The Storm Sister (The Seven Sisters #2) (51 page)

Then she had felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘
Warum so traurig, mein Kind?
’

She looked up, startled, to see an old pastor smiling down at her. ‘
Kein Deutsch, nur Norwegisch
,’ she had managed to say, as Jens had taught her.

‘Ah!’ said the pastor. ‘I know a little of the Norwegian language.’

Even though she tried her best to speak to him, his Norwegian was as limited as her German, and Anna had realised that Jens would have to speak to him about their marriage and then convince the
pastor of their faith.

The highlight of her day was their supper together as she listened to Jens talk about the Conservatory: the other students who hailed from all over Europe, the rows of Blüthner practice
pianos and the wonderful tutors, many of whom were also musicians in the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra. Tonight it had been the Stradivarius violin he’d been allowed to play which he’d
rhapsodised about.

‘The difference in the quality of the sound is rather like that of a barmaid humming to a soprano singing an aria,’ he enthused. ‘It’s all so wonderful! Not only do I get
to play every day, on the piano as well as my violin, but the classes I take in Musical Composition, Harmony and Musical Analysis are teaching me so much. And in Music History, I’ve already
studied works by Chopin and Liszt that I had never even heard of! Soon I will be playing Chopin’s Scherzo No. 2 in a student concert at the Gewandhaus hall.’

‘I’m so glad you’re happy,’ she said, trying to sound enthusiastic. ‘Is there anyone you could ask if there might be a chance for me to sing?’

‘Anna, I know you keep asking me,’ Jens replied in between bites of his food, ‘but I tell you that if you do not learn any German, it will be difficult for you to do anything
in this town.’

‘Surely there is someone who can just hear me? I know the Italian words to “Violetta’s Aria”, and I can learn the German words later.’

‘Hush, my love.’ Jens reached out and took her hand. ‘I will try again to make some enquiries for you.’

After supper, there was always the discomfiting bedtime routine. She would change into her nightgown in the water closet, then hurry under the covers, where Jens already lay. He would wrap his
arms around her and she would relax against his chest, drinking in his musky smell. He would kiss her then and she would feel her body respond to him, just as his did to her, both of them wanting
more . . . But then she would pull away from him and he would sigh heavily.

‘I just can’t,’ she’d whispered into the darkness one night. ‘You know we must be married first.’

‘I know, my darling. Of course we will be married eventually, but before then, surely we can—’

‘No, Jens! I just . . . cannot. You know I have found a church where we can wed soon, but you must speak to the pastor to make the arrangements.’

‘Anna, I simply do not have time to spare. My studies require my full attention. Besides, many at the Conservatory have new ideas. There are radicals amongst the students who believe the
Church is simply there to control the people. They look to a more enlightened view, such as that of Goethe in his play
Faust
. The story deals with all aspects of the spiritual and
metaphysical. I have been lent a copy to read by a friend, and this weekend I will take you to Auerbachs Keller, the bar that Goethe himself frequented and where he was inspired by a mural to write
his classic.’

Anna had never heard of Goethe and his apparently illuminating work. All she knew was that she had to be married in the eyes of God before she could be in a physical union with Jens.

Christmas arrived, reminding Anna that she and Jens had been in Leipzig for three months. She had wanted to go to the
Christmette
, the midnight mass at the church, and
Pastor Meyer had even given her a leaflet of traditional German hymns. She had been humming ‘
Stille Nacht
’ to herself, excited at the prospect of singing with other people
again. But Jens had insisted they should spend Christmas Eve at the home of Frederick, one of his fellow music students.

Clutching a mug of hot
Glühwein
, Anna sat silently next to Jens at the table, listening to the guttural German and hardly understanding a word of it. Jens, who was already drunk,
made no attempt to translate for her. Others played instruments after dinner, but Jens never once suggested she should sing.

As they walked home through the frosty night, Anna heard the bells chime midnight, announcing the start of Christmas Day. The sound of carol singing came from the church as they passed it, and
she glanced up at Jens, his face red from alcohol and the cheer of the evening. Sending up a silent prayer for her family celebrating without her in Heddal, she wished with all her heart that she
were there too.

Throughout January and February, Anna thought she might go mad with boredom. Her daily routine, which had seemed bearable to begin with due to its novelty, now seemed
insufferably dull. The snow had come to Leipzig and it was sometimes so cold that her fingers and toes went numb. She spent the days fetching up buckets of coal for the fire, washing clothes in the
freezing scullery, or making pitiful attempts to make sense of the words in
Faust
, which Jens had told her to study to improve her German.

‘I am so very stupid!’ she berated herself one afternoon, slapping the book closed and bursting into tears of frustration, something she now did with alarming regularity.

