Sometime ago I had a letter from András Lipták, Békéscsaba's mayor advising me that my furniture, which was being stored, can be picked up. However, when I went to pick it up, the furniture could not be located. I was told that as I was not a refugee but a deportee I would be required to make a legal settlement should the previous occupant of the dwelling return. The decree was not applied but the empty apartment was assigned to another couple and I was being charged as the apartment was unfurnished!
Finally, I realize that I must come to terms with reality. What was there left from our little home? Well, they did not touch the walls! An earlier order required my giving up our paintings. All that remained was a picture of Éva as an infant, painted by Kolozsvári and some sculpture by Sámuel Filipinyi, a few books. (Somebody found a better place for my special editions of Jókai and Mikszáth.) Éva's books: Pantheon Edition - Beethoven's Life and Works; Meyer's Concertmaster; Young Mozart - here is a dedication "To a Future Great Pianist", from János Kálmán; A Look at Hungary's History of Music (Beautiful piano pieces) which was presented to Éva upon her matriculation with an inscription from the principal, Dr. Benedek Banner. Under the book cover, I discover a few words, written in pencil "Dear Gyuri, I hope that one day we will be able to share our love of music" and there is Éva's signature.
Oh, she was so proud of a dedication from Zoltán Kodály: "To Éva Péterfi - Sing my Children". Then I found a miniature piano, the top of which could be opened. It came with tiny music score and candle sticks on either side, which were half the size of a needle. This used to be our good luck charm. That was all that remained but I took it as a positive sign.
Nothing seemed familiar. I went down to the cellar and found old photographs in the woodbin, full of mildew. I brought them upstairs to the sunlight. There was a little brown book with the Hungarian coat of arms, the sacred crown and angels with a little sticker "Mrs. George Kiss nee Éva Péterfi" I open it - Éva's graduation class picture with the matriculation seal. She is wearing a white sailor's shirt, looking so happy as if the world had just opened up for her. This picture was taken four years ago. She probably needed it for her work permit.
She did find work at the farm of an estate. Friends wanted a safe refuge for her. As a farm labourer chances of survival from being taken to a ghetto, were far better. But this was not meant to be. Her boss was Ede Pfeiffer. On her employment card of May 23 she was registered as general help but by May 29 she had to leave. Her boss had given her an excellent reference "exceptional in every way, bright, dependable, honest." I tried to get in touch with with Mrs. Pfeiffer. She too had to flee and had not yet returned.
I met Mátyás Hankó who complained to me that Éva did not take his advice. He succeeded in hiding people on various farms. László Kádár stopped me on the street one day and asked me to come to his office as he had some things for me. The office was in the same building as one of the Gestapo Units. Kádár had my "Schaubek" stamp album - a well-organized collection of selected stamps up to the year 1922. Vandals appeared to have expertise but not too much time. Only stamps of little value remained.
Emil's enormous safe was there - but emptied. The Germans had found these things in different places - but they ended up together in the same place!
Éva's parents lived on Andrássy Street, upstairs above the Hauer Department Store. Only Tibor, the left-winger survived. He is now known as Tibor Simon. Hungarian Slavs requisitioned the Péterfi's home. I went through the apartment with Tibor but it was empty. There were some prayer books strewn about. One time the piano virtuoso Iván Engel used to give concerts here. A Jew was not permitted to hold a concert in public.
Tibor started putting together some old framed photographs - one of my father-in-law in military uniform, taken during the First World War. I got him to come with me to the basement, where Éva's music was scattered about and in pretty bad shape. Then I discovered some letters that we had written to each other. I picked them up - one by one...
A last look from the street side balcony...I remember how we stood there together on the occasion of our engagement - with my grandmother - our parents - our arms about each other - happy smiles on everybody's face. We set out for our honeymoon from here with horse and buggy which brought us to the railway station.