Chapter Seventeen
22nd November 1918
Everyone is in buoyant mood now that the house is full again. It hasn’t stopped raining for days but it is as though the sun is shining inside the walls. Mama is so happy that I heard her singing in the parlour this morning and she promised we could look for some new ribbons for my blue hat when the weather clears.
Of course Papa is always so busy, I think sometimes he does not realize the war is over. He rarely leaves his office, but I can tell from the way he looks down the table at dinner and nods to himself that he is happy to have his sons home again. He is always talking to Frederik about the running of the company now that we are in better times again but Mama wishes they would stop talking business all the while.
There is talk of throwing a party. Casper is very keen and trying to persuade Mama to choose a date although I have been told not to get my hopes up. Mama says there is much to sort, and Miss Holm disapproves, I think – she says some people are sensitive to celebrating peace when so many have died.
I’m very sad about the dead people but I think they would want us to be happy and have the party. If we do, I want to wear my new pink dress. It has been hanging in my closet, just waiting for a happy occasion, and we have worn our day clothes for so long now, they are almost rags. Mama says Lilja needs some new garments too. She is growing fast; she’s so tall and skinny she’s like a stick doll. I have asked Mama if we can have a yellow dress made for her because it’s her favourite colour and it would be so pretty against her hair.
Her mother has written at last and believes they will be allowed back here once the confusion is cleared up. This made Lilja really happy. She misses her family a lot and I often hear her crying at night but sometimes I think I don’t want them to come back. I know that makes me selfish and in my prayers I ask God to forgive me for such wicked thoughts, but I know that when they return, she will leave here and I will lose my best friend in the whole world.
What would I do without her? We tell each other everything. I told her about Henrik passing the message to me in church, and she says she has seen him looking at me when I’m turned away. She sees everything. We call each other sister, which makes Casper laugh. He says I should be careful what I wish for and that two brothers is quite enough. He thinks much has changed since he went away and sometimes I find him watching us while we are in our lessons and he looks sad. The war made lots of people sad, but it made some people rich too, so we must be grateful for our blessings.
29th November 1918
The party has been agreed! Papa said yes and the invitations were sent out yesterday morning. Mama took us to the dressmaker’s where Lilja was fitted for a dress and I was allowed some new lace socks to go with my pink dress. Lilja has chosen yellow, as I knew she would. She was twirling and laughing as poor Mrs Harlang was trying to make the calico with pins in her mouth.
Mama has ordered a four-tier cake for the centrepiece and the flowers are being ordered specially from Rotterdam. She wants everything to be beautiful again. There is a famous band in Paris who are going to travel here just to perform at the party and Frederik keeps saying anyone who is anyone in Copenhagen will be there. I think the only person who is not happy about it is Miss Holm, but Casper says not to worry about her and that all governesses are miserable by nature; it is why they become governesses, because their own families do not want to live with them and no man wants to marry them.
Also, Casper has bought a new motor car and he took me and Lilja on a ride. People stopped to look as we went past and we waved just like the King and Queen. He says we can go again tomorrow if it is not raining.
13th December 1918
Everyone is in a frenzy. Mama has cried two times today because the dahlias were the wrong shade of lilac and the blueberries have bled through and stained the cake icing. Papa is in a furious temper saying such things should not concern us, but what does he know of the feminine world? Mama asks him this all the time and reminds him he has his sphere and she has her own. He was frightfully cross and has been in his office ever since. He even took lunch in there too, which made Mama wring her hands.
Lilja and I have been careful to keep out of the way. If they think we are too excitable, they might change their mind and say we are too young to attend after all. That would be a calamity after all the effort we have gone to for our outfits, and Lilja is desperate to be there. She has not heard from her mother since the letter last month but she said it would be just like her to arrive at the party as a surprise. She loves surprises and grand entrances!
We are only allowed to be present for the first hour but Casper thinks no one will care once the dancing starts. I reminded him it was Miss Holm’s duty to oversee us but Lilja and I think she is sweet on Casper and he has promised to flirt with her and perhaps even to ask her to dance so we might stay longer. He also said we could try our first taste of champagne, but Frederik overheard and said no. He’s such a spoilsport. He thinks just because he is engaged to be married now to Sofie that he must be serious like Papa.
