Connects with: Red Sky at Night, River of Blood, Where Night is Blind & Tragic Silence
English Roses © November 2021 E. C. Hibbs
Budapest, Hungary
June 2004
Ink swam before me on the page. I rubbed my eyes, trying to focus. I wasn’t dyslexic, but my own words seemed to twist and warp around themselves, until it barely even looked like I’d written them. Getting the hang of speaking Hungarian had been difficult enough, but this was a completely different beast. All the new letters, the order things had to be put in… And the cases were the worst. What kind of crazy language had eighteen cases?
I missed England. Back there, I’d only had to deal with three.
I tapped my pen against my exercise book, and tried to keep time with the ticking of the the clock. A couple of the other kids had finished their assignment, but I still had half a page to write. I would have a lot of homework over the weekend.
I glanced at the girl sitting in front of me. She had blonde hair cut into a bob, so straight, it was as though it had been sliced with a razor. I swept the nib of the pen back and forth, trying to follow the angle; anything to fool myself into thinking things might speed up.
After what felt like an age, the bell rang. With amazing speed, the blonde girl pushed her books into her bag and darted outside. The rest of the class followed suit. As the door repeatedly opened and closed, I caught the faint scent of hot food wafting from the cafeteria.
Friday. That meant it would be fish fingers. A smile crossed my face. Those always reminded me of being back in London. Em and I often had them as a quick meal before we headed out to the West End.
Before I could leave the classroom, Mr Varga beckoned me.
“How are you finding things, Lucy?” he asked.
“Alright, Varga Úr.”
He cocked his head. “Are you sure? I know this is a big change for you.”
I smiled politely. He could say that again. Moving schools was one thing, as was moving to a different city. But to a new country, as well?
“At least I don’t need to sit any exams this year,” I said. “Hopefully by next summer, I’ll be ready.”
“I have no doubt of it,” Tanár Úr replied. “Your writing will come. If need be, we can always see about arranging for you to do the exams in English. It’s not the typical way, but it could be an option, if that would make you more comfortable.”
“Maybe. Can I decide closer to the time?”
“Of course. For now, just keep practicing. That’s the only way you’ll get better.”
“Igen,” I nodded.
Mr Varga stood up and began wiping the board clean.
“Alright, go and have your lunch,” he said. “I’ll see you on Tuesday.”
I smiled again, then slipped into the corridor. Echoes of conversation bounced off the walls. Younger kids ran past me with skipping ropes and balls in hand, while older ones hung around the lockers, girls applying makeup and fixing their hair. I wove between them, took a turn past the art classrooms, towards the cafeteria. A group of boys, about my age, were leaning heavily against a storeroom door and laughing.
“Look where you’re going next time, bookworm!” one jeered.
Somebody pounded on the door. “Let me out!”
That only made them laugh louder.
“What are you doing?” I called. “Who’s in there?”
One of the boys glanced around, but when he saw I wasn’t a teacher, he shot me a disdainful sneer.
“Mind your own business.”
That made my blood boil. I strode over, grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him against the wall.
“Get lost, you assholes.”
“Who the Hell do you think you are?” the boy snarled. “Piss off back to England.”
I snorted. That was the best insult he could come up with? I spun him around and pushed him into the others. The entire group staggered backwards.
“You piss off,” I snapped, jerking my head in the direction of the cafeteria. “They’ll stop serving the toddler menu soon.”
The first boy squared up to me, but I stood my ground. I wasn’t going to be intimidated by a greaseball who couldn’t even manage his acne.
Sure enough, when I didn’t blink, they nudged themselves and sidled off. I shook my head. That meant nothing. It was a pitiful show of arrogance to cover how they’d been faced down by a girl. Cowards were the same the world over.
I pulled the storeroom door open. Sitting on the floor was the blonde girl, surrounded by crepe paper and paintbrushes which had fallen around her. I helped her to her feet, then picked up her bag and held it out.
“Are you alright?”
She nodded shyly and glanced along the corridor.
“What did you do to them?”
“Nothing, really. Just told them where to shove it.”
The girl blinked. “It sounded like you punched one of them, or something!”
“Oh, no, I’d probably break my fingers if I tried to hit anyone!” I said. “I’m Lucy, by the way. Denborough.”
She shook my hand. “Bianka Farkas.”
I only had history class with her, and hadn’t really paid her much mind before. She seemed like the type who liked to keep to herself. It felt a little strange to see her face now, rather than just the back of her head. She was a couple of inches shorter than me, with blue eyes and a timid expression, and rocked her weight from one foot to the other. I’d seen people like her before: friendless, focused, trying to walk through life invisible. But doing that always seemed to have the opposite effect. It just put a target on your back, and left a scent trail which bullies could follow like bloodhounds.
“Nice to meet you,” I smiled. “Do you want to get a bite to eat? We’ll just go wherever those idiots aren’t.”
Before Bianka could protest, I pulled her down the corridor and into the cafeteria. The clatter of cutlery and hum of mindless chatter filled my ears. We grabbed a tray each, and slid it along the rails. I helped myself to the fish fingers and a baked potato, added a carton of fruit juice, and handed over the forints at the till. Bianka did the same and followed me to a table by the window.
The boys smirked from the other side of the room. If my hands hadn’t been full, I would have flipped them off. But I ignored them, and instead, ripped the end from my straw wrapper, aimed it at Bianka, and blew. It shot across the table and bounced off her forehead.
She let out an uncertain laugh and balled the paper up.
“Are you okay?” I asked gently. “To Hell with them. They only pick on people because they’ve got nothing better to do. It says a lot more about them than about you.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. There were a gang of them in my old school who never left my sister alone. They were jealous that she was so smart.”
Bianka chuckled. “Did you shove any of them against the wall, too?”
I raised an eyebrow and gave a nonchalant shrug. “I might have done.”
We laughed at the same time. I sliced my fish fingers with the edge of a fork and began eating.
“How are you finding Budapest?” asked Bianka. “Your Hungarian’s really good. Do you have family here?”
“Thanks,” I said. She’d probably think differently if she could see my essays. “And no, I’m about as English as you can get. My dad got a job in Buda a few years ago, so the rest of us – me, my mum and Emily – came out here at the start of the summer to live with him. We were taking evening classes for a year.”
“You’ve only been speaking Hungarian for a year?” Bianka gasped. “Isn’t it one of the hardest languages for an English person?”
“Something like that. But it wasn’t so bad. I was used to hearing it, because of Dad.”
“So… whereabouts in England are you from? London?”
I fed the end of the straw into my fruit juice. It was cranberry. I would have preferred orange, but it didn’t really matter. A drink was a drink.
“Yeah. The place where all the theatres are,” I replied. “That’s something I’m going to miss. I was always dragging Emily to see musicals. I might have to go back one day just to see Phantom again.”
“Phantom?”
“The Phantom of the Opera. It’s my favourite. I heard a film version’s being made, actually.”
Bianka nibbled sheepishly on her fish fingers. “I’ve never seen a musical. Not live, anyway. Only old movies from the fifties.”
“You should,” I insisted. “Are there many theatres here?”
“Quite a lot. I haven’t been to any since I was a kid, though.”
“I’ll have to check them out. Although, I don’t know how well I’ll be able to follow along. I can manage the language fine when I’m talking, but singing might be a problem!”
“It’s lucky you’re not the one singing, then,” Bianka quipped.
I smiled. It wasn’t much, but already she was coming out of her shell. There was a shine in her eyes which hadn’t been there a few minutes ago.
A bag suddenly landed on the table, and someone slid in beside me. I didn’t even need to turn to know it was Em.
“I was looking all over for you!” she said in English, then noticed the plate in front of me. “I thought Mum gave you a packed lunch?”
“She did,” I replied, “but I fancied something warm.”
“Oh, well. Share and share alike.”
Em plucked one of the fish fingers and bit off half of it. Her attention moved onto Bianka, so she switched back to Hungarian to greet her.
I playfully pushed Em away from the plate. “Sorry. This is my sister, Emily. And this is Bianka.”
“Hi,” they said at the same time.
Em elbowed me until I moved further along the seat. She was fifteen: two years younger than me, but her lingering puppy fat hid a mind sharper than a pin. Every class she had ever taken, she had aced with near-perfect marks. She might still be a silly kid, but in ten years, I knew she would take the world by storm.
Em took stock of Bianka, and I knew at once she’d seen the same things I had.
“I like your hair,” she said. “I could never get mine so straight.”
“Especially not when you try to cut it yourself,” I muttered.
“That was one time, when I was eight. Shut up.”
Bianka smiled again, and swept her bob with the back of her hand.
“Have you got any brothers or sisters?” I asked.
“Nem, it’s just me. It’s pretty boring, really.”
“Well, maybe we should do something together sometime,” suggested Em. “I bet there’s loads of things in the city we haven’t seen yet. What do you think?”
Bianka scooped some potato onto her fork. “Haven’t you had a chance to explore?”
“Not really.”
“Where have you been?”
I counted on my fingers. “The opera house, a bunch of museums, the Parliament Building, St Stephen’s, Buda Castle…”
“I can think of a few places,” said Bianka, “but it’s probably best to wait until the end of summer. There will be too many tourists. Maybe we can just go for a walk?”
“This afternoon?”
“Why not? You haven’t got anything to do?”
“Just homework.”
“Ah, homework can wait until Sunday,” said Em, and ate the last of my fish finger.
I missed England. Back there, I’d only had to deal with three.
I tapped my pen against my exercise book, and tried to keep time with the ticking of the the clock. A couple of the other kids had finished their assignment, but I still had half a page to write. I would have a lot of homework over the weekend.
I glanced at the girl sitting in front of me. She had blonde hair cut into a bob, so straight, it was as though it had been sliced with a razor. I swept the nib of the pen back and forth, trying to follow the angle; anything to fool myself into thinking things might speed up.
After what felt like an age, the bell rang. With amazing speed, the blonde girl pushed her books into her bag and darted outside. The rest of the class followed suit. As the door repeatedly opened and closed, I caught the faint scent of hot food wafting from the cafeteria.
Friday. That meant it would be fish fingers. A smile crossed my face. Those always reminded me of being back in London. Em and I often had them as a quick meal before we headed out to the West End.
Before I could leave the classroom, Mr Varga beckoned me.
“How are you finding things, Lucy?” he asked.
“Alright, Varga Úr.”
He cocked his head. “Are you sure? I know this is a big change for you.”
