She pauses for a moment, collecting herself. ‘Listen. When Giovanni left, he told me that I should come to him. I know where he lives, and if I had money, I could get there. He can’t afford to send me money, not as much as I would need, and the only way I’m going to get hold of as much money as I need is if Károly’s dead. I have jewellery that my grandmother left me, but Károly has it locked up, and he keeps the key with him at all times. I’ll never get it off him while he’s alive.’
‘If you’re so keen to kill him,’ Sari says slowly, ‘I don’t see why you necessarily need me. Especially if you’re going to kill him and run.’
‘Sari, the way you did it with Ferenc, you made it look like he just got ill and died. Yes, maybe some of us were suspicious, but there was no proof. As satisfying as it would be to bury the fire axe in Károly’s head, if I did that and ran, people would think I was a madwoman, and they’d be swarming over the countryside looking for me. If I did it your way – well, everyone around here knows what Károly’s like. I used to hate that, but now I realise it can work in my favour. If it were anyone else, perhaps people would be suspicious, but with me, if Károly got ill and died, who would blame me for taking what I could and leaving as soon as possible? Everyone knows he’s been a bad husband to me, and it’s not as if he has family left to make a big fuss about his death. I’ve thought about it, Sari. I can do this. It’s possible. But I need you.’
Sari listens to Anna, and she’s almost convinced. Almost. Poor Anna, she’s in the same situation Sari was in a few months back, and what would Sari have done if Judit hadn’t been there to help her? But no. It’s impossible. She can’t possibly do it.
‘I’ve already got two deaths on my conscience, Anna. I can’t add a third. I’m sorry.’
Anna bites her lip, looking as if the last thing she wants to say is what she’s about to. ‘You’ll have three deaths on your conscience, either way. If you don’t help me, if I stay with him, he’ll kill me before long, or I’ll kill myself. You know it happens, Sari. I can’t stay with him.’
‘That’s not fair. It’s not fair of you to say that.’
‘Nothing is fair. Damn it, Sari, I’m just trying to survive. That’s all.’
Silence falls. Anna seems to realise that she’s pushed her persuasive powers to the limit, and that if that hasn’t persuaded Sari then nothing will. Sari, meanwhile – she’s smarting, she’s shocked and horrified and sick, but what would you have done if Judit hadn’t helped you? she thinks. What would you have done? And she finds that she can’t get that thought out of her head.
‘I didn’t curse him, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ she says abruptly. ‘Nothing that easy. I poisoned him. You’d have to do it yourself, put stuff in his food. It’s not quite as bad as – I don’t know, as hacking him to death with a hatchet – but you’re still doing it. It’s not fun to watch. You’d have to be sure you could do that.’
‘Sari,’ Anna looks up at her, eyes shining with an uncomfortable mixture of fanaticism and exultation, ‘it would be a pleasure. Every step of the way.’
‘I haven’t decided,’ Sari adds quickly. ‘I’m not definitely going to help you. But – just come back tomorrow. Same time, if you can. I need to think about it.’
Anna just looks at Sari for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to say anything further, but then nods and stands up. ‘All right,’ she says. ‘I’ll try to come back tomorrow. But I’d better get home now.’
‘Forgive me,’ Sari says, indicating her swollen belly, ‘if I don’t see you out. This makes it rather difficult for me to get up, you know.’
Anna grins – the first genuine smile Sari’s seen from her in a long while. ‘Of course.’ She walks to the door, and then stops, one hand on the latch. ‘I just want you to know,’ she says, turning back to Sari, ‘that I’m not blackmailing you. If you don’t help me, I’m not going to be happy, but I won’t tell anyone about Ferenc. I don’t want you to think I’d do that to you, or to your baby.’
‘Thank you,’ Sari says, and means it. Anna’s kindness is the strongest weapon in her arsenal; it makes sense that she should have saved it for last.