Frederik has arranged for a photographer to take pictures of all the guests as they arrive and a special book has been laid out so everyone may sign their names and we can remember tonight for always. I hope our pictures will be taken too. Lilja’s dress is so pretty and if her mother does come back from Germany and make a Grand Entrance, this will be our last night as sisters. (I hope she doesn’t.)
I can hear Mama calling for me but I will write again tonight, after the party!
13th December 1918
Was it all a dream? I never knew such happiness till now. All my wishes came true. My dress was much admired and Miss Holm forgot the time, thanks to Casper refilling her champagne coupe, so that I was able to stay in the salon for over an hour more. I danced the foxtrot with Frederik and Papa, and Casper danced with Lilja so she was not left out. Mama looked radiant in her gown and anybody who was everybody was there. There were so many compliments, I was obliged to blush all evening. I overheard some of the ladies talking about the coming out season in London so the debutantes can make good marriages. I shall ask Mama about it tomorrow. I have always wanted to go to London. Perhaps I shall marry a duke or an earl.
Of course, Lilja’s mama and papa did not make a Grand Entrance. It was no surprise to me, but she clung to hope until it was apparent it was in vain. She ran away during the foxtrot. I can hear her crying through the wall now and wish I could comfort her, but she always prefers to be left alone when she is sad. I will pick her some Christmas roses in the morning to put on the table for breakfast and I will ask Casper to take us for another ride in his motor car. As Mama always says, tomorrow is a new day.
I am tired now and Miss Holm will be angry if she catches me awake. I only hope I can sleep...
Darcy put the diary down, leaning back in her chair and staring into the wooden grain of the stack-end as she let the images conjured by Lotte’s diary fill her mind. She had her answer, at least. Though Lilja had seemingly not kept a diary, it was nonetheless useful to read her movements by proxy. Both girls were fourteen in 1918 (Lilja possibly a little younger) and excited for womanhood to start. Parties, dresses, boys...The war was over and life was for living again.
Darcy still didn’t know if Lilja was the woman she was looking for in the portrait, but she was on the road now to finding out. Photographs and diaries already proved to her that Lilja had been friends first with Lotte Madsen – and now Casper was back from the war, her love story was about to begin...
Thread by coloured thread, her tale was being woven together. There were going to be holes in the retelling – without Lilja’s own voice, the material Darcy had to work with was patchy, fractured and imperfect, other people’s truths. But Lilja Madsen was coming alive again.
She could feel it.
‘You look great.’
Darcy blinked at the unexpected compliment. ‘I do?’ She had come straight from the archives and, unlike for last night’s date, she’d gone to no effort, unless a fresh application of lip balm counted. Aksel’s stealth invoice when she got home last night still bothered her – not because she objected to paying her half for the meal, but because of the way he’d gone about it. There was something small about sneaking half the bill under the table like that and she had already decided she would only stay for one drink.
‘Yeah, your cheeks are flushed.’ So were his, she noticed. ‘Did you walk here?’
‘Cycled,’ she said, slipping off her coat and scarf – the scarf that had unwittingly led to Max’s lucky break earlier. It smelled slightly unfamiliar, as if it had absorbed his scent as it lay in his house like a treacherous cat.
Aksel smiled as she stuffed it out of sight, under her coat. ‘You look so fresh.’
Was this part of a charm offensive? Did he sense he’d messed up? ‘Thanks,’ she smiled, reservedly.
He had nabbed a table in the far end of the bar and was sitting on the banquette. She had been brought up on the dating etiquette that the woman should sit on the banquette, the man on the chair, but perhaps he had chosen it for the better view of the room so he was able to see her when she arrived? She sat opposite him, noticing the already opened bottle of sauvignon blanc and two glasses.
‘I ordered us a bottle,’ he said, reaching for the empty glass and pouring into it. ‘I hope that’s okay? I thought it would save us countless trips to the bar.’
