The Exiled (14 page)

‘YES, I REMEMBER THEM.
They got the 12.30 bus to Kanizsa. I’ve seen the man on the bus before.’

Kriska Tamás was a tall, rakish man in his forties who wore his thinning grey hair tied in a ponytail. Ever the young rocker, thought Anna.

‘Has something happened to them?’ he asked, suddenly concerned.

‘The young man stole my handbag, and a while later he was found dead by the river. I don’t know where the girl is, but I have to find her.’

‘She travelled back to Szabadka on Saturday morning.’

‘What?’

‘Yes, I remember it well. It was the first bus of the day. I don’t think there were any other passengers. She looked as though she’d seen a ghost. She went straight to the back seat and curled up so small I couldn’t see her in the mirror. Poor girl.’

‘Where did she get off?’

‘At the bus station in Szabadka.’

‘Was there anyone to meet her?’

‘I don’t remember.’

‘What language did she speak?’

‘I don’t think she said anything at all.’

‘She must have said where she was going when she bought the ticket.’

‘I don’t think she did.’ He frowned as he thought.

‘Did she say Szabadka or Subotica?’ Anna asked impatiently.

‘They’re the same thing. I never pay that any attention.’

‘Try to remember.’

‘I’m trying,’ said the driver, now as impatient as Anna. ‘Yes, I remember. She didn’t say anything, so I asked whether she wanted to go to Szabadka and she nodded. She looked very frightened.’

‘In what way?’

‘She kept looking over her shoulder, wouldn’t look me in the eye. I remember wondering what she might be afraid of.’

‘Did you see which way she came from when she arrived at the bus stop in Kanizsa?’

‘No. She just appeared out of nowhere. Maybe she’d been waiting at the stop for a while.’

‘Thank you for this. Thank you very much.’

‘No problem. Sorry I can’t help you any more than that.’

You’ve already helped me a great deal, she thought. The girl is no longer in Kanizsa. She probably lives in Szabadka; I’ll have to go there and find her. Anna looked at her watch. It would soon be time to go to Judit’s club. After that she would have a few hours to start the search for the girl.

She pulled her phone out and called Réka. She was still in Szabadka and promised to help. She said she knew of a few neighbourhoods where there were lots of Roma. They could start there. They agreed to meet at the bus station in the centre of Szabadka.

THE KANIZSA WARD
of the Vojvodina Roma community met at the municipal library at the intersection of Dajmaniceva and Nikole Tesle. The building was relatively new, complete with beautiful turrets and patterned roof tiles, but Anna didn’t know of anyone here who used the library. Anna had never visited the building herself. She thought she might first look at the selection of books and perhaps borrow some holiday reading, but to her disappointment the loan desk was closed. It was siesta time. From the courtyard, however, there were doors leading into rooms where there seemed to be some kind of activity. A large room belonging to the local folk-dance society echoed with violin music and the stomping of feet, and was full of girls in traditional dresses and boys in white shirts. The door to the pensioners’ clubroom was locked. When Anna finally found the right room, the Romani homework club was already under way.

Judit noticed Anna as soon as she entered.

‘So, you decided to brave the club after all? Welcome!’ said Judit and hugged Anna. She smelled of fresh soap. Her long, black hair flowed across her shoulders and large golden rings dangled from her ears. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a white blouse; she looked very slim and beautiful.

‘It’s nice to be here. Thank you for inviting me,’ said Anna. ‘So, what goes on here?’

‘Schoolchildren come to the club and we help them with their homework. The little ones are already here and the older children will start to arrive in about an hour, when their lessons end. As I said, many of these children’s parents can barely read, so we started up the homework club to help them get the most out of school. Parents are welcome too. We try to teach them about what school can give them; we tell them how important it is to have a routine – to go to school every day, to arrive at classes on time, that kind of thing. We can’t expect children to be motivated about their own
education if their parents don’t understand that they have to go to school every day.’

Judit chuckled blithely, though Anna found the subject very serious.

Some of the children were sitting round a large table, tucking in to a snack, and some were already sitting at small desks, quietly getting on with their homework. A few adults had arrived too. Judit introduced Anna to everyone, and before long she found herself sitting down next to a little girl called Blanka and helping her with a maths problem. The girl was in the second class at school and she was smart. She was quite good at maths, but she seemed to enjoy Anna’s company and attention. Seeming a little proud that this new lady from abroad was suddenly her friend, she began to dally over her homework.

‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ Anna asked the girl once she’d finished her maths questions and her textbook was carefully packed in her large, pink bag.

‘A hairdresser, that would be nice,’ said Blanka.

‘You’re very good at maths. You could become an engineer!’

The girl looked at Anna in bewilderment. ‘What’s that?’

‘There are all kinds of engineers. Some invent machines, others design buildings or roads. You have to be good at maths if you’re an engineer.’

‘Boring. I want to comb long hair and plait it.’

‘I’m sure that will be nice. What does your mum do?’

‘Nothing. Well, I don’t know really.’

‘And your dad?’

‘My dad goes into town every morning. Sometimes he helps out at a restaurant.’

‘Well, what’s most important is to study hard,’ said Anna and immediately felt too teacherly. ‘Then, when you’re grown up, you can do what you want.’

‘We can’t afford to go to school,’ said Blanka with a smile. ‘Can I plait your hair?’

Anna nodded, and the girl gripped her hair, gently but firmly, and began plaiting it. Anna could hear the girl’s concentrated breathing and felt the warm flow of air against her ear, as light as a butterfly. Emotion welled within her. Was this what it would have been like to have a child, a little girl of her own?

When the plait was ready Anna thanked the girl, whose eyes sparkled with pride. Judit stood up from beside another girl and asked Anna outside for a cigarette.

Out in the yard Anna took one of the slim cigarettes Judit offered. They smoked in silence for a moment.

‘Well, what do you think?’ Judit asked eventually.

‘What you do here is so important,’ said Anna and truly meant it.

‘Thank you. It’s not easy, but someone’s got to at least try and do something. We have a festival of Roma culture here too – music, that sort of thing. We held the first festival a few years ago now.’

‘That sounds great,’ said Anna. Putting her cigarette out, she pulled the printed pictures out of her bag. By now they were slightly crumpled. ‘I’ve managed to get some photographs of the man and the girl who stole my bag. Would you look at them and see if you recognise either of them?’

‘Of course.’

Judit scrutinised the dark photographs, enlarged and printed on sheets of paper, then shook her head.

‘I’m afraid I don’t think I’ve seen them.’

‘Are you absolutely sure?’

‘These photographs aren’t very clear, but, yes, I’m sure. I don’t know them. They’re definitely not from round here.’

Something told Anna that the woman was lying. She couldn’t say why she thought this, because Judit looked and sounded utterly convincing. Perhaps that was precisely the reason. She was every bit as convincing as when she’d read Anna’s cards.

Judit handed the photographs back. ‘I have an offer to make you,’ she said.

‘What’s that?’

‘I could sort out a parcel for you. You can use it to … to banish the evil things around you. I’ll prepare it myself. It won’t cost much.’

A fene egye meg
, Anna cursed to herself. Is this what all the premonitions about death and danger were about? Selling her something to trap her demons? No. Enough was enough, not even if Judit was dying of hunger.

‘No, thank you. If you need money, I can give you some without the parcel.’

‘It’s not about the money,’ said Judit, clearly hurt. ‘It’s just I happen to see more than—’

‘No, thank you. Believe me. You do excellent work with these children and for that you have my utmost respect, but I simply don’t believe in any supernatural nonsense.’

‘Very well,’ said Judit and flicked her cigarette to the ground, where it lay smoking at her feet. ‘I have to be getting back. The children are waiting for me.’

‘I hope I haven’t offended you.’

‘Of course not. My cousin is getting married tomorrow here in Kanizsa. Come along, if you fancy.’

‘Even if I don’t buy your parcel?’

Judit laughed lightly. ‘Everyone does as they see fit. Come along, by all means. It’s going to be quite a day.’

ARRIVING IN SZABADKA,
Anna drove around the centre of the town for a short time, searching for a parking space. She found one on a side street some distance from the bus station and walked the rest of the way.

As she approached the station she saw Réka waiting out front in a white summer dress, beauty and happiness shining from her like an angel. Anna stopped for a moment and looked at her friend. I don’t think I could ever radiate that much harmony, she thought. I’ll never achieve anything like that. But perhaps I’ll achieve something else. Something for the greater good, something selfless. Ultimately that’s what my work is all about. Every time I catch a criminal I make the world a slightly safer place for the people around me. Surely that’s a far greater achievement than starting a family? Then she shook her head. Why am I always comparing things? Comparing myself to other people, Finland to Serbia? Stop it, now, Anna instructed herself.