Jens became ever more deeply involved with the Conservatory and its students, often arriving home after a concert at midnight smelling of beer and tobacco smoke. She would feign sleep as his
arms reached out for her and tentatively caressed her body through her nightgown. She’d hear him swear under his breath at her lack of response, and as her heart beat against her chest,
he’d roll over with a grunt and begin to snore. Only then could she sigh with relief and go to sleep herself.

Nowadays, she mostly ate supper alone, surveying the other residents of the lodging house from under her eyelashes. Many of them changed weekly, and Anna presumed they were travelling salesmen
of some kind. However, there was one elderly gentleman who seemed to be a permanent resident like her, and took supper alone each evening. His nose was always buried in a book and he was finely
dressed in an old-fashioned manner.

The gentleman became an object of fascination as she ate; Anna spent hours wondering what his story was, and why he had chosen to spend his sunset years here. Sometimes, when it was only the two
of them for supper, he would nod and say ‘
Guten Abend
’ as he walked in and ‘
Gute Nacht
’ as he walked out. She decided he reminded her rather of Herr Bayer,
with his head of thick white hair, bushy moustache and courteous airs.

‘If I am even missing Herr Bayer, then I really must be miserable,’ she muttered to herself one evening as she left the dining room.

A few nights later, the gentleman stood up and walked across the room with his ever-present book in his hand. ‘
Gute Nacht
.’ He nodded to her as he approached the door to
leave the room. Then in afterthought, he turned back to her.

‘
Sprechen sie Deutsch?
’

‘
Nein
,
Norwegisch
.’

‘You are from Norway?’ he said in surprise.

‘Yes,’ she replied, delighted he had answered her fluently in her native language.

‘I am a Dane, you see, but my mother was from Christiania. She taught me the language when I was young.’

After the long weeks of being unable to communicate properly with anyone but Jens since she had arrived, Anna wanted to hug him. ‘Then I am delighted to meet you, sir.’

She watched the man pause in thought by the door and survey her. ‘You say you don’t speak any German?’

‘No more than a few words.’

‘Then how on earth do you manage in this town?’

‘To be honest, sir, I don’t.’

‘Your husband, he is working here in Leipzig?’

‘No, he attends the Conservatory.’

‘Ah, a musician! No wonder he rarely joins you in the evening for supper. May I ask what your name is?’

‘I am Anna Halvorsen.’

‘And I am Stefan Hougaard.’ He gave her a small bow. ‘And pleased to make your acquaintance. You do not work then, Fru Halvorsen?’

‘No, sir, I do not. Although I hope soon to gain employment as a singer.’

‘Well, in the meantime, perhaps I can assist you with the task of studying German? Or at least, give you a better grasp of the basics,’ he suggested. ‘We could meet here after
breakfast if you wish, under the full glare of our landlady, so that your husband would not feel as though anything improper was occurring.’

‘That is most kind of you, sir, and indeed, I would be very grateful for your help. But I warn you, I am a slow student and not good with my letters, even in my own language.’

‘Well then, we shall just have to work hard together, won’t we? So, tomorrow morning at ten?’

‘Yes. I will be here.’

Anna went to bed that night feeling far more cheerful, even though Jens was yet again absent from her side, saying he was rehearsing for a concert. Simply being able to converse with another
human being had been a joy and anything she could do to add a little variety to her days had to be a good thing. And if she could learn at least a little German, perhaps there would be a chance of
singing in public again . . .

As the first blossoms began to appear on the trees, Anna spent her mornings downstairs, trying to teach her stubborn brain to memorise and repeat the words Herr Hougaard taught
her. After the first few days, he insisted he should accompany her out on the street when she was making her daily trip to the market. He would stand a short distance away and listen carefully as
she followed his instructions and bade the vendor a good morning, then requested her goods and paid for them before saying goodbye. These missions unnerved her at first, and often she would stumble
over the phrases she had learnt, but slowly, her confidence began to grow.

Anna’s forays into the city with Herr Hougaard began to expand as she improved over the following weeks, culminating in her ordering lunch for both of them at a restaurant, which she
insisted on paying for as a thank you.

She still knew little about him, only that his wife had died some years ago, leaving him a widower. He had moved from the country to the city so that he could enjoy all the benefits of the
cultural scene in Leipzig without having to care for himself domestically.

‘What more do I need than a full stomach, clean sheets and clothes washed regularly, and a magnificent concert just a few minutes’ walk away to stir my senses?’ he had said
with a broad smile.

Herr Hougaard had been surprised that Jens had not asked her to watch the many concerts he told her he performed in. He’d said they didn’t have the money to spare, but Herr Hougaard
said they were often free. In fact, Anna was seeing less and less of her ‘husband’, and just recently, there had been occasions when he hadn’t come home at all. She thought one
morning, as she opened the window to let in the spring air before walking downstairs for her daily lesson, that if it wasn’t for Herr Hougaard, she may well have thrown herself under a tram
months ago.