The Secret Speech - Страница 69

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They’d buried Malysh outside of Budapest. She hadn’t wanted his body left in the hospital, lost among the dead, one of many, with no family or friends to grieve over him. Leo had carried him through the Russian encirclement. Digging in the frozen soil, they’d buried him by a tree, back from the road, tanks and trucks passing by. She used his knife to carve his name into the trunk of the tree. Remembering that he couldn’t read, she’d scratched a heart around the letters.

At first, when Zoya had climbed onto the roof, Raisa had hurried after her — no doubt fearful she was going to jump off. Understanding that it was nothing more than a place to sit, Raisa no longer interfered, nor did Leo, allowing Zoya hours here without interruption. She scooped up a clump of snow and watched it melt in her hands.

* * *

TIDYING UP AFTER DINNER, Raisa turned. Zoya was standing in the doorway, shivering, snow in her hair. Raisa took hold of Zoya’s hands:

— You’re cold. Do you want to eat? I put some aside for you.

— Is Elena in bed?

— Yes.

— Leo?

— He’s not back yet.

Elena had returned from the hospital, rejuvenated by the miracle of Zoya being alive. Zoya had wept with guilt at the sight of her sister. Elena was dangerously thin. Even without being told, Zoya understood that her little sister would not have survived much longer. Elena hadn’t questioned events, overwhelmed with happiness, indifferent to the details of what had happened or why. Her family was alive.

Raisa knelt down before Zoya:

— Talk to me.

There was the sound of a key in the front door. Leo entered, red-faced and rushed:

— I’m sorry…

Raisa replied:

— You’re in time to read to the girls.

Zoya shook her head:

— Can I talk to you first? To both of you?

— Of course.

Leo entered the kitchen, pulling up two chairs, sitting beside Zoya:

— What’s wrong?

— I’ve always told Elena everything. Since I got back she’s been so happy, I don’t want to spoil that. I don’t want to tell her what happened. I don’t want to tell her the truth. I don’t want to tell her that I left her alone.

Zoya began to cry:

— If I tell her the truth, will she forgive me?

Though he wanted to, Leo did not yet feel he could put an arm around her. He said:

— She loves you very much.

Zoya looked up at Leo, then at Raisa:

— But will she forgive me?

The three of them turned to the doorway. Elena was standing in her nightgown. She’d only been home for a week and already she’d transformed, gaining weight, the color returning to her skin.

— What’s going on?

Zoya moved toward her:

— Elena, I have something to tell you.

Leo stood up:

— Before you do, why don’t I tell you a bedtime story?

Elena smiled:

— One that you made up?

Leo nodded:

— One that I made up.

Zoya wiped away her tears and took hold of Leo’s hand.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My editors, Suzanne Baboneau at Simon & Schuster UK and Mitch Hoffman at Grand Central Publishing, are quite simply the best editors any writer could wish for. I feel exceptionally lucky. And I am hugely grateful to them.

Particular thanks go to Eva-Marie Hippel at Dumont, a good friend with a meticulous eye for detail. Also thanks to Jonny Geller at Curtis Brown and Robert Bookman at CAA for all their support. Robert Bookman has an amazing gift for connecting people, and he put me in touch with Michael Korda, whose wonderful book Journey to a Revolution: A Personal Memoir and History of the Hungarian Revolution of 1956 (HarperCollins, 2006) was extremely useful research. I appreciate Michael taking the time to answer my questions.

I can’t remember which writer spoke about the need to have trusted readers — perhaps every writer has spoken about it. I have two, Ben Stephenson and Alex Arlango: My love and thanks to both.

I’ve already mentioned Michael Korda’s book on his experiences in the Hungarian Revolution. Equally inspirational, and important, were Victor Sebestyen’s Twelve Days: Revolution 1956: How the Hungarians Tried to Topple Their Soviet Masters (Weidenfeld & Nicholson, 2006) and The Hungarian Revolution of 1956: Reform, Revolt and Repression, 1953–1963, edited by Gyorgy Litvan (translated by Janos M. Bak and Lyman H. Legters, Longman, 1966).

I’d like to make special note of one autobiography, Shallow Graves in Siberia, by Michael Krupa (Minerva Press, 1997). It is an extraordinary story, deeply moving, and it reminded me that no matter how oppressive the adversary, someone always manages to find a way above it.

I owe these authors a huge debt. I should note that any inaccuracies are entirely my own.

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The Secret Speech - Страница 69

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

FURTHER READING