Chapter Five

IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE, AS ever, to be morose in Jodie’s company and we spent a pleasant day gossiping, shopping and touring the cafes and bars of Budapest’s most upscale districts. The only fly in my ointment was my inability to get hold of János on the phone. Every time I dialled his number, it went straight to voicemail, or at least, I presume it was voicemail – some robotic Hungarian woman’s voice followed by a bleep.

‘Hi, János, it’s me, sorry about earlier, please can we talk?’

Apparently not.

Jodie was all for finding me some other piece of Hungarian action to take my mind off him, but I wasn’t interested. Her efforts to pair us off in a foursome ended in my leaving the bar early and taking myself to bed, knowing in advance that Jodie would end up in the new man’s apartment that night.

She still hadn’t returned by morning, but had texted me to say she was fine and would see me later. I lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling, thinking about János.

He had been right here, on this bed, with me, and we had been so close … How would it have continued if Jodie hadn’t walked in?

I moved my hand to my pussy, thinking of János’ brawny brown hand there, or the maddening tickle of his moustache on my fattened clit. Which one of us would have been on top? Would he have been slow and gentle or fast and furious? Where would his fingers, mouth, arms have been? Would I have come once or twice or more? What does he say when he comes? What does he look like? Oh God, I wanted to know, more than anything, wanted to see his eyes screwed up and his face in crisis while he rode me into orgasm. I wanted that more than anything.

I worked my clit, thinking of him taking me against the wall or in the shower, over the window ledge, on the balcony …

There was no way I was letting it end here.

But, as I brewed coffee in my dressing gown with a towel on my wet hair, I still couldn’t get hold of him. How was this going to work?

I racked my brains trying to remember where he had said that potential kert was. Something like Brossutska? I pored over Jodie’s street map, trying to locate it. It was a bad area – the Eighth District? Aha. Here was District VIII, a little to the south east of where I was staying.

Close inspection revealed the nearest likely location to be Baross utca, a longish street running from the National Museum in the west to some railway goods yards in the east. It wouldn’t take long to walk – I didn’t even need a tram. I just needed to cross József kőrút and keep walking down until I reached Baross utca.

Easy.

I dressed in an optimistic frame of mind, daring to put on the mid-thigh-length flared skirt I once thought too sexy for me – it was a present from Jodie – with espadrilles and a strappy top. With my hair dried and styled and my sunglasses on, I hardly looked like London Ruby at all. I was some other girl, some Budapest babe on the way to adventure.

Outside, the weather was warm, a little clingy and humid. I was glad I didn’t have a hangover this time. The exhaust fumes and city smells crowded together in an olfactory smog as I crossed the wide boulevard that divided the “dodgy” area from the “non-dodgy”.

My phone rang. Jodie. ‘Hey, what are you up to this morning?’

‘I’m looking for János.’

‘Seriously? Looking for him? Where?’

‘I know he’s checking out a potential business premises in Baross utca. I’m going to see if I can track him down there. His phone’s on permanent voicemail.’

‘Baross utca? Shit, you’re in the Nyocker?’

‘The what?’

‘Hungarian for Eighth. The Eighth District. You’re there? Alone?’

‘I’m on József kőrút. What’s the matter? You sound a bit weird.’

‘I don’t think you should look for him there. It’s not the best place to wander alone.’

‘I can handle myself. I’m a Londoner.’

‘I know, I know. Don’t look anyone in the eye and if you see big groups hanging around, steer clear, right? Actually, just don’t go there. Come home.’

‘Jeez, Jodie …’

‘Shit, what’s he doing buying a place in Baross utca? Nobody’s going to want to go there. He’s a twat.’

‘Jodie, I’m fine.’

‘Put your phone away, at least. You’re asking to get mugged.’

I hung up and put it back in my bag, feeling a little spooked. Now she mentioned it, I could see that the tall apartment blocks lining the boulevard were not as well kept as those in other parts of town. The people on the pavements were mixed, but tending towards the less kempt. The side streets to my left as I walked down looked neglected and drab, graffiti daubed on walls and boarded-up windows. Baross utca would be one of these. What was János thinking of? This really wasn’t a pleasant part of town.

But it was broad daylight, not the time for gang-related activity. Surely all the shady characters would be sleeping off the excesses of the night? I took a deep breath, kept a cool head and carried on down the street.

It’s good to see a different side to tourist places, I told myself. It’s good to get a broader picture. Budapest thus far hadn’t struck me as very ethnically diverse, and around here you at least got to see some different coloured faces. Quite a few Chinese people walked the streets, as well as people with darker skins, like the gipsy musicians from the other night.

