The Storm Sister (The Seven Sisters #2) (55 page)

‘Child, I am not a bad woman, but neither am I a saint. I have become fond of you and I know you are a good, God-fearing girl who has fallen low because of a man. And I am not so
completely heartless as to throw you out onto the streets after what you have suffered. But we must both be realistic about the situation. This room is the best I have to offer to guests and the
amount you have earned from me doing the chores barely covers two nights of the weekly rent. And then there are your other debts . . .’

Frau Schneider looked at Anna for a reaction, but there was not a flicker in her dead eyes. She continued with a sigh. ‘Therefore I suggest that you continue to help me at the boarding
house, working full-time until your husband returns – if he does – and I will offer you the maid’s room off the scullery at the back of the house in lieu of wages. You will be fed
with the leftovers from breakfast and dinner and, on top of that, I will loan you the money you need to pay the midwife and to give your child a proper Christian burial. There, what do you
say?’

Anna could say nothing. Any thoughts she might have were not within reach. She was only physically present because she had no choice, so she nodded her head automatically.

‘Good. Then it is decided. Tomorrow, you will move your possessions into your new room. There is a gentleman who wishes to rent this room for a month.’

Frau Schneider walked towards the door and as her big, capable hand grasped the knob, the woman turned back with a frown.

‘Are you not going to say thank you, child? Many would simply toss you out into the gutter.’

‘Thank you, Frau Schneider,’ Anna parroted dutifully.

The woman muttered something as she opened the door and left, and Anna knew she had not shown enough gratitude. She closed her eyes to block out reality. It was safest to stay in a place where
nothing and no one could reach her.

As a bitter wind blew in the beginning of December, Anna went to the Johannis Cemetery and stood alone by the graveside of her daughter.

Solveig Anna Halvorsen
.

The God she had always believed in, the love she had sacrificed everything for, and now her baby girl . . . all were gone.

In the next three months, Anna simply existed. She worked from dawn until dusk, as Frau Schneider took full advantage of the financial arrangement that had been struck when
Anna was vulnerable. The landlady lounged in her private sitting room as she tasked Anna with more and more chores. At night, she lay on her pallet in the tiny room that stank of decaying food from
the scullery and slops from the narrow drain in the back yard, so exhausted that she slept and dreamt of nothing.

There were no dreams left.

When she gathered up the courage to ask how long before her debt would be paid off and she could receive some wages, Frau Schneider had snarled angrily in reply.

‘Ungrateful girl! I care for you by putting a roof over your head and food on the table and yet you still ask for more!’

No, it was Frau Schneider who asked for more
, Anna thought that night. Nowadays, it was left to her to do everything in the lodging house and she knew she must set about finding herself
another position that at least paid her some meagre wages. As she pulled off her dress and surveyed her grimy face in the looking glass, she realised she looked little better than a gutter rat:
half starved, dressed in rags and smelling of filth. It would be almost impossible for an employer to offer her a position in her current state.

She thought of writing to Frøken Olsdatter, or even throwing herself on her parents’ mercy. When she enquired at a pawn shop what they would pay her for the writing instrument Lars
had given her, she realised it would not even cover the price of posting a letter to Norway.

Besides, what little she had left of her pride told her she had brought all this terrible misfortune down on her own head and that she deserved no sympathy.

Christmas came and went and the freezing January days slowly drained any ounce of hope and belief that Anna had left within her. The prayers that had once been for salvation had turned to
prayers that she would never wake up again.

‘There is no God, it is all a lie . . . everything is a lie,’ she whispered to herself before falling into an exhausted sleep.

One evening in March, she was in the kitchen chopping vegetables for the lodgers’ evening meal when Frau Schneider entered, looking flustered.

‘There is a gentleman here to see you, Anna.’

Anna turned to her with a look of pure relief on her face.

‘No, it is not your husband. I have put the gentleman in my parlour. You will remove your apron, clean your face and come as soon as you have done so.’