I smiled politely. He could say that again. Moving schools was one thing, as was moving to a different city. But to a new country, as well?
“At least I don’t need to sit any exams this year,” I said. “Hopefully by next summer, I’ll be ready.”
“I have no doubt of it,” Tanár Úr replied. “Your writing will come. If need be, we can always see about arranging for you to do the exams in English. It’s not the typical way, but it could be an option, if that would make you more comfortable.”
“Maybe. Can I decide closer to the time?”
“Of course. For now, just keep practicing. That’s the only way you’ll get better.”
“Igen,” I nodded.
Mr Varga stood up and began wiping the board clean.
“Alright, go and have your lunch,” he said. “I’ll see you on Tuesday.”
I smiled again, then slipped into the corridor. Echoes of conversation bounced off the walls. Younger kids ran past me with skipping ropes and balls in hand, while older ones hung around the lockers, girls applying makeup and fixing their hair. I wove between them, took a turn past the art classrooms, towards the cafeteria. A group of boys, about my age, were leaning heavily against a storeroom door and laughing.
“Look where you’re going next time, bookworm!” one jeered.
Somebody pounded on the door. “Let me out!”
That only made them laugh louder.
“What are you doing?” I called. “Who’s in there?”
One of the boys glanced around, but when he saw I wasn’t a teacher, he shot me a disdainful sneer.
“Mind your own business.”
That made my blood boil. I strode over, grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him against the wall.
“Get lost, you assholes.”
“Who the Hell do you think you are?” the boy snarled. “Piss off back to England.”
I snorted. That was the best insult he could come up with? I spun him around and pushed him into the others. The entire group staggered backwards.
“You piss off,” I snapped, jerking my head in the direction of the cafeteria. “They’ll stop serving the toddler menu soon.”
The first boy squared up to me, but I stood my ground. I wasn’t going to be intimidated by a greaseball who couldn’t even manage his acne.
Sure enough, when I didn’t blink, they nudged themselves and sidled off. I shook my head. That meant nothing. It was a pitiful show of arrogance to cover how they’d been faced down by a girl. Cowards were the same the world over.
I pulled the storeroom door open. Sitting on the floor was the blonde girl, surrounded by crepe paper and paintbrushes which had fallen around her. I helped her to her feet, then picked up her bag and held it out.
“Are you alright?”
She nodded shyly and glanced along the corridor.
“What did you do to them?”
“Nothing, really. Just told them where to shove it.”
The girl blinked. “It sounded like you punched one of them, or something!”
“Oh, no, I’d probably break my fingers if I tried to hit anyone!” I said. “I’m Lucy, by the way. Denborough.”
She shook my hand. “Bianka Farkas.”
I only had history class with her, and hadn’t really paid her much mind before. She seemed like the type who liked to keep to herself. It felt a little strange to see her face now, rather than just the back of her head. She was a couple of inches shorter than me, with blue eyes and a timid expression, and rocked her weight from one foot to the other. I’d seen people like her before: friendless, focused, trying to walk through life invisible. But doing that always seemed to have the opposite effect. It just put a target on your back, and left a scent trail which bullies could follow like bloodhounds.
“Nice to meet you,” I smiled. “Do you want to get a bite to eat? We’ll just go wherever those idiots aren’t.”
Before Bianka could protest, I pulled her down the corridor and into the cafeteria. The clatter of cutlery and hum of mindless chatter filled my ears. We grabbed a tray each, and slid it along the rails. I helped myself to the fish fingers and a baked potato, added a carton of fruit juice, and handed over the forints at the till. Bianka did the same and followed me to a table by the window.
The boys smirked from the other side of the room. If my hands hadn’t been full, I would have flipped them off. But I ignored them, and instead, ripped the end from my straw wrapper, aimed it at Bianka, and blew. It shot across the table and bounced off her forehead.
She let out an uncertain laugh and balled the paper up.
“Are you okay?” I asked gently. “To Hell with them. They only pick on people because they’ve got nothing better to do. It says a lot more about them than about you.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. There were a gang of them in my old school who never left my sister alone. They were jealous that she was so smart.”
Bianka chuckled. “Did you shove any of them against the wall, too?”
I raised an eyebrow and gave a nonchalant shrug. “I might have done.”
We laughed at the same time. I sliced my fish fingers with the edge of a fork and began eating.
“How are you finding Budapest?” asked Bianka. “Your Hungarian’s really good. Do you have family here?”
“Thanks,” I said. She’d probably think differently if she could see my essays. “And no, I’m about as English as you can get. My dad got a job in Buda a few years ago, so the rest of us – me, my mum and Emily – came out here at the start of the summer to live with him. We were taking evening classes for a year.”
“You’ve only been speaking Hungarian for a year?” Bianka gasped. “Isn’t it one of the hardest languages for an English person?”
“Something like that. But it wasn’t so bad. I was used to hearing it, because of Dad.”
“So… whereabouts in England are you from? London?”
I fed the end of the straw into my fruit juice. It was cranberry. I would have preferred orange, but it didn’t really matter. A drink was a drink.
“Yeah. The place where all the theatres are,” I replied. “That’s something I’m going to miss. I was always dragging Emily to see musicals. I might have to go back one day just to see Phantom again.”
“Phantom?”
“The Phantom of the Opera. It’s my favourite. I heard a film version’s being made, actually.”
Bianka nibbled sheepishly on her fish fingers. “I’ve never seen a musical. Not live, anyway. Only old movies from the fifties.”
“You should,” I insisted. “Are there many theatres here?”
“Quite a lot. I haven’t been to any since I was a kid, though.”
“I’ll have to check them out. Although, I don’t know how well I’ll be able to follow along. I can manage the language fine when I’m talking, but singing might be a problem!”
“It’s lucky you’re not the one singing, then,” Bianka quipped.
I smiled. It wasn’t much, but already she was coming out of her shell. There was a shine in her eyes which hadn’t been there a few minutes ago.
A bag suddenly landed on the table, and someone slid in beside me. I didn’t even need to turn to know it was Em.
“I was looking all over for you!” she said in English, then noticed the plate in front of me. “I thought Mum gave you a packed lunch?”
“She did,” I replied, “but I fancied something warm.”
“Oh, well. Share and share alike.”
Em plucked one of the fish fingers and bit off half of it. Her attention moved onto Bianka, so she switched back to Hungarian to greet her.
I playfully pushed Em away from the plate. “Sorry. This is my sister, Emily. And this is Bianka.”
“Hi,” they said at the same time.
Em elbowed me until I moved further along the seat. She was fifteen: two years younger than me, but her lingering puppy fat hid a mind sharper than a pin. Every class she had ever taken, she had aced with near-perfect marks. She might still be a silly kid, but in ten years, I knew she would take the world by storm.
Em took stock of Bianka, and I knew at once she’d seen the same things I had.
“I like your hair,” she said. “I could never get mine so straight.”
“Especially not when you try to cut it yourself,” I muttered.
“That was one time, when I was eight. Shut up.”
Bianka smiled again, and swept her bob with the back of her hand.
“Have you got any brothers or sisters?” I asked.
“Nem, it’s just me. It’s pretty boring, really.”
“Well, maybe we should do something together sometime,” suggested Em. “I bet there’s loads of things in the city we haven’t seen yet. What do you think?”
Bianka scooped some potato onto her fork. “Haven’t you had a chance to explore?”
“Not really.”
“Where have you been?”
I counted on my fingers. “The opera house, a bunch of museums, the Parliament Building, St Stephen’s, Buda Castle…”
“I can think of a few places,” said Bianka, “but it’s probably best to wait until the end of summer. There will be too many tourists. Maybe we can just go for a walk?”
“This afternoon?”
“Why not? You haven’t got anything to do?”
“Just homework.”
“Ah, homework can wait until Sunday,” said Em, and ate the last of my fish finger.
*
After my final class ended, I stepped outside in order to get better reception, and pulled my phone from my pocket. I flipped it open; held it to my ear. On the fourth ring, the other end picked up.
“Hey, Luce.”
“Hi, Dad. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, what’s the matter?”
“I just wanted to let you know, you don’t need to collect us today. We’ve made a new friend and we’re going for a walk.”
“Will you be home for dinner?”
“We should be. We’ll jump a taxi and be back for six.”
“What… was that?”
I snarled to myself and moved away from the towering sycamore trees.
“Can you hear me now?”
“Just about,” Dad replied. “You sound like… you’re underwater. You need to get a new phone, Lucy. This one’s… so old.”
“I know. I will,” I promised. “I’ll call you later, alright? Drive carefully.”
I headed back into the shade and perched on a bench, toying with the phone as I went. The bright green surface was scratched, and several of the keys had faded from my thumb pressing them countless times. A yellow duck charm hung on the hinge, and I circled my wrist so it spun like a windmill.
We could all speak Hungarian – Dad best of all – but whenever it was just us, we switched back to English. Even though I didn’t say it, I appreciated being able to use my mother tongue. We’d only moved to Budapest seven weeks ago, but already, memories of London seemed like another lifetime. Things were so different here, and the language was the least of it. Cars drove on the other side of the road, and it still boggled my mind that a thousand forints was equivalent to barely two pounds.
The sun beat down on me. Even standing still made a sweat break out on my forehead. Summer had never been this warm in England. And my heart sank a little when I realised a trip to the beach would be out of the question. We hadn’t lived near the coast before, but thanks to the joys of an island, the sea was only a couple of hours away by train. Hungary, on the other hand, was landlocked on all sides. I’d have to go to the far side of Croatia if I wanted to swim.
I glanced around. Where was Bianka? She should have finished before I did. Had she gone home? Had I pushed a little too hard to make her feel comfortable at lunch?
I opened my phone again, punched in a quick text message, but the signal bars dropped dramatically and I gave up. If it could barely manage a call, I wasn’t surprised.
I suddenly remembered I had a library book in my bag which needed returning. This was where we had arranged to meet, and it was no problem if we left a little later. So I walked back through the door, and climbed to the first floor.
The place was deserted. Everyone was either in their final classes of the day, or had already left if they had a free period. My footsteps echoed off the walls. The corridors seemed to stretch on forever, like something out of an Escher painting. I glanced at display boards as I passed them; read every word large enough for me to notice without stopping. I stalled a little on the foreign letters, but tried to look past them and connect them with the sounds I knew. At least Dad hadn’t seen fit to get a job in Greece or Japan, or anywhere that completely did away with the Latin alphabet.
