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Chapters (45)
  1. The Man With No Face
  2. Also by
  3. Title
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. Contents
  8. INTRODUCTION
  9. CHAPTER ONE
  10. CHAPTER TWO
  11. CHAPTER THREE
  12. CHAPTER FOUR
  13. CHAPTER FIVE
  14. CHAPTER SIX
  15. CHAPTER SEVEN
  16. CHAPTER EIGHT
  17. CHAPTER NINE
  18. CHAPTER TEN
  19. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  20. CHAPTER TWELVE
  21. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  22. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  23. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  24. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  25. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  26. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  27. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  36. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  37. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  43. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  44. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  45. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Sally laid the tray on the table and looked at him wearily. His mood had changed again with the phone call, and she felt dismissed, bewildered, angered by his sudden indifference, annoyed at herself for caring. And then she needed to say the thing she’d been keeping bottled up since this morning. The whole day she had been careful to remain discreetly in the background, not to intrude on the relationship she saw flowering between Bannerman and Tania.

‘I got the job,’ she said. ‘I’m leaving tomorrow for Rome. This is my last night in Brussels.’

Bannerman was startled. He had taken it for granted that she would still be around, at least in the short term. To discover that in a matter of hours she would be gone from his life, probably for ever, left him suddenly bereft. No chance to sort out his feelings for her. The very thing that he’d been putting off, in the belief there would always be time. Or because he was afraid to ask himself the question. Had he not learned by now how often love was gone before you even knew it was there? But how could he love her? He hardly knew her.

She said, ‘Could we go somewhere tonight? I’d like to talk.’

He nodded, barely trusting himself to speak. ‘All right,’ he said, and he turned away to the bedroom.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

I

It was a cold, clear night. There was a splash of light above the entrance to the café, and across the cobbles taxi drivers sat picking their teeth in empty cabs waiting for fares.

Bannerman crossed the square weighed down still by the memory of the child. The sense of betrayal in her face as he left her at the clinic had haunted him afterwards, all through a solitary meal in some anonymous restaurant. And now, his rendezvous with Sally on this dark Brussels night. A meeting, it seemed, that would be their last.

She was waiting for him at the bottom end of the square, her face pale and sad when they met and then flushing quickly in the sudden warmth of the café as they stepped inside.

The café was Eastern European, run by a small fat exile from communism. A four-piece Hungarian orchestra played by the light of candles that flickered dimly on the tables. A pianist who never smiled sat at a grand piano, and a tall thin creature wrestled with a double bass. The clarinettist sat on a high chair by the piano, and a gaunt middle-aged man stood out front by a microphone which hung by its lead from the rafters. He played haunting melodies on his violin. The music was soft and pleasant, and wrapped itself around them. Walking into this place was like stepping into the past.