Réka noticed Anna and rushed towards her with a smile and a hug.

‘I’ve done a bit of background work,’ Réka said eagerly. ‘I wrote an article about a Roma family a few years ago. I called them and they’ve agreed to meet us.’

‘That’s great, Réka. Thanks.’

They walked back to the car, the sun beating down from the cloudless sky, and Anna wished she’d put on a dress instead of her sweaty jeans. As they approached the outskirts of town, the houses became smaller and more run-down. The centre of Szabadka was full of buildings in the art nouveau style, but the further out they drove, the more the houses revealed the extent of modern poverty. Nobody could afford to take care of the façades of the buildings, and they had been left to crumble.

‘This is the one,’ said Réka when they arrived at a grey, three-storey concrete block.

They stepped into a stairwell that smelled of urine and where the lights were broken. They walked up to the second floor in the dark
and Réka rang a doorbell. A little girl opened the door, and stared, petrified, at Anna and Réka for a moment before disappearing back into the apartment.

‘Come on in,’ someone called out. ‘Don’t worry about Amanda, she’s terribly shy.’

Anna and Réka stepped into the tobacco-smelling apartment. A plump lady appeared in the hallway, wiping her hands on her apron.

‘Réka,
Isten hozott
! How nice to see you after all this time.’

Reka performed the usual polite greetings and introduced Anna.

‘She’s a police officer from Finland. But her family lives in Kanizsa. We were wondering if you could help us.’

The woman gave Anna a suspicious look but showed them into the kitchen, where a large pot was bubbling on the stove.

Sitting down, Anna let Réka explain.

‘My friend is looking for a little girl and a young man.’

Anna pulled out the photographs and placed them on the table. She instantly saw that that the woman recognised the faces but seemed reluctant to admit it.

‘Why are you looking for them?’

‘The young man was found dead in Kanizsa on Saturday morning,’ said Anna. ‘On the banks of the Tisza. I want to know who he is. And there was a little girl with him that night, at least for part of the time. She’s about ten years old. I’d like to find her.’

The woman looked at Réka and Anna in turn, then back at the photographs. Eventually she came to a decision.

‘Let me make a few calls,’ she said.

The woman went into the living room, if indeed it could be called that – it clearly also served as a bedroom to many people. She made a total of three phone calls. But her low, melodious voice was so quiet that Anna couldn’t quite make out what she was saying.

‘She’ll come up with something soon,’ Réka whispered.

‘I doubt it. They’re going to keep quiet. Mark my words.’

‘No, she’ll tell us something. I’ve got a feeling about it. Call it journalist’s intuition.’

The woman finally returned to the kitchen. Little Amanda peered, smiling, from behind her legs.

‘Would you like some coffee?’ the woman asked.

‘No, thank you.’

The woman looked at Anna, sizing her up, as if she were still wondering whether or not she could trust this strange woman, a police officer at that. Réka gave her a reassuring smile. Eventually she spoke.

‘Lakatos Sándor hasn’t been seen for a few days. He goes to Kanizsa quite often.’

‘Who is Lakatos Sándor?’

‘I don’t know him very well. I knew his parents, but they’ve been dead for years. Poor child.’

‘Where does he live?’

‘Here and there. Last I heard he was staying with a friend. But they haven’t seen him there for a while, though apparently there’s nothing out of the ordinary about that. The boy does as he pleases and doesn’t tell them where he’s going or when he’ll be back.’

‘What about the girl?’

‘Dzsenifer is his little sister. Sándor looks after her.’

Anna and Réka looked at one another. The case had finally taken a step forward, thought Anna. At last something concrete to investigate, to follow up on. Yet still she had a suspicion she was heading into a dead end.

The woman wrote Sándor’s friend’s address on a piece of paper and handed it to Réka. Réka thanked her profusely and gave her a thousand-dinar note. The woman looked content.

‘Don’t hesitate to get in touch if you need any help. You’re good people. I’d be happy to help.’

Out in the yard Anna and Réka waved to the shy little Amanda, who was peeking at them from the living-room window. The figure of Amanda’s mother could be seen further back inside the room. She was speaking on the phone. Anna and Réka got into the car, which, having been parked in the direct sunlight, was now as hot as a sauna.