For a second, I fancied I heard someone behind me. I looked over my shoulder, but there was nothing except an empty plastic bag. It was a good thing I was never one for horror movies.
I pulled out the book as I entered the library. Several kids sat at tables or computers, and the air filled with the soft turning of pages and tapping of keys. As I glanced about, I spotted a tower of books in the corner, and just visible behind them, a blonde bob.
I strode over and peered down at Bianka. She was scribbling madly on a piece of paper. I squinted at the title, and realised it was the history assignment we had been working on earlier that day.
I waved to get her attention.
“You know that isn’t due for another two weeks, right?”
Bianka removed her headphones.
“I want to get it done,” she said. “I like being busy.”
“Busy as a bee, you are,” I muttered. Then, as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I snapped my fingers. “That’s it! That’s what I’m calling you from now on. Miss Busy Bee.”
She laughed. “That’s a bit of a mouthful.”
“Fine,” I shrugged. “Bee, then.”
“Ssh!” the librarian hissed. I mouthed an apology, but when he turned his back, I stuck out my tongue and rolled my eyes.
“Some people need to get a life,” I whispered. “I’m done for the day now. Em should be finished, too. Do you still want to come with us?”
Bee nodded. “Sure. Sorry. I had a free slot before this one and got carried away! Let me just tidy up here.”
While she began packing her stuff, I gathered the stack of books and laid them on the returns trolley.
She gave me a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Come on. Where should we go?”
Bee thought for a moment. “Maybe the Danube? I know a nice café there.”
We returned to the bench. Em was sitting on the back of it with her feet on the seat, staring intently at her phone. I heard the tinny music of a pinball game.
“Have you beaten the high score?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I wasn’t trying to. Just wasting time.”
Bee smiled at her. “I’m awful at those things. I’ve always been more interested in books.”
“No surprise I found you in the library, then!” I laughed. “Do you have a favourite?”
“History stuff, mainly. But I like reading about folklore, as well. All the old stories nobody remembers anymore.”
“Like what?”
As we left the school grounds, Bee glanced at a nearby bush, as though searching the leaves for an answer.
“Sárkány,” she said. “That’s basically a dragon with loads of heads. I was told about that a lot when I was a kid. I think the creepiest are Lidércs. They hold you down when you’re asleep and give you nightmares.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Like sleep paralysis?”
“I suppose.”
“Maybe that’s where it came from,” Em suggested. “One of my friends in London had sleep paralysis for a while. When she woke up, she couldn’t move, and she thought she saw something in the room with her. But it was just her brain playing tricks on her.”
“Scary,” said Bee. “I’d hate for that to happen to me.”
I nodded in agreement, then dug into my bag and withdrew a perfume bottle.
“Want some?”
They both extended their wrists. I sprayed them, then did the same to myself. The sweet scent of rose and lavender wafted around us. I’d only discovered it last week, in a little shop near the Parliament Building, and now I couldn’t imagine wearing any other fragrance.
Bee made a left turn, towards a wall split with ornate wrought iron gates. Em and I were so surprised, we almost walked past her.
“That’s the cemetery,” I pointed out.
“I know,” Bee said with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s a shortcut. Loads of people use it.”
Em shot me an uncertain look. “Seriously?”
“It’s fine,” Bee insisted. “It will shave off fifteen minutes. I come through here a lot. There’s another gate near my house.”
I glanced at the wall. It was imposingly high, but through the entrance, I could see a welcoming array of greenery. By all accounts, it seemed more like a park than a place full of dead people.
“Fair enough,” I said. “Let’s go.”
“Seriously?” Em hissed again, but only to me this time.
I nudged her shoulder, but she didn’t object a third time, and followed us onto the path.
Within moments, my uncertainty vanished. Trees loomed overhead in full leaf. The trails were well-maintained, and the sweet smell of freshly-mown grass filled the air. Dappled sunlight danced everywhere, and when I did eventually spot graves, I was too taken by their beauty to let them unsettle me. There were massive mausoleums cloaked in ivy, lines of crypts and arcades watched over by stone figures, giant obelisks and tombs fashioned into incredible pieces of art. In the distance, I spotted an angel – it was too far away to make out detail, but I could tell, even from where I stood, that it was life-sized.
“How big is this place?” I asked.
“Massive,” answered Bee.
“Have you ever gotten lost?”
“A few times, but I know the main routes now.”
I shook my head in wonder. The closest I’d ever seen to such macabre beauty was Highgate Cemetery in London. But I knew that was tiny compared to this one. I felt as though I had stepped into an entire new city, furnished with granite and flowers instead of offices and bridges.
“It’s amazing,” I admitted.
Even Em seemed to share my sentiment, as we passed a particularly lavish tomb in the shape of a four-poster bed.
“I wouldn’t want to be here at night, though,” I added with a chuckle. “Have you ever come through in the dark, Bee?”
“Sometimes, in winter. It’s a bit spooky, but it’s fine. There’s nothing dangerous.”
I smiled at her. She walked with the confidence of someone who could have been blindfolded, and still found her way around with ease. If she was comfortable here, then I was, too.
Eventually, after strolling down a path lined with maples and silver birches, we reached another gate, and emerged onto a new street. Bee pointed out her house, then led us towards the main road. At once, I recognised where we were, and a few minutes later, the Danube appeared in front of us.
We approached a small café at the waterside, and settled at an outdoor table. I hooked the strap of my bag over the chair and idly combed through my hair with my fingers. It was auburn, but summer had lightened it and given it a golden cast.
I had been past this part of town a few times since we’d moved, but never stopped to really appreciate it. The sun wouldn’t set for a while, but already it was at an angle which turned the water a crisp blue. The waves glittered like a million diamonds, and tourist boats chugged up and down in the shadow of Buda Castle. The Chain Bridge sat nearby, guarded by two giant stone lions. I grinned when I saw them. They reminded me of the ones in Trafalgar Square.
Bee noticed where I was looking.
“It’s hard to believe this was all in ruins sixty years ago, isn’t it?” she said. “At the end of the Second World War, there was a huge siege here. The Castle was completely blown up.”
“It was similar in London,” said Em. “But I don’t know too much about it, really. Lucy’s the history buff. I’m better at science.”
I rolled my eyes. “Nice dodge.”
“Well, it’s true! Anyway, it’s fair. You’re rubbish at science! Who had to help you with your chemistry homework the other day?”
“Alright, alright, smarty-pants. London didn’t have a siege, but there were loads of air raids. There’s a famous photo of the city covered in smoke, but St Paul’s is still standing.”
“What’s that?” asked Bee.
“A cathedral,” I replied, and pointed at Buda Castle. “It looks a bit like that, with a massive dome on the top. And there’s a bridge in front of it, too. Not as fancy as this one, though.”
“I’d love to see it,” Bee muttered. “And Big Ben, and the Tower. I’ve heard so much about it, seen photos and things. But it would be amazing to visit.”
“Maybe if you do, we could show you around,” suggested Em.
A waiter came over. His eyes lingered on me for a moment too long. Em noticed and barely contained a smirk.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” he greeted. “What can I get you?”
“Two teas with milk, please,” I said, knowing Em would want the same as me. “Bee?”
“A summer fruit smoothie, please,” she replied.
The waiter scribbled on his pad and shot me a smile. As soon as he was gone, I covered my mouth and snorted a laugh.
“What was that about?” Bee asked.
“She gets it all the time,” Em giggled. “Because she’s so pretty.”
“Shut up.”
“Luce and silly boy, sitting in a tree…”
I flicked her nose. She swatted my hand away and tried to do it back to me, but my arms were longer than hers and I easily held her at bay. Then, with a glance around to make sure nobody was looking, I picked up a sugar cube from the central dish and popped it into my mouth.
By the time it had dissolved, the waiter returned. He set the drinks in front of us and tried to catch my eye again. I looked straight back at him.
“Thank you,” I said – politely, but firmly.
He seemed to get the hint, because a shadow passed across his face. He nodded and walked off.
“Don’t you like him?” asked Em sarcastically.
“You know I can’t be bothered with that rubbish.”
Bee sipped her smoothie. “Does it happen… often?”
I could tell from her tone that she was struggling to not squirm.
“More than I’d like,” I admitted. “I mean, sure, it’s nice to know I’ve got a good face, but it’s just annoying. I don’t care. I make a joke out of it now.”
“You don’t have a boyfriend?”
“Nem. What about you?”
At that, Bee did squirm.
“I haven’t even got friends. You think I’ve managed a boyfriend?”
“You have got friends,” I said immediately. “What do you think we’re doing here?”
Bee’s eyes flitted between me and Em. “You really want to hang out with me?”
“Yeah, you’re cool,” Em said, as she added a generous helping of milk to her tea. “This is nice for us, too. We don’t really know anyone.”
“You’ve been here since the start of summer, and never met anybody except me?”
“Nobody who was cool,” I insisted.
Bee smiled: a strange mixture of timidness and gratitude. I wondered when was the last time someone our age had paid attention to her – at least, for longer than it took to push her into a storeroom.
“Hey, Luce.”
“Hi, Dad. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, what’s the matter?”
“I just wanted to let you know, you don’t need to collect us today. We’ve made a new friend and we’re going for a walk.”
“Will you be home for dinner?”
“We should be. We’ll jump a taxi and be back for six.”
“What… was that?”
I snarled to myself and moved away from the towering sycamore trees.
“Can you hear me now?”
“Just about,” Dad replied. “You sound like… you’re underwater. You need to get a new phone, Lucy. This one’s… so old.”
“I know. I will,” I promised. “I’ll call you later, alright? Drive carefully.”
I headed back into the shade and perched on a bench, toying with the phone as I went. The bright green surface was scratched, and several of the keys had faded from my thumb pressing them countless times. A yellow duck charm hung on the hinge, and I circled my wrist so it spun like a windmill.
We could all speak Hungarian – Dad best of all – but whenever it was just us, we switched back to English. Even though I didn’t say it, I appreciated being able to use my mother tongue. We’d only moved to Budapest seven weeks ago, but already, memories of London seemed like another lifetime. Things were so different here, and the language was the least of it. Cars drove on the other side of the road, and it still boggled my mind that a thousand forints was equivalent to barely two pounds.
The sun beat down on me. Even standing still made a sweat break out on my forehead. Summer had never been this warm in England. And my heart sank a little when I realised a trip to the beach would be out of the question. We hadn’t lived near the coast before, but thanks to the joys of an island, the sea was only a couple of hours away by train. Hungary, on the other hand, was landlocked on all sides. I’d have to go to the far side of Croatia if I wanted to swim.
