Csardas (50 page)

Madame Kaldy was not ignorant. She missed nothing. Her sharp eyes watched them, followed them, saw every touch and look between them. The whole of that long summer she made sure they were never alone together, not even for one moment.

When Stefan Tilsky came the tension grew worse. She cared nothing for Stefan, but the admiration in his eyes seemed to raise to burning point her hunger for Felix. During one incredibly hot afternoon, when they were pushing her back and forth on the swing, she forgot which man was which. There were just two male bodies, dark, scented slightly with sweat, and they ceased to be two bodies and became one. She was thrown from one part of this masculine hydra to another and she felt moisture breaking out on her own body, running between her breasts and collecting in a damp strip round her waist. She had a thick red mark on her stomach when she undressed that night.

No one else really existed that summer. She was vaguely aware of Papa, Leo, and Jozsef coming up, but they were all dim, shadowy figures, part of the great dangerous audience before whom the game of hide-and-seek had to be played. The only ones who existed were herself, Felix, Stefan Tilsky, and the dark destructive eyes of her mother-in-law.

Towards the end of the summer Adam suddenly emerged from his work preoccupation and announced that he was going to the autumn agricultural fair in Budapest to buy a tractor. Papa, David Klein, Uncle Alfred, even Felix were all fascinated by the thought of the tractor, but all she could think of was that Adam would be gone and she would be alone—apart from Madame Kaldy and Kati—with Felix. Almost at once began a sparring game between Eva and her mother-in-law.

“Felix must go too,” said Madame Kaldy curtly. “He is the head of this estate, and if we are to invest in machinery he must share in the knowledge and the responsibility. Felix and Adam will go together.”

And so that night she was all smiles and passionate acquiescence to Adam and the next day was able to report that she too would be going to Budapest with her husband and brother-in-law.

Madame Kaldy’s eyes narrowed; then she smiled. “A splendid idea, Eva. A little second honeymoon for my two sons. Kati shall go too. The four of you will be able to go everywhere together.”

“Can we stay at the Bristol?” asked Eva quickly, already thinking how easy it would be to make individual plans in a large hotel, but Amalia—for God’s sake why did Malie always have to be so
kind!
—forestalled her.

“You can have our apartment. There’s plenty of room and the servants will look after you exactly as you wish. We shall be in Vienna until the middle of November.”

“Thank you,” said Eva bleakly. She and Felix wouldn’t have a single chance to be alone together, not even to slip outside and meet in a restaurant for cocktails or coffee. A hotel was impersonal; you could get lost in lounges and dining-rooms and even in corridors travelling from one room to another. In David and Malie’s flat they would be within constant communication, and Malie’s wretched cook and maid would be there all the time, just waiting to gossip.

They packed, the four of them, all pretending that it was going to be great fun—theatres, dancing, the fair—but all she could think of was how hateful it was going to be, sleeping with Adam every night and knowing that Felix was only a few yards away from her.

On the morning of their departure, Aunt Gizi stepped out of bed and collapsed into an insensible heap on the floor. Uncle Alfred arrived at the Kaldy manor just as Felix and Kati were stepping into their motor.

“Kati!” he shouted in terror. “You must come immediately. Your mama is terribly ill. Oh, what are we going to do? What are we going to do?”

His face had turned into a shapeless red blob. He was soggy and frightened. On the way home he recounted seven times how he had heard a thump and gone in to see his wife on the floor. He burst into tears, asking God what he would do if Gizi was taken from him, and finally he turned in fury on Kati because she had not spoken a word. Why was she not crying like a loving and dutiful daughter?

Aunt Gizi was conscious, pale and drawn but still able to snap at Alfred and tell him to be quiet. She lay in bed, a well-organized invalid with smelling salts, brandy, lemonade, and aspirin on the table by her side. The doctor had not been—Uncle Alfred had rushed out of the house forgetting to fetch the doctor—but she said firmly that she was all right and did not wish them to miss their train.

“Please go, my dears,” she said firmly. “I am quite well, and the doctor will prescribe whatever medicine I need.”

“You can’t go now and leave me here when your poor mama is dying!”

“Be quiet, Alfred, do! And stop putting me in my grave before I am dead.”

