Angela’s father was sitting on the veranda when she got home from school with Edith.
Lost in thought, he was gazing at the pair of swallows sitting on the electric wires who were prodding their little ones to fly. The young swallows proved to be the most proficient learners in the neighbourhood. The survival instinct was coded in their genes and they knew their lives depended on how much they practised. Directions to the wintering place in South Africa that they would have to find at all costs were alive in their parents’ memory. None of them could afford to miss their target. The six-week journey would be a perilous test, fraught with danger. Memories of gigantic tropical storms haunted the parents. Thoughts of the crosses of huge birds of prey floating across the sky made their hearts pound violently. Not to speak of fatigue, the silent butcher, which made them stay longer and longer at each resting place. Old and wise swallows knew well that the flock must stay together. Those lagging behind would die, easy prey for the predators lying in wait. For now it was only the racing flies that dropped dead – in their beaks – but they felt the touch of death themselves on every journey.
Angela jumped out of the jeep, raced across the garden and climbed into her father’s lap. Her mother followed briskly and planted a dry kiss on her husband’s forehead.
‘Hello, darling. I’ll just rid of my bag and put a few things in the fridge,’ she said, lifting her shopping bag. ‘Then I need to talk to you.’
Joseph frowned and heard the door of the veranda slam shut behind her. He knew that slamming doors was a sign of stress for women.
‘What’s happened, dear? Has the school burnt down?’ he asked Angela, and gave her such a huge wink you could almost hear it.
‘Will you come to the stone bench with me?’ Angela whispered.
Joseph always melted at his daughter’s eyes.
‘Yes, my dear, I’d go anywhere with you.’
He stood up with a joyful sigh. The worm-eaten rocking chair inherited from the grandparents creaked with relief.
‘Come on, darling. I wanted to ask you how it went at school, too. Have you got friends? Are you happy that you can learn lots of new stuff?’
He took Angela by the arm and together they set out into the lush vegetation of the late-summer garden. The bench was still pleasantly cool. Joseph patted the carved stone. It had finely detailed stone roses running along its armrest.
‘You know, darling, this stone bench is one of the few relics left behind by the generations before us, besides the old wine cellar,’ he told her, but the little girl cut in.
‘Was the potato pit a wine cellar?’
‘Yes, completely. It’s just we use it to store potatoes. There’s still noble mould growing on the walls.’
‘Noble mould? Is it the king of moulds?’
‘No, dear, it’s the name of a good sort of mould. It makes sausages, cheeses or wines tastier. I’ll show you, the cellar walls are full of it.’
Above the granite columns of the cellar, overgrown with ivy, the pattern of a clover had been carved, marking the dignity of the place.
‘Perhaps one of the counts Zichy rested on this stone bench after an exhausting hunt – to quench his thirst and brag about his hunting adventures,’ the father continued his fable.
Angela was listening quietly. As if she were daydreaming, or meditating. Who would understand her? Her father was thinking, searching his child’s face. He that succeeded she would truly love. He would become her partner.
‘Darling, so what was school really like?’
‘Oh, Daddy, lots of good things happened to me. The teacher-lady was kind and I made friends with another girl. We’ll learn the Hungarian letters, but I prefer those in Mummy’s prayer book. She said I could learn them too – once I’ve learnt the Hungarian letters. On the way home Mummy got very scared of God, although she had no reason. And God sent along two angels to reassure her, but she was still scared.’
She kept kicking her legs excitedly, gradually mowing the dandelions trembling under the bench.
‘Go on, my dear. You’ve stopped at the most exciting point.’
Joseph was aware that Angela’s story had hardly scratched the surface of the complicated events that had taken place inside and around her.
‘Daddy, God appeared out of nowhere, can you imagine that? And Mummy got very scared. She also said maybe we’d only dreamt the whole thing and then I got very angry. In the end she admitted that she also believed God had been there. Perhaps that’s what made her angry?’
The little girl told him in great detail about the drive and the meeting with the other world. Her eyes filled with tears of joy, her heated words flowing out of her soul like a deluge.
‘But Daddy, you believe me, don’t you?’
‘Of course, because I know a thing or two about what happened to you.’
Angela suddenly looked up.
‘Oh Daddy, what is it? Did you see Him too? Did He talk to you too?’
‘I think He did, when I was a child.’
‘Did you also see the chariot?’ the little girl was shouting with joy.