I glanced around. Where was Bianka? She should have finished before I did. Had she gone home? Had I pushed a little too hard to make her feel comfortable at lunch?
I opened my phone again, punched in a quick text message, but the signal bars dropped dramatically and I gave up. If it could barely manage a call, I wasn’t surprised.
I suddenly remembered I had a library book in my bag which needed returning. This was where we had arranged to meet, and it was no problem if we left a little later. So I walked back through the door, and climbed to the first floor.
The place was deserted. Everyone was either in their final classes of the day, or had already left if they had a free period. My footsteps echoed off the walls. The corridors seemed to stretch on forever, like something out of an Escher painting. I glanced at display boards as I passed them; read every word large enough for me to notice without stopping. I stalled a little on the foreign letters, but tried to look past them and connect them with the sounds I knew. At least Dad hadn’t seen fit to get a job in Greece or Japan, or anywhere that completely did away with the Latin alphabet.
For a second, I fancied I heard someone behind me. I looked over my shoulder, but there was nothing except an empty plastic bag. It was a good thing I was never one for horror movies.
I pulled out the book as I entered the library. Several kids sat at tables or computers, and the air filled with the soft turning of pages and tapping of keys. As I glanced about, I spotted a tower of books in the corner, and just visible behind them, a blonde bob.
I strode over and peered down at Bianka. She was scribbling madly on a piece of paper. I squinted at the title, and realised it was the history assignment we had been working on earlier that day.
I waved to get her attention.
“You know that isn’t due for another two weeks, right?”
Bianka removed her headphones.
“I want to get it done,” she said. “I like being busy.”
“Busy as a bee, you are,” I muttered. Then, as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I snapped my fingers. “That’s it! That’s what I’m calling you from now on. Miss Busy Bee.”
She laughed. “That’s a bit of a mouthful.”
“Fine,” I shrugged. “Bee, then.”
“Ssh!” the librarian hissed. I mouthed an apology, but when he turned his back, I stuck out my tongue and rolled my eyes.
“Some people need to get a life,” I whispered. “I’m done for the day now. Em should be finished, too. Do you still want to come with us?”
Bee nodded. “Sure. Sorry. I had a free slot before this one and got carried away! Let me just tidy up here.”
While she began packing her stuff, I gathered the stack of books and laid them on the returns trolley.
She gave me a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Come on. Where should we go?”
Bee thought for a moment. “Maybe the Danube? I know a nice café there.”
We returned to the bench. Em was sitting on the back of it with her feet on the seat, staring intently at her phone. I heard the tinny music of a pinball game.
“Have you beaten the high score?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I wasn’t trying to. Just wasting time.”
Bee smiled at her. “I’m awful at those things. I’ve always been more interested in books.”
“No surprise I found you in the library, then!” I laughed. “Do you have a favourite?”
“History stuff, mainly. But I like reading about folklore, as well. All the old stories nobody remembers anymore.”
“Like what?”
As we left the school grounds, Bee glanced at a nearby bush, as though searching the leaves for an answer.
“Sárkány,” she said. “That’s basically a dragon with loads of heads. I was told about that a lot when I was a kid. I think the creepiest are Lidércs. They hold you down when you’re asleep and give you nightmares.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Like sleep paralysis?”
“I suppose.”
“Maybe that’s where it came from,” Em suggested. “One of my friends in London had sleep paralysis for a while. When she woke up, she couldn’t move, and she thought she saw something in the room with her. But it was just her brain playing tricks on her.”
“Scary,” said Bee. “I’d hate for that to happen to me.”
I nodded in agreement, then dug into my bag and withdrew a perfume bottle.
“Want some?”
They both extended their wrists. I sprayed them, then did the same to myself. The sweet scent of rose and lavender wafted around us. I’d only discovered it last week, in a little shop near the Parliament Building, and now I couldn’t imagine wearing any other fragrance.
Bee made a left turn, towards a wall split with ornate wrought iron gates. Em and I were so surprised, we almost walked past her.
“That’s the cemetery,” I pointed out.
“I know,” Bee said with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s a shortcut. Loads of people use it.”
Em shot me an uncertain look. “Seriously?”
“It’s fine,” Bee insisted. “It will shave off fifteen minutes. I come through here a lot. There’s another gate near my house.”
I glanced at the wall. It was imposingly high, but through the entrance, I could see a welcoming array of greenery. By all accounts, it seemed more like a park than a place full of dead people.
“Fair enough,” I said. “Let’s go.”
“Seriously?” Em hissed again, but only to me this time.
I nudged her shoulder, but she didn’t object a third time, and followed us onto the path.
Within moments, my uncertainty vanished. Trees loomed overhead in full leaf. The trails were well-maintained, and the sweet smell of freshly-mown grass filled the air. Dappled sunlight danced everywhere, and when I did eventually spot graves, I was too taken by their beauty to let them unsettle me. There were massive mausoleums cloaked in ivy, lines of crypts and arcades watched over by stone figures, giant obelisks and tombs fashioned into incredible pieces of art. In the distance, I spotted an angel – it was too far away to make out detail, but I could tell, even from where I stood, that it was life-sized.
“How big is this place?” I asked.
“Massive,” answered Bee.
“Have you ever gotten lost?”
“A few times, but I know the main routes now.”
I shook my head in wonder. The closest I’d ever seen to such macabre beauty was Highgate Cemetery in London. But I knew that was tiny compared to this one. I felt as though I had stepped into an entire new city, furnished with granite and flowers instead of offices and bridges.
“It’s amazing,” I admitted.
Even Em seemed to share my sentiment, as we passed a particularly lavish tomb in the shape of a four-poster bed.
“I wouldn’t want to be here at night, though,” I added with a chuckle. “Have you ever come through in the dark, Bee?”
“Sometimes, in winter. It’s a bit spooky, but it’s fine. There’s nothing dangerous.”
I smiled at her. She walked with the confidence of someone who could have been blindfolded, and still found her way around with ease. If she was comfortable here, then I was, too.
Eventually, after strolling down a path lined with maples and silver birches, we reached another gate, and emerged onto a new street. Bee pointed out her house, then led us towards the main road. At once, I recognised where we were, and a few minutes later, the Danube appeared in front of us.
We approached a small café at the waterside, and settled at an outdoor table. I hooked the strap of my bag over the chair and idly combed through my hair with my fingers. It was auburn, but summer had lightened it and given it a golden cast.
I had been past this part of town a few times since we’d moved, but never stopped to really appreciate it. The sun wouldn’t set for a while, but already it was at an angle which turned the water a crisp blue. The waves glittered like a million diamonds, and tourist boats chugged up and down in the shadow of Buda Castle. The Chain Bridge sat nearby, guarded by two giant stone lions. I grinned when I saw them. They reminded me of the ones in Trafalgar Square.
Bee noticed where I was looking.
“It’s hard to believe this was all in ruins sixty years ago, isn’t it?” she said. “At the end of the Second World War, there was a huge siege here. The Castle was completely blown up.”
“It was similar in London,” said Em. “But I don’t know too much about it, really. Lucy’s the history buff. I’m better at science.”
I rolled my eyes. “Nice dodge.”
“Well, it’s true! Anyway, it’s fair. You’re rubbish at science! Who had to help you with your chemistry homework the other day?”
“Alright, alright, smarty-pants. London didn’t have a siege, but there were loads of air raids. There’s a famous photo of the city covered in smoke, but St Paul’s is still standing.”
“What’s that?” asked Bee.
“A cathedral,” I replied, and pointed at Buda Castle. “It looks a bit like that, with a massive dome on the top. And there’s a bridge in front of it, too. Not as fancy as this one, though.”
“I’d love to see it,” Bee muttered. “And Big Ben, and the Tower. I’ve heard so much about it, seen photos and things. But it would be amazing to visit.”
“Maybe if you do, we could show you around,” suggested Em.
A waiter came over. His eyes lingered on me for a moment too long. Em noticed and barely contained a smirk.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” he greeted. “What can I get you?”
“Two teas with milk, please,” I said, knowing Em would want the same as me. “Bee?”
“A summer fruit smoothie, please,” she replied.
The waiter scribbled on his pad and shot me a smile. As soon as he was gone, I covered my mouth and snorted a laugh.
“What was that about?” Bee asked.
“She gets it all the time,” Em giggled. “Because she’s so pretty.”
“Shut up.”
“Luce and silly boy, sitting in a tree…”
I flicked her nose. She swatted my hand away and tried to do it back to me, but my arms were longer than hers and I easily held her at bay. Then, with a glance around to make sure nobody was looking, I picked up a sugar cube from the central dish and popped it into my mouth.
By the time it had dissolved, the waiter returned. He set the drinks in front of us and tried to catch my eye again. I looked straight back at him.
“Thank you,” I said – politely, but firmly.
He seemed to get the hint, because a shadow passed across his face. He nodded and walked off.
“Don’t you like him?” asked Em sarcastically.
“You know I can’t be bothered with that rubbish.”
Bee sipped her smoothie. “Does it happen… often?”
I could tell from her tone that she was struggling to not squirm.
“More than I’d like,” I admitted. “I mean, sure, it’s nice to know I’ve got a good face, but it’s just annoying. I don’t care. I make a joke out of it now.”
“You don’t have a boyfriend?”
“Nem. What about you?”
At that, Bee did squirm.
“I haven’t even got friends. You think I’ve managed a boyfriend?”
“You have got friends,” I said immediately. “What do you think we’re doing here?”
Bee’s eyes flitted between me and Em. “You really want to hang out with me?”
“Yeah, you’re cool,” Em said, as she added a generous helping of milk to her tea. “This is nice for us, too. We don’t really know anyone.”
“You’ve been here since the start of summer, and never met anybody except me?”
“Nobody who was cool,” I insisted.
Bee smiled: a strange mixture of timidness and gratitude. I wondered when was the last time someone our age had paid attention to her – at least, for longer than it took to push her into a storeroom.
*
Summer swept by in a wave of heat and sunshine, then its glow sank into the leaves for a final fiery blaze as the days grew shorter. When school ended, the three of us traversed the city, finding all the hidden sights which Bee knew. We strolled through streets and parks, visited the Halászbástya and Vajdahunyad Castle, and even had a spa day for Em’s sixteenth birthday. Each time, we grew closer. As was often the case with the odd ones, Bee proved herself to be among the kindest and most interesting people I’d ever met.