‘Good idea.’ She angled her glass as he poured for her, but he slightly overshot, splashing wine onto the table.
‘Oops,’ he said, pulling a face and dabbing it with a paper napkin. ‘Are you hungry? They do light bites and snacks here too.’
‘Actually, I can only stay for one drink.’
He looked so disappointed his face actually fell. ‘Really?’
‘Hell of a day,’ she apologized. ‘Not sure I’m the best company, to be honest...I probably should have cancelled rather than subject you to—’
‘I’m glad you didn’t,’ he said quickly. ‘Tell me what happened. Was it something to do with your research project?’ He looked genuinely interested, but she couldn’t utter a word about the real drama: Max Lorensen’s behind-the-scenes manoeuvrings around the ownership of Her Children were strictly confidential.
‘...Well, in part. I found a necklace that was the same as the one being worn by the woman in the painting, and from that there was a bit of a domino effect: the necklace could be linked to a photograph in the collection, which then gave us a name, so I’ve spent all afternoon starting to piece together the woman’s life story.’
‘So then, it sounds like it was a good day?’
‘Well, there was other stuff too, but...’ Her voice trailed off. The diversion at the Christmas market felt like a lifetime ago and she had left the carousel, still wrapped, on her worktable at the archive. She hadn’t wanted to bring it out here tonight and she wasn’t sure she wanted to bring it home, either. The last thing she needed was memories of him in her own bedroom.
‘Yeah, but a necklace, a name...! You’re practically done.’
Darcy was taken aback by tonight’s passion. There’d been no sign of this excitement in him last night.
‘Well, I still don’t have complete certainty that the woman I’m now researching is the woman in the painting. It’s probable that she is, but I have to stay open-minded; go where the evidence leads and not just surmise what happened.’
‘You sound like a pathologist.’
‘That’s funny, I was likened to a detective earlier too. Good options to bear in mind if the professorship doesn’t work out, I guess.’
‘Of course it will. Brilliance awaits!’ he said confidently.
She looked back at him. He seemed different tonight. More assertive, almost cocky. ‘Actually, I’ve got a question perhaps you can answer,’ she said, remembering something she had seen earlier in the files. It was the sole reason she hadn’t cancelled on him tonight. ‘It’s something medical – and I know you’re a vet, but you have to learn the biology for humans first, don’t you?’
‘Yes...shoot,’ he said, making gun fingers at her.
‘Okay. So, very sadly, she drowned, my lady.’
‘Oh,’ he winced. ‘Plot spoiler.’
She hesitated, her gaze falling to the wine bottle. It was well under half full. ‘I know, sorry. But then, apparently, her husband died three days later. Well, no – not apparently. He did die three days later. A seemingly otherwise healthy, youngish man...’ She tapped her finger on the table. ‘Don’t you think that’s a little too much of a coincidence?’
‘How old was he?’
‘Thirty-four.’
Aksel pulled a considered face. ‘That is pretty young to just drop dead. Do you know what was given as the official cause of death?’
‘On his death certificate, it’s down as stress cardiomyopathy.’
He looked genuinely surprised. ‘Really? Interesting.’
‘What is that? Did he have a heart condition?’
‘It’s otherwise known as Broken Heart Syndrome.’
Her eyes widened. Helle Foss had been right? ‘So that’s actually a thing?’
Aksel nodded as he drank more wine. ‘It’s rare, but it can happen – sudden, acute stress weakens the heart muscle. I had a golden retriever suffer it once when her companion dog was killed in a car accident. She became deeply depressed and passed away a few days later. The owners were distraught.’
‘Oh no.’
He shrugged. ‘Grief shouldn’t be underestimated; it can place a huge toll on the body.’
Grief. Reputations. So many things not to underestimate, she thought. ‘When I was told this originally and it was insinuated he’d died of a broken heart, I thought that was just the person making up fairy-tale endings.’
‘Is someone dying ever a fairy-tale ending?’
‘Touché,’ Darcy smiled.
