by Grace, K D
‘That was the plan.’
He stood up, wrapping himself in the top blanket. I stepped back as he swept past me like an impoverished emperor, through the bedroom door and out into the little kitchen cum living-room beyond.
While I stood in the doorway, rubbing my eyes, he opened a kitchen cupboard and took out a half-full bottle and two glasses.
‘Here,’ he said with an imperious gesture. ‘Drink with me.’
I didn’t know what was in that bottle, but it didn’t look like my morning orange juice.
‘At this time in the morning?’ I objected.
‘Yes, why not? Come on.’
‘Just a moment.’ I shut the door on him and switched on the bedroom light, staring at myself in the dresser mirror.
What was going on? What was really going on? And was it going to go on while my hair was sticking up like a static-shocked porcupine?
I pulled a brush through it, had a quick face-splash and tooth-scrub in the tiny en suite bathroom and crossed the threshold to whatever lay in that room with that man.
I sat down on the sofa, as far away from him as possible, picked up the glass of orangey liquid and sniffed. It smelled like fruit on fire.
‘What is this?’
‘Pálinka,’ he said. ‘I think is apricot, maybe plum. Drink, it’s good. I welcome you to Hungary.’
‘Do you?’
‘Yes.’
He raised his glass to me, then threw his pálinka down his throat, gasping with satisfaction once the liquid was despatched.
‘So you’re not angry?’
‘Drink it!’
I took a sip. My lips stung, then my tongue followed suit. I took another and my lungs and stomach lit up.
‘Wow,’ I said.
He laughed. ‘Finish it.’
I tipped the rest down my gullet, the way he had, and let my eyes water and my face burn while it did its nefarious work.
‘Good, huh?’ He smiled, broadly and approvingly, and stretched an arm along the back of the sofa so that his fingers dangled dangerously close to my shoulder.
‘Seriously good. I couldn’t drink another though.’
‘I could.’ He poured himself one, drank it down, then turned back to me. ‘Jodie is your friend?’
‘She’s my cousin. She said the flat would be free for a month, asked me if I wanted to use it.’
‘So she plan this trip to Balaton,’ he mused. ‘Only two days ago we are in bed together.’ He shook his head, his eyes misting tragically.
‘Are you very fond of her?’
‘Fond?’
‘You like her a lot?’
‘Oh no, not really. She is a person with many moods, you know?’
I laughed. ‘Yeah. I know.’
‘But …’ He lifted his hands to wave a curvaceous woman’s outline into the air.
‘She’s hot stuff,’ I translated unnecessarily.
He looked at me with wordless intensity for a moment until I felt uncomfortable and picked up the pálinka bottle, affecting interest in the label.
‘She is OK,’ he said, his voice dropping a notch lower. ‘You are prettier than she.’
I blinked, slightly incredulous that this man appeared to be making a play for me minutes after having his heart broken by Jodie.
‘Thanks. And thanks for the drink but, you know, it’s pretty late and I was hoping for a bit more sleep –’
‘You want go back to bed?’ His voice was all broken and croon-ey. I shivered. His fingers brushed my shoulders and I leapt away.
‘Alone!’ I exclaimed. ‘Back to bed alone!’
He sighed and clasped his hands behind his head. ‘What’s wrong, you don’t think I am attractive?’
‘No. I mean, of course, you’re not bad, but I’m not looking for a man.’
‘You are lesbian?’
‘No.’
‘You don’t like sex?’
‘For God’s sake! None of those things, but I just want to sleep alone.’
‘Ah, you are tired.’
‘Yes! Nail on the head. That’s it exactly. I am tired.’
‘OK. I understand.’ He rose, gathering the blanket back around him. ‘I am tired also. Let’s go to sleep.’
I leapt up, at a loss as to how to make this man understand I didn’t want to share a bed with him.
‘You mean … you are coming into my bed?’
‘It’s my bed,’ he pointed out.
‘Yeah, but … I just …’ I could do no more than gibber while he watched me with an eyebrow cocked.
‘Ó Istenem, you are afraid of me? Fine. I sleep here.’
