The Exiled (16 page)

ANNA TRIED TO CREEP
into her room as quietly as possible, but her mother was sitting in the living room waiting for her, just as she had done in Koivuharju when Anna had been out too late.

‘Where have you been?’ her mother asked and switched off the television. Anna caught a glimpse on the news of Keleti railway station in Budapest, where hundreds of people were sitting or lying on the floor in the waiting hall and around the building.
A record number of immigrants has arrived in Hungary today,
said the newsreader just before the screen went blank.

‘I wanted to see that,’ said Anna.

‘It’s on the news from dawn till dusk, you can’t miss it if you switch on the television. You can catch it tomorrow if you want.’

‘Did you notice they used the word
immigrant
? Why don’t they call them refugees?’ Anna asked, though she knew the answer. The word ‘immigrant’ implied that these people were moving voluntarily, and that was precisely the message the Hungarian media wished to give their audience.

‘Yes, I noticed,’ said her mother. ‘Where have you been?’

‘At a friend’s place. Why? Do I have to account for my whereabouts at all times?’ Anna snapped indignantly.

‘Tibor and the others were asking after you. They came knocking on the door. And yes, while you’re under my roof you are accountable. You know how worried I get.’

‘Fine, I’ll try and remember.’

‘Réka’s having a baby,’ said her mother.

‘I know. Isn’t that great?’

‘Yes. It just made me wonder when you’re going to settle down.’

Anna closed her eyes, took a deep breath and counted to ten before continuing with exaggerated calm. ‘Mum, please. I don’t want to talk about this.’

‘Well, I do. I’m concerned about you.’

‘There’s no need. Can’t you just accept I don’t want to start a family?’

‘But is that really so, Anna? If that’s the truth, I’ll accept it, even though it makes me very sad.’

Anna said nothing. She sensed the smell of Péter’s sheets in her hair, his sinewy body around her, and thought that she’d never met a man with whom she’d felt so at ease.

‘I think deep down you would like a husband and children, and I don’t want you to be unhappy,’ said her mother.

‘I’m not unhappy.’

‘Maybe not yet, but what happens when you get to my age and you’re still by yourself?’

‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,’ Anna retorted. ‘Besides, you’re by yourself here, too. Why didn’t you get married again? You could find yourself a widower or a divorced man with a few children of his own to give you grandchildren.’

Anna regretted the words as soon as they’d left her lips; she could see she’d struck a nerve. A hidden nerve. Her resilient mother’s Achilles heel. But she refused to remain silent any longer. She had to speak up if she ever wanted her mother to stop pressuring her, if her mother was ever to understand her, even remotely.

‘It isn’t…’ her mother said quietly. ‘It wasn’t that simple.’

‘You see? Why should it be so simple for me then?’

‘Anna, I was wracked with grief. I’d lost my son. And my husband. Can you imagine the scars something like that leaves on you?’

‘If you’d ever talked to me about it perhaps I might be able to imagine. But we’ve never talked properly about Dad or Áron. It’s as if you’ve swallowed your tongue every time anyone even mentions them.’ Anna noticed she had raised her voice.

Her mother slumped back on the sofa. Anna saw a tear run down her cheek.

‘I’m sorry,’ Anna said, trying to make amends. ‘Forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It just frustrates me that my life doesn’t seem good enough for you the way it is.’

‘You’re right,’ said her mother and wiped her face on a tissue. ‘I haven’t talked about things that needed to be talked about. I couldn’t. They’re too big, too … terribly painful.’

Anna sat down beside her mother and hugged her. Her slender shoulders trembled in Anna’s arms, then her whole, fragile body began to shake.

‘I know that,’ said Anna. ‘I loved them too.’

‘Oh, poor girl. All the things you’ve had to deal with,’ her mother said through her tears.

‘I’M GOING TO FIND OUT
what happened to that Roma boy if it’s the last thing I do.’

Anna and Réka were sitting on the jetty outside the Békavár restaurant with cups of coffee and fresh bread rolls filled with ham they’d bought at the bakery. The Tisza calmly glided south right beneath them, the surface of its dark waters glinting in the sunshine. It was a hot day again. Anna lay down on the jetty.

‘I’m worried. You might be putting yourself in danger,’ said Réka.

‘I’m going back to Finland in a few weeks. Besides, I am a police officer, you know. I’ll be fine.’