Baross utca loomed up after a much longer walk than I had expected. Well, this was it. I turned left, into bandit country, if Jodie was to be believed. Silly Jodie, always about the drama. It had to be admitted, though, this was the closest thing to a ruin I’d seen so far in this town. Once-handsome apartment buildings had fallen into chronic disrepair, the masonry crumbling around the elaborate doorways and window ledges. At street level, the walls were thick with graffiti. Behind the street, I caught glimpses of ugly Stalinist blocks filling the gaps between dilapidated 19th century façades. An old man sat smoking on a doorstep, his eyes silently following me as I passed. I began to feel I might be making a mistake.

A large archway set into the wall of one particularly tragic-looking building was open, giving me a glimpse to the courtyard beyond. It was half-gutted, the homes that had lined the balconies long since evacuated. A pile of debris including plastic toys and an unplumbed washing machine was heaped in the centre of the cobbles.

Male voices, loud and Hungarian, issued from inside.

One of them was János.

I nearly vomited with relief, walking through the archway and watching János talk animatedly with a couple of guys in high-vis jackets and hard hats.

The sight of him made me smile. I couldn’t help it, even though I was nervous and wondering if he wanted anything to do with me.

He half-turned, as if sensing my presence, then stopped dead. He flapped a hand at the other men and hastened towards me. He didn’t look happy. ‘What the hell you do here?’

‘I needed to see you.’

‘This is not place for you to walk alone! For fuck sake, Ruby. This is bad place for tourist.’

‘I haven’t come here to see the sights. I came here to see you.’

‘OK, now you see me!’

‘So should I go?’ Stung, I turned as if to leave. He grabbed my upper arm, hard, and yanked me into a corner of the courtyard.

‘You stay there until I finish talk business, right? Don’t move.’ He jabbed a finger at my chest to emphasise the point, then strode back over to the others for further loud discussion.

So, there I was. In the corner. I felt I was in some kind of trouble. János certainly hadn’t given me cause to feel welcome. I looked all around me at the jaundice-yellow stonework and the dark patches where it had fallen off and sighed. I should just write off my abortive holiday romance. I wasn’t a holiday romance type of person.

The men in glowing jackets left after another ten minutes or so. János called some pleasantry after them, then turned to me, lips a cold straight line beneath his moustache. ‘So,’ he said.

‘So?’

‘You are here.’

‘You left in a hurry yesterday.’

‘You said your goodbye. Why do I stay?’

‘I didn’t mean to make it sound like that. That wasn’t what I wanted.’

He stood, arms folded, leaning against a rotten doorframe, appraising me with cool blue eyes. ‘No?’

‘I didn’t want you to go.’

‘OK. Thank you.’ He smiled, just an upward tweak of the lips, then frowned again. ‘But you don’t come here alone, Ruby. Never.’

‘If this is such a bad area, why are you … you aren’t seriously thinking of opening a bar in this junk heap?’

‘Junk heap. Ah.’ He looked around the slum, at its four walls ringed with rusting balconies, empty window frames staring blankly out into the central yard. ‘This junk heap. I grew up here.’

‘Oh God, did you? I’m sorry! I mean, I didn’t mean to be rude. About your old home.’

‘It’s going to be knock down if I don’t buy. I want to keep it. I feel it can be a nice place, you know? Good foundations, good strong walls. Only landlords let it go bad, until there are rats, no clean water, electric wires are dangerous. It can be a lovely romkocsma though! I can see it, in my mind.’

‘A lovely what? I thought you wanted a kert.’

‘A romkocsma is a bar in a ruined building, is very fashionable right now, even more than a kert.’

‘Oh, I see. Well, if that’s the case, you’ve certainly found the height of fashion. This ruin could top them all.’

‘I think the Nyocker could be the next big thing, you know? Develop it a bit, it will be a good place to come. It’s my dream, to bring some money to this poor place where I grow up.’

I felt touched by this little glimpse of his heart. He had one after all. Jodie didn’t know everything about him. I wanted to reach out to him.

‘That’s really lovely,’ I said, suddenly all out of breath and weak around the joints. He was so goddamn gorgeous, even standing here covered in brick dust, wearing threadbare jeans and a thin top with a hole in the shoulder. ‘You could be a hero for the local economy.’

‘I hope,’ he said. His voice had dropped too. His eyes, alight with passion for his pet project, began to convey another kind of interest. He put a hand on my hip, gathering some of the material of my skirt between finger and thumb. ‘This is pretty,’ he said. ‘I don’t see you in a short skirt before.’

‘Thanks.’ My mind blanked. All I could think of was his nearness, his heat, his scent.

He took a step closer. ‘You come to a ruin dressed for a date. Why? Hmm?’ His palm opened and lay flat on my hip, holding me steady. The air between us thickened, sparks swirling through it.

‘Just … like to look nice.’

‘For me?’ His hand travelled up to my waist, slipped around behind, pushed me up close to him.