The new semester began, and Bee and I entered the final grade. In just nine months, we would be sitting our exams. With her to help me, my grasp of writing shot up, and I even admitted to Mr Varga that I might feel confident enough to take the tests in Hungarian after all.
Rain came down in torrents, transformed to sleet, and finally, to snow. By the time December arrived, the city was lost beneath a sheet of whiteness. I wound a scarf around my neck and trudged out of the history block with Bee.
“Oh, God,” she muttered when she saw the heavy flakes. “This is going to be fun.”
“Are you getting a taxi home?” I asked.
She checked her wallet, and winced. “I haven’t got enough. Oh, well.”
I rummaged in my pocket. “How much more do you need?”
“Don’t. It’s fine.”
“You can’t walk through the cemetery in weather like this. You don’t even have an umbrella. How much do you need?”
Bee sighed, but gave me a grateful smile. “Two thousand should be enough.”
I pulled out a note and pressed it into her palm.
“Thanks, Lucy,” she said.
“Don’t mention it. You can buy me a cup of tea at lunch tomorrow.”
Bee laughed. “I don’t know how you can drink that stuff.”
“It’s nice!” I insisted. “Well, I’ll see you in the morning, then. Have a good evening.”
“You, too,” she said, then pulled up her hood and stepped outside. I watched her until she disappeared into a taxi rank across the road.
After a few minutes, Em joined me, and we took a taxi of our own towards St Stephen’s Basilica. The traffic crawled along at a snail’s pace, and Em wasted no time whipping out her phone and turning on her pinball.
The taxi ground to a halt and the driver slammed the horn.
“A ménkű üssön beléd!” he snapped at the bus in front of us. I quickly held a hand over my mouth to stop a snigger.
“What’s happened?” asked Em.
“It doesn’t look like we’re moving anytime soon,” replied the driver. “I don’t think you two are going to have long at the market.”
I took stock of the surroundings. “We’re only two blocks away. We can walk it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Why not? The snow’s easing off a bit.”
I pulled out the fare, added a little extra, and passed it to the driver. He smiled gratefully.
“Mind how you go, girls,” he said.
“Köszönöm,” I said, then Em and I stepped onto the pavement. She had no sooner taken her own weight when she slipped and grabbed hold of a lamppost.
“Careful!” I laughed, but still kicked out at the ground to test my grip. The snow had been trodden into a hard crust of ice. At least there weren’t many pedestrians. If we did fall over, we wouldn’t take anyone down with us.
Em rubbed her hands together to warm them.
“Did Mum mention what’s for dinner?” she asked.
I puffed out my cheeks. “Chicken, I think. I’d love fish and chips right now.”
“I swear, that will be the first thing I eat when I go back to London. And mince pies. What’s Christmas going to be like without mince pies? Maybe we can make some?”
I snorted. “You? Baking? Do you want me to call the fire brigade in advance?”
She stuck out her tongue. “Watch it. Or you can do your homework by yourself!”
“Oh, kill me now.”
My boot suddenly hit a patch of ice. I skidded, arms flailing, and slid straight into someone.
“Excuse me, sir!” I said.
The man held up a hand passively. Then he looked at me, and froze.
“Mirriam?”
I frowned. “I’m sorry?”
The man sniffed deeply, and pulled his gloves tighter over his wrists. I bit the inside of my cheek in alarm. His eyes were jet black.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I thought you were someone else.”
Without another word, he walked away, faster than before. I glanced over my shoulder, but shrugged, and led Em around the corner into St Stephen’s Square.
A Christmas market had been erected, and a massive fake tree sat in front of the church, streams of fairy lights spanning from its tip like a spiderweb. Nearby was a small ice rink, and kids skated across it in a giant circle. Em pouted when she saw the sign.
“Maximum age: fourteen? Come on!”
“As if you’d manage to stay on your feet, anyway!” I laughed.
We ambled over to a food vendor and I bought us a chocolate pancake each. Bee had introduced us to them, and they were my new favourite food.
“Why didn’t you ask her to come with us?” Em asked, as though she’d read my mind.
“Because I want to find her a birthday present,” I replied through a mouthful of pancake.
Em eyed the rows of stalls. “I don’t think you’ll have much luck finding history books here.”
“I’m not after books,” I said. “I like how all this stuff is a bit different. I think she’ll appreciate that more.”
We moved around the edge of the square, trying to avoid the crowds. The tourists hadn’t started arriving in their droves yet, but the market was still a popular event, and I’d known from the start that navigating it would be a headache. But it was better to come now, at the start of the season, than leave it until closer to Christmas.
I licked the last of the chocolate sauce off my fingers. Em shoved the cardboard trays into a bin, then we started weaving our way through the stalls. Everywhere I looked, lights dazzled me. I could barely take in one thing before another grabbed my attention. There were handmade soaps, ornaments, candles, novelty hats, even fake roses edged with glitter.
Em swept her fingers over an icicle on one of the stall fronts.
“I can’t remember the last time it snowed like this in London,” she sighed wistfully.
“Me, neither,” I said.
“Do you still miss it?”
“Of course I do. But I’ve also accepted that we’re here. This is home now.”
At that, Em’s face darkened. “It’s not home.”
“Don’t start,” I said.
“But it’s not,” she insisted. “This is just a place where we live.”
“The four of us are together. That’s all that matters.”
“Have you been watching Care Bears, or something?”
“Would you rather Dad be working here all by himself, and us never seeing him?” I asked. “I know it’s hard, Em. I know you miss your friends. But we’ve got Bee now. Anyway, how do you think I feel? I’ve got exams next year, and it’s for a completely new syllabus.”
Em managed a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. I put a hand on her shoulder and encouraged her to look at me.
“Listen. Us being in Budapest doesn’t mean London is any less our home,” I said gently. “And it’s not as though we’re forbidden from leaving, if we want to. We could go to university there, or get jobs. This doesn’t have to be forever. You know that, right?”
Em pressed her lips together. “Yeah. I just wish we were still there. Hell, I’d take Mr Seward’s boring lessons any day, if he was still teaching me. And university’s so far away.”
“With your brain, I wouldn’t count on it,” I smirked. “But seriously, it’s only another two years. Then you’ll be eighteen, I’ll be twenty. We can do whatever we want, go wherever we fancy. Think about that, okay?”
She nodded. It was sullen, but I could tell I had gotten through to her. Two years compared to the rest of our lives wouldn’t be the end of the world.
“Anyway, look on the bright side,” I added. “The Phantom of the Opera movie comes out in the cinema in a couple of weeks!”
Em’s eyes lit up. “Hey, that’s an idea! Why don’t you take Bee? Didn’t she say she’s never seen it live?”
I beamed. “Good thinking!”
“It means I’ll miss it, though,” said Em. “I’ve got a stupid field trip on her birthday. Rákosliget. Where the Hell even is that?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” I replied. “Well, the two of us can see it another time. I won’t mind watching it twice. Anyway, it can be a little reward for me. I’ve got a test on the morning after Bee’s birthday.”
I hugged Em with one arm, then glanced at the stall we had stopped in front of. It was filled with photographs, many of them famous landmarks from all over the city. But hanging on the back wall, in a twin frame, I noticed an image which made my heart skip. It showed two black and white panoramas atop each other, one of the Chain Bridge and Buda Castle, and the other of St Paul’s Cathedral. They looked so similar, if I squinted, I couldn’t tell which was which.
In an instant, my mind was made up.
“How much for that, please?” I asked.
The vendor inspected a notebook. “Eight thousand forints.”
I pulled several notes out of my wallet. He took them, then wrapped the frame in tissue paper and slid it into a carrier bag.
“Thanks,” I smiled. “See? I told you I’d find something.”
“Well spotted,” admitted Em. “Come on, we’d better get out of here.”
“I haven’t got enough for another taxi. I’ll call Dad.”
I took Em's hand so we wouldn’t be separated in the heaving crowds. When we managed to break free, I fetched my phone and wedged it between my ear and shoulder.
“Hello?” Dad answered.
“Hi. We’re done. Can you please come and get us? We’re at St Stephen’s.”
“Okay… go somewhere… you up…”
I frowned. “Sorry, say that again?”
“Go somewhere I can pick you up easily,” he repeated, louder. “Go to the bridge, alright? I’ll be ten minutes.”
“Okay. See you soon.”
Before I could put the phone in my pocket, Em snatched it by the duck charm.
“This needs to go in the bin,” she insisted. “Aunt Mary will send us some Christmas money. Why don’t you get yourself a new one with that?”
“I said I would. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. What good is a phone when it doesn’t work?”
She passed it back to me, but still gave me a pointed look.
I drew my coat tighter as the river came into sight. The water was black under a freezing sky. Only the faintest hint of twilight lingered in the west, and on the other side, Buda Castle glowed as though it were made of gold.
After a few minutes, Dad arrived, and we climbed into the back seat. The heater was turned up to full, and the wash of warmth after so long in the cold made my eyes droop. I rested my head against the window, and watched the world flash by. I briefly focused on shop and road signs, reading them without a moment’s hesitation. The new letters didn’t bother me anymore.
We left the city centre behind, andarrived home just as Mum was plating up dinner. I groaned when I saw it was lasagne.
“Can we have fish and chips tomorrow?” I asked. It wouldn’t be the same as back in London, but it was close enough.
“Sure,” she replied. “Why don’t you invite Bee over? Has she ever had fish and chips?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, ask her in the morning. It’s nice that you two have a friend. You both seem so much better since you met her.”
I smiled. “Yeah, she’s really cool. And smart. She almost gives Em a run for her money!”
Hearing that, Em pretended to flick a piece of cheese at me, then dived into a description of how Christmassy the square had looked.
When we finished eating, I washed the dishes and headed upstairs. I knelt on my bedroom floor, wrapping the photographs in shiny paper. Then I shoved the present beside the wardrobe, emptied my pencil case and textbooks onto the desk, and started scribbling notes for a new history module.
As I read the passages, I thought about what Bee had mentioned on the day we’d met. Budapest had been hit hard at the end of the Second World War, but in some respects, a similarly heavy blow landed at the end of the First. In the final months of 1918, the entire Austro-Hungarian Empire had collapsed. Borders shrank on all sides, and whatever was left splintered into so many Republics, it made my head spin just looking at the map. And on top of all the rallies and laws and another war with Romania, the Spanish Influenza swept through, and decimated anyone who had been lucky enough to come back from the Front Line.