With a sinking heart, Anna wondered if it was Herr Bayer coming to mock her. And didn’t care if it was, she thought, walking along the corridor to Frau Schneider’s sitting room.
Knocking in trepidation, she was told to enter.

‘Frøken Landvik! Or should I say Fru Halvorsen, as I believe we must address you now. How are you, my little songbird?’

‘I . . .’ Anna stared at the gentleman in utter shock, studying him as though he was an exhibit in the museum of her past life.

‘Come now, child, speak to Herr Grieg,’ Frau Schneider chastised her. ‘She can certainly answer back when she wishes to,’ she commented acidly.

‘Yes, she always was a spirited girl who knew her own mind. But then, that is the artistic temperament, madame,’ Grieg retorted.

‘Artistic temperament?’ Frau Schneider eyed Anna with disdain. ‘I thought that belonged to her absent husband.’

‘This woman’s husband may be a fine musician, but this young lady is the real talent in the family. Have you not heard her sing, madame? She has the most exquisite voice I’ve
ever heard, other than that of my dear wife, Nina, of course.’

Anna listened quietly as they continued to talk about her, enjoying the slack-jawed look of shock on Frau Schneider’s face.

‘Well, of course, if I had known, I would have brought her into this parlour and had her sing for our lodgers as I played the piano. I myself am an amateur, but a keen one.’ Frau
Schneider indicated the ancient instrument sitting in a corner which Anna had never heard played since the day she’d arrived.

‘I’m sure you underestimate your own abilities, dear madame.’ Edvard Grieg turned his attention to Anna. ‘My poor child,’ he said, switching to Norwegian so that
Frau Schneider couldn’t eavesdrop. ‘I have only recently arrived in Leipzig and received your letter. You look half starved. Forgive me, if I had known your circumstances, I would have
come sooner.’

‘Herr Grieg, please, do not concern yourself with me. I am well.’

‘It is patently obvious you are not, and it is my pleasure to assist you in any way I can. Do you owe this wretched woman anything?’

‘I do not think so, sir. I have not had wages for the past six months and believe any debts must have been paid off long ago. But she may think otherwise.’

‘My poor, poor child,’ Grieg said, careful to keep his tone light under Frau Schneider’s scrutiny. ‘Now, I will request a glass of water, which you will fetch for me.
Then you will go to your room and pack any possessions you have. Bring in the glass, then take your belongings and leave the house. I will meet you at the
Bierkeller
on the corner of
Elsterstraße. In the meantime, I will handle our Frau Schneider.’

‘I was just saying to Anna I have a raging thirst that will not quieten. Frau Halvorsen has offered to get me some water,’ he said in German.

With Frau Schneider’s nod of agreement, Anna left the room and hurried through the scullery to pack her valise as Herr Grieg had instructed her to. She filled a glass with water from a
jug, and carried it to the parlour. Leaving her valise outside the door, she took the water inside.

‘Thank you, my dear,’ said Grieg as she handed him the glass. ‘Now, I’m sure you have duties to attend to. I will see you before I leave.’ Turning to Frau
Schneider, he managed a slight wink at Anna, who retreated hurriedly, then picked up her valise and left the house.

Stunned by the turn of events, Anna waited by the
Bierkeller
for twenty minutes until the familiar figure of her saviour walked swiftly down the street towards her.

‘Well, Fru Halvorsen, I hope that one day your absent husband will repay me for bargaining your release!’

‘Oh sir! Did she make you pay for it?’

‘No, it was far more trying than that. She insisted I give her a rendition of my Concerto in A Minor on that dreadful instrument of hers. She should use it for firewood to keep her lardy
body warm in winter,’ Grieg chuckled as he picked up Anna’s valise. ‘I have promised to call again to serenade her, but I can assure you I will not be fulfilling that obligation.
Now, we will hail a carriage from the square to take us to Talstraße, and on the way there, you will tell me all that you have suffered at the hands of the wicked Frau Schneider. It is as if
you are
Aschenputtel
and that woman your wicked stepmother, banishing you to the kitchen to be her skivvy. All that is missing is the two ugly sisters!’