CHAPTER TWENTY
It’s curious, Sari thinks, how easy it is to become a murderer. Of course she’s going to help Anna. Despite her doubts, it was inevitable from the moment that Anna asked her, but this is different from the way it was with Ferenc. Károly, despicable as Sari knows him to be, has never harmed her personally, and she can’t possibly claim that she’s fighting for her own survival in the way that she was with Ferenc. It’s a sort of remote type of murder, as she’s not the one directly doing the killing, and she’s not the one who has directly been wronged, and in her mind she likens it to a war, where it becomes acceptable to kill people you’ve never met, because they mean harm to your country and your loved ones. In this war, Sari and Anna are definitely on the same side.
She talks it over with Judit once Anna is safely gone, and Judit’s response is predictably dispassionate.
‘You know I couldn’t care less about morality,’ she says, ‘and even if I did, I’d probably make an exception for that bastard Károly, who certainly doesn’t deserve to live. If you want to help Anna, you should go ahead – and she’s right, you know, this sort of thing has been going on for years. It’s nothing new. The only thing that concerns me is the possibility of you coming to harm through this. One mysterious illness in a village can be explained away, but another, particularly if it’s the husband of someone as closely connected with you as Anna, is liable to arouse suspicion. I don’t care about me – I’ve lived more than long enough; I could die tomorrow with no regrets. But I don’t want this all to come crashing down on you.’
Sari doesn’t want that either. She knows it’s a risk, but the more she thinks about it, the more she feels that she can’t possibly abandon Anna to her fate. Besides, killing Károly is not as much of a risk as it could be: Anna is right, he is hardly the best-liked person in the village. People are generally fond of Anna, and aware of the way that Károly treats her, and he has no close family to love him despite his considerable flaws. In a lot of ways, it’s a far safer bet than Ferenc was, and that turned out all right …
‘I’m going to help her,’ Sari says to Judit, who grins and shrugs in return.
‘I thought you would. Well, let’s get to it.’
‘I’ve still got some of that stuff left, from Ferenc…’
‘Can’t hurt to make some more, though. Who knows who might be needing it yet? This could turn into quite a little business, Sari!’
Although Judit is joking (or at least Sari thinks she is), Sari can’t help thinking about those words. She keeps crossing lines. With killing Ferenc, she crossed a line that most people refuse to cross, and since then, any lingering belief she may have once had in salvation has gone, making it so much easier to cross the next line. Would she keep going with this? She doesn’t think so, but there’s a part of herself that asks why it actually matters any more.
Anna doesn’t come back the next day. She’s at the whim of Károly’s plans, Sari knows. She wouldn’t be able to come without either a watertight excuse, or without his knowledge, but still, she can’t help worrying that Károly may have somehow got wind of their conversation yesterday, and preempted things. It’s entertaining that possibility that eliminates any last doubts that she may have had. If she has to have another death on her conscience, she would infinitely rather it be Károly’s than Anna’s.
She’s there the next morning, though, grimacing as she walks through the door.
‘Sorry about yesterday, he wouldn’t—’
‘It’s all right. You’re here now.’
Sari shoots a significant glance over towards Judit, who draws a long-suffering sigh and hauls herself to her feet, heading for the garden. Sari’s sure that Anna knows that Judit’s probably in on whatever’s going on, but Anna’s never been totally comfortable around Judit – few people are, given her ace
rbic nature – and so Anna is likely to feel more comfortable discussing matters as delicate as murdering one’s husband with Sari alone.
Sari can’t quite help imitating Judit when she places the bowl of powder in front of Anna. She’s alarmed to find that she gets a strange sort of excitement from helping Anna do this; delicately prodding her conscience, she finds that guilt is nowhere to be found. No point worrying about that now; if there is a hell, she’s already hell-bound, after all, and she imagines being unrepentant for two murders is not much worse than being unrepentant for one.
She explains to Anna how the innocuous looking powder works, and all the while, Anna is silent, wide-eyed, as if only now getting to grips with the reality of what she is planning. When she’s reached the end of a word-for-word recital of the instructions that Judit gave her, she sits back and eyes Anna critically. Anna doesn’t look back, as she is still gazing, transfixed, at the blunt pyramid of powder.
‘You want my advice, Anna?’ Sari asks, and Anna nods, wordlessly.