I breathed him in. ‘Yes, for you. I’ve come here for you.’

For a moment, he looked on the verge of asking me for some kind of proof or reassurance, but then the doubts cleared from his face and he bent his head and pressed his lips to mine.

This wasn’t the time for questions. We both knew the answer, and it lay in our joining together. We kissed in the ruin, sheltered from the chaos outside by each other’s arms, holding on tight, keeping us safe. The humidity plastered our clothes to us and made our skin clammy and slippery. János reached down to the hem of my skirt and lifted it slowly, his hand running up my thigh.

The kiss turned feral; we snapped and sucked and bit, pushing our tongues further and harder. János pushed me up against a window ledge and lifted me so I perched with my back to the boarded-up square.

‘I have to have you,’ he said, parting my legs and taking his place between them. He made a dive for my neck, nuzzling and nipping at it. His hands raised my top and homed in on my breasts. I could do nothing more than take it all, my eyes raised to the low dark cloud that covered the courtyard like a lid.

‘Have me then. I want you to.’

He was doing such delicious and wicked things to my nipples that I could barely say the words, but when I did, he growled and sucked at my earlobe. I pushed my tongue into the salty skin at the base of his neck, feeling the natural resistance of his flesh and refusing to accept it, kissing it as if I would die if I broke contact with him. His pelvis ground against my crotch, smearing my juices all over the thin knickers that stood in his way.

But not for long – once my nipples were full and fat and almost bursting with sensation, he turned his attention to my clit, pulling the knickers down and off with a flourish. I yelped with a kind of mingled joy and fear, glorying in my vulnerability, happy to be caught by him, with no escape this time.

His body trapped me again and he reached down to feel my pussy in all its ripe readiness. His face an inch from mine, he held my eyes and said, ‘You’re very wet.’ It was like an accusation. I was guilty as charged with nowhere to hide.

But I had the perfect riposte. Nudging my thigh against the rocky bulge that pressed into it, I whispered, ‘You’re very hard.’

He slid two fingers inside me and held them there while his thumb dealt with my clit. My head felt too heavy for my neck, falling back. I wrapped my legs around him, desperate for him now. ‘You have got a…?’

‘Of course. You want this now?’

‘God, yes.’

He took a condom from his jeans pocket, watching me hawkishly all the while, then unbuttoned and dropped the dusty blue denims and the boxers beneath. I wriggled on my window ledge while he made short work of the rubber – obviously an expert, but that was a positive for me now. I wanted an experienced man. I wanted a man who could fuck me properly, take me the way I’d never been taken.

And here he was, holding me by the thighs and preparing to impale me, the tip of his cock pushing gently at my tight opening.

‘You hold on tight, Ruby,’ he whispered. He kissed my cheek, my ear, my mouth. I laced my fingers around the back of his neck. I opened myself up to him. I shut my eyes.

He stretched me wider, sliding in, finding more than enough lubrication to aid his passage. He used his hands, his strong arms, to angle me so that he could rub my clit between strokes.

My eyes flew open and I stared at him. The man was a sex genius. I began to be afraid that he might kill me with orgasms, right here under this leaden Hungarian sky.

‘Are you scared?’ He was all the way in now, pinning me to his cock, stroking a silky ellipse around my clit.

The voice seemed to come from someone else, saying words I would never say. ‘Fuck me.’

‘Of course.’ He gave me the gentlest, sweetest kiss, then he started to thrust.

His rhythm, his motion sent ripples of sheer overwhelming sensation from my cunt outwards, reaching every nerve simultaneously. My first orgasm came within half a minute, eagerly flooding my clit when he rubbed, but I knew I had more in me, maybe I could come forever, over and over, while he gave me this ride to the heavens.

He looked proud and he laughed when I came the first time, bucking wildly into me. I hid my face in his shoulder, oddly ashamed at how easy it was for him to push my buttons, feeling exposed and undone.

‘You feel how I make you come,’ he said. ‘I give you more.’

Behind my tight-shut eyes, a flash of light. Was János such a good shag that he could make me see literal stars? Was this what happened when a man fucked you the right way?

But a huge crack of thunder almost immediately afterwards forced my blurred thoughts to register that it was the weather above me, not the cock inside me, causing the spectacular side-effects.

I put my face up to the sky and felt the first fat raindrop on my skin.

János powered on as if oblivious to the sudden downpour. We ignored the way our hair flattened and our noses dripped, ignored the flashing and crashing around us, ignored everything but our own mixed energies, ebbing and flowing, thrusting and retreating, bringing the peak of pleasure ever closer. His belt jingled around his ankles with every stroke. I dug my heels into his flexing buttocks, making him speed up, clinging on for dear life, loving every second of his penetration, wanting to keep him inside me forever, through rain or shine, through hell or high water.

