CHAPTER I

– There are no stars today, it is a terribly dark evening. – Anna said to herself while drawing the curtains.
– There are always stars there, it does not matter if you can see them or not. Your perception does not constitute their existence. – sharply replied Lady Altenburg.

Anna usually referred to her as Lady Altenburg, even in her head. The old woman held a commanding air around her and Anna could swear she could read her thoughts.

– You are right, madam. Would you like something to drink or tea, perhaps?
– A tea is a beverage, is it not? – thick southern accent withstood the trial of time as well as the woman herself.
– It is. Would you like a cup, then?
– Indeed. Fetch it, thank you.

Fetch. She does not need a nurse but a servant, thought Anna bitterly. If she did not need the money, which this old witch had plenty, she would not put herself through even a single additional day of this torture that was her company. Yet, one must pay rent and eat to put oneself through medical school. Anna swallowed her pride for the sixteenth time that day – yes, she counted – and prepared tea for both of them.

It was the last day of October. Glorious October it was. Whole month of sunny, warm days, with only occasional night rain and few instances of a morning frost. Anna enjoyed it very much as she could still read and paint in the park and go for long walks on weekends. Surprisingly, Lady Altenburg did not require any help on weekends. Anna brought the trace to the living room and took a seat in the second armchair facing the non-functional fireplace. Back in the day, when the tenement house was built, it was the only source of heating but after many reconstructions during the last century nobody bothered to keep old chimney ways working. Elderly tenant of this particular apartment loathed central heating with every fiber of her body but she had no power over the world as her ancestors used to have. Anna knew that they lost their family house that stood only a few blocks from the current address. Sometimes, they passed it on their way to or from the park but Lady Rosa preferred an alternative path. Probably looking at the satellite antenna on the balcony of her old bedroom made her sick to her stomach.

– One day, my darling, you will understand that it is better to choose chestnuts over cherries – she uttered between sips of tea.
So this is it, she is losing her mind, Anna thought. It will certainly make this job even more unbearable than it is already.
– I am not going crazy, you know?
– I did not imply it in any way.
– But you thought about it – she smiled.
 

Anna has never seen her smile. For a whole year she saw this woman five days a week – two hundred and sixty occasions to smile, she has never chosen it and suddenly now, after the declaration of sanity…
 

– You must forgive me for being confused. It does not make much sense to me. And you calling me ‘darling‘ does not help.
– Oh, you are confused, of course and yet you think that I am the one that is utterly demented. Well, I do not blame you. At the end you are the sharp, young mind and I turned seventy-eight this July. How old are you, again?
– I’m twenty-one, madam.
– Oh, please, you can call me Rosa.
– Are you sure?
– No, I am not, I went with the flow, like you say. Alas, let it be. Let it all be. You see, it is the only way to be anyway. I used to fight for everything. I have never won. And one time, this one and only time when I did not fight, I have also lost. I lost love, my darling. And not the puppy, spring love that disappears once cherry blossoms turn into buds. I lost autumn love. The kind of love that radiates the warmth accumulated during summer. The love that comes and puts your whole world to rest. The love that turns sweet fragile cherries into even sweeter marmalade that you can store for years. The love that may cease to be shiny but will prevail as chestnuts collected in October.

Anna wasn’t sure if she should reply as Rosa stopped speaking and looked deeply into the empty, cold fireplace. She would never, in her wildest dreams, accuse the old hag of such romanticism. After making sure that they were not up to taking part in the festivities of the Anniversary the next day, Anna headed home through the light drizzle.

CHAPTER II

Instead of the usual holiday crowd of thirsty performative patriots and cheerful soldiers, the inn was filled with crying kids and frightened students. Julia was busy with trying to calm down hyperventilating scouts and started to consider giving them a bit of bourbon when a man brought in his arms an unconscious young woman. Her white blouse with a very pretty old brooch pinned right below the collar was covered in blood.

– Is she shot? – Julia asked sharply.

– No. Just fainted – he grunted, laying the girl behind the bar.

Julia was the only waitress who stayed in the inn, the rest wanted to join the parade. She has never been much of a perfect citizen, so she gladly took every opportunity when work duties interfered with celebrating this nightmare of a country. She was still foggy on the details. Everybody kept repeating that the mayor is dead. Children were brought to the inn for shelter but there was no more shooting and the square was slowly emptying, except from the army cordon around it. Julia commanded little scouts to be of help with other children and moved to attend to a blood-covered girl. After a while with a cold wet towel on her forehead, she woke up and a glass of wine brought back some color to her cheeks. She asked weakly what had happened.

– Look, sweety, I know even less than you do. From what I can tell, you were the one in the front row for the show – Julia said rather harshly.

The remark seemed to remind the blonde what she had witnessed because she turned ghostly pale.

– Oh lord, don’t pass out again! I don’t have time for you. There’s a phone over here, call home and make someone pick you up. – if Julia didn’t have to pick herself up her whole life, maybe she would’ve shown more compassion for the pale choir girl.

Meanwhile, she was already busy answering Militia’s questions and convincing children that it is all right to give out their names and addresses. When she turned to show one of the officers where the phone was, she noticed the Bloody Blouse was gone.

***

Sylvia hardly remembered how she got to the hotel. A receptionist already knew about the events on the square and offered her a cup of tea with genuine concern about her well-being. She took it to her room and forgot about it. The sound of sirens was slowly dying down and by the sunset the city was as silent as on her first night. She had a feeling she was all alone in the hotel. Usually when she felt uneasy, she would go for a walk but here she had to obey the curfew. She sneaked out on the ground floor patio with a cigarette, hoping that it would not count as being outside without a permit.

– I’m happy to see you safe and sound! – the dark-eyed soldier stood under the streetlamp near the hotel entrance.

– Did you follow me? – asked Sylvia much more anxiously than she wished to sound.

A chuckle rang through the night air.

– I am on a patrol and my colleague needed a pi… a toilet – he checked himself. – As long as you keep the flag, you should be all right.

She couldn’t tell if he was joking. He sounded amused no matter what he said. A second soldier came out of the hotel and Sylvia’s acquaintance simply said: “Private Oliver Beck”. She just nodded. “No names should be given outside of offices, if it can be helped”, said the guidebook. She intended to take the advice for now.

***

Lena’s father picked her up near the gas station, a few blocks away from the square. She didn’t call from the bar. Well-behaved ladies shouldn’t be even close to it, no matter the circumstances. Father already heard the news from the radio and was very nervous. He complained about his wife who made him stay at home, therefore making them look suspicious. Lena knew that her family was so insignificant that not a single soul would ask them where they were at any time on any day. It was quite an accomplishment to be so invisible to such a surveillant machine. But here they were. Most of the time it was a blessing, not even in disguise. Now it might change. The rude bartender was right. Lena was at the front row, attracting potential questions. She could remember one detail very well. A face. Tall, young man with black curly hair and icy blue eyes. He was holding something in his straightened up hand like the others and looked genuinely surprised when the mayor fell down. He swiftly made his way through the crowd and the line of scouts before the army closed the square. Then she fainted. For the first time in her life she knew something of importance and she hated it.

– Honey, where is it? – father’s voice made it through the fog of her thoughts.

– Huh? What is where?

– The brooch. Your grandma’s brooch. – he pointed at the blouse.

Lena touched the shirt a bit under her collarbone with a shaking hand and froze. She left traces.