Lunch with the Stationmaster

by Derek Hansen

  Over the following days Milos kept to himself. As much as he hated leaving Gabriella with Tibor, he couldn’t bear the humiliation of being in their company. He felt neglected and, worse, irrelevant. When Andras suggested he use a break in the weather to deliver the last of their Christmas orders, he didn’t hesitate to drag out the cart and do his rounds of the butchers. Under normal circumstances this was a time-consuming process because he had to go from butcher to butcher to extract the best deal. But they barely had enough pigs to satisfy demand and all the negotiations had been done in advance. Milos had played the salesman, now it was time to play delivery boy.

  He returned tired and cold in the mid-afternoon, as the brief grey day was giving way to night. He went straight into the barn to scrub out the cart so that it would be clean for the next delivery. His customers were quick to notice any unpleasant odours and he didn’t want to give them any opportunity to demand a reduction in price. The mare was missing and its absence puzzled him until he remembered that Andras had planned to take Aunt Klari over to see Aunt Jutka before more snow fell. He scrubbed out the cart and lined it with clean straw. Before leaving the barn he put feed in the trough for the mare and lit a lantern, hanging it over the entrance for Andras.

  He kicked off his boots at the back door to the cottage and entered. The fire cast a dull glow but apart from that there was no other light, no lanterns lit. Milos frowned, puzzled. He shook the snow off his coat and hung it up. His first thought was that Tibor must be feeling stronger and so Gabriella had accompanied Aunt Klari and Andras to Aunt Jutka’s. There seemed no other explanation. He decided to check on Tibor before putting the kettle over the fire for coffee. He lit a lantern and stepped straight into the bedroom.

  Gabriella’s head shot up from the pillow. Her face was flushed and shiny as she turned towards him. The bed covers fell from her shoulder and Milos could see enough to realise she’d removed her outer clothes and was wearing only her underwear.

  ‘Hello, little brother,’ said Tibor. His face had the condescending smile Milos had grown up loathing and in his voice there was the familiar note of triumph.

  ‘Gabi?’ said Milos. He stared at her, stunned with disbelief, seeking a simple, innocent explanation. But the shame and guilt on her face belied his hopes. It tore his heart apart. In days gone by he would have run from the bedroom, fled from the scene of yet another humiliating defeat. He lowered the lantern and averted his eyes. ‘Get dressed,’ he said. He left them and retreated hurt and bewildered to his loft in the barn.

  Milos slumped down on the end of his bed with his head in his hands. The shock had passed and now the full import of what had happened hit home. The thing he’d most dreaded had occurred. His dream was over. Crushed. Gone. He’d lost Gabriella and the realisation was devastating. Tibor had returned and made good his threat. He tried to replay the scene in his head, desperate to find the simple explanation that meant his plans, his future, his life, were still intact. But his mind was too numb to obey. He was dimly aware of the cottage’s back door slamming shut and the barn door opening.

  ‘Nothing happened!’

  Her voice was shrill, desperate.

  ‘Nothing happened! I just got into his bed to keep warm!’

  Milos closed his eyes and lay back, pulling his pillow over his head.

  ‘Nothing happened! I fell asleep, that’s all!’ She stood on the barn floor calling up to him. Milos waited for her to climb the ladder so she could sit beside him and he could look into her eyes for the truth. But she denied him the opportunity. There was no scrape of feet on the rungs, no sense of her voice coming closer.

  ‘Milos, I know you’re up there. Nothing happened! I just fell asleep. Say something!’

  But for the life of him Milos couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Gabriella left the barn crying.

  ‘That’s what happened,’ said Istvan. ‘That’s how the Jew killed Sandor. He intended to drag his body in front of the train and drop it there but he misjudged things.’

  Istvan’s father stared into his glass of barack. He lifted his head and slowly focused on Istvan. His lips curled into a snarl.

  ‘The Jew killed Sandor and for that you must kill him. But it was your fault that Sandor was there in the first place. Your fault that your brother was killed, you understand? You, with all your big ideas, it was your fault! Five years, you said, then Sandor will come home. I should never have listened to you. Who will look after the farm now when I can no longer work? You tell me, who?’