‘Give him a lot straight away. He’s not like Ferenc – Ferenc was trusting, not naturally suspicious, but Károly is. You need to knock him out straight away, so that he can’t do anything, can’t hurt you, or tell anyone that he thinks you’ve done something. All right?’
‘So why don’t I just – you know, give him enough to kill him straight off?’
‘Come on, Anna. You’ve said it before, and you’re right, no one here’s got much fondness for Károly, and no one’s going to look into his death as long as you don’t invite it. But killing him suddenly would be inviting it – not a lot less suspicious than a hatchet in his skull. Do you understand?’
‘I think so.’ Anna looks down at the powder again, and for a moment Sari wonders whether she’s going to back out and change her mind, she looks so nervous and uncertain. But instead she looks up at Sari, with an unexpectedly animated grin.
‘Right, then. I should go home and get started.’
Sari smiles back, but feels oddly melancholy. Anna has always struck her as such a profoundly good person, and the thought that Sari is helping her to do this, to besmirch her eternal soul – something Anna certainly believes in, even if Sari does not – makes Sari sad.
‘Before you go – tell me what you’re going to do, again.’
And Anna recites, like a child repeating her lessons: ‘Knock him out tonight. Come here tomorrow, say that he’s ill, and I don’t know what’s wrong. You or Judit will come and see him. Finish him off after a couple of days – and then I’m going,’ she adds defiantly. Sari has tried to persuade her to stay around at least until the funeral, just to deflect suspicion, but Anna refuses point blank, and Sari’s given up trying to persuade her. It probably won’t make much of a difference, either way.
‘Good. Just – just be careful, Anna. And I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Like clockwork, Anna is banging on the door at half past ten the next morning, and Sari smiles, because the timing could hardly be better. The day is getting underway, and the streets are thronged with people, plenty of witnesses to see Anna bringing Sari and Judit to look at her ailing husband. It’s lucky that no one else is there, as Anna can hardly contain her excitement.
‘It’s working, Sari!’ she says in a gleeful whisper. ‘He’s in agony, the bastard!’
Sari and Judit both accompany Anna back to her house. Sari has to elbow Anna repeatedly. She looks as if she’s having the time of her life, rather than acting like an anxious wife.
When they get to the house, Anna drops all pretence, and as soon as the door’s shut behind them, she says, in clarion tones, ‘The bastard’s in there. No point going in to see him; I’m going to finish him off in a couple of days, and I don’t want you giving him anything for the pain. I want the son of a whore to suffer.’ Sari’s torn between horror and laughter, but Judit has no such confusion and gives her characteristic cackle.
‘That’s the spirit, girl. Well, you may as well put some water on to boil – we’ll have to stay here a while, make it look like we’re taking care of him, so you can give us a cup of coffee while we’re waiting.’
They stay nearly an hour, and the whole time Anna seems unable to sit still. Practically vibrating with nervous excitement, she gets up at intervals to peer at Károly from the door of the bedroom, but not once does she venture further. She’s not even making a pretence of caring for him.
‘I want him to know that I’m doing this,’ she says to Sari, as she and Judit get up to leave. ‘This is my last chance to show the bastard what I think of him.’
‘We’ll spread word around the village that he’s ill,’ Sari says, ‘though anyone who saw us come here will be talking already. Give him another couple of days, and then finish it.’
Anna nods. ‘I’ve already got the key off him – I’ve got all the jewellery and money I need. I’m almost tempted to go now, but I’ll wait, I promise.’
‘You must wait, Anna. You mustn’t attract suspicion. You’re still determined to leave as soon as he’s dead?’
‘Absolutely. I’ll go the night that he dies.’
‘All right. Just let me know, will you? Leave – oh, I don’t know. Leave a twig from a cherry tree on the steps of the house. Then I’ll know to come and check on him. I’ll wait a day or so, to make sure you’ve got a good head start in case anyone wants to go after you.’
Anna looks close to tears. ‘I can’t thank you enough, Sari – and Judit, both of you.’
