Olga.
Since last night, no one has known anything about her.
It was as if she had said goodbye to Eva.
Eva didn't know why or where she had gone.
Nothing bad has happened to her. That much is certain.
It never even crossed Eva's mind that Olga might be in trouble.
She wouldn't fall for dandies, wouldn't drop everything and run away because of some forbidden love.
Olga.
It was strange that she had no one and kept everyone at a distance. She had many friends, but not like that.
Eva was certain that Olga was fine.
She changed back into her outdoor clothes. She tied a neat bow on her shoes. She took her red canvas bag and her wallet.
There was loose change in it for a phone call.
She locked the door.
The elevator was occupied.
She chose the stairs.
On the fourth floor, the hallway light bulb had burned out. The corridor was plunged into darkness.
On the third floor, someone was listening to music too loudly on a vinyl record. Not the radio. Maybe Aunt Maria.
Outside, the streetlights hadn't been turned on yet. And the fog had settled in.
An ordinary, rainy, foggy November dusk.
Eva watched the pavement so she wouldn't step into puddles.
There was no line in front of the grocery store.
She finished shopping quickly. She bought eight cans, as usual.
The phone booth was on the next street. A three-minute walk.
When she turned the corner, she looked back. She didn't want any ear- or eyewitnesses.
A man in a trench coat approached her. His collar was pulled up to his ears. He was in a hurry—probably heading home. He watched the pavement because of the puddles and passed Eva without even looking at her.
Before stopping at the phone booth, Eva looked around carefully.
She was completely alone. The street was deserted.
365-*
"Hello! You've reached the Clarissian convent!"
Eva learned what she wanted. She didn't speak into the receiver.
There's no way to trace who called the Clarissians.
Was Olga religious? Eva didn't know—but it wasn't relevant. She wouldn't withhold important information if Olga still hadn't turned up by tomorrow.
She wouldn't mention the number to anyone.
Eva was certain that Olga was fine.
Olga had said goodbye yesterday—but it was as if she had been more worried about Eva.
"Take care of yourself, Eva!"
She unpacked the canned goods and threw the brown wrapping paper into the trash.
365-***
She made tea. She sat down by the small round table in the living room. By the small lamp, she read the newspaper.
The clock cuckooed seven times.
Eva checked the time on her wristwatch.
The cuckoo clock was running later and later because of the bug.
The phone rang.
By the time Eva reached the hallway, it rang several times. Insistently.
If it's those ill-mannered kids again…
It was Márk.
The publisher is releasing his book.
And at home?
Nothing worth mentioning.
Nothing worth mentioning over the phone.
The telephone operators are listening.
There's a bug in the living room.
Márk will be home tomorrow.