‘No, I never saw images. That’s your privilege.’
He stood up, took her into his arms and thus carried her over the grass. He opened the door without a noise. The draught sucked in the curtain and a stray draught swept a few fallen hazelnut leaves into the hall. They both looked inside instinctively. Tabby was yawning in the weak rays of the afternoon sun. She was not interested in the creatures of any invisible world at all. She believed only what she saw or, better yet, had in her mouth. Once she got hold of something, she would not let it go for the whole world. Especially if it was a fallen chicken neck not yet cooked.
Uncharacteristically, Edith was sitting on a kitchen stool, munching a doughnut with a vacant look, and did not turn even at the noise of footsteps. Angela and Joseph hesitantly stopped by the shoe shelf.
‘Daddy, I think you should go up to her on your own,’ the little girl whispered.
After they had taken off their shoes quietly, Angela rushed up to her room. They’ll believe me eventually. The truth will be out at last, she thought, exulting. But she had still wanted to disappear from the scene as soon as possible. Expectant silence settled on the kitchen. The scent of apple pie lingered in the creases of the tablecloth. Joseph stroked his wife’s hair affectionately.
‘Feeling all right, love? I heard you had a little accident on the way. Angela says you were scared.’
The half-eaten doughnut shook in her hand.
‘We nearly died, both of us.’ Her answer was hardly audible. ‘I nodded off for a second and the jeep skidded off the road. It was a huge mistake. I don’t really know what happened next, but I think I passed out. Angela must have bumped her head too, because she spoke of weird things. Of angels, heaven and …’
‘Of God,’ Joseph finished.
‘Well, yes. Also of God. I saw bewildering things too.’
Joseph embraced his wife. He loved consoling her in her sorrow and caressing her in her happiness because at those times he felt he could get closer to her heart. Years had splashed water on the flames of their love; worries, those blood brothers of anxiety, had worn down romance between them.
‘But Angela’s story was quite convincing, don’t you think? She said, “Mummy believed at last.” What did she mean? Based on what’s happened, Angela seems to be guarded by some superior power. What do you make of it?’
The woman’s face stiffened and she pushed the man away.
‘Even you’re on about it now? You’re both out of your minds. What do you mean guarded? Is no one else guarded, or cared for?’ she asked, raising her voice.
In tears, she turned towards the window.
‘But, my dear Edith, a wonderful thing may be unfolding in our lives right now. I know it’s difficult to believe it, it seems to be against all common sense, but please, just let things happen. Try not to stick to your routine little world.’
‘Joseph, I live in the real world. It’s you and your daughter who live in a world of dreams. At least it’s forgivable in her case – she’s still a child.’
Joseph lowered his eyes.
‘I’m a bit tired, dear, I may take a nap,’ he answered. His head was still a bit numb. ‘Are you staying here or coming upstairs?’
‘I’m going into the garden to get some fresh air. I’ve had enough tales today, Joseph.’
‘There’s a letter on the phone stand. It’s addressed to you,’ mumbled the man and took a carton of milk out of the fridge.
The woman sniffed the air with her husband’s breath heavy with alcohol in it.
‘You’ve been drinking brandy, haven’t you?’
‘No, only a sip. There’s a lot anyway.’
‘Not with the postman, I hope.’ Edith’s look became threatening.
‘No way!’ he replied and, milk in hand, sneaked out of the kitchen.
Night was falling imperceptibly. Supper was an awkward affair as nobody talked about what was on everybody’s mind. Dangerous emotions strained behind affably smiling masks.
‘Everything can be discussed in a family, right?’ Joseph asked Edith while the latter was clearing the table. ‘I mean, I completely understand you.’
Angela squirmed in her seat, curious to find out what could come of this.
‘Possibly. Thanks for trying. I, for one, almost never understand you. I don’t know where you are when you’re daydreaming.’
‘Of course, he’s where I am,’ their daughter cut in.
Edith ignored her and carried on.
‘When we met, I liked what sometimes scares me off now – that you are different. As if you were spotted while the others are striped.’
‘Spotted? Hmm … but I haven’t got smallpox.’
‘See, Joseph? That’s what I’m talking about. You can’t take anything seriously. Life isn’t just a huge joke.’