I looked rather dubiously at the couch, which didn’t seem quite sufficient to accommodate his full length, but he merely waved his blanketed arm towards the bedroom door and ordered, ‘Go!’
There seemed no option but to obey.
Two and a half hours later, I woke to the smell of cooking and the sound of pans clattering. It took my memory a few seconds to catch up with my consciousness and remember the events of recent hours.
That man is still here.
I locked myself in the tiny bathroom and showered for as long as I thought it might take him to go away, thinking over our night-time encounter as I massaged shampoo into my scalp. What a bloody nerve he’d had! He had actually thought I’d be willing to jump right into the role of Jodie’s replacement in bed as well as in the flat. ‘Wanker,’ I muttered to myself. ‘Talk about a brass neck.’ I remembered a line from Jodie’s letter to me. If 15 Hungarian men haven’t tried to pull you within an hour of landing, check that you still have a face. I snorted, wiping lather from my eye. If you want to give a man the brush off tell him quite loudly and precisely that you are pregnant with Chuck Norris’ baby. Subtlety won’t work. I thought of János’ apparent incredulity at my not wanting to hop into the sack with him and snorted again.
By the time I was out of the shower and dressed, the cooking smells were too seductive to resist, the promise of cholesterol drawing me into the other room.
János stood scrambling eggs in a skillet with his back to me. I don’t know when he had collected his clothes – presumably he must have crept into the bedroom while I was sleeping, ugh, freaky – but he was half-dressed in a pair of jeans and a belt and nothing else. He hadn’t heard me come in, so I watched his rear aspect for a moment while he cooked, the shoulder blades flexing and back muscles rippling. He had a tattoo – a bird of some kind – right at the base of his neck where his hair ended in a V-shape of downy brown. I tried very hard not to look at his arse, but it couldn’t be helped. The tightness of it in those jeans needed capturing in the memory to be brought out at a more appropriate time.
He lifted the skillet and tipped the scrambled eggs into first one bowl and then another, so that it sat alongside something else already in there.
Without turning around he said, ‘You like what you see?’
I suppressed my yelp of alarm at having been perceived and tried to retrieve the situation. ‘Scrambled eggs, yeah, lovely.’
‘Not the eggs,’ he said. ‘You are checking out my ass. You like it?’
‘I’m not … nothing of the kind,’ I protested, but it sounded too lame to continue with. Instead, I sidled up to the counter and peered into the bowl. ‘What’s this?’
‘Lecsó,’ he said, but I was none the wiser, so he explained. ‘We like for breakfast. Onions, peppers, tomatoes, cook with sugar and salt and paprika until they are soft. Then we put with eggs, right?’
‘It smells lovely.’
‘Thanks. You sit down. I bring coffee.’
He slid the bowl and a tiny cup of super strength coffee under my nose once I was ensconced at the kitchen table, then he joined me opposite.
‘Healthier than a fry-up,’ I commented, sampling the fare. It was delicious. He was a good cook. I eyed him, all rumpled and tattooed and sinewy and handsome over there. I’d pre-emptively kicked him out of bed. How strange of me.
I remin
ded myself that he was arrogant and entitled. And, what was that other thing? Oh yeah. I was on the rebound. Big style. Stay away, Ruby.
‘Healthy,’ he said, chewing speculatively. ‘Not typical Hungarian food. Much fat.’
‘But there isn’t an ounce of fat on you,’ I said before I could help myself.
‘Ounce?’ But he had understood me, if that devilish smirk was any evidence.
‘You don’t look fat,’ I blethered on.
‘Thanks.’ He took a sip of coffee. ‘You like my body?’
I’d played right into his hands, it was clear.
‘I just meant that you look healthy.’
He leant forward on one elbow, his head low, eyes fixed on mine. ‘I’m healthy,’ he said. ‘You’re healthy. We can be healthy together.’
Whatever he meant by that, it sounded filthy. I guessed he wasn’t offering to introduce me to his gym.
‘Ah … I came here for some alone time,’ I told him, hoping it sounded more convincing to him than it did for me. ‘Time to think.’
