Matchless: An Illumination of Hans Christian Andersen's Classic "The Little Match Girl" (4 page)

“WHO ARE
YOU?”
asked a busybody neighbor. “What business have you, coming here in his time of sorrow?”

“Last night I found this in a lost slipper.” Frederik held up the key.

The gossipy neighbor wondered aloud: Was
this
why the girl had not returned? Had she lost her key? And her father, living so high above the warehouse, would never have heard her knocking. He had been out of his mind with work and worry, tending his two babies, who squalled with the consumption that had already claimed his wife and now, it seemed, had stolen his daughter, too.

When Dame Pedersen arrived, puffing from the effort, she covered Frederik’s face with her apron while grim-eyed men carried the girl’s body away for a pauper’s burial.

FREDERIK’S MOTHER motioned that it was time to leave, but then she caught sight of one of the sick babies, grey as bad bacon in the morning light. She had the poor thing to her bosom before she knew what she was doing, so Frederik cradled the other one as best he could.

As they held the children, their own family began to change, though they didn’t see it at the moment.

WHEN THE YEAR was scarcely a week old, Dame Pedersen helped the match girl’s

father secure a position as the new coachman to the Queen. And before the year was halfway old, Dame Pedersen had married the man, and invited him and his two frail daughters to share the rooms behind the smokehouse.

THE FAMILY WAS still hard-pressed for money, and dreamed of savory treats to eat, but they had the warmth of one another, and enough on which to live, and in most parts of the world that is called plenty.

PART FOUR

AS THE YEAR surged on, the Queen continued stamping on her hems. There were gowns to be mended every night.

THE FOLLOWING Christmas Eve Frederik’s mother decided to spend the night at the palace, leaving her new husband to keep the stove fire burning. She brought her needles and threads, but distracted by kissing her three children, she forgot to take her supper. Frederik offered to carry the meal to his mother. “I
can
find my way,” he promised his stepfather.

HIS DELIGHTED MOTHER applauded his success at finding the palace, and in holiday spirits, the Queen lunged to hand three pieces of marzipan to Frederik, ripping a royal seam as she did.

HURRYING HOME that Christmas Eve, however, Frederik grew uncertain. An unseasonal thaw was wreathing the city in a clammy mist, disguising the landmarks on which Frederik relied. Tonight it seemed as if all the ghosts of all who had died since last year had risen one last time to see in the holy day.

FREDERIK WASN’T frightened of ghosts, and though the world was masked with vapor, eventually he found the causeway.

Starting across, he heard a belligerent sound. He recognized it as plates of ice jamming in the mouth of the harbor channel, grinding their cold edges against one another. With the outlet plugged, and the snow melting, the harbor was rising. Inches of seawater flooded the causeway.

HE STOOD STILL. He couldn’t see his way forward along the causeway, nor could he retrace his steps. A false step would drown him, and no boat in the shape of a mother’s slipper would come sidling up to rescue him.

“Oh,” he prayed aloud, “let me get home to my sisters! I have marzipan fruits for them!” THE WATER lapped higher as bells began to ring in the muffling fog. He blinked, and then he saw a little light, a momentary flare held out by an invisible hand. He reached toward it, and the light went out.

BUT, LOOK, another!—several feet beyond, so he took a step forward.

A THIRD FLAME winked beyond that…and then a fourth.

SMALL BRIEF LIGHTS, but helpful as matches struck just in time. Frederik followed the chain of evanescent stars across the dark water to safety.

SOME PEOPLE know better than to announce if a little light has appeared to them.

Frederik didn’t confide in his mother when she returned the next morning, with pastries and lingonberry jam. He wanted to tell his stepfather there were reasons not to be sad on this Christmas anniversary. But he didn’t know how.

INSTEAD, he said to his sisters, “Eat up your marzipan. I have a surprise upstairs to show you.”

THEN HE CARRIED both girls up the ladder, to share with them his secret town, whose population had enjoyed a marked increase over the past year. His sisters clapped their hands…

—OH, how his sisters clapped their hands!—