Читать книгу How to Fall in Love with a Man Who Lives in a Bush - Emmy Abrahamson, Nichola Smalley - Страница 12

Berlitz has given me a prestigious teaching job. I’m going to teach English to none other than the director of Bank Austria, Austria’s biggest bank. Because he’s a very busy man, the only time he’s available is seven in the evening. The fact that Herr Direktor Kolbinger is a very busy man is something that has been impressed upon me three times. The third time I was this close to pointing out that it wasn’t me asking to disturb him.

So now I’m sitting on a bench on Karlsplatz, waiting for seven o’clock to come round. Right behind me is Bank Austria’s marble-clad entrance. The evening is mild, and tourists mill about in front of me, looking at the opera house or one of the half-dozen concert-ticket sellers dressed as Mozart in cheap wigs. Large posters announce that the opera will be performing The Magic Flute tonight.

Someone sits beside me on the bench. I carry on watching a group of Japanese tourists who cover their mouths, titter and hurry away when one of the ticket sellers says hello to them. The bottoms of the Mozart’s dark-red velvet trousers are held together with safety pins.

‘What’s the time?’ a voice says beside me in English.

I look at the clock that’s right in front of us.

‘Ten to seven,’ I say, and dart a look at the person.

He’s big. His hair, clothes, beard, and most of all, his eyes, are big. He might even have the biggest eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re dark brown, just like his hair and his beard would probably be if they weren’t so dusty and dry. I turn back to the clock. At the same time I realise the person beside me on the bench is about to ask me something else.

‘What’s your name?’ he asks after exactly thirty seconds.

‘Julia.’

Now I see he’s holding a tatty laptop bag in his hands. His nails are filthy and his fingertips are a dirty yellow.

‘Are you from here?’ he asks.

Once again I look at the enormous man – no, the enormous homeless man – beside me and wonder when he’s going to ask me for money.

‘No, from Sweden.’

‘Oh thank the lord, so you’re not an Austrian,’ he says, breathing a sigh of relief.

His comment makes me laugh out loud, which in turn produces a big grin from him, and he leans closer to me.

‘I didn’t mean that,’ he said. ‘Austrians are just a bit weird.’

‘Weird how?’ I ask.

He scratches his beard and ponders.

‘Aloof in some way, like they have some big secret in common. One that everyone knows, but that everyone keeps schtum about.’

‘Maybe that they’ve got someone hidden in the cellar,’ I suggest.

The homeless guy nods furiously. ‘Exactly! And they all seem to be in really bad moods the whole time. On the other hand, they did give the world Arnold Schwarzenegger,’ he says. ‘So I’m ready to forgive them.’

From the clock I see it’s five to seven. I ought to go in to see Herr Direktor Kolbinger.

‘Do you really love Schwarzenegger that much?’ I ask.

The man turns towards me and makes his eyes hard.

‘You’re a funny guy, Sully. I like you. That’s why I’m going to kill you last,’ he says in an uncanny imitation of Arnie.

I can’t help smiling as I stand up. ‘Well, have fun,’ I say.

The homeless guy stands up too. He must be almost two metres tall. ‘Do you have to go?’

I nod. I know I should make my way to the bank but there’s something keeping me here. Now the time is three minutes to seven and I’m definitely going to be late for my first lesson with Herr Direktor Kolbinger.

‘Bye b—’ I begin.

The guy points at the bench.

‘Saturday, seven o’clock, same bench,’ he says. Then he turns and disappears among the crowds.