He put out a hand and I froze, unable to move, as he brushed a damp curl from my forehead. I hadn’t been able to blow dry my hair, forgetting that Hungarian sockets were different.
‘Your eyes they are sad,’ he said. ‘You have sad thoughts.’
‘I’m fine,’ I said in a high, tense voice. ‘Just want to be left alone.’
To my horror, my throat closed over the food it had just swallowed and my eyes filled with tears.
‘Hey now.’ János was up and around the table in a flash, crouching by my side, sliding an arm around my shoulder, pulling my face against his neck. ‘Hey.’
He felt warm and reassuring, his bare skin with its peppering of hairs bathing me in a strange lulling calm. I squeezed out the stupid tears then let myself be held a few moments longer before muttering, ‘I’m OK,’ into his neck.
‘My lecsó not as good as my mother’s, but is it so bad?’
I made a sound that was half-laugh half-sniff. ‘No, it’s nice.’
‘Like me. I am very nice man. I don’t let sadness happen in my apartment. So you have to be happy, right? What Jodie says – cheer-up-it-might-never-happen.’
He recited it like a mantra and I giggled to hear the words in his dark, Dracula-esque accent.
I lifted my eyes to his. ‘You’re sweet,’ I said. ‘But I’m OK now. I’ll be OK.’
He kept a hand on my shoulder. ‘I don’t know. You want to tell your friend János why you are sad?’
‘No.’ I smiled.
He shrugged and stood up again, patting my shoulder on the way to his full height.
‘Mysterious Ruby,’ he said, wandering over to the french window and flinging it open to stand on the small balcony. ‘Beautiful day,’ he said. ‘It’s a day for the pool.’
I thought it was a day for staring at the ceiling and getting my head together, but I didn’t comment.
‘What you think, Ruby? You come to the pool with me? Or you want I show you all tourist attractions of Budapest. How long you are staying?’
‘As long as it takes,’ I said. ‘Besides, isn’t that up to you? It’s your apartment.’
He turned around, the early morning blue sky and golden sun surrounding his outline.
‘You stay as long as you are happy,’ he said. ‘I have one condition.’
‘Oh?’ I waited to be sexually blackmailed.
‘You come to the pool with me today. You need to feel the sun.’
I leant back on the table, considering this. If I didn’t go to the pool with him, I’d just mope about here brooding and obsessing about stuff. The pool might be nice. Plus, I had to admit I was a bit nervous of spending time in a city so foreign, where I didn’t speak a single syllable of the language. A companion would be a boon. He could teach me a few conversational basics and how to get around.
‘Well, OK,’ I said.
‘Cool.’ He mopped an upward hand through his forest of hair and smiled so that his moustache lifted. ‘You get your things and we go.’
On the yellow tram curving and jangling through the elegant city streets, I asked János about his life.
‘I do things,’ he said vaguely. ‘I have property. I start many businesses but Hungarian economy is bad, you know?’
‘I’d heard. What kind of businesses?’
‘I start a bar, but it fail. Then a restaurant. I think of new ideas, good ideas, but is hard in this city – there is so much rules and paperworks. I want to build stuff, make things good for Budapest.’
‘Budapest is very beautiful,’ I commented, looking out of the window at the Parisian-style boulevards and grandiose architecture. ‘Have you always lived here?’
‘Of course. I can’t live nowhere else. You are from London, like Jodie?’
‘Near London.’
‘And you run away to Budapest.’
I pursed my lips. He had that right. But he didn’t have a right to know. I was saved by the tram bell, as it glided to a halt at the gates of a vast and lushly green park.
‘The pool is in the park?’ I asked, following János into the green oasis. ‘Is it outdoors?’
‘Indoors and outdoors,’ he said. ‘It’s a spa. Water is always warm, even people go there in the snow.’
‘Sounds brilliant! We don’t have many outdoor pools in England.’
‘In Hungary, they are everywhere.’ He smiled down at me and pointed at an amazing building over to the right, like a child’s version of a fairy tale castle. A child whose favourite colour was yellow.