‘And what happens when you work out who killed him? If people are trying to hush the whole thing up, it means there’s a reason they don’t want the truth to see the light of day.’

‘Once I get back to Finland I’ll contact Interpol. I’m not leaving it at this. And the press should be interested too. Fancy a great scoop?’

‘For
Magyar Szó
?’ Réka laughed. ‘Yeah, right. It’s never going to happen.’

‘For an international paper then.’

‘This really isn’t such a big deal.’

‘I’ve got an itching feeling that it might be.’

‘Come on, think about it. What would be my headline? “Corrupt Serbian law enforcement won’t investigate possible murder of itinerant gypsy”? Who’s going to be interested in that? It’s not really news to anyone.’

‘Yes, but
why
won’t they investigate it? That’s the interesting bit.’

‘Someone has paid them not to pursue it any further.’

‘Who? And why?’

‘Somebody important killed the boy and doesn’t want to go to prison.’

‘Why would somebody important murder a pickpocket from Szabadka? And in the bushes by the riverbank? If it was two drunken guys who’d got into a fight, I could understand it. But that’s not what happened. Somebody followed him, or took him into those bushes and killed him there.’

‘I can’t believe you actually went into that chapel in the middle of the night. It could have been a trap. You’re crazy.’

‘I had to. I sent the photos to Linnea straight away – she’s a pathologist colleague in Finland. Hopefully she’ll take a moment to look at them before going on holiday.’

‘It was probably another gypsy who wanted his share of the loot. They got into a fight and it ended up with one of them dead.’

‘Then why won’t the police investigate it, if that’s all that happened? There would be nothing to hide if that was the case. In fact, it would be yet another piece of evidence that all gypsies are petty criminals.’

‘True,’ said Réka pensively.

They drank their now-lukewarm coffees and gazed out at the Tisza in silence.

‘The little girl, Dzsenifer. She was there,’ said Anna. ‘She saw what happened.’

‘What if the case is somehow linked to you?’ Réka said.

‘What? How could it be linked to me?’

‘It’s just a thought. Because it was your bag that got stolen, your passport.’

This hadn’t occurred to Anna at all. She pondered Réka’s suggestion a little, but she still couldn’t imagine the theft of her handbag was anything other than an unfortunate coincidence. The thief might have snatched any number of handbags that evening. But what if she was wrong? What if she and her bag had played a direct part in the man’s death? The thought chilled her.

‘I must talk to Dzsenifer.’

‘Please be careful, Anna. This is starting to look pretty frightening. If I were you I wouldn’t even trust Péter, no matter how good he is in bed.’

‘I know. But I don’t have many options, if I’m ever going to get to the bottom of this.’

‘I can help you out. I’m a professional when it comes to digging up the truth.’

‘I don’t want to put you in danger. Particularly not now, not with…’ Anna pointed at Réka’s stomach.

‘Having a quick look in the paper’s archives can’t be all that dangerous.’

‘All right then. Why do you think that guy suggested we ask around the refugee camp?’

‘He said Sándor might have had business going on there.’

‘What business did he mean? Could Sándor have been involved in people smuggling?’

‘I get the feeling half the town is involved in it one way or another. They smell easy money and they don’t hang around. There was a terrible accident here a few years ago. A group of refugees drowned in the Tisza.’

‘That’s awful. Just like in the Mediterranean.’

‘Exactly. I remember there was talk about a Kanizsa local being somehow embroiled in it. Something like that. I’ll look into that first.’

‘Great. Réka, you’re a treasure. And I need to get to the refugee camp as soon as I can find time. There’s so much I need to look into. It’s annoying this is taking up my entire holiday and we won’t get to spend much time together.’

‘We’re together now, aren’t we?’

‘You know what I mean. But this case won’t leave me in peace. I feel I’ve just got to work out what’s going on here.’

‘Don’t worry, I understand. I’ll help you as best I can, and next time you’re here we can relax properly.’

‘Thanks,’ said Anna. Only next time it won’t just be the two of us,
she thought. ‘I really have to get going. My mother and I, and Ákos and his new girlfriend are all going to Nagy Béla’s place for lunch. It’s weird how all my father’s old friends are suddenly so keen to see me.’

‘What?’ Réka nearly screamed. ‘Does Ákos have a girlfriend?’

‘Yes,’ said Anna, curt and almost sour.

‘Who is it? Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I haven’t had time to think about anything except this damn handbag thief. She’s called Kata, apparently she and Ákos were in the same class at school, or something like that. A divorced mother of two.’