  Istvan ignored the outburst. He’d been expecting it ever since Major Bogati had granted him leave to go home for Christmas. If Sandor hadn’t been killed he would have happily stayed in Budapest. But his parents deserved to be told the circumstances of his brother’s death and they also deserved what little comfort he could offer.

  ‘Soon running the farm will not be your problem. All the farms around here are being collectivised. This farm will become part of a bigger farm. Everyone will share equally in the proceeds.’

  ‘Huh!’ said his father. ‘First I lose my son and now you tell me I will lose my farm! How will we buy food?’

  Istvan sighed. Gyorgy hadn’t done a day’s work for months and there was little likelihood of him doing any in the future. His father complained ceaselessly about his back, but the truth was, ever since Istvan had begun extorting money from the Jews, he’d made life too easy for him. His father had become an alcoholic. Whether the farm was collectivised or not, the family would still depend on the money Istvan sent home from Budapest. Only his mother and sister were upset by Sandor’s death. His grandparents seemed oblivious to everything and were simply waiting to die themselves.

  His mother was stoic and accustomed to life disappointing. Doubtless she grieved but her grief was swallowed up by her weariness, to be hauled out and suffered only when time and her demanding husband permitted. His sister fared little better. She was weepy and also worn out and clearly wary of their father. Istvan could easily imagine the despair and drudgery of her life. It offered little hope or prospect of betterment. She was a dull child and at best could be described as plain. One day she would exchange her tyrannical father for a tyrannical husband and her life would continue unchanged. He hoped that, even for a brief time, her husband would love her and make a fuss of her so she could feel what it was like to be worth something. Everybody deserved that at least once in their life.

  It seemed to Istvan that only he truly grieved for Sandor. He’d been more of a father to him than a brother. He’d made sure Sandor always had enough to eat, clothes to wear, boots, and had looked out for him at school. Yes, he’d got him into the AVO and given him a chance at life, at living. He’d got him away from the farm and his father. And yes, in the end his good intentions had got Sandor killed. He could recall every moment of when Major Bogati had broken the news to him, still felt the bitterness and anger and hatred for Tibor Heyman.

  ‘When we catch him, we will give him to you,’ Major Bogati had promised. But they hadn’t caught him and Istvan hadn’t exacted his revenge.

  ‘The Jew’s brother, he’s still here,’ said his father, interrupting his thoughts.

  ‘I know,’ said Istvan. ‘I intend to question him.’

  ‘He’s living with one of the doctor’s daughters. You remember Dr Horvath? He treated my back once when it was really bad. He was the only one who did it any good. Sometimes I think we killed too many Jews. We should have been more selective. They make good doctors.’ Gyorgy took another sip of his fiery medicine. ‘Do you think the Jew might be hiding with his brother?’

  ‘Anything is possible but I don’t think so. We know he intended to flee to the West. We recovered the false identity papers he intended to use but we were unable to discover who was taking him over the border or where. The Greens, the AVO border guards, went on alert but Tibor either slipped through the net or he’s still here. We think he slipped through the net.’

  ‘So why go see his brother?’


  ‘Just in case he didn’t.’

  Istvan was tempted to visit Milos on Christmas Day. He reasoned that since both brothers had converted to Christianity, if there was one day they would all try to be together, that would be it. But was Tibor enough of a Christian? He doubted it. Tibor wasn’t the kind to put his faith in anyone or anything other than himself. Nevertheless, Milos would not be expecting a visit from the AVO on Christmas Day, even one in an unofficial capacity. Milos would have his guard down and perhaps even be a little drunk. It was a combination that appealed to Istvan. But the uncertain weather and the depth and wetness of the snow discouraged him. The chances of discovering anything worthwhile were remote and not worth the discomfort. He considered the merits of waiting a few days until the weather cleared.

  By the time Christmas Eve arrived, Tibor had become accustomed to holding court. It was as though he was impervious to the tensions that had everyone else on edge. Milos ignored him while Gabriella defiantly tended to his needs, hung on his every word and laughed too loudly at his jokes. Tibor stayed in bed while the tree was decorated and the Christmas feast was prepared, then persuaded Milos and Andras to carry him to the table where he managed to sit, propped up by cushions.