I thought of the cemetery. That place was filled with famous names, but how many ordinary ones had been laid there in the course of just a few terrible decades? I tried to imagine it: the panic of the people as their country fractured around them, and then, a single generation later, the Danube red with blood…
I shook my head. Thank God I’d been born when I had. History was fascinating, but in its way, it also terrified me. It showed how, even in safety, everything could be overturned.
I rubbed my eyes. The words were starting to swim around again, but it was tiredness this time. It had been a long day, and the cold had bitten deeper than I’d realised. I shut the textbook, spread an electric blanket over my bed, took the window off the latch and went to draw the curtains.
Then I paused. Someone was standing on the opposite side of the street. It was difficult to make out – everything was draped in shadows – but I saw a white face, looking straight at me.
A shiver trailed down my spine. I yanked the curtains shut, but kept hold of them. I hadn’t been able to see his eyes, yet I felt them, like two icicles driving through the glass.
“Come on, don’t be silly,” I muttered, and changed into my pyjamas. I turned on the TV for some background noise, and slipped between the sheets.
Within minutes, my eyes closed. Somehow, I knew I was dreaming. Time was moving too slowly to be real. All the proportions were exaggerated, but I didn’t care. There was a sense of normality to it, despite the weird angles. Familiarity surrounded me like a sweet perfume.
I walked down Haymarket in the West End, and stepped through the doors of Her Majesty’s Theatre. The foyer was empty. That made me smile. If nobody had arrived yet, I could get the best spot for the show. I stole down the corridors and entered the auditorium. But instead of red seats, there were rows upon rows of headstones. Even the circle tiers had transformed into grey arcades, and ivy choked the chandelier. Trees closed over my head, no longer heavy with leaves, but skeletal and bare, like fingers.
An angel sculpture stood alone on the stage.
I ran. My feet refused to obey. I was moving through mud, against invisible ropes which pulled me down. The sky was growing darker. The stink of dust and wet earth filled my nose.
A sharp pain coursed through my arm. I felt a soft pressure there, like sucking. Then lips appeared on mine. Cold fingers brushed back my hair; trailed over my cheek, my throat…
I panicked, and my eyes flew open. I tried to sit up, but couldn’t. Pressure was crushing my chest. My arms and legs lay motionless, no matter how hard I strained.
I wasn’t alone. I couldn’t see anything, but I knew. There was someone in the room with me.
No, I was still asleep. I had to be. I couldn't pinch myself, so I placed my tongue between my teeth, and bit.
It worked. The weight vanished, and I hurriedly switched on the bedside lamp. I squinted into every corner, but saw only my furniture and Bee’s present. However, despite the electric blanket, I was freezing, and the curtains were billowing.
Hadn’t I closed the window? I was sure I did. It wasn’t even on the latch; it was wide open. I pulled it shut, and rammed the handle down as tightly as it would go.
Then I caught sight of my arm. Just below my elbow was a cut.
“What the Hell?” I breathed, drawing close to the lamp to see better. It wasn’t deep, but as I pressed on it, a bead of blood broke free.
I hurried to the bathroom, where I could see better, dabbed at the wound with tissue. When it was clean, I fetched the first aid box and stuck an adhesive bandage over it. I inspected my nails. Had I scratched myself in my sleep? For good measure, I grabbed the clippers off the sideboard and trimmed them.
Just a stupid nightmare. That was all. Nothing more. Nevertheless, when I returned to my room, I kept the light on, turned up the TV volume, and decided I wouldn’t go back to sleep.
I ran a finger over my lips. Had I dreamed that, too?
The new semester began, and Bee and I entered the final grade. In just nine months, we would be sitting our exams. With her to help me, my grasp of writing shot up, and I even admitted to Mr Varga that I might feel confident enough to take the tests in Hungarian after all.
Rain came down in torrents, transformed to sleet, and finally, to snow. By the time December arrived, the city was lost beneath a sheet of whiteness. I wound a scarf around my neck and trudged out of the history block with Bee.
“Oh, God,” she muttered when she saw the heavy flakes. “This is going to be fun.”
“Are you getting a taxi home?” I asked.
She checked her wallet, and winced. “I haven’t got enough. Oh, well.”
I rummaged in my pocket. “How much more do you need?”
“Don’t. It’s fine.”
“You can’t walk through the cemetery in weather like this. You don’t even have an umbrella. How much do you need?”
Bee sighed, but gave me a grateful smile. “Two thousand should be enough.”
I pulled out a note and pressed it into her palm.
“Thanks, Lucy,” she said.
“Don’t mention it. You can buy me a cup of tea at lunch tomorrow.”
Bee laughed. “I don’t know how you can drink that stuff.”
“It’s nice!” I insisted. “Well, I’ll see you in the morning, then. Have a good evening.”
“You, too,” she said, then pulled up her hood and stepped outside. I watched her until she disappeared into a taxi rank across the road.
After a few minutes, Em joined me, and we took a taxi of our own towards St Stephen’s Basilica. The traffic crawled along at a snail’s pace, and Em wasted no time whipping out her phone and turning on her pinball.
The taxi ground to a halt and the driver slammed the horn.
“A ménkű üssön beléd!” he snapped at the bus in front of us. I quickly held a hand over my mouth to stop a snigger.
“What’s happened?” asked Em.
“It doesn’t look like we’re moving anytime soon,” replied the driver. “I don’t think you two are going to have long at the market.”
I took stock of the surroundings. “We’re only two blocks away. We can walk it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Why not? The snow’s easing off a bit.”
I pulled out the fare, added a little extra, and passed it to the driver. He smiled gratefully.
“Mind how you go, girls,” he said.
“Köszönöm,” I said, then Em and I stepped onto the pavement. She had no sooner taken her own weight when she slipped and grabbed hold of a lamppost.
“Careful!” I laughed, but still kicked out at the ground to test my grip. The snow had been trodden into a hard crust of ice. At least there weren’t many pedestrians. If we did fall over, we wouldn’t take anyone down with us.
Em rubbed her hands together to warm them.
“Did Mum mention what’s for dinner?” she asked.
I puffed out my cheeks. “Chicken, I think. I’d love fish and chips right now.”
“I swear, that will be the first thing I eat when I go back to London. And mince pies. What’s Christmas going to be like without mince pies? Maybe we can make some?”
I snorted. “You? Baking? Do you want me to call the fire brigade in advance?”
She stuck out her tongue. “Watch it. Or you can do your homework by yourself!”
“Oh, kill me now.”
My boot suddenly hit a patch of ice. I skidded, arms flailing, and slid straight into someone.
“Excuse me, sir!” I said.
The man held up a hand passively. Then he looked at me, and froze.
“Mirriam?”
I frowned. “I’m sorry?”
The man sniffed deeply, and pulled his gloves tighter over his wrists. I bit the inside of my cheek in alarm. His eyes were jet black.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I thought you were someone else.”
Without another word, he walked away, faster than before. I glanced over my shoulder, but shrugged, and led Em around the corner into St Stephen’s Square.
A Christmas market had been erected, and a massive fake tree sat in front of the church, streams of fairy lights spanning from its tip like a spiderweb. Nearby was a small ice rink, and kids skated across it in a giant circle. Em pouted when she saw the sign.
“Maximum age: fourteen? Come on!”
“As if you’d manage to stay on your feet, anyway!” I laughed.
We ambled over to a food vendor and I bought us a chocolate pancake each. Bee had introduced us to them, and they were my new favourite food.
“Why didn’t you ask her to come with us?” Em asked, as though she’d read my mind.
“Because I want to find her a birthday present,” I replied through a mouthful of pancake.
Em eyed the rows of stalls. “I don’t think you’ll have much luck finding history books here.”
“I’m not after books,” I said. “I like how all this stuff is a bit different. I think she’ll appreciate that more.”
We moved around the edge of the square, trying to avoid the crowds. The tourists hadn’t started arriving in their droves yet, but the market was still a popular event, and I’d known from the start that navigating it would be a headache. But it was better to come now, at the start of the season, than leave it until closer to Christmas.
I licked the last of the chocolate sauce off my fingers. Em shoved the cardboard trays into a bin, then we started weaving our way through the stalls. Everywhere I looked, lights dazzled me. I could barely take in one thing before another grabbed my attention. There were handmade soaps, ornaments, candles, novelty hats, even fake roses edged with glitter.
Em swept her fingers over an icicle on one of the stall fronts.
“I can’t remember the last time it snowed like this in London,” she sighed wistfully.
“Me, neither,” I said.
“Do you still miss it?”
“Of course I do. But I’ve also accepted that we’re here. This is home now.”
At that, Em’s face darkened. “It’s not home.”
“Don’t start,” I said.
“But it’s not,” she insisted. “This is just a place where we live.”
“The four of us are together. That’s all that matters.”
“Have you been watching Care Bears, or something?”
“Would you rather Dad be working here all by himself, and us never seeing him?” I asked. “I know it’s hard, Em. I know you miss your friends. But we’ve got Bee now. Anyway, how do you think I feel? I’ve got exams next year, and it’s for a completely new syllabus.”
Em managed a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. I put a hand on her shoulder and encouraged her to look at me.
“Listen. Us being in Budapest doesn’t mean London is any less our home,” I said gently. “And it’s not as though we’re forbidden from leaving, if we want to. We could go to university there, or get jobs. This doesn’t have to be forever. You know that, right?”
Em pressed her lips together. “Yeah. I just wish we were still there. Hell, I’d take Mr Seward’s boring lessons any day, if he was still teaching me. And university’s so far away.”
“With your brain, I wouldn’t count on it,” I smirked. “But seriously, it’s only another two years. Then you’ll be eighteen, I’ll be twenty. We can do whatever we want, go wherever we fancy. Think about that, okay?”
She nodded. It was sullen, but I could tell I had gotten through to her. Two years compared to the rest of our lives wouldn’t be the end of the world.
“Anyway, look on the bright side,” I added. “The Phantom of the Opera movie comes out in the cinema in a couple of weeks!”
Em’s eyes lit up. “Hey, that’s an idea! Why don’t you take Bee? Didn’t she say she’s never seen it live?”
I beamed. “Good thinking!”
“It means I’ll miss it, though,” said Em. “I’ve got a stupid field trip on her birthday. Rákosliget. Where the Hell even is that?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” I replied. “Well, the two of us can see it another time. I won’t mind watching it twice. Anyway, it can be a little reward for me. I’ve got a test on the morning after Bee’s birthday.”
