61

The end of spring is approaching. That means this evening sees the performance of the mime artist, with all the trimmings: white tie and tails, face made up to look supremely sad.

The man who was covered in mud approaches Miss Universe.

“Do you know that you’re a very beautiful example of a human being?”

“Do you know what, I was just thinking the same thing myself.”

The man goes off without another word.

The mime artist is pretending to climb an imaginary wall, without much success.

Jimmy Tree, dressed in his own clothes again, sits close to Mick to watch the show. Fred and Lena are at the table with them.

Mick is in a catatonic state. He watches, but sees nothing. Staring into space, he says in a monotone voice, “You know how many actresses I’ve worked with in my career?”

“A good many . . . I suppose.”

Mick gives vent to his feelings. “More than fifty. I have launched the careers of at least fifty actresses. And they’ve all been very grateful. I . . . I am a great director of women.”

Fred and Lena turn to look at Mick and neither can find the right words.

Jimmy Tree looks Mick in the eye and recites a line: “‘That way, and only that way, Frank, you’ll never forget me.’ Remember that line, Mr Boyle?”

“I remember all the films I’ve made.”

“Mr Boyle, you’re not just a great director of women. You’re a great director, period.”

Exhausted from his failed bid to climb the wall, the mime artist curls up on the floor and pretends to go to sleep.

Fred Ballinger is watching him.

Lena is watching her father.

The mountaineer is staring at Lena.

A brief round of applause greets the mime artist.

The audience starts to disperse. The evening’s entertainment is over. Mick, Fred and Lena are preparing to leave as well, when the boy violinist calls out to them, “Mr Ballinger.”

The group turns round. The boy has jumped on the stage and, violin in hand, starts playing the first notes of “Simple Song, Number 3”. He is only able to play the first two chords, but has improved compared with his earlier attempts. He performs them well; although repetitive, the sweetness of the notes has an effect.

As if time has been suspended, everyone there is hypnotised by the boy’s simple execution: Jimmy Tree, Mark Kozelek and his friends, the mountaineer, Lena, the South American and his wife, the German couple, the elderly and their carers, the vulgar Russians, the African-American family, Frances and her mother, the waiters, the doctor, the hotel manager and the chefs. It is just like the end of a crime drama when all the main characters and the extras are gathered together.

But only one of them is really moved by those simple notes on the violin and it is not Fred Ballinger. Mick Boyle’s eyes are the ones moist with tears.

And Fred Ballinger is the only one who notices.