‘Oh, Kata! I remember her. She’s really nice. I just hope Ákos can grab himself by the scruff of the neck and get his life back together.’

‘Me too. Listen, we’ll talk on the phone soon. Be careful.’

‘You too.’

THE FISHERMAN’S HOUSE
was typical of many of the old houses in Kanizsa. It was long, painted in pastel pink, and its beautiful old windows had been replaced during the 1970s, making them larger and uglier. As was the case at many other houses, a cherry tree stood in the strip of garden at the front. The red of the fruit was already beginning to deepen. In the courtyard there were plum, peach and walnut trees, and at the back of the garden was a small greenhouse containing tomatoes, cabbages and aubergines.

The fisherman’s wife, Emese, was standing at the gate to welcome the Fekete family. She paid particular attention to Kata, and so had Anna. Kata had joined them at the fisherman’s house, so Anna was also seeing her now for the first time. Short, peroxide-blonde hair and some delicate make-up. A tall, slim body, average clothes. Not a stunning beauty, but certainly not ugly. She was perfectly normal, thought Anna, and couldn’t decide whether this was a good thing or not. She’d been expecting something different, someone perhaps more Bohemian.

Nagy Béla was sitting on the covered patio in the courtyard, surrounded by trestles with thick vines winding their way upwards. He gestured to his guests to join him. It was a nice, warm day, 27°C in the shade, with a gentle breeze rustling through the vine leaves. The grapes were still tiny and bright green and would mature much later in the autumn. Anna recalled the taste of grapes plucked straight from the vine, their juicy freshness and sweetness, their sugary liquid running down her fingers. Imported grapes in the supermarket never tasted anything like this – that’s probably why she never bought them. Wouldn’t it be nice to spend an entire year here? thought Anna. To experience the smells and tastes of the changing seasons. In particular she noticed how she yearned for fresh fruit. Not even organic produce could compare to ripe fruit plucked straight from the tree.

‘Would you like something to drink?’ asked Emese. ‘Coffee?
Pálinka?
Beer?’

‘I think I’ll have some
pálinka
, please,’ said Anna’s mother as she sat down in one of the plastic chairs.

‘Coffee for me, please,’ said Anna.

‘I’ll be fine with water, thanks,’ said Ákos.

‘Sure you don’t want to taste our
pálinka
?’ Emese tried once more. Anna noticed the furrows in her mother’s brow deepen.

‘Thank but no thanks,’ said Ákos. He seemed relaxed.

‘Ákos has had a few problems with alcohol so now he doesn’t drink at all. But I’d love some,’ said Kata, upbeat and matter-of-fact; and at that moment Anna knew she liked her.

‘Yes, best not to touch the stuff at all,’ Ákos agreed.

Anna wondered when her brother’s once shameful addiction had suddenly become the subject of breezy afternoon conversation. Her mother continued to frown, though, and Emese also seemed embarrassed, and at a loss for words she disappeared inside the house to fetch the drinks. Anna glanced at Kata and they smiled at each other like secret allies.

‘So, how are you keeping, Ákos?’ asked Béla with a hearty smile.

‘Very well, thank you, as you can probably see,’ her brother said and looked at Kata, clearly besotted.

‘So, does this mean you’re going to move back here permanently?’ asked the fisherman. Anna’s heart missed a beat.

‘I’m going to stay at least all summer. I’m planning to look for work. Kata and I will think about what to do in the autumn, whether to move to Szeged where Kata works or stay here on the Serbian side. Or whether we all go back to Finland.’

Anna listened nervously. She’d wanted to ask her brother the same question when they were alone, to talk calmly about his plans, because more than anything else she was afraid that he would stay here – and she’d decided to tell him that. But not now, not here. Not in front of all these people, because saying it out loud would have brought her to tears and she didn’t want that to happen in the company of strangers.

‘The wages are good in Finland,’ said Béla.

‘Yes, but it’s extremely difficult to find work there unless you speak the language perfectly, like our Anna here. I don’t speak it all that well, and Kata speaks even less. Besides, I haven’t really got any qualifications. My studies came to an end when the war broke out.’

‘It’s the same everywhere. But Anna is quite a special case,’ said Béla. ‘She’s just like her father, don’t you think, Mária?’

‘In her choice of career, at least,’ her mother replied grimly.