I hugged Em with one arm, then glanced at the stall we had stopped in front of. It was filled with photographs, many of them famous landmarks from all over the city. But hanging on the back wall, in a twin frame, I noticed an image which made my heart skip. It showed two black and white panoramas atop each other, one of the Chain Bridge and Buda Castle, and the other of St Paul’s Cathedral. They looked so similar, if I squinted, I couldn’t tell which was which.
In an instant, my mind was made up.
“How much for that, please?” I asked.
The vendor inspected a notebook. “Eight thousand forints.”
I pulled several notes out of my wallet. He took them, then wrapped the frame in tissue paper and slid it into a carrier bag.
“Thanks,” I smiled. “See? I told you I’d find something.”
“Well spotted,” admitted Em. “Come on, we’d better get out of here.”
“I haven’t got enough for another taxi. I’ll call Dad.”
I took Em's hand so we wouldn’t be separated in the heaving crowds. When we managed to break free, I fetched my phone and wedged it between my ear and shoulder.
“Hello?” Dad answered.
“Hi. We’re done. Can you please come and get us? We’re at St Stephen’s.”
“Okay… go somewhere… you up…”
I frowned. “Sorry, say that again?”
“Go somewhere I can pick you up easily,” he repeated, louder. “Go to the bridge, alright? I’ll be ten minutes.”
“Okay. See you soon.”
Before I could put the phone in my pocket, Em snatched it by the duck charm.
“This needs to go in the bin,” she insisted. “Aunt Mary will send us some Christmas money. Why don’t you get yourself a new one with that?”
“I said I would. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. What good is a phone when it doesn’t work?”
She passed it back to me, but still gave me a pointed look.
I drew my coat tighter as the river came into sight. The water was black under a freezing sky. Only the faintest hint of twilight lingered in the west, and on the other side, Buda Castle glowed as though it were made of gold.
After a few minutes, Dad arrived, and we climbed into the back seat. The heater was turned up to full, and the wash of warmth after so long in the cold made my eyes droop. I rested my head against the window, and watched the world flash by. I briefly focused on shop and road signs, reading them without a moment’s hesitation. The new letters didn’t bother me anymore.
We left the city centre behind, andarrived home just as Mum was plating up dinner. I groaned when I saw it was lasagne.
“Can we have fish and chips tomorrow?” I asked. It wouldn’t be the same as back in London, but it was close enough.
“Sure,” she replied. “Why don’t you invite Bee over? Has she ever had fish and chips?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, ask her in the morning. It’s nice that you two have a friend. You both seem so much better since you met her.”
I smiled. “Yeah, she’s really cool. And smart. She almost gives Em a run for her money!”
Hearing that, Em pretended to flick a piece of cheese at me, then dived into a description of how Christmassy the square had looked.
When we finished eating, I washed the dishes and headed upstairs. I knelt on my bedroom floor, wrapping the photographs in shiny paper. Then I shoved the present beside the wardrobe, emptied my pencil case and textbooks onto the desk, and started scribbling notes for a new history module.
As I read the passages, I thought about what Bee had mentioned on the day we’d met. Budapest had been hit hard at the end of the Second World War, but in some respects, a similarly heavy blow landed at the end of the First. In the final months of 1918, the entire Austro-Hungarian Empire had collapsed. Borders shrank on all sides, and whatever was left splintered into so many Republics, it made my head spin just looking at the map. And on top of all the rallies and laws and another war with Romania, the Spanish Influenza swept through, and decimated anyone who had been lucky enough to come back from the Front Line.
I thought of the cemetery. That place was filled with famous names, but how many ordinary ones had been laid there in the course of just a few terrible decades? I tried to imagine it: the panic of the people as their country fractured around them, and then, a single generation later, the Danube red with blood…
I shook my head. Thank God I’d been born when I had. History was fascinating, but in its way, it also terrified me. It showed how, even in safety, everything could be overturned.
I rubbed my eyes. The words were starting to swim around again, but it was tiredness this time. It had been a long day, and the cold had bitten deeper than I’d realised. I shut the textbook, spread an electric blanket over my bed, took the window off the latch and went to draw the curtains.
Then I paused. Someone was standing on the opposite side of the street. It was difficult to make out – everything was draped in shadows – but I saw a white face, looking straight at me.
A shiver trailed down my spine. I yanked the curtains shut, but kept hold of them. I hadn’t been able to see his eyes, yet I felt them, like two icicles driving through the glass.
“Come on, don’t be silly,” I muttered, and changed into my pyjamas. I turned on the TV for some background noise, and slipped between the sheets.
Within minutes, my eyes closed. Somehow, I knew I was dreaming. Time was moving too slowly to be real. All the proportions were exaggerated, but I didn’t care. There was a sense of normality to it, despite the weird angles. Familiarity surrounded me like a sweet perfume.
I walked down Haymarket in the West End, and stepped through the doors of Her Majesty’s Theatre. The foyer was empty. That made me smile. If nobody had arrived yet, I could get the best spot for the show. I stole down the corridors and entered the auditorium. But instead of red seats, there were rows upon rows of headstones. Even the circle tiers had transformed into grey arcades, and ivy choked the chandelier. Trees closed over my head, no longer heavy with leaves, but skeletal and bare, like fingers.
An angel sculpture stood alone on the stage.
I ran. My feet refused to obey. I was moving through mud, against invisible ropes which pulled me down. The sky was growing darker. The stink of dust and wet earth filled my nose.
A sharp pain coursed through my arm. I felt a soft pressure there, like sucking. Then lips appeared on mine. Cold fingers brushed back my hair; trailed over my cheek, my throat…
I panicked, and my eyes flew open. I tried to sit up, but couldn’t. Pressure was crushing my chest. My arms and legs lay motionless, no matter how hard I strained.
I wasn’t alone. I couldn’t see anything, but I knew. There was someone in the room with me.
No, I was still asleep. I had to be. I couldn't pinch myself, so I placed my tongue between my teeth, and bit.
It worked. The weight vanished, and I hurriedly switched on the bedside lamp. I squinted into every corner, but saw only my furniture and Bee’s present. However, despite the electric blanket, I was freezing, and the curtains were billowing.
Hadn’t I closed the window? I was sure I did. It wasn’t even on the latch; it was wide open. I pulled it shut, and rammed the handle down as tightly as it would go.
Then I caught sight of my arm. Just below my elbow was a cut.
“What the Hell?” I breathed, drawing close to the lamp to see better. It wasn’t deep, but as I pressed on it, a bead of blood broke free.
I hurried to the bathroom, where I could see better, dabbed at the wound with tissue. When it was clean, I fetched the first aid box and stuck an adhesive bandage over it. I inspected my nails. Had I scratched myself in my sleep? For good measure, I grabbed the clippers off the sideboard and trimmed them.
Just a stupid nightmare. That was all. Nothing more. Nevertheless, when I returned to my room, I kept the light on, turned up the TV volume, and decided I wouldn’t go back to sleep.
I ran a finger over my lips. Had I dreamed that, too?
*
Christmas bled into New Year with a wave of unrelenting rain. It melted the snow to slush, and sent rivers running through the streets. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen the sun. Each day, it was obscured by clouds, and shadows fell over everything.
I kept my eyes on the window as Dad drove towards school. Only the faintest hint of daylight tinted the sky, and the streets were empty – nobody wanted to walk anywhere in such horrid weather.
As soon as we pulled up outside the gates, Em and I darted under the cover of a bicycle shelter. The rain cascaded past the floodlight beams in rippling curtains. On the other side of the yard stood a waiting coach, with RÁKOSLIGET lit up in the display.
“That’s yours, isn’t it?” I asked.
Em nodded. “Yeah. I still don’t know where the place is, though. Stupid teachers. I was hoping they’d have called it off.”
“Why? Because you want to come with us to the cinema?”
“Let’s see. Regular school day followed by popcorn in a nice warm building, or a six o’clock finish after trudging about in this?”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry, it will be fine.”
“Make sure Bee saves me a piece of cake,” Em pouted. “Hey, can I have some of your perfume, please?”
I dug it out of my bag. As she sprayed herself, the coach door opened, and a crowd of sixteen-year-olds hurried across the tarmac to climb aboard.
I glanced over their heads, and my breath caught in my throat. A dark figure was standing under the sycamores by the science block.
“Luce?”
I jumped, looked at Em, then back at the trees. But there was nobody there.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
I quickly collected myself. “Nothing. Go, before you get cold.”
Em frowned. “Are you sure it’s nothing?”
“Yeah,” I said, as jovially as I could. “Don’t worry. I just feel a bit out of sorts this morning. Tired.”
I held out my hand for the perfume. Em gave it back, and shot me a smile.
“Alright. I’ll see you tonight. Enjoy the movie.”
I watched her until she was on the coach. She waved from the window, and I hurried through the nearest door, towards the library. If I’d find Bee anywhere, it would be there. But I walked faster than I needed to, and kept my eyes fixed straight ahead. My heart was still hammering against my ribs.
Almost a month had passed since my nightmare, yet in those weeks, I’d barely relaxed. Every now and then, I’d passed the same guy I had bumped into on the way to St Stephen’s. It was always fast; too fast to get a decent look. I only knew it was him by the black clothes and hair. But there were over a million people in Budapest. What were the odds of constantly seeing the same man?
My gut wrenched as I thought about it. It could just be coincidence. Nothing more than any other glance boys had always thrown at me…
I reached the library, and immediately spotted Bee in the corner. I pushed my concern to the back of my mind, stole up behind her, and pulled her headphones out of her ears.
“Happy birthday,” I smiled.
She beamed. “Thanks.”
I raised my bag. The seams strained; I’d somehow managed to fit her gift inside that morning.
“See this? This is yours,” I said. “But I’m only giving it to you on one condition.”
Bee threw me a wary look. “What?”
In answer, I tossed an envelope towards her. She opened it, and pulled out the card. On the front was a large sparkly badge reading 18 TODAY!
“You’ve got to wear that all day,” I smirked.
Bee winced. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Lucy…”
“It’s fine,” I said. “One day. Do it and I’ll buy your popcorn later.”
She rolled her eyes, but pinned the badge to her cardigan.
We left the library. Not willing to go outside in the rain, I led her past the cafeteria and through the art corridor. A couple of the boys who had pushed her into the storeroom lingered by the lockers. When they saw us, they started sniggering, and I knew it was because of the badge.
Bee tensed. I glanced at her, and smiled.