Sari leans forwards, and gives Anna a brisk, tight hug. She’s still not quite used to casual physical contact, and the pressure of Anna’s body against her is both unsettling and pleasant. ‘Good luck, Anna. If there’s any way that you can let me know that you’ve made it, that you’re safe …’
‘I promise.’
The door clicks shut behind them.
For the next two days, Sari thinks of nothing but Anna, with a mixture of sick anxiety and excitement. She is terribly worried about something going wrong, Anna ending up dead or in prison, but at the same time, if Anna manages to do this right, it will be the escape that she never quite dared to dream of. Sari’s never been very good at waiting patiently and is desperately tempted to go round to Anna’s and find out what’s going on, and by the afternoon of the second day she’s got as far as putting on her coat before Judit asks her where she’s going.
‘Round to Anna’s,’ Sari says defiantly.
Judit shakes her head. ‘No, you’re not. You can’t help her more than you have already. You have to just leave her to it now. She’s a bright girl; she should be able to manage this alone.’
‘But won’t it look suspicious if we don’t call round? If Károly’s ill enough to be on his deathbed, we should be there, trying to help him, shouldn’t we?’
‘Well, that’s one way of looking at it. On one hand, you’re the person who takes care of people when they’re ill. On the other, you’re a woman whose fiancé died suddenly not too long ago. Could be that you visiting that house just before Károly dies could cause suspicion, rather than avert it,’ Judit says.
Sari hasn’t thought of that, and she dithers, one arm half in and half out of the sleeve of her coat.
‘Either way, you can’t do anything by going around there. Just leave it. You can deal with your own curiosity for another couple of days, can’t you?’
But Sari doesn’t have to deal with it for that long. When she wakes up the next morning she can feel the difference in the air. Something’s happened. And when she opens the front door, and finds a small, unobtrusive cherry twig sitting sedately on the front step, she’s taken unawares by the sharp stab of grief she feels. Anna has gone – the one person in the village (Judit excepted) whose friendship Sari could be absolutely sure of. And underneath the grief is a persistent throb of jealousy. Until these past few days, she never would have dreamt that Anna would get away from the village while she, Sari, was left behind. For a moment, she curses the mud and the discomfort and the utter
banality of the village before her, before stepping back into the house, twig in hand, and closing the door.
As soon as Judit sees what she’s holding, her wizened face cracks open in a wide grin. ‘Oh, good girl, good girl! She did it!’
They wait a day before going around to Anna’s house, where Anna’s absence is palpable. Károly’s deathbed is not pretty; it’s clear that Anna has done little in the way of nursing through his short, sharp illness, but Sari feels no pity. Nevertheless, she and Judit clean him up as much as possible, before Judit goes to spread the word of his death.
As predicted, no one much mourns Károly. Even the men he would have called his friends, the ones that he would drink and gamble with were not particularly fond of him; his vicious temper didn’t end at Anna, and did nothing to endear him to anyone. He is buried with minimal fuss, Sari writes out the death certificate as usual for the authorities in Város, and nobody even suggests summoning the priest from the next village to conduct the funeral. Anna’s disappearance is far more upsetting to everyone, as she was always well liked, more so than even Sari would have guessed, for even gossip is kind to her.
‘Who can blame her for leaving as soon as he’s dead?’ Sari overhears Matild Nagy saying in the square, voice lowered to give a false impression of confidentiality. ‘Everyone knew how he treated her. Good for her, I say. She deserves a better life.’
The tale of Károly’s sudden death and Anna’s subsequent vanishing act leaps around the village for a few days, and then dies down, leaving Sari with nothing but a feeling of sweet relief, mingled with an ache of loneliness. She thinks of Anna often, tries to follow her imagined steps in her mind – oh, she misses her, so much.
A week later. Anna could be in Budapest by now; Sari tries to imagine her there, her fantasy only slightly hampered by the fact that she has to imagine Budapest too. There’s a knock on the door and Sari bids a hasty farewell to Anna-in-her-head; she starts to lever herself up from the chair where she’s been sitting, sipping a cooling cup of tea, but before she can move too far, Judit shoots past her, moving unnaturally fast for a woman her age.
The Angel Makers Page 21