The Storm Sister (The Seven Sisters #2) (54 page)

‘There, there,’ the older woman crooned. ‘I know how fond of him you were, as was I. It must be most upsetting for you, with your husband still away. And in your condition
too.’

Anna followed the woman’s gaze to her stomach. ‘I . . . What do you mean by my “condition”?’

‘Why, your pregnancy, of course. Do you know when the baby is due? You’re so very small, Frau Halvorsen, you really must take care.’

Anna felt the world spin again and thought she might vomit over Frau Schneider’s velvet-covered sofa.

‘Why don’t you try and drink a little water?’ Frau Schneider suggested, stepping towards her and proffering a glass.

Anna did so, as the woman chattered on.

‘I was going to speak with you about the future when your husband returned. One of my rules here is no children. Their cries disturb the other guests.’

If Anna thought things could not get any worse, it seemed they just had.

‘However, until he is back, I feel it is hardly fair to turn you out on the street. So I will be happy to have you stay here until the birth,’ she said magnanimously.

‘
Danke
,’ Anna whispered, knowing that the woman’s brief show of empathy was at an end and that she wished to get on with her morning. She stood up. ‘I am well
now. Thank you for your kindness and my apologies for the trouble I’ve caused you.’ She nodded courteously to the woman before making her exit to return to her room.

For the rest of the day she lay motionless on the bed. If she stayed still with her eyes closed, perhaps the terrible things that had happened – and all that was happening
now
– would go away. But if she moved a single muscle, that would mean that she was still alive and breathing and she’d have to face reality.

‘Oh Lord, please help me,’ she begged.

Later, forced to rise to visit the water closet, Anna took off her dress and stood in her bloomers and chemise. Lifting the chemise, she forced her eyes downwards and acknowledged the gentle
swelling of her belly. Why on earth had she never connected her growing waistline to pregnancy?

‘You silly little idiot!’ she wailed. ‘How could you not have known? You are a naive, stupid peasant from the country, just as Herr Bayer told you!’ She went to a drawer
to retrieve her ink pen and paper, then sat on the bed and began to write to her husband in Paris.

‘There’s a letter for you this morning,’ Frau Schneider said as she handed it to Anna. The child – for that was how the landlady thought of her
diminutive lodger – looked up at her with hollow, sunken eyes, and for the first time, Frau Schneider saw the tiniest glimmer of hope appear in them. ‘It has a French mark upon it. I am
sure it must be from your husband.’

‘
Danke
.’

Frau Schneider nodded, and retreated from the dining room to give the child some privacy to read it. In the past two weeks, it was Anna’s ghost who had emerged from her room to look
disinterestedly at whatever food Frau Schneider put in front of her, and she would take it away untouched. Frau Schneider sighed as she went to the scullery to wash the breakfast plates in the
wooden barrel. She’d seen it all before. And although she felt some sympathy for Anna, she was hoping the problem would be resolved by this letter. She had learnt long ago that her
residents’ lives, however desperate, could not be her responsibility.

Up in her room, Anna opened the letter with trembling fingers. She had written to Jens weeks ago at the chateau, telling him of the baby. Perhaps this was finally a reply.

Anna let the letter fall to the floor and put her head in her hands, trying to collect her racing thoughts. There was no mention of the baby – had he not received her
letter? And how much longer was she meant to wait for him?

This man will break your heart and destroy you . . .
Herr Bayer’s words echoed in her mind, eating away her resolve to trust her husband.

Somehow, Anna staggered through the next month. Having no idea when Jens would return, she watched Frøken Olsdatter’s coins diminish, and decided that she must
look in the city for some form of work.

For a week, she trudged the streets of Leipzig, enquiring about becoming a waitress or a pot washer, but the second any would-be employer saw her burgeoning belly, they shook their heads and
sent her on her way.

‘Frau Schneider, do you perhaps need any help in the kitchen or with the cleaning?’ she asked her landlady one day. ‘Now Herr Hougaard has gone and I wait for my husband to
return, I find myself bored. I thought I might make myself useful.’

‘It is not idle work we do here, but if you are sure,’ the landlady replied, eying her carefully, ‘then yes, I could do with some help.’