We were drenched by the time he started kissing me in a frenzy, feeling my chest heave, my heart thump, everything join together in a rolling wave of orgasm. I sobbed into his mouth, my fingers pinching and clutching at him, and then he roared and poured into me, slamming me back against that board so that the cheap wood split.

Another roll of thunder accompanied our subsidence into bonelessness. János slumped against me, burying his head on my shoulder, panting like a marathon runner.

I ran my fingers through his soaked hair and wept into his chest. It wasn’t as if he’d notice anyway. We were drowning together, clinging to each other for our lives.

After what seemed like hours, János withdrew from me – it felt like losing him, somehow – and stood straight, peering up into the ceaseless rain.

‘Well, the place is still standing,’ he said with a self-conscious laugh. ‘I was worried it fall down.’

I tried to crush my tears with the heel of my hand and smiled at him.

‘Hey,’ he said, pulling me back into a hug. ‘You are crying. Hey, shhh. What is wrong?’

‘Nothing. I’m just being stupid. That was just so … intense.’

‘Intense? That’s not good?’

‘No, it’s good. Amazing. I don’t even care if it’s just a one-night stand … in the daytime … At least I know what good sex feels like now. Thank you for that.’

His bamboozled frown made me laugh through my tears. More lightning, more thunder. ‘What you are saying? You don’t want to see me no more? You have sex with me and that’s it, all over, bang bang bang.’

‘Well … Jodie says you’re a bit of a shagger. I thought you’d probably disappear once you’d got my knickers off.’

‘Can you please speak English?’

‘Jodie says you like to … love a girl and then leave her.’

‘Jodie says, Jodie says. Jodie says a lot of stupid stuff. She don’t know me so well.’

‘Isn’t it true?’

He kissed me, long and tenderly. ‘Not for you.’

That skipping a beat thing that hearts are supposed to do happened.

‘Oh.’

‘Look at you.’ He laughed. ‘Look at me! We will get bad influenza. Come on.’ He tried to pull up his jeans, but it took several attempts due to their waterlogged state. My skirt slapped and slopped about my shivering thighs. My shoes were full of rain. My knickers lay in a puddle, beyond hope. We left them there and passed, hand in hand, through the archway, back into the street.

Baross utca was deserted. The smoking man had disappeared from his doorstep and only a couple of people dashed past with umbrellas. Pale light flickered behind blinds and tattered curtains.

‘Where are we going?’

We seemed to be heading deeper into the Nyocker, instead of turning back to the main drag.

‘I have my home near here. I take you there to be dry.’

Five minutes rush through the storm brought us to a front door a little better presented than most of its neighbours. János hustled me into a high-ceilinged echoey hall area and up some ornate stairs to the second floor.

His flat was a little old-fashioned but clean and well-kept, if you ignored the general man-clutter around the sofa and coffee table – DVDs, a couple of books, a newspaper and some gaming equipment, wires trailing like weeds.

‘You have great honour,’ he said, chivvying me through the living area to a small bathroom. ‘I never bring a woman back here before.’

‘Really? Never?’

‘Uh huh. It was my mother’s. I feel like she will not approve, you know.’

‘Didn’t she want you to have girlfriends?’

‘Oh yes. But not girls like the ones I see.’

‘Oh, right. She’s not alive?’

‘No, she die three years ago. Same year I divorce, that’s a great year for me.’

‘Oh, you poor thing.’ I put a hand on his back, which was bent to turn on the bath taps.

‘I came to live here, said to myself, I will not fall in love no more. Just, what you said, shag. Have fun. No danger.’

‘I see we have different approaches to curing a broken heart. Mine, shagging nobody. Yours, shagging everyone in sight.’

He stared into the plunging steaming tap water for a while, then turned his face to me and shrugged.

‘My way, nobody gets hurt,’ I pointed out.

‘You get hurt. You get lonely.’

‘I don’t matter.’

‘Ruby.’ He reached for my waterlogged top and began peeling it up my stomach and arms. ‘You don’t say things like that. I don’t permit.’

‘You don’t permit?’ I widened my eyes in challenge.

‘Not in my house. In my house, you are kind to yourself.’

The top passed wetly over my face and landed in a heap in the corner. I clutched my arms to my ribs and shivered.

A crack of thunder made the bathroom shelf rattle.

I jettisoned the skirt and stood, damp and naked, ready to help János with his impossibly awkward jeans. In the end he had to sit on the side of the tub while I heaved them down his clinging legs and over his feet. Once they were gone, he clamped his legs together either side of me, trapping me inside the bend of his knee, pulling me forward until the angle was right for him to lean and kiss me.

‘This was the first time,’ he said softly, reaching out to turn off the tap. ‘Not the last time. Come on.’