‘...How did the woman drown? Domestic?’
‘You mean, did it happen in the bath?’ She shrugged. ‘Um, good question – I don’t know yet.’
‘It all sounds very sad.’
‘Yeah.’ She was holding her glass, but only now did she realize it was empty. Research was thirsty work.
‘Another?’ he asked, holding up the bottle hopefully.
She met his gaze, those soulful eyes – guileless. Kind. Nice. What was a little penny-pinching compared to arrogance, ruthlessness, emotional vacuity and obsession with power?
‘Sure,’ she smiled, settling back in the chair. ‘Why not?’
They staggered along the streets, puddles reflecting Christmas lights, bursts of conversation falling through opening and closing doors as they passed by restaurants and bars. It was late, the moon thin but bright in a dark sky. There was a sense of festivity in the city, as if no one was ready to go to bed. But Darcy was. They passed a couple kissing in a doorway, and she looked over at Aksel hopefully. They had finished the bottle of wine, then another one too, nibbling only on olives for ‘sustenance’, and she felt giddy as the cold night air hit her. She felt playful and loose-limbed, all her tension from the day gone at last. Max Lorensen was just a footnote in her day now.
Aksel’s smiles had grown increasingly lopsided. He was a sweet drunk, clearly unable to hold his drink and swaying a little. An Uber sluiced closely past – too closely – on the narrow street. Vaguely it crossed her mind that she was walking on the outside of the pavement, when etiquette dictated he should be on the traffic side. Not that that stuff mattered, she knew. It just would have been nice...
‘Fuck, it’s freezing ,’ Aksel slurred, pulling the collar of his padded jacket tighter around his neck as they reached the end of the street and were hit by the wind at the intersection. They stood at the lights, waiting to cross into King’s Square.
‘I know,’ she groaned, hoping he’d take the opportunity to pull her in to him. But he didn’t. The man was blind to hints. ‘D’you want to wear my scarf?’ she asked, pulling it from her neck and looping it around his before he could reply.
‘You’re sure?’ he asked as she tied it for him.
‘Yes...’ she slurred, looking up at him. ‘You can keep it. I don’t want it back.’
‘Why not?’
The lights changed and they crossed the road together.
‘I just don’t like it,’ she said dramatically. She was definitely drunk. ‘It’s yours now.’
‘Won’t you get cold?’
‘...There are always other ways to get warm,’ she said provocatively, sidling closer to him and slipping her arm between his so that their bodies were pressed together. She stopped walking. There was clearly no point in being subtle with him. ‘Kiss me.’
‘Here?’ He looked surprised by the command. They were opposite the extravagantly lit Hotel D’Angleterre, the square bright with festivity, a huge Christmas tree shimmering with lights in the middle. The front beams of the traffic moved around them slowly, other lives moving past her on the way to other places, other destinies. She had a feeling of life pulsating around her but somehow not touching her, as if a force field kept it back, and she suddenly felt a desperate yearning to be touched, to be kept awake all night. She wanted to be reckless. Thoughtless. Free from responsibilities. She spent her days with the dead – but was she really any more alive?
He leaned in and kissed her, uncertainly at first. His lips were cold but she quickly warmed him up and she felt his arms move around her, drawing her closer.
It was a good kiss. Not the best she’d ever had. Not like the one with –
She put her hands in his hair and traced his lips with her tongue, tasting the wine they had both drunk. She pulled back. ‘Call an Uber and take me home,’ she whispered, slurring in his ear.
He seemed to wilt a little. ‘...M-my place? Or yours?’ he asked, fumbling in his pocket for his phone.
‘Yours.’
The car came within four minutes and she was in his bed within eleven. It was unmade, navy sheets, pants and socks on the floor. ‘I wasn’t expecting this to happen,’ he apologized as they staggered into his room, shedding clothes.
‘Even better,’ she smiled, unhooking her bra as he began kissing her neck. She closed her eyes and sighed, feeling her body submit to pleasure. She was starving hungry, drunk and lonely, and he was a good man. A nice man.
It would have to do.