Polychrome Read Free Page A

saying,
of course. A particularly successful trip to the capital, was it?’
Ksawery was astounded. Watched – how? When? But he
replied truthfully about his work, the state exam he’d passed
and would, perhaps, have wondered when the man had, in
fact, been watching him if it hadn’t been for the turn which the
conversation had taken.
The following two hours were like honey to Ksawery’s ears.
Even the most optimistic script of an intricately planned
celebration didn’t presume such admiration for himself as
he heard from the lips of this foreign stranger. The entire
conversation centred on real estate. Ksawery talked a lot, the
stranger merely confirmed everything he already knew or had
already sensed. How very underrated and still underestimated
the profession was in a developing market, what great
possibilities it had to offer such a well-educated person as
himself, what a good moment it was for development because
later there’d be branch offices where someone with experience
could make a name for himself or strong local offices which
one could open.
For the sake of the conversation, Ksawery also added that he
was intending to study estate evaluation – he’d thought about
it once and now remembered how well it had sounded. The
stranger enthused over the versatility of people in Poland, their
desire to educate and better themselves.
They took a long time saying goodbye on landing at Poznań’s
Ławica airport, hoping that they’d meet soon, which was quite
possible considering how the company where the stranger
acted as advisor was developing.
Not even the slovenly taxi driver, the dreadful heat or lack
of air conditioning in the car could make him angry. He calmly
recreated the recent conversation in his mind, basking in turn
in the flattery he’d heard and in the analysis of his boundless
possibilities.
He also imagined his potential client entering the office
and he, Ksawery, loudly joking that commissions were simply
falling into his hands. Or maybe something interesting would
turn up even sooner, he thought, looking at the parcel he’d
promised to deliver. He’d offered to do this when the stranger
had told him that he’d promised to deliver it, but wouldn’t
have time because of the delay. To the parents of a friend
who’d died; an old story. Nothing much, just a small parcel of
photographs. He’d also promised to add a bunch of sunflowers
for the grandmother, which was very important. Ksawery had
firmly refused to take money to buy the flowers – a gesture
not to say a bonus.
He couldn’t remember whether he’d hit upon the idea of
relieving his fellow traveller of the small task immediately or
only when he’d helped decipher the address in view of making
it easier to eventually find the old couple in the future. The
address was balm to the ears of the estate agent. An old villa
in Sołacz – an expensive area, an expensive street and, even if
the house looked as if it were on the point of collapsing, still
worth an incredible sum.
An excellent commission – remuneration, he corrected
himself. That’s what he ought to call it, it sounded better; he
recalled the current advice to agents.
If he’d understood correctly, the people to whom he was
delivering were the owners of the house and, more importantly,
had left no beneficiary. Such people were a rarity and equally
rarely, if at all, did they allow in a nosey agent, but with the
photographs and flowers… Even a beginner from the office
could do a great deal. But he – he could perform miracles. Yes,
he’d go there first thing in the morning. He also decided not
to tell anyone about it.
Having looked at the same crossroads and the same road
workers for the past ten minutes, he was overcome with tiredness.
His shirt started to stick to his back and his back to the dirty
upholstery; his palms were damp, too – but that was probably
due to all the excitement and not the August heat. He