Chapter 10: What Happened to Erzsébet's Husband

Old Betty did not look at any of them when she began. She looked at the second notebook, the one with the water-stained cover and the red margin marks, and she set her hands flat on either side of it the way you brace yourself before lifting something you know is heavy.

"János Varga," she said. "My husband. He came to this country in 1919, from a village outside Debrecen where his family had farmed the same ground for two hundred years. He came because the war had eaten half that village and he was not willing to wait for it to eat the rest." She paused. "He was a practical man. Very practical. I loved this about him. He did not make problems large. He made problems into work."

Petra had not moved since Old Betty began speaking. She was sitting with her forearms on the table and her tea going cold in front of her, and the expression on her face was one Mara had never seen on it before — something careful and still, as if she was holding something in her chest with both hands.