  ‘I only turned Catholic so I could have Christmas dinner,’ he said.

  ‘Rubbish,’ said Milos curtly. ‘Dad always insisted on celebrating Christmas.’

  Gabriella chose a chair beside Tibor so she could cut up his pieces of roast pork and goose. Milos didn’t object. He and Gabriella had hardly exchanged a word in the two days since he’d found her in bed with Tibor. But for his brother, there was every possibility that the meal would have passed in silence.

  ‘The stupidity of the Russians has to be seen to be believed,’ said Tibor. ‘You know how Russian soldiers love watches. Well, they love clocks more. They’re bigger, you see. I heard this story in Budapest — a true story — about a Russian soldier who walked into a watchmaker’s with his arms full of watches. He threw them all down on the counter. “Make clock!” he said.’

  Milos did his best to join in the laughter, if only for the sake of Aunt Klari and Andras, but saw through the humour to his brother’s serious intent. He’d competed against his brother all his life and Tibor’s motives were as plain to him as his own. Tibor hadn’t come home to take Gabriella from him but because he was badly wounded and needed a place to rest. But once home, he’d seized the opportunity to press his claim on her. Being caught in bed with Gabriella had been a setback, that was all. The campaign continued. Of that Milos had no doubt. The jokes and stories were all part of a process designed to enchant her and enhance his prospects.

  Tibor enthralled them with his tales of daring, about how he had hijacked trains and stolen entire shipments of coal and wheat. He told them about his meetings with the crime bosses, how dismissive they were of him because of his age, but how they queued up for his coal. He told them about his one last job and his betrayal by one of Benke’s men.

  ‘But for him I would now be in the West somewhere. Maybe America. Once I’d got myself established I was going to send for you and Milos. I had the money and contacts to ensure a safe passage over the border. Then I intended to give you something, Gabi. A little present. A present to mark the beginning of a new life for you.’

  ‘What?’ asked Gabriella, clearly intrigued.

  ‘See for yourself. I have decided to make it your Christmas present instead. I think it is a perfect and appropriate gift. I sincerely hope you will agree.’ He reached into his pocket and held a closed fist in front of Gabriella. ‘Hold your hands out and I will drop my present into them.’

  ‘What is it?’ Gabriella began to giggle.

  Aunt Klari and Andras craned forward in anticipation, perched on the edge of their seats. Milos’s heart sank. Tibor made the gesture seem spontaneous but Milos could see how he’d carefully led up to the moment. Gabriella thought it was another of Tibor’s jokes, but Milos knew better. His worst fears were realised when Tibor opened his fist. A diamond dropped into Gabriella’s hands.

  ‘Oh!’ said Gabriella. She stared at the diamond in disbelief. It was nearly the size of a pea and cut and polished so that it sparkled from every angle. Milos’s heart almost stopped beating. He was accustomed to Tibor’s surprises but not even he had anticipated this. It was a diamond for an engagement ring, the kind of gift a man gives to a woman he intends to marry. He wondered how long it would take Gabriella to realise its significance. And, more importantly, how she would respond. He avoided looking at Aunt Klari. She had recovered quickly and was glancing uneasily at him. She too had no doubt what Tibor’s gift was intended to convey. Andras simply looked away, either tactfully or from embarrassment.

  Only Milos had any inkling of the truth. He realised that Tibor was once again demonstrating his genius for opportunism. The diamond had not been intended for Gabriella at all but to finance his future in the West. But how could Milos convey this to Gabriella?

  ‘I can’t accept this,’ said Gabriella, but she couldn’t drag her eyes away. The diamond was simply too beautiful, too radiant and too special.

  ‘Of course you can,’ said Tibor easily. ‘It’s for all the gifts I didn’t give you. While you were in the camps. While I was in Budapest. It’s for every birthday I missed. For every Christmas. For our everlasting love.’

  Gabriella rose and embraced Tibor, her eyes moist.

  ‘Thank you, Tibor,’ she said. ‘It is the most beautiful and precious gift, but I really can’t accept it. You have always given me the most wonderful presents. I still remember the record you gave me on my twelfth birthday — “Sophisticated Lady”, Duke Ellington.’