He let himself slide, rather gracefully, into the water, pulling me by the arm so I landed with a colossal splash that formed puddles on the tiled floor.

I lay back, nestled between his thighs, head resting on his shoulder, looking up at the ornate light fitting and the tangle of old-fashioned pipes on the wall, feeling blissfully warm and contented and wanted. It was a moment to capture and keep.

Then there was a flash outside the tiny high-set window and the light went off with a tinking sound.

‘Ah shit!’

‘Power cut!’

‘Lucky we get the bath full first, right?’

Although it was close to midday, the iron grey storm clouds hanging low in the sky gave the impression of dusk and little light filtered through the tiny window.

‘Wait.’ János stood, dripping, and got out of the bath, returning swiftly with candles and matches. Soon a flickering glow covered the tiny room, and János rejoined me, pleased with the effect.

‘You like candles? Is romantic, yes?’

‘Very.’ I rearranged my legs around his and half-pivoted, wanting to kiss him. He was reaching for the shampoo bottle, though, intent on massaging my rain-ruined scalp and hair.

‘Here,’ he said, and his hand descended on the top of my head. Strong fingers distributed the shampoo through my tangled hair, awakening gorgeous sensation that trickled from my scalp downwards, making me sigh.

‘Mmm, you should be a hairdresser. That feels so nice.’ Blobs of lather slid down my neck and back.

‘I open a salon maybe? But I cannot cut. I maybe open salon for hair wash only. You think people pay for that?’

I chuckled. ‘Maybe not. Oooh. Do it forever. It’s so, so nice.’

His thumbs drew deep circles on the back of my neck until I thought it might fall backwards, no longer capable of supporting itself. Somewhere around the base of my spine, something was hardening, pushing to assert itself against my pliant flesh.

He finished rendering me into putty and began rinsing the suds out of my hair, the water streaming down me while I lay against his chest. For a moment, the intimacy of it all overwhelmed me and I had to fight to keep from bursting into tears. After the hard work of putting up defences and keeping my suspicion reflex honed, it felt too strange to be relaxing, enjoying, trusting. Could love really be so simple?

Soapy hands reached around to cleanse my skin, my belly, my breasts, the touch glidingly light. My nipples peaked again and I wriggled against him, a little coy at the way my burgeoning desires announced themselves.

His were no less blatant though, my back and the crease of my bottom subject to an increasingly bruising attack from his erection. Could we do it in the bath? And if we did, would I ever be able to break my mental association between water and good sex? Maybe I should save it for dry land.

He sponged my inner thighs and the outer part of my labia, keeping the stinging soap away from anywhere it might not be welcome. With a confident hand, he grabbed a thigh and pulled it up towards him, washing my captive leg then repeating the process with the other.

I slipped around like a fish until I faced him, grinning and snatching the sponge from his hand. ‘Now I want to wash you. Do you shampoo your moustache?’

‘Of course.’

‘Do you trust me to do it?’

‘I’m not so sure.’

I took the shampoo, fixed on my course, refusing to let him duck away from my foamy finger when I drew it along the bristly bank of hair.

What happened next was a great boiling mess of giggles and swirling water and splashing and play fighting and yucky soapy kisses and sweet tongues entwined. We had to calm down when a candle fell from the shelf and fizzed out in the water.

‘Shit, that could have burnt us!’

‘You are a bad girl, Ruby.’ He clicked his tongue at me, fishing out the candle and patting my watery bottom en route.

‘Me! That was you, doing all the kicking and thrashing.’

‘You know what happen to bad girls?’

‘Tell me.’

‘They go to my bed.’

‘How awful for them.’

‘Yes, very awful. So are you a bad girl?’

‘Oh, I think so.’

‘Then I must get you to the bed immediately.’

Thunder, more distant this time, mixed with the sound of disturbed water when he stood and reached for the towel.

‘No time to waste.’

He took my hand and pulled me upright, wrapping me in the towel as I stepped out on to the floor with its treacherous slippery pools.

He rubbed me vigorously, until my skin glowed and my hair was half-dry then he left the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist so he resembled a modern-day gladiator, all rippling muscle and slick damp hair.

Not for the first time I appreciated his rear view, drinking it in all the way to the bedroom, which was as dark as the bathroom and not just because of the cloud.

Old-fashioned dark wood furniture, heavy and ornate, dominated the room, which had wall coverings in a doomy crimson hue to complete the effect. Shelves of strange figurines and ornaments took up one wall, and all was overlooked by a gigantic crucifix.

‘My mother’s taste,’ explained János, noticing my curiosity. ‘I don’t have time or money for change it.’

