Painted Faces by Megan Easley-Walsh

Author:Megan Easley-Walsh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: german occupation ww2, jewish resistance against the nazis, mystery novels set in budapest, books about female spies in ww2, historical fiction holocaust, Historical Suspense, Historical Mystery, Historical Romance, Jewish Historical Fiction, WWII Historical Fiction, Classic Hollywood, 1930s, Budapest, Actress, german occupation during ww2, history mystery fiction, eastern european fiction
Publisher: New Historical Fiction
Published: 2018-05-10T00:00:00+00:00

“HERE YOU ARE. JUST tell them that Sámuel sent you. I have everything all arranged. Go right in and I'll have the car come around for you in the morning. Seven o'clock, all right?” Sámuel says, as the car comes to a stop in front of a line of houses, a short drive from the studio.

“Seven, yes, fine,” Márkus repeats, gathering his bag and turning to get out of the car.

“Well, goodnight!” Sámuel says cheerfully.

“Goodnight,” Márkus says, though it is still relatively early. He steps from the car, but turns back to face Sámuel before he drives away.

“Thank you.”

“Oh believe me, within a fortnight, it is I who will be thanking you.”

With that, he nods at Márkus and drives away, leaving Márkus alone. A rumble shakes Márkus's stomach. Attributing it to nerves, he pushes the thought of it aside and turns toward the hotel where he is staying. Heavy shadows from trees overhead fall in trellised patterns across the sidewalk.

Eszter would like how this looks. She'd tell me that it looked like fairies had constructed a house of sun.

Well, perhaps, she wouldn't, not anymore. She would have once, when she was eight or nine, but those days are long past. Will she be all right on her own now? Well, she isn't really alone. She has their mother, of course. For the first time in her life, though, her brother is not there to lend an ear or a hand when she calls upon him.

Maybe, you don't need me as much as I think you do. Maybe—

His stomach grumbles again, interrupting the thought. No, it isn't only nerves. It has been a long while since he's had anything to eat. He stands and looks down the streets around him, searching for a nearby place to have some dinner. Across the street, he spots a diner. It looks much like the ones that he's seen in American films. Much like, he swallows at the thought of it, films he will soon be in! Worrying about Eszter comes so much easier than thoughts of being in films. It's natural to think of her, to hope that she will be all right. This is altogether different.

Oh Márkus, really, you're getting ahead of yourself. Just get some food. Why, you'd think that you were already up there on a poster.

A movie poster, with the name slightly obscured, hangs beside the Coca Cola sign on the side of the diner. The smell of sizzling hamburgers wafts through the door as a woman opens it to exit. With her brown tousle of curls, she looks like she might belong on a poster beside the smiling man. She nods to him. Though she's beautiful, she lacks all the arrogance of certainty that accompanied women such as Aliz. No, there's something in her look that reminds him more of the ballerina on the stage of the Opera House. The smile she wears, as she looks at him, belongs to a woman with thoughts behind her eyes and the painted look of trying to please another.

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