Thea did not speak of Hans to her mother. The wooden cat was placed in her canvas bag and not drawn out again, and although I watched her carefully for the flush and self-consciousness that attended Christiana and Henriette when they spoke of marriage and dowry chests and children, Thea seemed unruffled. Still, it wasn’t until I walked the track through the village and saw Magdalena Radtke yoked to their family’s new cow, Samuel Radtke behind, pipe in one hand and reins in the other, that I was able to distract myself from a lingering sense of discomfort. Christiana, following the plough with a basket of seed potatoes, was so red-faced with embarrassment that I sang myself into the Radtkes’ vegetable garden for the joy of it.
Sweet euphoria, to be an onion seedling in well-turned earth. To feel the swelling of our tiny bulb was to feel the universe within.
The valley grew damp with a rising water table and mornings soon brought a chorus of coughing from those who had been unwell on the ship. Passengers whose teeth ran bloody, or who hobbled around on ankles fat with sickness, stopped work altogether. The leftover rations from the ship had dwindled, and there was no Sauerkraut left, only rice which was ground and mixed with ever-smaller amounts of wheat flour. Matthias mentioned to Mama that Augusta’s husband was unable to work his own land. I noticed that he began to take a portion of his own breakfast for Wilhelm.
I was not bothered by the cold or frost or rain. If anything, I liked the sharpness of the winter wind on my face and the droplets that flew from the tossed clusters of wet gum leaves. I cupped my hands in the creek and felt the ache driving into my knuckles. But I could see the way the winter rain was worming into the living. They were hungry. Cold. Conversation turned to the chests of winter clothing left behind on the docks at Altona, the woollen stockings and flannel they thought they would not need.
‘Who knows if we will ever see them again,’ remarked Elize Geschke, filling pails at the creek, voice muffled by the thick scarf she had wound around her head.
‘Work makes me warm enough,’ said Beate Fr?hlich. ‘Besides, there is no snow.’
‘It’s not the cold which bothers Karl, but the wet,’ murmured Augusta to my mother. ‘He says his bones are paining him, and it is worse when it rains. He’s short of breath.’ She lowered her voice even further. ‘He hasn’t passed any water for days. This morning he asked for the pastor.’
Mama nodded. ‘I’ll come and see him.’
‘What about Anna Maria?’
Several of the women glanced up at the name. There was a moment of uneasy silence.
My mother cleared her throat and, though I saw her cheeks rise in colour, her voice when she spoke was calm and sure. ‘I’ll ask her to come too.’
Beate Fr?hlich shook her head, mouth hard.
‘Is there something you’d like to say, Beate? Or would you like to come and treat Karl yourself?’
‘It’s not for me to say anything,’ said Beate. ‘It’s for the pastor.’
‘I agree. Let us leave Pastor Flügel to discern what is best for us all.’ Mama hooked her pail onto the yoke across her shoulder and made her way back up the muddied creek bank. ‘I’ll fetch her now, Augusta.’
A child’s wail could be heard long before Anna Maria, Thea and my mother arrived at Augusta and Karl’s campsite, which was the hollow tree I had peered inside when I first saw the valley. Rain was puddling under the canvas awning, the campfire smoking badly under a black kettle. Wilhelm was sitting up in the ship’s chest, bawling, while Karl lay still under a heap of blankets and spare clothing.
‘Karl?’ Augusta bent under the dripping canvas and called into the tree. ‘We’ve visitors. Anna Maria Eichenwald, Frau Nussbaum. They’d like to see you.’
There was a pause, then Karl, groaning, lifted his head. ‘Ein Fest, oder?’ The words wheezed out of him.
Anna Maria crawled into the hollow on her knees. ‘Yes, a party. How are you feeling, Karl?’
‘I don’t think I’m long for this world.’
‘Don’t say that,’ Augusta said. She gestured for Anna Maria to pass her the baby. ‘Karl has become morose,’ she whispered to Mama.
I crept into the tree on my hands and knees and made my way to Karl’s side. He lay on his back as Anna Maria, now leaning over him, gently turned his head one way then the other, and examined his tongue and limbs. When she lifted the blankets, I saw that his feet were so bloated as to be disfigured. The legs of his trousers had been cut at the seams to allow for the swelling.
‘How on earth did you walk all the way up the ranges?’ Anna Maria exclaimed.
Karl attempted a smile. ‘Augusta’ – he paused to breathe – ‘dragged me. She is a force.’
‘You need vinegar,’ Anna Maria said gently. ‘Some vegetables.’ She stretched her neck towards the canvas awning, where Thea was pulling faces at Wilhelm. ‘Thea, how are the radishes?’
I heard Thea hesitate. ‘Not ready.’
‘The tops are up, though?’
‘Yes.’
‘Go get them.’ Anna Maria stroked Karl’s hand. ‘Some greens will help.’
Karl nodded. Speaking seemed to tire him. ‘See she marries again,’ he murmured.
Anna Maria shushed him. ‘No need for her to marry when she already has a fine husband.’
‘Please. I want . . . my son to have a father. How will she survive on her own?’
Anna Maria patted his hand. ‘Don’t you worry about that now. Rest, and I’ll bring you something to eat in a little while.’
‘I may not have as long as that,’ breathed Karl. ‘I see her.’
‘Who?’
‘The angel.’ He pointed to where I sat holding my knees to my chest, resting against the inside of the tree.
Hair lifted on the back of my neck.
Anna Maria was silent. She glanced in my direction. ‘You see something?’
Karl nodded.
I leaned forwards, body prickling, mouth dry. ‘You see me?’
‘She speaks,’ he said.
‘What is she saying?’ Anna Maria’s voice was quiet. Careful.
I placed a hand on his leg. Felt it twitch beneath my palm. ‘Karl?’
Karl’s eyes crinkled into a smile. ‘Nun ruhe ich in Gottes H?nden. Now I rest in God’s hands.’
I scrambled closer, leaning over his face so that my hair fell onto his forehead. ‘Sie sehen mich?!’
He closed his eyes. ‘I see it all,’ he said softly, and then he began to cough.
When the fit passed, he lapsed into unconsciousness.
‘What is it?’ I heard Augusta ask from outside the tree. ‘Anna Maria, what is it?’
Thea crawled into the hollow clutching radish tops in her hand, hair misted with rain. She was breathing hard. ‘I ran,’ she explained to Anna Maria, glancing down at Karl before giving her mother an uncertain look. ‘Is he dead?’
Anna Maria gave a little shake of her head. ‘Soon,’ she whispered.
Augusta’s face appeared. ‘He’s sleeping?’
Anna Maria crawled out from Karl’s side. I could hear her directing Augusta away from the tree. ‘He might become better,’ she was saying. ‘But he might not, too. He has been unwell for some time, I think.’
Thea sat still, staring at Karl. She picked up a corner of his blanket and wiped the rain from her face, then gently tucked him in. I saw her look around the hollow. Shiver.
I touched the ends of Thea’s brilliant hair, lit with water. Put them to my lips.
Sour wine on the hyssop.
Anna Maria remained with Augusta all afternoon. As they boiled radish tops, I crouched over Karl within the hollow tree and willed him awake. Every time he shifted or groaned, I spoke to him.