Grieg offered his hand to Anna as she stepped inside the carriage. At that moment, she did indeed feel like a fairy-tale princess being rescued by her prince.

‘We are going to the house of my dear friend, the music publisher Max Abraham,’ Grieg said.

‘Is he expecting me?’

‘No, but dear madame, once he hears of your plight, he will be only too glad to offer you shelter. I have the use of a set of rooms there whenever I wish to be in Leipzig. You shall be
quite comfortable until we have settled you elsewhere. I shall sleep on the grand piano if necessary.’

‘Please, sir, I do not wish to cause a problem or any discomfort for you.’

‘And I can assure you that you do not, dear madame. I was merely joking,’ he said with a gentle smile. ‘There are many spare rooms at Max’s house. So now, how did you
fall so far from the great heights you had attained when I last saw you?’

‘Sir, I . . .’

‘Actually, don’t tell me!’ Grieg held up his hand, then scratched his moustache. ‘Let me guess! Herr Bayer’s attentions were becoming unbearable. Perhaps he even
proposed to you. You refused him because you were in love with our handsome but unreliable fiddle player and would-be composer. He announced he was coming to study in Leipzig and you decided to
marry and follow him. Am I right?’

‘Sir, please don’t tease me.’ Anna hung her head. ‘It is obvious you know the story already. Every word you say is true.’

‘Fru Halvorsen . . . may I call you Anna?’

‘Of course.’

‘Herr Hennum told me recently of your sudden disappearance, although I did not know the details. And it was obvious from what I’d heard in Christiania that Herr Bayer had intentions
beyond your career. So the fiddle-playing husband of yours is still in Paris?’

‘I believe so, yes.’ Anna wondered how he knew.

‘And, I’d fancy, staying in the apartment of a wealthy benefactress by the name of Baroness von Gottfried.’

‘I do not know where he stays, sir. I have heard nothing from him for months. I no longer count him as my husband.’

‘My dear Anna,’ Grieg said, reaching out a comforting hand to hers, ‘you have suffered so. Sadly, the baroness is fervent in her pursuit of musical talent. And the younger and
more attractive, the better.’

‘Forgive me, sir, but I hardly care to hear the details.’

‘No, of course not. That was insensitive of me. But the good news is, she will soon tire of him and move on and then he will be back by your side.’ He glanced at her then. ‘I
always said you were the spirit of my Solveig. And just like her, you wait for him to return to you.’

‘No, sir.’ Anna’s features stiffened at his insight. ‘I am not Solveig, and I will not wait for Jens to return to me. He is no longer my husband, or I his
wife.’

‘Anna, for now, no more of this. You are with me and you are safe. I will do all I can to help you.’ He paused as the carriage drew up outside a grand and beautiful white house, four
storeys high, with rows of tall, gracefully arched windows. Anna recognised it as the building of the music publisher, where she had dropped off her letter to Grieg so long ago. ‘For the sake
of propriety, it is better if others merely believe you fell on hard times whilst you wait for your husband to return from Paris. Do you see, Anna?’ Grieg’s searing blue eyes met hers
for an instant as the grasp of his hand tightened on hers.

‘I do, sir.’

‘Please, call me Edvard. Now, we have arrived,’ he said, releasing Anna’s hand. ‘Let us go in and announce ourselves.’

Still dazed by the events of the day, Anna was shown to the delightful airy attic rooms by the maid and was then allowed to sink into a welcome bath. After scrubbing off the grime of the past
few months, she changed into a silk dress that had magically appeared on the canopied bed. Strangely, the emerald-green gown fitted her small frame perfectly.

She gazed in wonder at the beautiful view of Leipzig from the large window, the memory of being trapped in the tiny lodging house already receding as she took in the grandeur around her. She
made her way downstairs as she’d been instructed, marvelling at how were it not for Herr Grieg, she would still be in Frau Schneider’s grimy kitchen peeling carrots for supper.