Anastasia (Famous Women Book 2) by Colin Falconer

Author:Colin Falconer [Falconer, Colin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction & Literature
Publisher: Cool Gus Publishing
Published: 2012-06-23T22:00:00+00:00

***

One day I gave her a one pound note to go to the shops and fetch groceries. She came home empty-handed, the money gone; well, not exactly empty-handed, because she brought with her a stray dog. What had she done with the one pound?

"There was a man sitting in the road. He was holding a sign, he had lost his arm in the war and he had a family to feed and no money. So I gave him the money. We can afford it, can't we?"

And yes, I suppose she was right, we could afford it. If we didn't have eat that night or the next.

The dog was a mongrel, it had fleas and it wasn't house-trained. I told her that she would have to find another home for it. But two days later it was still there and I could no more turn the dog back out onto the street than I could her.

Anastasia was changing. Like the starving cur she had brought home, she began to thrive and to regain her lust for life. One day I came home from work and she was not there. At eight o'clock that night, when she finally appeared, she confessed to me that she had been working in a soup kitchen near Hyde Park, ladling out soup and rolls to London's poor. Her sleeves were rolled up like a washerwoman's, and her hair - the curls were slowly growing back - was hidden beneath a knotted scarf.

Two months after our escape from Berlin, she said to me: "I need a job."

"A job?"

"I cannot live on your charity forever."

"Impossible. What skills do you have?"

She tossed her head. "You know what skills I have. You've seen them for yourself."

"Apart from those."

"I can dance. I can speak three languages. I can impersonate royalty. And I can play the piano."

I went to the window, gave myself time to think. A chill fog had settled over the city. The trees in Hyde Park seemed to scuttle in and out of the mist. She could not possibly get a job. She could not type or file, had no secretarial skills whatsoever, and there were two million people unemployed out there.

Out of the fog a crowd of perhaps three hundred men and women emerged, marching slowly towards Speaker's Corner, surrounded by mounted policemen. "We-want-work, we-want-work!" There was a scuffle in the crowd between one of the protesters and a policeman. It looked as if there would be trouble.

Her hand reached for mine, gripped it tight. "What's happening?"

"You're not the only one looking for a job," I said.

I was shocked by the terror on her face. It was only a small demonstration, those poor bastards were just trying to make a point. But Anastasia started trembling.

"What's the matter?" I said.

She didn't answer. She didn't stop shaking until the demonstration was past. Our discussion about work was forgotten and I didn't give it another thought.

But while I was at work Anastasia went out looking for a job, giving her name as Anna Sheridan.

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