The Listener Read Online Free Page A

carried them out to the kitchen. Vera sat by the kitchen table, waiting. “You don’t need to say it was a great success,” she said. “I’m tired of you always saying the same things.”
    “Oh, so you’re tired?” her sister said. “And I always say the same things?” She put the plates carefully in the sink and leaned against the counter, her back to the kitchen. Then she said, “Are you very tired?”
    “Very tired,” Vera whispered. “What is it you want me to do? What is it that’s wrong?”
    Anja Häger walked past her sister and touched her lightly on the shoulder. “Nothing,” she said. “We’ll leave it. It’s too late. It’s too late to clean up. Let’s go to bed and wash up in the morning.”

The Sleeping Man
    S HE PULLED THE TELEPHONE into the closet and spoke as quietly as she could. “Are you crazy calling in the middle of the night? There are people here.”
    “Now listen to what I’m going to say,” he said. His voice sounded odd because he was trying to be calm and failing. “I can’t give you any names. Don’t ask. But someone called to say I have to go and get hold of a key, you know, and check on someone. It’s a person they’re worried about, but they can’t go themselves because they’re away.”
    “What do you mean?” she said. “Whose key?”
    “I just said you couldn’t ask. I want you to come with me. This is a really important business.”
    “Now you’re making things up again,” Leila said.
    But the boy shouted, “No! No! It’s important! Come with me, please.”
    “Well, all right, if you really want me,” the girl said.

    They walked up an unfamiliar staircase and opened a door with the borrowed key. The hall was full of half-opened boxes; there was a large mirror with a gold frame leaning against the wall. The room beyond was large and unfurnished, with neon lights on the ceiling. He lay on the floor with an embroidered cushion under his head, breathing stertorously. He was a very big man, red in the face, with a lot of brown hair over his eyes. He was old, at least thirty-five.
    “Who is he?” she whispered. “Has he been murdered?”
    “I told you I don’t know,” the boy answered. “They called. I told you. I told you on the phone.”
    “Is he dying?” she said. “You could have woken up other people in the house. And what are we supposed to do now?”
    “Call a doctor. Where do you call? Do you know where to call at night?”
    “No.” She was so cold she was shaking, from the inside.
    He went out into the hall, turned around in the doorway and said, “Now, you just stay completely calm. I’ll take care of this.” A bit later he shouted, “It’s 008. I found it in the phone book. They’ve got it on the cover.”
    The girl didn’t answer; she stared fixedly at the sleeping man. His mouth was open. He looked awful. She moved as far away from him as possible. There weren’t any chairs, but of course it would be wrong to sit down.
    Ralf was speaking into the phone out in the hall; he was taking care of everything. He’d found a doctor. She let herself sink into resignation, a gentle and pleasantsense of dependence. When he came back she walked over to him and took his hands.
    “What’s the matter with you?” the boy said, irritated. “It’s all fixed. They’re coming. I’m to open the street door in ten minutes.”
    “Then I’m coming with you. I don’t want to stay here alone.”
    “Don’t be dumb. Two of us. It would look stupid. Childish.”
    “You always worry about how it’s going to look,” she said. “But what about when it’s a matter of life and death!?”
    He raised his eyebrows and opened his lips, his teeth clenched – a grimace of disgust and contempt. Leila went red in the face. “You said yourself it was important. Why did you drag me along? Why is that fat old man any business of mine?”
    He raised his hands and shook them in front of her face. “Don’t you understand?” he shouted. “So