‘Obviously. Our car bears witness to it. There was a gap in the crash barrier but you didn’t roll into the ravine. Edith, don’t you think it’s you who’d like to have been dreaming? But reality is here, you just have to see it.’
Listening to her father, Angela’s pupils dilated. She broke into a smile and stood up from the table. She had something important to finish: her plasticine loaf had just finished cooking and she had to adorn it with seeds before she gave it to Jerry, her teddy bear.
It was late at night when the couple retired to bed. In the dark, the man stroked his wife’s thigh.
‘This isn’t under the duvet,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll warm it.’
‘Are you getting up early tomorrow?’ the woman asked in the darkness.
‘Yeah, and you?’
‘You know I’m working.’
‘Are you tired? Shall I let you sleep instead?’
‘I’m not sleeping,’ she replied gruffly. All the same, impishness lurked under her pillow. ‘Could you sleep after a day like I’ve had?’
‘No, I don’t think I could. But tomorrow we’ll have to report that we’ve seen a broken crash barrier – though it’s possible someone’s told the mayor’s office already.’
‘Don’t worry, I bet they already know: the bus was full of people from round here.’
They began to laugh at the same time. They recognized the wonderful nakedness of the moment, which reminded them of their first romantic night. They had been in their twenties and camping illicitly.
‘I liked it when you stroke my thigh,’ remarked the woman.
As if only waiting for this, the man reached under his wife’s nightie. Edith sighed in response. She groped Joseph’s crotch. The thread of long waiting snapped in him and, grabbing Edith’s wrists, he pressed her to the pillow. He hugged her with unrestrained passion and pulled off her nightie swiftly. Edith hugged his waist.
‘I love you,’ he breathed into Edith’s ear.
A sigh trembling with desire was his wife’s answer. An owl hooted on the oak tree in the garden while Joseph lowered his tongue into the woman’s navel.
Edith shook with the faint memory of that mysterious night inside the tent in the forest. Drenched to the skin, they had taken shelter there, throwing their clothes on the grass and making love until they were swimming in sweat. That was when Joseph reached between her thighs.
‘My God!’ she cried out, grasping the sheet. Her body and soul were a vibrating cord and Joseph was the musician. Their thoughts ceased to exist, ancient movements came alive, mixed with sighs and muffled groaning. The slats of the bed creaked, the duvet fell to the floor. He entered her forcefully and she screamed out with euphoric ecstasy. They became one and did not cover themselves for a long time, warming each other’s bodies.
The next day they woke up to a dazzling sun, entangled in each other’s arms.
‘Haven’t you opened that letter yet?’ Joseph asked, caressing Edith.
‘I’ve put it into the Bible as a bookmark. It must be another of those stupid ads. It seems to be from a travel agency. I won’t open it.’
‘Open it anyway,’ Joseph insisted.
‘All right, but I bet it’s nothing. If it’s nothing, you’ll put the rubbish bin outside again. I wonder who the new garbage man will be. He’s smashed his car to smithereens. Drink-driving, I say!’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I forgot to say, I saw the garbage truck down the hill yesterday. It’d crashed into a tree. The firemen were chopping up the trunk that’d fallen across the street.’
‘Good God! And the driver?’
‘I didn’t see him, but not much was left of the cab. But he’d taken our garbage, hadn’t he?’
Joseph nodded and kept silent.
‘I’m sorry for him,’ Edith mumbled, ‘but he did drink all the time. That must have been his ruin.’
The man’s face turned white as a sheet.
The woman ripped open the envelope and ran through it sombrely.
‘Look, this must be a joke. It says here that we’ve won a trip to Rome. But I can’t find the little stars which should indicate the small-letter text.’
‘Where they’ve put in how much it’d cost to go on the trip,’ the man answered.
‘Yes.’
‘My dear!’ Joseph’s face lit up. ‘This is the competition Angela asked us to send in the labels for. Remember? This is the contest from the cooking-oil labels.’
‘Indeed.’
A stunned silence ensued, then they began to laugh.
‘This little cutie-pie has won it for us,’ the woman roared and placed a warm kiss on Joseph’s forehead. They dashed into her room to kiss their daughter from head to toe, but the room was empty. They had been standing there petrified for a second when a spine-chilling shriek interrupted the twitter of birds filtering in from the garden.