“It says more about them than about you,” I whispered, looked straight at the boys, and jerked my middle finger up. Then Bee did the same thing.
The boys fell silent for a moment before they started giggling again, but I didn’t care. The confident smirk on Bee’s face was all that mattered.
The day seemed to drag on forever. History was the only interesting class on my timetable, but the rain was relentless, pounding against the windows so heavily, it sounded like hail. Even at noon, when the sun was at its highest, the light didn’t penetrate. We walked in an endless haze of ice and wetness, and more than once, I worried I might fall asleep at my desk.
“Not long now,” I said to myself. In only a couple of hours, I’d be sitting in the cinema, finally introducing Bee to my favourite musical. I just hoped it would hold a candle to the stage version.
The sky dulled. When the final bell rang, Bee and I headed off, huddled under an umbrella. I cursed myself for not thinking to bring a little more money for a taxi.
“We’ll take the shortcut,” Bee suggested. “The cinema isn’t far from the gate by my house.”
“Good idea.”
“Have you heard from Emily today?”
“Nem, she’s probably too busy. I just hope she won't be late tonight. I’d hate to be driving in this. That reminds me, where is Rákosliget, anyway?”
We stepped into the cemetery. I’d walked the route with Bee countless times, but all the same, uncertainty tightened around my neck. Beyond the stony beauty, the rich colours of the trees and flowers were gone. Puddles flooded the lawns and dead leaves littered the paths. The gloom pressed over everything like a shroud. I smelled decay, and coldness worked its way across my skin.
As twilight descended, I remembered something I’d said ages ago: how I’d hate to come through here at night.
I rubbed my hands together and blew into them. Then I fetched my phone, to check the time.
“Half four,” I muttered. “God, I can’t wait for summer. Then at least the sun sets at a reasonable time.”
Bee nodded in agreement. She switched the umbrella to her other hand, and her wrist knocked against the badge.
“Can I take this off yet?”
“Nem. We had a deal.”
“I kept the deal! I wore it all day!”
“All school day. It’s still afternoon, you’ve got until midnight yet! So keep it on, or I’m not giving you your present for another week!”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. I pocketed my phone, and checked to make sure the rain hadn’t seeped through my bag to the gift. It wouldn’t have quite the same effect if the wrapping paper was soggy.
Footsteps crunched ahead of us, and someone came along the path in the opposite direction. Bee gently pushed me to the side. I left my bag alone, looked up, and nausea stabbed into my belly.
The man didn’t blink. He just locked eyes with me, in a moment which seemed to drag itself over eternity. I squirmed. Even soaked to the skin, his face was striking, like an old painting. And the way he looked at me… It was like he knew me; saw straight through me…
He carried on without a pause. I turned around, but he had disappeared into the darkness.
“Are you okay?” Bee asked.
Time seemed to stop. In a single heartbeat, I suddenly held a million words in my mouth, all clamouring over each other. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
I wanted to call the police. I wanted to run after him and demand to know who he was. I wanted to tell Bee about all the times I’d spotted him. But logic screamed at me, and beat my nerves into submission. It was simply co-incidence. He probably just lived around here, and that was why I saw him so much. No different to seeing people from school every day.
And besides, it was Bee’s birthday. I couldn’t ruin it.
I cleared my throat, and pulled a smile onto my face.
“Yeah. Sorry, just cold. Come on.”
Bee hesitated, and I worried I hadn’t managed to convince her. But, to my relief, she didn’t press me. I just needed to get to the cinema, sit down, let the lights fade and allow myself to relax.
In the distance, the stone angel cut a silhouette against the rain. I ignored it, and started humming The Phantom of the Opera under my breath.
Everything was going to be fine.
I kept my eyes on the window as Dad drove towards school. Only the faintest hint of daylight tinted the sky, and the streets were empty – nobody wanted to walk anywhere in such horrid weather.
As soon as we pulled up outside the gates, Em and I darted under the cover of a bicycle shelter. The rain cascaded past the floodlight beams in rippling curtains. On the other side of the yard stood a waiting coach, with RÁKOSLIGET lit up in the display.
“That’s yours, isn’t it?” I asked.
Em nodded. “Yeah. I still don’t know where the place is, though. Stupid teachers. I was hoping they’d have called it off.”
“Why? Because you want to come with us to the cinema?”
“Let’s see. Regular school day followed by popcorn in a nice warm building, or a six o’clock finish after trudging about in this?”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry, it will be fine.”
“Make sure Bee saves me a piece of cake,” Em pouted. “Hey, can I have some of your perfume, please?”
I dug it out of my bag. As she sprayed herself, the coach door opened, and a crowd of sixteen-year-olds hurried across the tarmac to climb aboard.
I glanced over their heads, and my breath caught in my throat. A dark figure was standing under the sycamores by the science block.
“Luce?”
I jumped, looked at Em, then back at the trees. But there was nobody there.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
I quickly collected myself. “Nothing. Go, before you get cold.”
Em frowned. “Are you sure it’s nothing?”
“Yeah,” I said, as jovially as I could. “Don’t worry. I just feel a bit out of sorts this morning. Tired.”
I held out my hand for the perfume. Em gave it back, and shot me a smile.
“Alright. I’ll see you tonight. Enjoy the movie.”
I watched her until she was on the coach. She waved from the window, and I hurried through the nearest door, towards the library. If I’d find Bee anywhere, it would be there. But I walked faster than I needed to, and kept my eyes fixed straight ahead. My heart was still hammering against my ribs.
Almost a month had passed since my nightmare, yet in those weeks, I’d barely relaxed. Every now and then, I’d passed the same guy I had bumped into on the way to St Stephen’s. It was always fast; too fast to get a decent look. I only knew it was him by the black clothes and hair. But there were over a million people in Budapest. What were the odds of constantly seeing the same man?
My gut wrenched as I thought about it. It could just be coincidence. Nothing more than any other glance boys had always thrown at me…
I reached the library, and immediately spotted Bee in the corner. I pushed my concern to the back of my mind, stole up behind her, and pulled her headphones out of her ears.
“Happy birthday,” I smiled.
She beamed. “Thanks.”
I raised my bag. The seams strained; I’d somehow managed to fit her gift inside that morning.
“See this? This is yours,” I said. “But I’m only giving it to you on one condition.”
Bee threw me a wary look. “What?”
In answer, I tossed an envelope towards her. She opened it, and pulled out the card. On the front was a large sparkly badge reading 18 TODAY!
“You’ve got to wear that all day,” I smirked.
Bee winced. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Lucy…”
“It’s fine,” I said. “One day. Do it and I’ll buy your popcorn later.”
She rolled her eyes, but pinned the badge to her cardigan.
We left the library. Not willing to go outside in the rain, I led her past the cafeteria and through the art corridor. A couple of the boys who had pushed her into the storeroom lingered by the lockers. When they saw us, they started sniggering, and I knew it was because of the badge.
Bee tensed. I glanced at her, and smiled.
“It says more about them than about you,” I whispered, looked straight at the boys, and jerked my middle finger up. Then Bee did the same thing.
The boys fell silent for a moment before they started giggling again, but I didn’t care. The confident smirk on Bee’s face was all that mattered.
The day seemed to drag on forever. History was the only interesting class on my timetable, but the rain was relentless, pounding against the windows so heavily, it sounded like hail. Even at noon, when the sun was at its highest, the light didn’t penetrate. We walked in an endless haze of ice and wetness, and more than once, I worried I might fall asleep at my desk.
“Not long now,” I said to myself. In only a couple of hours, I’d be sitting in the cinema, finally introducing Bee to my favourite musical. I just hoped it would hold a candle to the stage version.
The sky dulled. When the final bell rang, Bee and I headed off, huddled under an umbrella. I cursed myself for not thinking to bring a little more money for a taxi.
“We’ll take the shortcut,” Bee suggested. “The cinema isn’t far from the gate by my house.”
“Good idea.”
“Have you heard from Emily today?”
“Nem, she’s probably too busy. I just hope she won't be late tonight. I’d hate to be driving in this. That reminds me, where is Rákosliget, anyway?”
We stepped into the cemetery. I’d walked the route with Bee countless times, but all the same, uncertainty tightened around my neck. Beyond the stony beauty, the rich colours of the trees and flowers were gone. Puddles flooded the lawns and dead leaves littered the paths. The gloom pressed over everything like a shroud. I smelled decay, and coldness worked its way across my skin.
As twilight descended, I remembered something I’d said ages ago: how I’d hate to come through here at night.
I rubbed my hands together and blew into them. Then I fetched my phone, to check the time.
“Half four,” I muttered. “God, I can’t wait for summer. Then at least the sun sets at a reasonable time.”
Bee nodded in agreement. She switched the umbrella to her other hand, and her wrist knocked against the badge.
“Can I take this off yet?”
“Nem. We had a deal.”
“I kept the deal! I wore it all day!”
“All school day. It’s still afternoon, you’ve got until midnight yet! So keep it on, or I’m not giving you your present for another week!”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. I pocketed my phone, and checked to make sure the rain hadn’t seeped through my bag to the gift. It wouldn’t have quite the same effect if the wrapping paper was soggy.
Footsteps crunched ahead of us, and someone came along the path in the opposite direction. Bee gently pushed me to the side. I left my bag alone, looked up, and nausea stabbed into my belly.
The man didn’t blink. He just locked eyes with me, in a moment which seemed to drag itself over eternity. I squirmed. Even soaked to the skin, his face was striking, like an old painting. And the way he looked at me… It was like he knew me; saw straight through me…
He carried on without a pause. I turned around, but he had disappeared into the darkness.
“Are you okay?” Bee asked.
Time seemed to stop. In a single heartbeat, I suddenly held a million words in my mouth, all clamouring over each other. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
I wanted to call the police. I wanted to run after him and demand to know who he was. I wanted to tell Bee about all the times I’d spotted him. But logic screamed at me, and beat my nerves into submission. It was simply co-incidence. He probably just lived around here, and that was why I saw him so much. No different to seeing people from school every day.
And besides, it was Bee’s birthday. I couldn’t ruin it.
I cleared my throat, and pulled a smile onto my face.
“Yeah. Sorry, just cold. Come on.”
Bee hesitated, and I worried I hadn’t managed to convince her. But, to my relief, she didn’t press me. I just needed to get to the cinema, sit down, let the lights fade and allow myself to relax.
In the distance, the stone angel cut a silhouette against the rain. I ignored it, and started humming The Phantom of the Opera under my breath.
Everything was going to be fine.