances in Germany. The flat was rent-controlled, which did something to disguise the fact that it was ultra respectable, bourgeois even; at some point they would have to leave. When this happened—and everything was uncertain, undecided—they would, advised Ostrovski, be better off in the flat above the shop in Edgware Road. This flat was small, too small, but it had the advantage of belonging to Ostrovski, who had taken on something of a god-fatherly role. His mother suspected that Ostrovski wanted the Hilltop Road property for another of his protégés, a woman, no doubt, but they were in no position to dissent. And in Edgware Road his father would avoid the long walk which was his only recreation, his only diversion. Again there was no way in which to point out that a move would not be entirely desirable. They were dependent on the kindness of strangers, even if this kindness took the form of decisions over which they had no control.
    It was in Hilltop Road that Bijou Frank visited his mother, on those terrible Saturday afternoons when he kept Freddy company. He could see her now, as plainly as anything: a small tremulous figure in her decent black coat and the stolid felt hat that overshadowed her anxious little face. She too was a contact from the old days, although she had been in England for some time, had married an elderly Englishman whose stultifying love had isolated her from the sort of company for which she craved. A widow, with more than adequate means, she had found herself virtually disabled from normal contacts, was more than delighted to meet Trude Herz in the local bakery, swiftly agreed to renew what had never been more than a vague friendship, was relieved in fact to have found a female confidant after years of attendance on a man she had not chosen. He had chosen her, she explained to her new-found friend, and never willingly allowed her out of his sight. She was free of him now, but not free of his influence, as nervous and as circumspect as if he were still watching her every movement. Although she was competent enough in other respects, she was frightened of most things and took comfort in Julius’s presence when he walked her slowly to the bus stop and waited with her until the bus arrived. This was a courtesy he would never dream of shirking. In any event his mother insisted on it. So that even on radiant summer evenings, when young men of his age were preparing to enjoy themselves, he was imprisoned by Bijou Frank’s little hand on his arm, and her slow steps, and her murmurings, which had all to do with her concern for his mother’s health (which was indeed poor), and her own