He whipped off my towel and guided me to the bed with its dark overstuffed duvet and velvet throw. I don’t know what I’d expected – some kind of disarranged, nearly bare bedstead surrounded by perilous piles of CDs perhaps – but it hadn’t been this. The incongruity added to my feeling of sudden helplessness.

‘OK,’ I said, as he advanced upon me. ‘I’m finding this a little weird. Like … were you conceived in this bed?’

He stared. ‘I don’t know. I suppose.’

‘Do you think we could … maybe the living room?’

He sat down beside me. ‘I really have to decorate. This three years has been bad, you know? I think maybe I get a little depressed. Start things, don’t finish, lose my, ah, my …’

‘Will? Interest?’

‘Yes. Too much drink, too much party, too much sex with girls I don’t remember their name. My work goes bad, I don’t finish any project.’

I linked an arm through his and laid my head on his shoulder.

‘It’s funny, you seem so full of the joys of life.’

‘I have to keep the look of happiness, you know. Very common in my country, suicide of young men. I fight depression, not with pills, with my own energy. At least, I try.’

‘You’re very strong,’ I whispered. ‘But you know, there’s no shame in asking for help.’

‘I have help. You make me see things different. I want to work hard now, to make success.’

‘Have I really helped you?’ I contemplated this with pleasurable disbelief. What had I done to deserve this “life-changer” accolade?

His forehead touched mine, his nose following suit. ‘Yes.’

There was so much I wanted to say back to him – that he had helped me, and how, and why, and was this it? Or is there a future for us? And if so, what can it possibly be? But he shut off all the questioning with a kiss, a sincere if slightly soapy snog. I breathed it all in, as if it might be my last. It might be, for all that.

Once we were flat on the bed, all my concerns about the bedroom décor melted into the larger reality of my desires. Who can be distracted by an antique lamp when a handsome man looms over you, erection in full proud glory? The dusty wine-coloured velvet drapes were irrelevant beside the lips, the eyes, the sighs, the sights and sounds and scent of my beloved.

I gave in, too avid for more of him to care about anything else. I didn’t need lightning for his touch to ignite me from nipples to clit, didn’t need thunder to wrap myself around him and press into his hard cock. There was no rain, but it didn’t stop us devouring each other like famished creatures while the bedsprings creaked and groaned.

‘I want you,’ he said, over and again. ‘I want you.’

The words didn’t sound glib or practised. They sounded as if they came from a place inside him, hidden behind the insouciant playboy façade, only coming out under the stress of fervent emotion.

When he held me down, his eyes were sad, a little bit stunned. I ducked my head up to kiss him and spread wide my legs. You want me, you can have me. This was the message, loud and clear.

He read it, donning the condom and entering me with a rhythmic slowness, quite different from the frantic coupling in the ruin. He watched me as he slid in, eyes pinning me. I could almost hear his heart, or was it mine? Hammering with goading speed.

He ignored its rush and steadied himself, braced with his palms flat either side of my shoulder, his hair curling down and brushing my forehead, his body merging with mine.

Once I had him inside me, I exhaled and let my lips find the approximation of a smile. He still looked awed and scared, but he tried to mirror it, succeeding after a minute or two. I put my arms around his neck.

‘I want you,’ I said.

We gave each other, slowly and deliberately, making sure the pleasure was maximised. We made sure each stroke was accompanied with kisses and caresses and nudges and rubs. We moved together in the darkness, each knowing what the other needed instinctively.

When my body’s responses meshed to form the beginnings of climax, he lifted my thighs just enough to speed the process, making his thrusts correspondingly deeper, though keeping them tightly controlled.

My pleasure, when it came, was so primal and yet so delicate. Sounds I didn’t recognise as my own voice came from my throat, I felt myself unlocked, unleashed, and also possessed. I had the lover I was meant to have, at last.

His gift to me came soon afterwards – a growly, manly orgasm that nonetheless had at its core a piercing vulnerability.

I cradled him and we rocked together on the gentle waves of afterglow while the rain gushed steadily outside.

Why had I had to come here to give my heart? Why had this had to happen?

We slept for hours, awoken only by the jarring bleep of my mobile phone. I had to go to the bathroom to find it, flashing away amidst a pile of still-wet clothes. Naked and shivering, I picked it up, registering the time – after five – and that the caller was Jodie.

‘Jo?’

‘Ah, you’re still alive then.’

‘Of course. What’s up?’

‘I think you should come back to the flat.’

‘Do you? Why?’

‘Please, just come back. And …’ She lowered her voice to a stage-whisper, ‘Probably best if you come alone, yeah?’

‘What? What’s happening?’

But she had ended the call.

While I was frowning at the phone, a sleepy János materialised behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, ducking down to examine the screen for clues.

‘Everything is OK?’

‘I’m not sure. That was Jodie, sounding very mysterious. She wants me to go back to the flat right away.’

