I started to panic. Karcsi’s eyes were filled with despair.

I reached out and held his hand. It was burning hot, like sand under your feet in summer.

‘I’m here,’ I said.

‘Mom! I’m so happy you’re here! They said you died!’

He squeezed my hand so hard that I thought he would break it.

‘You just had a nightmare. I’m right here. Just sleep now, you need to rest.’

I leaned in and kissed his forehead, like I imagined his mother would have done.

Karcsi smiled. His head fell back on the pillow and he closed his eyes. He fell asleep right away. He regained his strength a couple of days later. Later he didn’t remember any of this, but I could never forget.

That’s why I couldn’t really be angry with him when he stole the meat.

He chewed the piece of flesh and swallowed it with a grimace.

‘How does it taste?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Like something . . .’

He fell silent. His face went from white to green, like a forest in springtime. He took a few deep breaths like someone about to sneeze, then he threw up. Vomiting is not a typical allergic symptom, but I got scared nevertheless. Karcsi spat, then looked up.

‘It was awful. Like raw fat mixed with cotton candy. Disgusting,’ he said eventually. He looked at his vomit.

‘Stop looking at it, or I’ll throw up too,’ I said.

‘It’s not there.’

‘What?’

He drew closer to the pool of vomit. He smiled.

‘The piece I just ate. It didn’t come out.’

I looked. The raw flesh wasn’t there.

We waited for the better part of an hour, but nothing happened. It appeared that eating the flesh caused no reaction whatsoever. We got bored in the punishing heat and decided to go out and play.

We ran out of the attic into the burning summer sun, and we drifted away with the breeze, like the seeds of a dandelion.

That was our last really good day.

‘It could be like school for them,’ Karcsi said, as he stuffed pie in his mouth.

We were sitting by the trunk of a tree, the lukewarm marmalade pies lying wrapped in a scarf. It was an off week during processing. During these weeks the whole village cooks and prepares meals together, waiting for the next batch of crop to ripen. Karcsi and I got our hands on as many sweets as we could and ran away with them.

‘School for who?’ I asked.

He swallowed the pie.

‘For those who want to come across. From the other side.’

This made me think.

‘But where is the other side?’

He frowned.

‘Well . . . in the afterlife. Where the dead live.’

‘But where is that?’ I asked.