Walking Into the Night Read Free Page B

stranger here, so there is little to remind me of what I miss, and this makes it easier for me to discipline my thoughts. Though I can still be caught unawares. It doesn’t take much, no more than the outline of a pale cheek glimpsed through the trees. I try to perform my duties diligently and occupy my mind with as many small details as I can, because it makes the time pass faster and prevents things from stealing into my mind.
    It’s very peaceful here late in the evening and you never know what visitations may take place in the silence. But I have nothing to complain of, least of all to you.
    The Chief is calling. Sometimes I think everyone is afraid of him except me. I’m afraid of nothing but myself.

6
    I see now that I may have given a misleading picture of this establishment and my life here on the hill. I see I called it a “labyrinth,” but on reflection I don’t think this word gives the right impression. The truth is that I’ve mostly been happy here, but perhaps I chose not to write that to you, perhaps I felt subconsciously that you would be more likely to forgive me if I told you I’d been miserable all along. Why do I do this? I ask myself. Will I always feel like a naughty child in relation to you? Even now I find it difficult to tell you what I’m thinking for fear that you will disapprove.
    I know I wouldn’t have stayed this long anywhere else. When I first came here in 1921, I felt as if a whole new world was opening up before me. And at the same time the old one disappeared. It was as if this labyrinth had been built expressly for me to lose myself in, and I managed to do so successfully for years.
    Life here used to be one long round of parties. On weekends there were never fewer than twenty people, mostly guests from Hollywood, friends of Miss Davies. You’ll have read about these people in the papers and seen them in films: Clark Gable, Rudolph Valentino, Gary Cooper, Chaplin, etc., etc. Sometimes I felt as if I was in a movie with them. These people liked me and turned to me for advice about all sorts of things, especially in relation to the Chief. No one wanted to offend him.
    I enjoyed the way the guests deferred to me and I did nothing to play down my relationship with the Chief, though I never bragged about it. I said as little as possible and let people draw their own conclusions. “Do you think it would be all right to go horseback riding this evening?” “Could I borrow a bathing costume?” “Would you be so kind as to get this script to the Chief? I’m sure he’ll want to finance the picture if he reads it.”
    No one knew what I’d done before coming here, no one wondered at my being a servant; on the contrary they looked up to me as people often do here with Europeans. “Iceland?” they would ask. “Where’s that again?” They thought it was quite something when the Chief answered for me and said I was a true Viking.
    I was always busy. I never gave myself time to let my thoughts wander. I knew that if I did, the memories would flood over me. During the week the building work went on from morning to night; it’s still in progress, the Chief’s forever extending or altering. On Fridays Miss Davies would generally set off from Los Angeles with her companions; they’d travel through the night, arriving early on Saturday morning. We’d have their breakfast ready; afterwards they’d go to bed and rise again at noon; lunch would be served at half past two. After that the guests would sun-bathe or go for a swim, some played tennis, others went for a ride over the hills. Supper would be served at half past eight and afterwards they’d watch a movie; most slept late on Sundays and ate lunch before they left.
    One of the guests once offered me a job. He had had too much to drink that night and I suppose it was his way of expressing his gratitude for my services. The following day when he woke up he came directly to find me and asked me to please forget all about it and