All The Names - Jose Saramago

his jacket pocket, he had been walking around with it all these days, just imagine if for some reason or
other he had dropped it, or, with the state his nerves were in, if he had fainted, become unconscious, and
one of his colleagues, not with any ill intention, had, as he unbuttoned his jacket to let him breathe, seen
the white envelope with the official Central Registry stamp on it, and said, What's this, and then a senior
clerk and then a deputy and then the director. Senhor José didn't want to think about what would happen
next, he leapt up, went over to his jacket, which was hanging on the back of a chair, took out the letter,
and, looking anxiously about him, wondered where the devil he could possibly hide it. None of the
furniture could be locked, all his sparse belongings were within easy reach of any interfering busybody
who might enter. It was then that he noticed his collections lined up in the wardrobe, there lay the solution
to this difficulty. He found the bishop's file and stuck the envelope inside, a bishop never excites much
curiosity however pious his reputation, not like a cyclist or a Formula One racing driver. Relieved, he
went back to bed, but the question was there waiting for him, You didn't resolve anything, the problem
isn't the letter, it makes no difference whether you hide it or show it, that won't lead you to the woman,
Look, I said I'll find a way, I doubt it, the boss has got you bound hand and foot, he won't let you take a
step, Then I'll wait until things calm down, And then, I don't know, I'll think of something, You could
resolve the matter right now, How, You could phone her parents, say that you're phoning on behalf of the
Central Registry and ask them to give you her address, I can't do that, Tomorrow you go to the woman's
house, what kind of conversation you'll have I can't imagine, but at least you'll get your peace of mind
back, I probably won't want to talk to her when she's there in front of me, Well, in that case, why are you
looking for her, why are you investigating her life, I collect articles about the bishop too, but I don't
particularly want to talk to him either, That seems absurd to me, It is absurd, but it's about time I did
something absurd in my life, Do you mean to tell me that if you do manage to find this woman, she won't
even know you were looking for her, Probably, Why, I can't explain, Anyway, you're not even going to get
to visit the girl's school, schools are like the Central Registry, they're closed on weekends, I can go into
the Central Registry whenever I want, That's hardly a remarkable achievement given that the door of your
house opens on to it, You've obviously never had to go in there yourself, I go wherever you go and see
whatever you see, Do continue, I will, but you are not going to get into that school, We'll see. Senhor José
got up, it was time for supper, if the extremely light meals he usually ate at night merited the name. While
he was eating, he was thinking, then, still thinking, he washed the plate, the glass and the cutlery, gathered
up the crumbs fallen on the tablecloth, and, as if that gesture had been the inevitable conclusion to his
thoughts, he opened the door that led out into the street. Opposite him, on the other side of the pavement,
was a telephone box, a stone's throw away if you like, just twenty paces and he would reach the end of a
thread that would carry his voice to her, the same thread would bring him an answer, and there, in one
way or another, his search would end, he could calmly go back home, win back his boss's trust, and then
the world, spinning in its own invisible tracks, would resume its usual orbit, the deep peace of someone
who simply awaits the hour when all things will be done, always supposing that those words, so often
spoken and repeated, have any real significance. Senhor José did not cross the road, he put on his jacket
and his raincoat and went out.
He had to change buses twice before he reached his destination. The school was a long, two-storey
building with dormer windows, separated from the street by high railings. The intervening space, a strip
of land with a sprinkling of rather small trees, was probably used as a playground by the pupils. There
was no light anywhere. Senhor José looked about him, even though it wasn't that late, the street was
deserted, that's the good thing about these out-of-the-way places, especially if it's not the weather to have
your windows open, the locals huddle inside their houses, and besides, there's nothing to see outside.
Senhor José walked to the end of the road, crossed to the other sidewalk and walked slowly back towards
the school like someone out enjoying a stroll in the evening cool and who has no one at home waiting for
him. Right by the main door, he bent down as if he had just noticed that his shoelace had come un tied, a