Alfred started to whimper again, and Gizi, in weak but tolerant affection, waved him away.

“I’ll stay, Mama.” Kati frowned. She had never been called upon to make decisions before, she had always done what Mama had told her to do, but she had seen a glimpse of something unfamiliar in her mother’s face, a passing flash of fear. “I’ll stay. But there’s no need for Felix to stay too. He can go and buy the tractor with Adam.” A small positive voice trying to grow up and do the right thing.

There were protestations, over-concern, promises of a present from Budapest, and then Felix kissed Aunt Gizi’s hand and Kati’s cheek and raced for his motorcar and the station while Kati began to try and calm her father.

Three of them on the train. She hardly dared speak directly to Felix in case Adam should recognize the hunger in her voice. Lunch was brought to them in their first-class carriage and they spoke of poor Aunt Gizi and then of the tractor and of what they would do in Budapest. Finally she sat back and pretended to be asleep, sheltering and brooding behind closed eyes.

They did all the things they were supposed to do in Budapest. They went to the Vigszinhaz Theatre, just strolling distance from the Klein apartment. They walked in Buda. They visited the fair. Every night they went out to dine, sometimes just the three of them, sometimes with business people whom Adam had met during the day. Afterwards, with coffee and
barack
inside them, they would go back to the luxurious apartment on Pannonia Street and there Felix and she would drag the evening on, drinking, talking, not wanting to go to bed, forcing Adam to stay awake and join in their strained festivities. It grew worse. The tension grew worse; how could Adam not sense it, smell it, hear it in their voices every time they spoke to one another? She knew something must happen; the control between the three of them was only just holding.

Right in the middle of the fair, just after breakfast one morning, Adam received a telegram. He read it, looked vaguely irritated, and then, not knowing what turmoil he was causing, said casually, “It is really quite incredible how incompetent even the most worthy overseer is. I only have to stay away for a few days and there is an emergency in the grain shed. Someone has been stealing grain and Rigo does not know what to do. I shall have to go, I suppose; the telegram is quite hysterical.” He studied his watch, then snapped it shut and replaced it in his pocket.

How could he not hear the noise her heart was making? She swallowed and coughed. “Do you have to go, Adam? Can’t it wait until we all get back?”

“You know what Rigo is. If I leave it he will have the county militia rounding up every gypsy and migrant in the area. It’s sure to be one of our own men anyway. No, it’s a nuisance but I don’t see what else I can do.”

“Shall we come back with you?” she asked brightly.

“No need. I must return tonight to arrange the tractor payment. We have to buy some other things too; I’ve been thinking about new stock. Felix, you go along to the fair today and see if you can charm a bigger discount out of Roth.”

“Yes.”

“You’ll be all right, won’t you, Eva? Felix can take you shopping or something this afternoon.”

“Yes, I’ll be all right.”

“Must hurry now. Get a cab, Felix, there’s a good fellow.”

Felix, not looking at her, jumped from his chair and left the room. Adam picked up some papers and bundled them into a satchel. He kissed her peremptorily on the cheek and rushed out. A few moments later Felix returned. He sat down, watching her make patterns in the sugar with a spoon. She tried to say something, couldn’t, looked at him, and saw he was smiling. “Oh, Felix!” she choked, and then the door opened and the girl came in to clear away the breakfast.

“Shall we go to the fair?” asked Felix. She nodded and went into the bedroom to get ready.

Strolling arm in arm with Felix through the fair she was able to delude herself into a dream of what-might-have-been. If they had married, this was the way it would have been—such a smart, stylish couple, the women envying her both her looks and her man, the men smiling appreciatively. This is how it would have been if only she was Mrs. Felix Kaldy and not Mrs. Adam. They took the tractor manufacturer to lunch. It was a long, protracted lunch which she enjoyed at first because both men made much of her. But the coffee dragged on and on and Felix appeared to be taking Adam’s instructions about discussing terms seriously. She began to fidget. Surely he appreciated that this was the one day they could be alone together. He could haggle with Roth any time but please, Felix, don’t waste this precious day we have.