  Yes, thought Milos, but it was my gift you clung to when the Germans took you away. He cast his mind back to Gabriella’s birthday, a lifetime ago, when he’d presented Gabriella with Peter Pan and Wendy and been thoroughly upstaged. Recalling that moment suddenly opened Milos’s eyes to the opportunity he’d been given. Amazingly, his brother had blundered. For the first time in as long as Milos could remember, Tibor had made a tactical error. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small package.

  ‘Keep it for now,’ Milos heard Tibor say. ‘We can discuss it later.’ Gabriella’s fist closed around the diamond.

  ‘Gabi?’

  Gabriella turned and looked at Milos suspiciously.

  ‘I too have a present for you, Gabi. Do you think you could accept it?’

  ‘Of course!’ said Gabriella. She gave Milos a tentative smile. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s not a diamond, Gabi, but I think in its own way it is more precious.’

  Gabriella smiled encouragingly.

  Milos was aware of Tibor watching him closely. For once his brother didn’t look so insufferably sure of himself.

  ‘It’s not a diamond,’ Milos repeated, ‘but it’s given twice over with more love than you can ever imagine.’

  Gabriella blushed.

  ‘In truth, it is not just a gift from me but from Aunt Klari, Andras and someone else very special to you.’

  ‘From us too?’ Aunt Klari’s face creased into a delighted smile.

  ‘Yes, from you too. You see, Aunt Klari, I used the proceeds from the sale of one of our pigs to buy Gabi’s Christmas present. It happened some months ago. This gift is equally from you and Andras. I hope you approve.’

  ‘We already do, whatever it is,’ said Aunt Klari. ‘Of course we approve.’

  ‘More precious than a diamond?’ said Andras. ‘I want to see this.’

  ‘Merry Christmas, Gabi.’ Milos handed Gabriella the parcel. It was wrapped in red paper and tied with a silver ribbon. He kissed her on both cheeks.

  ‘Thank you, Milos. I really can’t imagine what it might be.’ She turned and kissed both Aunt Klari and Andras. ‘Something I have seen before?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And who is the someone else very special to me?’

  ‘You’ll know.’

  Gabriella unwrapped t
he paper and held the small flat box in her hand. She hesitated, her face shining like it had years earlier when he had handed her the book.

  ‘Go on,’ said Milos, ‘open it.’

  ‘More precious than a diamond? What could it be? Look! My hands are shaking.’

  ‘Open it.’

  Gabriella gently prised open the lid.

  ‘Oh my God! I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it!’ Tears flooded her eyes and ran uncontrollably down her cheeks.

  ‘What is it? What is it?’ begged Aunt Klari.

  ‘Oh, Milos, thank you! Thank you! How did you find it? How can I ever thank you enough?’ Gabriella gave up trying to stifle her sobs and threw her arms around him, clinging to him more tightly than she had even during her worst nightmare. She cried unashamedly.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Aunt Klari again, her voice shrill.

  ‘A gold bracelet,’ Milos said matter-of-factly. ‘The one her father gave her on her twelfth birthday.’

  Aunt Klari’s hands rose to her mouth in amazement and delight. Tears welled in her eyes and her chest swelled with pride to have been part of the giving of such a precious gift. ‘Her bracelet? You found her bracelet?’

  ‘Where?’ asked Andras.

  Like Aunt Klari, he was beaming from ear to ear. Tibor had bid a diamond, laid it on the table and been trumped. Andras was as proud of Milos as any father could be of a favourite son. Milos just shrugged. What did it matter where he had found it? The fact was, he’d found it. How would knowing it came from a butcher’s shop enhance the moment?

  ‘Well done, little brother.’ Tibor gave Milos a wry smile and a nod that spoke volumes. It was a salute, an acknowledgement, an acceptance of defeat. ‘Perhaps you should have the diamond set in a ring to celebrate your betrothal.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Milos graciously. Over my dead body, he thought.

  That night Gabriella joined Milos in the barn. If Tibor had needed any further proof of where Gabriella’s true affections lay, her decision to spend the night with Milos provided it. When they returned to the house the next morning, they found Tibor dressed and lying on his bed.