seventeen, after an argument with his father.’
‘Did he not come back?’ I ask anxiously. ‘Is he living somewhere else?’
There’s a pause. They both look at me. My face grows hot from a mixture of anxiety and embarrassment. At last Ancher speaks:
‘If it’s the same man, he was drowned a year later. On a ship coming back to Denmark. It was wrecked. There’s no one else of that name here.’
I think he’s stopped speaking, or my ears have stopped working. The small sounds around me intensify and then blur. I try to speak. I want to pretend to shrug it off, tell them it doesn’t matter. I don’t want them to see how important this is to me. But it seems my voice isn’t working either.
They are staring at me, the two of them, from miles away, down a long dark tunnel. The hallway is starting to spin. At first it moves slowly, and then faster and faster, and I’m falling, falling, and it’s such a long way down.
The sun is shining across me. Dust motes are swirling in the ray of sunlight. I’m lying on a blue sofa in a room I’ve never seen before. A beautiful room with blue walls, hung with paintings. There’s a vase of flowers beside me. I’m confused. Have I been asleep? I can’t think how I come to be here.
I struggle into a sitting position. Hands push me back down, someone is speaking to me, but I can’t understand them. A cool cloth is laid on my brow. It feels good. My head is spinning sickeningly.
I lie still a moment, my eyes closed. It’s coming back to me now.
My father is dead. They told me that my father is dead. That means I’ve come all this way for nothing. I’ve travelled for days and days and spent all of my mother’s savings.
That explains why he never came back. Why my mother never heard from him. He was drowned on his way home. I was fatherless before I was born. We should have guessed.
What shall I do now? I’m an orphan.
I open my eyes again. There’s a lady in a fine yellow dress and a servant standing by me. Both their faces show kindness and concern. I’m not used to being a centre of attention. I turn my face into the back of the sofa, tears of disappointment and humiliation stinging my eyes and closing my throat.
I wish they would go away.
‘Marianne?’
There it is again. That strange way of saying my name.
The lady in the yellow dress is speaking. She has a silver anchor on a chain around her neck. I stare at it, mesmerized. She takes my hand, and hers is soft and warm. I become aware that I’m as cold as ice, and I shiver.
‘You fainted,’ she tells me in French. ‘Are you all right now?’
‘Yes, I think so. I’m so sorry … ’
This time as I sit up no one stops me. The maid stands near me holding the cool flannel. I attempt to smile at her. She puts a tiny glass to my lips and tilts it. I take a sip but then cough and splutter. It’s fiery and bitter.
‘No, please, could I have some water?’
‘ Vand ,’ I hear and someone gives me a glass. I gulp it down. I’ve had nothing to drink since early this morning.
I want to go now. I want to escape from these kind people.
‘Please don’t fuss!’ I say, and then I flush with embarrassment in case I’m being rude and ungrateful. ‘I mean … I don’t want to cause you so much trouble.’
I sit holding my head in my hands. Someone has taken my boots off. My stockings have holes in and are bloodstained from my blisters. I feel a rush of shame that these people have seen them, and tuck them back into my muddy skirt. I’m dirty and unkempt to be sitting in such a fine room. I might mark their sofa.
‘My name is Anna Ancher,’ says the lady. ‘You’ve already met my husband Michael. Is there anything we can do to help you? Do you have friends or family here?’
I shake my head and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I had no plans beyond finding my father. I’m embarrassed by this fine lady taking care of me. I need to accept her help however.
‘I need a place to
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