‘Nothing. A warning off if she persisted.’
‘Exactly.’
‘So what has changed now?’
‘Once Reka became prime minister, I went to see Erno Hartmann at the museum on Dohany Street. He’s an old friend. We went to school together. I saw Reka on television, making all the usual promises. But she looked different to the others, and she is a woman. I thought maybe she meant it, about honesty, transparency, modernising Hungary. Why not try? I had nothing to lose. I told Erno the story, of how my real name was Berger and my family lost everything to the Bardossys. He was amazed, he did not know anything about it. I didn’t know the details, of course, about what happened in 1944, or about the two documents that Reka had, the ones that I just told you about. But she had visited the Jewish Museum, increased their grant, spoken publicly about the Holocaust. She went to Dohany Street synagogue once, lit a candle at the Holocaust memorial. I asked Erno, why not approach her? If she really believes all that stuff about coming to terms with the past, she could start with her own family.’
‘And did he?’
‘Yes, and Reka agreed to help. It turned out she had the same idea herself. Then Erno brought over Elad, my cousin, and you know the rest of the story.’
Balthazar turned to look at Eva, suddenly overcome by a wave of affection and admiration. ‘You did this? You started the whole thing?’
Eva neni looked bashful and somewhat surprised. ‘Yes. I did. It was me. I didn’t expect all this to happen, though. That’s why I felt so guilty about Elad when he went missing.’
He took her hand and held it gently. ‘Don’t. You have nothing to feel guilty about. Nothing at all.’
Balthazar looked around the square. It was a peaceful weekend scene. The sound of children playing nearby carried on the air, the smell of cooking drifted from a nearby window. Two English tourists sat on a nearby bench, looking hungover.
Yet it had happened here, in the middle of the city, the capital of the country that he called home. Which Eva neni, her parents, and all the other Jews and Gypsies had also called home, until it turned on them.
Eva could sense him thinking. ‘Every day that I am here, that I am alive, is a kind of victory.’ For a moment she had a faraway look in her eyes. ‘That winter, Tazi. You cannot imagine. It was indescribable. The cold, the hunger, how it gnawed at you. People dying all around. The Arrow Cross rampaging. Hiding from them, hearing the screams and cries, the sound of the shooting.’ She pointed across the square. ‘Just over there, a few yards from where we are sitting. The bodies frozen, stacked up like logs. I try not to think about it too much.’
Balthazar took Eva neni’s hand in his, sat silently for a while, letting his thoughts run through his head. Eva neni’s memories. His aunt Zsoka with the scar on her face. His family members murdered at Auschwitz. The long days in the archives researching the Poraymus.
A pigeon landed on a bench nearby. The bird looked left and right, then was still for a moment, its tiny eye staring straight at Balthazar.
He looked down again at Miklos’s ring on his finger, felt its cool weight on his skin. His decision, he realised, had already been made. The pigeon cooed for a moment, soared skywards.
Balthazar asked, ‘And what about the house, the factories, all your family’s holdings? What will happen to them now?’
‘We are going to talk about what to do next. Erno will help me. We have some ideas already. A charitable foundation, some kind of school or college. But don’t worry, Tazi, I’m not moving anywhere. I’ll still be here to nag you. Now show me that ring again.’
Balthazar held out his hand. Eva neni looked at her heirloom on his finger and squeezed his knee for a moment. ‘He would be very happy. It found the right home. Now, there is a condition, of course.’
Balthazar laughed, sat back on the bench. ‘I thought there might be.’
‘You take that nice Anastasia, the classy one, out for dinner. Somewhere nice. You go on a date.’
For a moment Balthazar was back in his bedroom, late on Saturday morning. He had woken up at eleven o’clock to see Anastasia sitting in the armchair from the lounge, bleary-eyed but still awake. She had waited while he showered and brushed his teeth. Dr Szegedi had come back to check him over again, a much briefer visit this time, pronounced him fit to be on his own. Only then had Anastasia left. Balthazar had spent the day resting, avoiding the internet, which was full of clips of him being kidnapped on Wesselenyi Street, and eating large meals of soup and csirke paprikas that his mother, Marta, had brought over.
‘She sat with me all night, when I came back on Friday.’
Eva squeezed his knee. ‘So you see. She likes you.’
‘Maybe she felt responsible. But what if she says no?’
‘You’ll live. But trust me. She won’t.’
They both looked at Alex, who had put his iPhone away and was now chatting with a young girl with long blond hair and pink jeans, who looked about his age. She was laughing, smiling, touching his arm. ‘Ask Alex. He can show you how it works,’ said Eva neni. ‘That’s Katika, our neighbour’s daughter. He has good taste. And speaking of accompanying ladies, even not so young ones, I have a request of you.’
She reached inside her coat pocket and took a stiff card, and handed it to Balthazar.
It was an invitation, he saw, with an embossed illustration of the parliament building, lined with gilt. He read the details. ‘Very fancy. It’s the reception for the Israeli prime minister tomorrow evening. But it’s addressed to you.’
Eva took the card back. ‘I can take a guest, I have to give them the name today so they can run the security checks.’ She looked him up and down. ‘I think you’ll pass. Now excuse me for a moment, I need to call Klara.’
Balthazar stood up, walked over to the playground. Alex ran across to greet him. ‘Katika saw you on the internet. Everyone did, Dad. She thinks it’s really cool.’
Balthazar looked at his son, his skinny frame, his long black hair, his mother’s green eyes, his coffee-coloured skin. His beautiful boy. He put his arm around Alex and hugged him tightly. ‘And what do you think, fiam?’
Alex looked up at his father, touched the cut on his forehead. ‘I think it’s time for a new job, Dad. And a proper girlfriend. One who sticks around.’
‘You may be right. Come, let’s go and say hallo to Eva neni.’
The wind turned colder as they walked back across the square and Eva neni stood up. ‘Klara’s coming next week, with the children. I told her we have big news. Good news. But I would only explain in person.’
She smiled at Balthazar and Alex, ruffled his hair. ‘Gyertek, fiuk, come on, boys. Palacsinta time.’
FORTY-FOUR
KAROLY BARDOSSY FOUND DEAD IN JACUZZI
NEWS FOLLOWS REVELATIONS OF FAMILY’S WARTIME PAST
By Zsuzsa Barcsy
Special to newsline.hu
