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got a glimpse of István lying on the
dining-room table, looking like an eleven stone steak. Elek was next to him
with one of his old army chums, Krudy, a doctor who was taking instruments out
of a black bag. Gyuri knew, although he knew that he shouldn’t know, that Krudy
had made a fortune out of pussy, angel-making (conducting abortions) and
reconstituting hymens to produce born-again virgins for the best families in
Budapest. Just before Elek shut the door in his face, István, who had somehow
noticed Gyuri standing there, shouted: ‘Sorry, I didn’t bring you back anything
this time.’
    When Kálmán returned with another officer, Gyuri was still
floating around outside the dining-room. ‘We couldn’t find any anaesthetic,’ he
said undoing his uniform, ‘this is going to take a long time. He’s got more
metal in him than a cash register.’ During the intermissions in the surgery
Gyuri learned from Kálmán that he had found out that morning that István’s unit
had been strafed by Russian planes near Godolo, just outside Budapest. Kálmán
had phoned Elek and they had gone out to search for István. It was a good
thing, Gyuri realised, that his mother was away in the countryside getting
supplies, otherwise Elek would be taking full responsibility for the Second
World War.
    Much later, Krudy came out: ‘Now we can start worrying about
the Russians.’
    * * *
    In some ways István had been very lucky. They put him on the
last train to get out of Budapest, moments before the Russians completely
encircled the city. He didn’t have to spend six weeks in a cellar while the
Russians and Germans argued over Budapest.
    There were some consolations to living in a cellar, first-floor Noemi who had been unrequiting Gyuri’s love for some time was forced into
proximity with him. But the diet of tedium, unwashedness and intermittent
horsemeat was hard to take. It was also hard to think well of anyone with whom
you had spent six weeks in a cellar. The only person to come out of the cellar
episode with any credit was Mrs Molnár, venomous in peacetime but now that war
had expunged the basis of her displeasure with society – namely the lead
everyone else had in such fields as youth, pleasure and more expensive
patisserie – sparked cheer and encouragement. Pataki had a huge supply of books
and seemed content with the opportunity for a good read. Elek had sat stoically
smoking cigarettes for as long as there were cigarettes. After that, he just
sat stoically.
    It was not long after Noemi had complained about not having
washed in recent history, that the bleak observation of old Fitos, the head
pessimist in a cellar strong in pessimistic competition, ‘Cheer up, when you
think things have become unbearable, they are going to get worse’, came true.
The Russians made their way into the cellar.
    Depending on how drunk they were, they either removed the
women to some separate room or they did it on the spot. They were fair. They
didn’t just rape the young and attractive women but distributed the violations
equally. It was a day when Gyuri was glad that he didn’t own a vagina.
    The Russians took anything of value, anything portable;
Gyuri even noticed one eyeing the huge boiler greedily.
    Elek negotiated with them in German, as far as circumstances
and linguistic abilities allowed. This rather boiled down to Elek translating
the Ivans’ request for booty. The legendary fondness of the Red Army for
wristwatches proved to be well-founded: everyone, including Elek, lost their
timepiece.
    The Russians left bouncily, doubtless feeling the cellar at
number ten had been well worth the visit. Gyuri hadn’t been upset or concerned
about his mother’s jewels or Elek’s watch; after all, Elek could buy replacements after the war.
However, he was glad he had hidden his own wristwatch, a large Swiss model with
so many dials he couldn’t remember what they were all for, around his right
ankle, beneath the protection of a thick