‘She don’t say why?’

‘No. But she said I should go alone.’

‘Hmm.’ He held on to me for just long enough for my stomach to give a spectacular rumble. ‘This is a long thunderstorm,’ he joked. I elbowed him in the ribs.

‘No, but you must eat first. You are hungry. Come to the kitchen.’

He made me pancakes – or palacsinta, as he called them – while my feeling of uneasiness over the phone call grew and grew.

‘I wish Jodie had told me what the rush was. I think I’m going to call her back.’

‘You want I come with you?’ János slid a plate of crepes filled with cream and walnuts in front of me.

‘I don’t understand why it would be so important that I was alone. I’m definitely going to call her.’

‘Eat first.’

He had a point. Yapping on the phone and eating rich food at the same time probably wouldn’t help my digestion. Obediently, I downed the delicious pancakes while János sat opposite me, wiping stray drops of cream from my lips with a considerate finger.

I felt so relaxed with him. I had never felt this relaxed with a man before. We ate our palacsinta with stupid blissful grins on our faces. If I wasn’t one of the lovey-dovey gooey-eyed people involved in the scene, I might have felt a bit sick.

‘OK. I’m calling her.’ I punched in Jodie’s number, my stomach lurching a little, and not just because of all the cream and sugar in it.

She didn’t pick up. She didn’t pick up the next time I dialled either. My text message remained unanswered.

‘OK, so now I’m freaking out,’ I muttered.

János took my hand. ‘I come with you. I don’t let you walk through the Nyocker alone besides.’

‘Anyway,’ I corrected without thinking, my mind on a variety of dark and hideous scenarios. ‘Thanks. Thanks for coming with me.’

‘No thanking. Of course I come with you.’

The rain had stopped but my clothes were still uncomfortably damp, so over my skirt I wore a dry shirt from the wardrobe, buttoning it loosely over my braless body. Whatever was going on at Jodie’s flat, I hoped my lack of underwear wouldn’t be noticed. If only we hadn’t been so focused on each other – maybe we would have thought to put the clothes out to dry. That was unrestrained passion for you, though.

People were back in the crumbling streets of the Eighth district. We passed the derelict site of János’ potential romkocsma, but it didn’t have the same romantic cast I’d given it in my mind. It looked like a death trap.

Everywhere János was hailed by shuffling elderly people and swaggering youths alike as they passed us by, most of them shooting me a curious look while they gabbled in Hungarian. The glad-handing didn’t stop until we were well on our way up the main drag towards Jodie’s apartment.

‘You seem popular,’ I commented, aiming to calm the riot in my stomach by indulging in some light conversation.

‘I know these people a long time. I have plans to give jobs to young people without jobs – they will work in my bar, or help to build, you know? It’s important. I want to help my local people.’

‘I really hope it works out for you.’

What I’d wanted to say was I really hope I can help you with that.

But how could I? I couldn’t stay in Budapest. I had a job and parents and student loans and rental agreements all waiting for me back in England. Not to mention … a past. This might be a fairy tale romance, but it was unlikely to end with me living happily ever after.

At the corner of Jodie’s street, I found myself saying, with explosive spontaneity, ‘God, I really do like you a lot. I really do, you know.’

He stopped walking, laughed, took me in his arms. ‘Of course I do too,’ he said. ‘You are my ruby, my little red jewel.’

‘Not really red.’

‘Not really red,’ he conceded. ‘But beautiful.’

Nobody had ever called me that. ‘Don’t be daft. I’m not beautiful.’

He tutted, tapped my nose with an admonitory finger. ‘You don’t say bad about yourself.’

‘I’m not in your house any more.’

‘No, but I own a house in this street, so the rule is still, er …’

‘It still stands?’

‘Yes.’

We walked on to the door of the building. I looked up, trying to work out what might be happening inside the balcony doors, but there was no clue there in the twisted wrought iron.

Climbing the stairs, I began to breathe heavily, suddenly more fearful than ever. Was Jodie being held hostage, locked in an airing cupboard? Was the flat full of terrorists? Sensing my anxiety, János unlocked the door himself and entered the flat first. I waited a couple of seconds before following him.

The first thing I heard was Jodie’s strident moan of, ‘Oh, fuck off, János, this isn’t the time. Could you come back later? Much later?’

Then János said, ‘Who is this?’

I had to go in then.

‘Oh God,’ I said, stepping back towards the open doorway.

‘Ruby, thank God you’re OK.’

‘What the hell are you doing here? Who told you I was in Budapest?’

Jodie half-raised a sheepish hand. ‘That’d be me.’

‘Why?’

‘She’s been worried about you.’ Dave’s sanctimonious voice made me want to punch out his perfectly flossed teeth. ‘Everyone’s been worried about you. You’re acting completely out of character.’