‘What’s wrong with that? It’s a fine career.’

‘And a dangerous one,’ she replied.

To Anna’s relief, Emese returned to the patio with a tray and began busying herself with setting out glasses and pouring drinks, and the conversation turned to last year’s
pálinka
and the autumn’s fruit harvest. The awkward topics of conversation were soon forgotten about and Anna eventually relaxed. Kata was talkative and sociable – she seemed to be able to chat with Béla and his wife about anything at all – and Anna began to appreciate why Ákos and her mother were so taken with her. She might not be a beauty but she was witty and amusing.

‘Speaking of your father, Anna, come and look at this,’ said Béla, standing up and walking inside the house.

The interior of the house felt pleasantly cool, and it took a moment before Anna’s eyes became accustomed to the dimness after the bright glare of the sun. The fisherman led Anna into the living room, opened one of the drawers in the bookshelf and pulled out a pile of old photographs.

‘Look. That’s me and your father, as young boys,’ he said. ‘We often went fishing together. Did you know your father was a keen fisherman?’

‘No,’ Anna replied and looked at the small, faded, sepia photographs showing her father in old-fashioned clothes, sitting in a boat on the Tisza and proudly holding a large carp up to the camera.

‘He certainly was,’ said Béla ‘I knew him since he was a boy.’

Anna stared at her father’s laughing eyes long and hard, tried to grab hold of her own blurry memories, to focus them in her mind.
Could she remember anything about him at all? His voice, his smell, his arms around her little body? His embrace. That had stayed with her. She must never let go of it.

‘Mum never talks about him,’ Anna said quietly.

‘It’s not surprising. It was a blow to us all when he died – for your mother especially.’

Anna went through the photos once more. Dad’s thick moustache. Dad in his uniform. Dad’s kind eyes. Dad in his class photograph, the same photograph as Remete Mihály had shown her.

‘Were you all in the same class?’ asked Anna and began examining the old, faded photograph more closely.

‘Who do you mean?’

‘You and my father, Remete Mihály and Molnár László?’

‘László is a year younger than the rest of us, but he was part of our gang. Those were the days.’

‘Who else was in the gang?’

‘Let me see, there was Fejős Lajos, Almási Ottó, loads of people. In those days groups of friends were big, we wandered around in a huge herd, and there were kids of all ages too. The smallest ones ran behind us and the oldest among us were almost adults. At least that’s what they looked like to us. We played football, ran around the park and swam in the Tisza. Then, when we were a bit older, we drank a lot and teased the girls. Many of them are dead and buried. That’s what happens when you start to get old – you suddenly notice your friends disappearing one by one.’

Béla looked into the distance, his eyes clouded a little. Anna could hear the murmur of voices drifting in from outside. Now was a perfect time to find out what Béla was holding back.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you were at the wine fair too?’ she asked quietly.

Béla looked perturbed. ‘What?’

‘You didn’t mention that you were at the wine fair, but I saw you in one of the photographs a friend of mine took that night. Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Well, I … it didn’t occur to me. I went down to the fair briefly. I think I was there less than half an hour.’

‘In the photograph you were standing right behind me just moments before my handbag was stolen. You might have been standing very close to the thief, right next to him even.’

‘Really? Goodness me.’

‘Did you see the theft?’

‘No. As I said, I only popped into the fair. I must have just left when your bag was stolen.’

‘Who did you speak with at the fair?’

‘Lots of people. László invited me down there. But I couldn’t find him anywhere so I decided to go home.’

‘Do you recall seeing a little Romani girl in a red skirt? She must have been about ten years old.’

‘Not that I remember.’

‘You said you saw a flash of something red down by the riverbank when you found the body, though?’

‘That’s right, there was a flash of something. You’re telling me it was a little girl?’

‘Yes. This is her photo. She’s the thief ’s younger sister.’

Anna showed him the photos from the wine fair. Béla looked at them, his brow furrowed. Anna noticed that his hands were trembling ever so slightly. Was this because of old age, or something else?

‘I don’t know anything about these people. And I don’t want to know anything about them either. All I want is to do my job in peace and quiet.’

‘So why did you take me to the place where you found the body?’

‘Because I thought there was something suspicious going on. But I don’t think so any longer. I don’t want to talk about this anymore and I’d advise you to forget all about it.’

You can be sure I won’t forget about it, thought Anna. If only you knew how suspicious things looked right now. But perhaps you know only too well.