Angela had got up before her parents and crept out barefoot onto the moss-grown path. It was paved with bricks, taking the stray guest along the shady side of the house. The cushions of moss sparkling with dew snuggled up to the soles of the girl, who was watching an unsuspecting tree frog. Ready to jump, she neared the frog, made a hollow of her palms and pounced. The frog, disregarding her, jumped aside nonchalantly. The girl had missed. The frog croaked in boredom and hopped further into the vast nettle forest, which would protect it.
However, something cast a shadow on the nettles. The little girl looked up. There, in the air, the lifeless body of Tabby was swaying. Her neck was stuck into a fork of the branches, her fur singed. A black five-pointed star still smoked on her side.
‘Did you hear that?’ Joseph asked his wife. ‘That was Angela screaming.’ He ran to the window and his blood froze as he saw the eyes of the dead cat staring back at him, dark and expressionless. Angela started to cry hysterically.
‘Wait, darling,’ Joseph howled to her, ‘I’ll be right with you!’
‘We’re coming, darling!’ shouted Edith too.
The family felt helpless as they looked at Tabby’s carcass. Only by climbing onto a ladder was Joseph able to free the unfortunate cat from the tree’s deadly grip.
‘We’ll bury her, right?’ Angela said in tears.
She curled up in the morning chill and crouched down on the brick path. Her mother rebuked her instantly,
‘Stand up quickly, or you’ll catch a chill! Put on your slippers now. And, you, why aren’t you speaking to her?’ she looked at Joseph. ‘She’ll catch a real cold one of these days.’
The father picked up his fair, pyjamaed angel.
‘Daddy, what’s going to happen now? Has Tabby really died?’
‘Yes, she has.’
‘Then we have to have a funeral,’ she blubbered.
‘Is it not enough to just bury her? Are you going to make her a gravestone as well?’ Edith inquired.
‘Yes, just imagine that!’ the girl snapped in irritation.
‘All right, my dear. But we should do it this afternoon.’
Whimpering, Angela caressed the cat laid out on the path, and Edith caressed her child’s head.
‘I can’t imagine who would do such a thing. There aren’t any other children around here.’ Edith turned to her husband. ‘Who could commit such an atrocious cruelty?’
Joseph shook his head sadly.
‘The Evil One! He did this. This is his sign,’ said the little girl, pointing at the star, and ran into the house.
At breakfast Angela mechanically ate her brioche. Tabby is dead, she was thinking, wringing her hands in pain. Edith had been quick to finish the morning routine and chivvied Angela on.
‘Get ready, darling. We’ll be leaving soon and you haven’t even combed your hair.’
‘Yes, Mummy, coming. But would you comb my hair for me?’
‘All right, my lamb, but bring a hairband as well. Imagine, I’ve got good news. We’ve won a trip to Rome in the contest from the oil labels. You’re fantastic!’
The girl was nonplussed for a second, then her earlier wilful expression returned.
‘Really? You go then, but I shan’t.’
‘You’ll see how nice it will be, and Daddy shall get you another pussycat.’
‘No, I don’t want one!’ the girl shrieked. ‘I only want Tabby and I don’t want to go anywhere!’
Her mother sighed sadly and tried to stroke her fair little head but the girl drew away from her. They left a bit earlier that day. Edith watched the white lines and the road like a hawk. They passed the crash barrier, which was now curled up like a broken watch spring. For Angela, it was the place where she had seen angels, for Edith, a place of horror. She glanced at Angela, who said, ‘I hope they won’t repair that broken barrier, Mummy.’
‘Why?’ Her mother gaped at her.
‘So that you will always remember God when you look at it.’
Edith smiled. ‘I love you, my little oddball.’
She glanced at her watch and stepped on the gas. Angela blinked, playing hide-and-seek with the sun like she did at nursery school. However, the sun was always there, however carefully she peeped from behind the teacher-lady. So she called her glowing friend God because she had heard He was everywhere.
‘Mummy, does it rain when God weeps?’
‘God never weeps, darling.’
‘But we would weep a lot without God.’
‘That’s possible,’ her mother shrugged her shoulders.
Angela looked into the sun again. Suddenly, a shadow moved in front of it. Was it a stray cloud, or an airplane cutting through the sky? She had a closer look at the shadow, and the blackness began to swell. It assumed a shape and approached alarmingly quickly. Frightened, she shook her mother’s seat, but Edith took no notice. Angela was seized by panic because the shadow now covered the forest as well. Her mother just kept driving, as if she had not noticed, nodding rhythmically to the music from the radio. Angela tried to free herself and climb over to the front seat, but a strong hand seized her throat.