Frau Schneider started her off in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, which meant Anna had to rise at five thirty in the morning. After washing the pots, she went up to the lodgers’ rooms
and changed whatever bedding was necessary. The afternoons were hers, but she was back in the kitchen at five, peeling the potatoes and preparing the supper. Anna thought her situation ironic,
given her lack of natural aptitude in the kitchen. It was hard endless graft, and her belly dragged painfully as she walked up and down the stairs, but at least she was so exhausted that she slept
through the night.

‘What have I come to?’ she asked herself ruefully as she lay in bed one evening. ‘The toast of Christiania, turned into a scullery maid in a few short months.’ Then she
prayed, as she did every night, for her husband to return to her.

‘Dear Lord, please do not let my faith and love in my husband be wrong. And for all those who have doubted him to be right.’

As the chill winds of November began to blow, Anna felt a sudden pain in her stomach in the middle of the night. After fumbling to light the oil lamp beside the bed, she stood
up to ease the discomfort and to her horror, saw the sheets were covered in blood. The pains clamped across her belly in regular spasms and she stifled her screams of agony. Too frightened to call
out for help and incur the displeasure of Frau Schneider, Anna laboured alone through the long hours and as dawn appeared, she looked down to see a tiny infant lying motionless between her
legs.

She noticed there was a piece of skin attached to its navel, which seemed to be also attached to her. She could hold her terror in no longer, and screamed with all the pain, fear and exhaustion
she felt. Frau Schneider appeared at the door within seconds, took one look at the carnage on the bed and immediately ran from the room to fetch the midwife.

Anna was roused from an exhausted and feverish sleep by soft hands smoothing back her hair and placing a cloth on her forehead.

‘There, there,
Liebe
, I’m going to cut the cord and clean you up,’ the voice murmured gently.

‘Is she dying?’ Frau Schneider’s familiar voice cut into Anna’s consciousness. ‘Really, I knew I should have asked her to go the minute I saw she was with child.
This is what comes of letting my soft heart rule my head.’

‘No, the young lady will be well, but sadly the babe is stillborn.’

‘Well, that is most tragic, but I’m afraid I must get on.’ With that, Frau Schneider left the room with a cluck of distaste.

An hour later, Anna was tidied up and sitting in clean sheets. The midwife had wrapped her baby in a shawl and handed it to Anna to say goodbye.

‘It was a little girl, dear. Try not to fret. I’m sure there’ll be more babes for you in the future.’

Anna looked down at her daughter’s perfect features, yet already the skin had a bluish hue to it. She kissed the baby tenderly on its tiny forehead, too numb to even cry, then allowed the
midwife to remove it from her arms.

‘Now that you are stronger I wish to speak with you,’ said Frau Schneider as she removed the untouched breakfast plate from Anna’s lap. The child was still in
bed after a week, too feeble to climb out. Frau Schneider had decided enough was enough.

Anna nodded listlessly, knowing full well what the woman would say. And hardly caring if she
did
get thrown out on the street. She didn’t care about anything any longer.

‘You have had no letter from your husband since early autumn.’

‘No.’

‘Did he say when he would return?’

‘No. Only that he would.’

‘And you still believe him?’

‘Why would he lie to me?’

Frau Schneider gazed at Anna in despair at her naivety. ‘Have you money to pay me for the past week’s rent?’

‘Yes.’

‘And next week? And the week after that?’

‘I have not looked in my tin, Frau Schneider. I will look now.’ Delving under the mattress, Anna retrieved the tin.

Frau Schneider did not need to be told there were few coins left in it. She watched the child open it and saw an expression of fear pass across her blue eyes. Anna took out two coins and handed
them to her landlady, then snapped the tin shut.

‘
Danke
. And what about the midwife’s payment? Can you give me that as well? She handed me the bill when she left. And then, of course, there is the question of your
child’s burial. Your babe is still lying in the town mortuary, and unless you wish her to be buried in a pauper’s grave, you must arrange payment for the service and plot of earth in
the churchyard.’

‘How much will that cost?’

‘I cannot tell you. But I think in truth, it is obvious to us both it is more than you have.’

‘Yes,’ Anna agreed bleakly.