She lit cigarette after cigarette, powdered her nose and reapplied her lipstick. Irritation turned to anguish. It was vanishing, the beautiful long day was vanishing and at the end of it they would have nothing to show except a beastly percentage on a tractor. She could hardly stop herself from crying and when, just before four o’clock, they finally rose from the table, she was too ill to feel happy any longer. They said good-bye to Mr. Roth and then stood waiting for a cab.

“Are you all right, Eva? You look pale.”

“How could you?” She turned on him, furious. “How could you waste our day on that horrible man! We could have gone to Margaret Island and had lunch at the Grand, or—oh, we could have gone up into the hills. Anything, we could have done anything. But you’ve wasted it all talking to that horrible man about a tractor.” She was sobbing, and Felix, looking slightly embarrassed, began to walk her along the pavement.

“My darling Eva. I had no idea it would take so long. I had to do it, didn’t I? I promised Adam I’d help if I could. And after all it is because of Adam’s beastly tractor that we’re here, you and I, having a lovely time in Budapest.”

“I’m not having a lovely time. It’s been hideous!”

“It won’t be hideous any more. We’ll do something exciting now. Shall we go dancing? There’s sure to be a tea dance somewhere.”

“Where?” she asked, mollified.

“Oh, the Bristol perhaps. We’ll go and see. We’ve still hours before Adam comes back. We can do whatever you like.”

Dancing was better than nothing. They could dance forgetting Adam, oblivious of everything except each other. But it wasn’t enough, it only made things worse. Pressed together on the tiny dance floor, her body became an agony and she tried desperately to think of a way they could return to the flat and get rid of the servants. This was the hour when they settled with their friends in the kitchen of the apartment. She’d heard them on other afternoons, giving their permanent tea party. She wanted to go back and be alone with Felix. For years she had wanted to be alone with Felix, and now they had the opportunity it was vanishing because of petty irritations that should have been swept aside. She was aware of annoyance. Surely a man of the world knew how to handle these things. She was a well-brought-up girl, a respectable wife who was prepared to break all the teachings of her background and commit adultery with the man she loved. Surely the very least he could have done was arrange it properly. What did other people do?

“Come on, Eva darling. You’re all strung up. Let’s go and have a cocktail.”

That was better. In a quiet corner, softly lit, her anguish abated. Felix sat with his arm loosely around her waist and began to talk.

“It’s so marvellous with you, Eva,” he said wistfully. “Everything is better, more fun, alive. Thank God you live in the country too. Sometimes I think I couldn’t bear it if you weren’t living near me.”

“I feel that way too. I only married Adam to be near you.”

“Eva darling!” He snatched her hand from the table and kissed it. “You’ve no idea how I hate being married to Kati. Oh, she isn’t a nuisance or anything, but does she look like my wife? Can you imagine how I feel? Every time you walk in the room, Kati seems even worse than she is. You’re so bright and beautiful. You’re like quicksilver when you come into a room. I hate ugly things. I can’t help it and I’m sorry for Kati. But I can’t bear ugly things and I hate being married to her.”

“Felix!” She squeezed his hand. The desire had momentarily left her aching limbs and now, helped by the cocktails, she was warm, filled with love and happiness at his declaration.

“You’re the only good thing in my life, Eva. Sometimes I think you really are the only one who understands me. Oh, Mama loves me, of course... too much. And Adam is fond of me. But you and I are the same. We think alike, feel alike.”

“Oh, yes, we do,” she breathed. “Felix... why did you marry Kati like that? Why?”

“There was no choice, Eva. You know that.”

He looked so beautiful in the soft light. Age had given him a style that made him even more attractive. The face was still smooth and well-shaped, but now there was a small network of lines at the corners of his eyes. When he smiled they crinkled into bewitching maturity.

“My poor Felix.” She squeezed his hand, then, greatly daring, kissed him softly on the cheek. Felix stared down into his drink, twisting the glass on its stem.

“We wanted the house back, Mama and I. And it seemed the only way. But sometimes I think the price was too much: my whole future for the Kaldy estate. It was too much.”

She wasn’t listening, not to the words, only to the meaning. Felix was unhappy because he had Kati, not her. She was unhappy too, but not at this particular moment. She was pleasantly drunk, and Felix had declared his love for her. Somehow, sometime, they would be together. It was impossible for two people to love as much as she and Felix did and not be together.