It pulled her back onto the seat. A man with a walking stick, wearing a suit and an elegant jacket as black as jet, was sitting beside her. He was glowing, like the angels at the accident. The man did not wait for Angela to ask any questions. With eyes flashing green in the sunshine, he opened his pale lips to speak.
‘Greetings, Angela. Please keep quiet.’
The green glow surrounded his neck like a snake, its tangled outlines throbbing on his age-old skin.
‘I’m the Lord of this world. Everything here is mine, and it is I who am in charge of everything. Anything you’ve seen or heard otherwise was a lie. It’s only I who can manipulate reality and change things on this earth. Anything you wish for, only I can provide you. Anything you desire, only I can satisfy. All might and power on this earth is in my possession. Nobody may contradict me. Am I clear?’
‘Yes,’ answered Angela, shuddering.
‘You remember that iridescent man you talked to at the stone bench? He really was God, but he has no power in my empire.’
Thunder rolled in the distance.
‘It’s I who have the power over human hearts, and they must do as I order them until they die. There have been, are and will be some who revolted and will revolt against my rule and seek the path of light, but I will mercilessly torture them. Their wretched life will be accompanied by poverty, corporal agony, disdain and self-sacrifice. Those simpletons hope for a better future in another world after their miserable time here. But they are mistaken, damn mistaken. The iridescent man, your God, is only an illusion, a vain hope, a fancy and self-delusion. Everybody will be mine in the end, Angela, even you. It’s useless to fight me. You either yield to me and everything that you desire in this world can become yours, or you resist and suffer the agonies of hell.’
‘Are … are you the devil?’
‘Oh no, you silly little thing. The devil doesn’t exist. Because the real God … I’m the real God.’
The man laughed, Angela’s whole being shuddered. She was not sure whether what she felt towards this dark figure was disgust, anger or fear. She wanted to push him out of the car and destroy him. However, the more she wanted to do that, the brighter and more radiantly the man glowed.
‘C’mon, Angela, hate me and get angry. Your feelings are strengthening my power and empire. By hating me, you’re adoring me!’ he shouted and burst out laughing. ‘Give in to your feelings of hatred, Angela!’
‘Enough! Enough of this! Get lost! I hate you!’
She uttered the last words with a trembling voice and a lump in her throat.
‘Look, Angela, she’s already mine,’ the man sang, pointing at Edith.
Angela shuddered because her mother had turned green.
‘See how dark her soul is?’
‘No! Mummy isn’t dark.’
At this, the man stretched his hand across the foam of the seat and dipped it into the woman as if she were only vacuum. A pitch-black cloud puffed out in its wake.
‘Take your hand off her! You’re evil! Get lost!’ Angela bawled furiously.
‘Not so fast! Are you bossing me around?’ The man laughed. ‘You’ll have to wait a few years to do that, love.’
A mighty bolt of lightning struck near them. They both looked up and saw that the top of the car no longer separated them from the outside world. An angry, ashen sky stared down on them. Angela felt a pressure in her ears and chest; yet, she felt a familiar peace grow inside her.
‘You can now take your leave, Prince of Darkness, Father of Lies, Perverter of the Pure of Heart! You’ve done your job!’ thundered a voice from the cloud. ‘You can never take this life, otherwise I’ll make your hands account for her blood.’
The ether was buzzing around the Evil One. He was livid, but he relented. First his legs, then his body became transparent, and, eventually, his form dissipated and rose like mist. The little girl was looking for her saviour but saw nobody so she wiped away her tears. In the driver’s seat, her mother also became real again. She kept driving, drumming a rhythm with her fingers. ‘How deep is your love …’ The same refrain as yesterday.
‘I love this radio channel, don’t you, my angel?’
Still scared, Angela said nothing.
‘What is it? Did you hear the thunder too, love?’ asked her mother. ‘There’s a storm somewhere. There was a mighty clap of thunder. Strange, it rarely rains in the morning around here. I hope the sky will have zipped itself up by the time we get to school.’
She pointed upwards with her index finger.
‘Mum, the devil was sitting beside me, didn’t you see him?’
Her mother glanced back with a painful expression and sighed.
‘I guess I’ll have to talk to your dad.’
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