Kossuth Square by Adam LeBor

Author:Adam LeBor [LeBor, Adam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781786692726
Publisher: Head of Zeus

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Balthazar sat on his balcony and watched his mother get into Fat Vik’s black 7-series BMW. The car drove quickly up Dob Street, towards the Grand Boulevard, back to Jozsef Street and District VIII. His conversation with his mother spun around his head. The air felt thick, hard to breathe. The sky had turned dark grey, heavy black clouds on slow manoeuvres over the city before they unleashed the brewing storm. He glanced down at Klauzal Square. The dope-smoking teenagers, the young mothers with their toddlers, had gone. A sudden gust of wind buffeted the trees, sending their leaves spinning outwards, making the Bubi bicycles wobble on their stand.

To his surprise, he did not feel much more grief or pain about Virag. He had loved her as much as he had loved anyone. Of course it was a shock to learn that she was his half-sister, not his third cousin. What was harder to process was the knowledge that his parents had not told him the truth, had concealed a secret for twenty years. On one level Balthazar could see the logic: a few telephone calls from Pal Dezeffy could have destroyed their lives, sent his father to prison, seen the family home taken from them. But now Pal was down, if not out, and he had a chance to start probing. He glanced down at the news magazines on the small coffee table: 168 Hours and HVG, the Hungarian version of The Economist. Both were full of articles about the migrant crisis, the death of Mahmoud Hejazi, the ongoing chaos at Keleti, and extensive coverage of Hungary’s new prime minister. Balthazar picked up HVG: the cover showed a playground merry-go-round. Pal sat on the far side, a small Louis Vuitton suitcase at his feet, looking disconsolate. Reka Bardossy sat on the front side, a much larger Louis Vuitton suitcase by her legs, expensive rings on her fingers, a large diamond necklace around her neck, smiling widely.

Did Virag really come to his mother at night, in her dreams? Perhaps she did. Maybe there was a reason that Balthazar had recently been thinking so much about her, had taken her photograph to be framed and then placed it in the centre of his bookshelves. As long as someone was remembered they were never truly dead. Virag was not forgotten. For a moment Balthazar thought of Alex, his eager innocence, his zest for life and new experiences. Now Balthazar too was trapped in a web of lies. Should he tell him about Virag, that Alex had once had an aunt who had died, and he was going to find out who was responsible? Alex was quite capable of handling that knowledge, but he would then quickly ask how Balthazar knew, would learn that his family had deceived his father – and him – for years and become angry, none of which would help an already difficult relationship. But if Balthazar did not tell his son what he had learned, then he too would be guilty of deceit.

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