‘It’s there.’
‘No way! That’s a swimming pool?’
‘Come and see.’
Chapter Two
He paid for us both and then we divided to get changed, disappearing into the fairy tale palace, which was spookily dark and old inside.
We met again on the terrace outside, overlooking three vast pools, gorgeously blue-green and already dotted with swimmers at this early hour.
I made an enormous and concerted effort not to look at what might be contained inside János’ trunks. Below them stretched tanned, limber legs while above that same expanse of chest I had admired earlier drew my eyes toward it like a child’s to candy. I kept my gaze valiantly above shoulder level as he strolled over, though actually it was more a swagger than a stroll with a hip-swaying action that threatened to break my resolve and force my eyes downwards.
‘You like to swim?’ he asked once he was within earshot.
For some reason, I thought he’d said “swing” instead of “swim” and I stared at him, mouth flapping, until I realised that my mind was playing insane tricks on me, then I giggled like a goof and said, ‘Oh … yeah.’
He led me into one of the end pools. The water was like a warm bath, comforting, with a saline aroma that made me think of the sea. In the centre, a huge spa bubbled, popular with older swimmers easing their aching joints.
‘Come to the big pool – I race you.’
‘Oh, I’m not a brilliant swimmer.’
‘I let you go first then. Go on. I count to 30, then I follow.’
We spent an hour in races and games which eventually turned a little frisky. I was enjoying myself and this heavenly forgetting of my life so much that I didn’t care when János began splashing me, then trying to duck me or grab various limbs when I tried to get past him. The laughter was infectious and freeing and the sheer exhilaration of indulging in teenage-style horseplay with a handsome man in a beautiful place carried me far beyond my normal reservations.
I found myself held against him, my leg trapped by his, my arm twisted while we writhed together, slippery and steaming, water streaming down our faces. I tried to slither out of his grip, squealing and struggling, but he was so strong and suddenly I felt a bulge in his trunks bumping against my hip, and I turned cold and realised that I was behaving completely inappropriately.
‘Get off, get off,’ I urged, stilling my body so that he might understand that the play-fight
was over. ‘Please, stop.’
He relaxed his grip on me and ducked down, searching my face for a clue as to what might have gone wrong. ‘Hey, you are OK? Is only fun. Do I hurt you?’
‘No, no, I’m fine.’ But my breathing told a different story. I was gasping like a landed fish.
‘Look, come to the spa. Let’s calm.’
The spa soothed my troubled mind and my aching body, but the presence of János at my side prevented me from floating into the bubble-filled blankness I craved.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly, tipping his head back to rest his neck on the marble wall.
‘You don’t have to be sorry. You haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘So what happen? We are have fun and then …’ He clapped his hands. ‘No fun.’
‘For a moment, I forgot to be careful.’
‘Why you want to be careful? You think I get you pregnant, playing game in pool?’
I laughed despite myself.
‘No, is not funny. I try to make you cheer-up-it-might-never-happen and you think I try to murder you.’ His face was like thunder, his lower lip protruding beneath the moustache.
‘Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It just felt for a minute that things were getting out of hand.’
‘Out of hand?’
‘Out of control.’
‘Oh. Me?’
‘No, me. I was losing control of myself.’
He turned to me, lowering his head towards mine. ‘Perhaps you should,’ he said. ‘Too much control can be unhealthy.’
I bit my lip and looked away. I’d heard that somewhere before.
‘I think you must tell me,’ he continued, ‘why you come to Budapest.’
‘I must, must I?’ His imperious tone had lit a spark of amusement in my pyre of gloom.
‘Yes, or I will go mad of not understand you.’
‘You don’t have to understand me!’ But I was smiling. His exaggerated frustration was somehow touching. And could it hurt to talk to someone? Maybe not. I took a deep breath, looked at the old gents playing chess on a floating board at the edge of the pool, turned back to János and said, ‘Two days ago, it was my wedding day.’
János almost shot out of the water, sending waves of consternation over to a gaggle of elderly ladies, who frowned back at him.