I hadn’t forgotten that János stood beside me, his height shadowing me reassuringly. It helped that he was here, and at the same time, it made everything worse.

‘This is who you didn’t marry?’ he asked suddenly, waving a hand at Dave.

‘Yes, I’m her fiancé.’ That nasal, pompous tone. What on earth did I ever see in him? ‘Who, may I ask, are you?’

‘You’re my ex-fiancé,’ I said between gritted teeth. ‘And this is my … Jodie’s landlord.’

Angry as I was with Dave, I resisted the temptation to fling my new lover in his face. It would only muddy the waters. I needed my message to be clear and consistent. It’s over. Go home.

I hoped János would understand this, but the slightly crumpled cast of his brow suggested he didn’t. I could explain later.

‘Oh!’ said Dave. ‘The one Jodie told me about. The one that’s been trying to seduce you! You can keep your hands off. She’s not available.’

‘Yes I am!’ It was getting much harder to sound calm and rational. ‘Yes I am available, Dave! I am single. You and I are not getting back together. Not ever.’

Dave took a breath, visibly steadying himself. What a weaselly dweeb he looked. I knew I should be the bigger person, be sympathetic and kind, because I had hurt him, after all. But he wasn’t making it easy.

‘Look, love, sit down and let’s talk about this sensibly. You know, deep down, that you panicked and ran away. We can sort out the panic. You can see a therapist about your commitment-phobia. We can sign up for couples counselling. All I want is to take care of you, Rube, and get us back on track.’

‘Why? Why would you want me back, after the way I’ve treated you?’

‘It’s OK, Ruby, I forgive you. The vendors still haven’t got another buyer for the house in Watkin Street. We could still complete on the deal. We can re-book the wedding. Your mum’s still got the dress. Might need a new cake though.’

‘Listen, Dave …’

‘We’re meant for one another, Ruby. I know that scares you, but it’ll be OK.’ He looked over at János and twitched. ‘And can that man please leave?’

János tilted his head at me. ‘Is Ruby’s choice.’

‘No, stay,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing more to say. I don’t want to marry you, Dave. I don’t want to get back together. I just can’t.’

‘Rube, I think it’s a nervous breakdown,’ contributed Jodie unhelpfully. ‘Don’t you think, Dave? After all those years of being sensible and steady and all that, she’s cracked.’

‘I tend to agree with you, Jodie – for once.’ Dave gurgled unattractively at his imagined witticism. ‘I’ve made no secret of the fact that I thought you were a bad influence on Ruby in the past – but I’m going to let bygones be bygones now. I can’t thank you enough for getting in touch with me. It seems I was just in time. I think Ruby was about to do something very stupid.’

He stared hard at János.

‘No,’ I said, following an instinct to stick up for him. ‘I wasn’t. Marrying you would have been very stupid, because my heart wasn’t in it. I’ve spent years prioritising my head over my heart. Well, now I’m going to stop that. I’m going to do what I want, be with whom I want. That’s not you, Dave.’

‘Anti-depressants will sort you out, love. I’ll make an appointment with Dr Greening when we get home.’

This was enough. My patience wore through.

‘Home?’ I thundered, not quite sure which words were going to tumble out of me next. ‘What home? I’m not going back to England. I’m going to stay here.’

What?’ squeaked Jodie, but János smiled, nerving me to carry on ranting.

‘Maybe not exactly here, in this exact flat, but I’m staying in Budapest. And I’m going to get accounting work, and I’m going to help János with the costings for his new bar. He has a passion that drives him, a need to transform his neighbourhood, and I want to be part of that, in whatever small way I can. And, more than that, I want to be with him.’

‘What?’ This time both Jodie and Dave chorused the word.

János grasped my hand and squeezed it, beaming down at me with dazzling effect.

‘If he wants to be with me,’ I said, more quietly, looking up at him. He kissed my hand, put his arm around my shoulder. I felt that we made a wall, beyond which the world could not encroach. We stood together, invincible.

‘You’ve known him five minutes!’ spluttered Dave when he could speak again. ‘You really have gone mad, haven’t you? I’m going to call the men in white coats. Jodie, what’s the emergency number?’

But she shook her head.

‘That’s taking it too far, Dave,’ she said. ‘I’m starting to think I was hasty. Perhaps we should just leave them to it.’

My head was too full of swooping giddiness to take much more in. I had taken an enormous risk – declared a future for myself that depended on somebody else’s consent, a somebody else I had known for a matter of a few days. Maybe Dave was right and I needed my head examined. But I didn’t think so.

There would be red tape, there would be logistics to consider, there would be papers to sign and queues to stand in and long, long discussions to be had.

But it could be done. Happiness could be mine.

And, it seemed, János thought so too.