for morose speculation.
‘But I practise my English. That is good at least.’
‘Where did you learn to speak English so well?’
‘Moscow.’
Moscow?
‘I studied at the Institute of Languages there.’
‘Why not in Budapest? Couldn’t you study here?’
‘I was chosen to go to Moscow. My parents were upset. They had never left their village all their lives, but I did not want to follow their example, I wanted to see the world. Soon after I got there, the war came and I could not return until 1946. I went for one year and stayed for six.’
She was a Moscow communist, not someone paying lip-service to the regime in power. During the years in Moscow, she would have built useful connections with the Party hierarchy through her work. She would have returned home full of enthusiasm to turn the world upside down in order to build a modern Marxist state. She had to be a convinced communist. A glimpse at the books on her shelves confirmed his fears. He saw his future with her, whatever that future was, slipping away from his grasp.
‘After the war?’ He wanted to know what she believed in but she took him literally.
‘I returned to Budapest. I was lucky. I could swim and I could speak English, and I had connections from Moscow. That helped me. Now,’ she said, touching his hands, ‘no more questions. Soon Dora will be back. It is time you returned to your home.’
His heart raced. He leaned towards her and kissed her. She accepted his kiss but did not respond.
‘Eva.’ She was standing up, evading his grasp. ‘Eva.’
She took his hands, held them for a moment as if wondering what to do with them, and then slowly pulled them around her waist. He drew her towards him. She leaned her body against his, and he felt her softness. At this moment he wanted her more than he had wanted any woman in his life.
‘Bobby.’ She laughed. ‘I have not called you that before. Why are you doing this?’
‘Because I love you.’ He had spoken the words before he knew what he was saying. She released his hands and stepped back.
‘That is impossible,’ she said. ‘Quite impossible. We do not know each other.’
Bloody idiot. He had gone too fast. Blown it. Damn.
‘I know,’ he said, suddenly apologetic. ‘It’s impossible. Of course I see that. I’m sorry. I should never have said anything. I had no right to. I don’t know what came over me.’ He made to go.
‘No.’ She was smiling at him again. His confidence returned. ‘Say it to me again. It sounded so beautiful in English.’
‘I love you, Eva.’
She stared at him, then threw herself into his arms, kissing him passionately. ‘I cannot believe an Englishman has said that to me.’
Holding her tight, he kissed her again and again. After a time she wriggled free. ‘Now we must stop,’ she said.
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘We cannot sleep together, Bobby. You know that.’
‘Why not?’
She laughed. ‘I have one bedroom I share with my daughter. One sitting room, where the spare bed is also the sofa. A kitchen so small you can hardly see it, a tiny bathroom. Now do you see?’
He laughed with her then at the absurdity of it all. To be defeated by circumstances.
‘Will it always be like this?’
‘I hope not,’ she said, and kissed him once more as the key turned in the lock and Dora returned.
5
1
‘Mr Lander apologizes,’ a morning-coated servant told him in a conspiratorial voice as he came up the steps into the lobby. ‘He telephoned to say he’ll be a few minutes late. Perhaps you’d like to wait in the library, sir.’
Pountney would have preferred the bar but that, it seemed, was out of bounds unless accompanied by a club member. He was shown into a deserted, cheerless room with high-backed leather chairs, bookshelves that reached to the ceiling filled with leather-bound books, which, judging by the dust, it appeared no one ever read, a few sombre portraits of men he’d never heard of, a table in the window covered with
‘But I practise my English. That is good at least.’
‘Where did you learn to speak English so well?’
‘Moscow.’
Moscow?
‘I studied at the Institute of Languages there.’
‘Why not in Budapest? Couldn’t you study here?’
‘I was chosen to go to Moscow. My parents were upset. They had never left their village all their lives, but I did not want to follow their example, I wanted to see the world. Soon after I got there, the war came and I could not return until 1946. I went for one year and stayed for six.’
She was a Moscow communist, not someone paying lip-service to the regime in power. During the years in Moscow, she would have built useful connections with the Party hierarchy through her work. She would have returned home full of enthusiasm to turn the world upside down in order to build a modern Marxist state. She had to be a convinced communist. A glimpse at the books on her shelves confirmed his fears. He saw his future with her, whatever that future was, slipping away from his grasp.
‘After the war?’ He wanted to know what she believed in but she took him literally.
‘I returned to Budapest. I was lucky. I could swim and I could speak English, and I had connections from Moscow. That helped me. Now,’ she said, touching his hands, ‘no more questions. Soon Dora will be back. It is time you returned to your home.’
His heart raced. He leaned towards her and kissed her. She accepted his kiss but did not respond.
‘Eva.’ She was standing up, evading his grasp. ‘Eva.’
She took his hands, held them for a moment as if wondering what to do with them, and then slowly pulled them around her waist. He drew her towards him. She leaned her body against his, and he felt her softness. At this moment he wanted her more than he had wanted any woman in his life.
‘Bobby.’ She laughed. ‘I have not called you that before. Why are you doing this?’
‘Because I love you.’ He had spoken the words before he knew what he was saying. She released his hands and stepped back.
‘That is impossible,’ she said. ‘Quite impossible. We do not know each other.’
Bloody idiot. He had gone too fast. Blown it. Damn.
‘I know,’ he said, suddenly apologetic. ‘It’s impossible. Of course I see that. I’m sorry. I should never have said anything. I had no right to. I don’t know what came over me.’ He made to go.
‘No.’ She was smiling at him again. His confidence returned. ‘Say it to me again. It sounded so beautiful in English.’
‘I love you, Eva.’
She stared at him, then threw herself into his arms, kissing him passionately. ‘I cannot believe an Englishman has said that to me.’
Holding her tight, he kissed her again and again. After a time she wriggled free. ‘Now we must stop,’ she said.
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘We cannot sleep together, Bobby. You know that.’
‘Why not?’
She laughed. ‘I have one bedroom I share with my daughter. One sitting room, where the spare bed is also the sofa. A kitchen so small you can hardly see it, a tiny bathroom. Now do you see?’
He laughed with her then at the absurdity of it all. To be defeated by circumstances.
‘Will it always be like this?’
‘I hope not,’ she said, and kissed him once more as the key turned in the lock and Dora returned.
5
1
‘Mr Lander apologizes,’ a morning-coated servant told him in a conspiratorial voice as he came up the steps into the lobby. ‘He telephoned to say he’ll be a few minutes late. Perhaps you’d like to wait in the library, sir.’
Pountney would have preferred the bar but that, it seemed, was out of bounds unless accompanied by a club member. He was shown into a deserted, cheerless room with high-backed leather chairs, bookshelves that reached to the ceiling filled with leather-bound books, which, judging by the dust, it appeared no one ever read, a few sombre portraits of men he’d never heard of, a table in the window covered with
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