Anna’s return felt to Celeste as if the sun had come out of hiding. Now everything would be all right again – it had to be. It was just a matter of explaining what had happened – that she and Maria had somehow swapped places. Anna would surely remember that she and Maria were identical twins.
On an evening just two days after Madame Sabina had visited them, Stephan brought Anna to the flat. He looked so proud when he entered the room with her that Celeste saw Anna as a bride returning from the church with her groom, rather than a suspect released from police custody.
‘I wasn’t sure if you would be walking so soon, my little treasure,’ Anna said to Celeste, kneeling down to look at her.
Celeste thought she would tell her later that it was Maria who had encouraged her to walk, Maria who had sat on the chair and said, ‘Come on, you can do this. One step, two steps…’
‘It hurts,’ Celeste had said.
‘At least you can feel pain,’ said Maria, ‘which is more than I can.’
That had made Celeste laugh. She hadn’t noticed Peter standing in the doorway, watching her.
‘I thought there was someone in here with you when I heard you talking,’ he said.
‘Only to myself,’ said Celeste.
‘You must take things slowly.’ He’d helped her back to bed. ‘Tomorrow Anna will be released.’
The evening of Anna’s return had been one of the happiest Celeste could remember. But as her memory didn’t seem to go back very far, she didn’t know if there were happy memories that she’d forgotten.
Peter and Viggo gave a small party to welcome Anna. There were plates of pickled herring, cured meat and wine. Mrs Marks, the doctor’s wife, brought a cinnamon cake. The table was alight with candles and when Anna saw the trouble everyone had gone to her eyes filled with tears.
Later Peter took out his accordion and there was dancing. Celeste had watched until she fell asleep at the table. She had woken up in bed to hear the others deep in conversation. There was no more laughter.
With some difficulty, she climbed out of bed. Her feet were frozen on the bare floor as she listened at the door.
‘When did this begin?’ she heard Anna say.
‘When Viggo found her,’ said Peter. ‘After she recovered she insisted we call her Celeste. Dr Marks thinks that it’s due to the accident that she’s confused. The other day I was sure I heard her talking to someone but when I went to look there was just Mar – I mean Celeste – holding onto a chair, trying to walk.’
‘An imaginary friend?’ said Anna.
‘Yes, you could call it that,’ said Peter.
‘It’s most unlike Maria,’ said Anna. ‘Perhaps the doctor’s right – it’s to do with the accident.’
‘I wouldn’t be concerned,’ said Stephan. ‘Children make up all sorts of stories and fantastic games. I know I did when I was small.’
‘Perhaps. But it’s out of character.’
‘The main question,’ said Peter, ‘is how do you feel about working for Madame Sabina?’
Celeste was too cold to listen any more. She turned to see Maria sitting on her bed, in her costume from The Saviour, her wings shimmering. Celeste sat next to her.
‘It’s no good,’ said Maria quietly. ‘They’ll never believe you.’
‘Viggo does,’ said Celeste.
‘One person, a boy not much older than us,’ said Maria. ‘It’s not a battle won.’
‘I wish I felt stronger,’ said Celeste, ‘then I’m sure I would be able to convince Anna that you are here with me.’
‘I can’t help you because no one can see me – only you and Viggo, if I try very hard. I think Anna has forgotten that there were two of us; she used to say we were mirrors of each other’s souls, that we are different and yet we are the same. Mirrors of each other’s souls.’
Celeste lay down, Maria beside her.
‘I believe in you,’ whispered Celeste, ‘with all my heart. I believe that together we can win the Reckoning.’
‘I hope so,’ said Maria, and she faded away.
Next morning, as Viggo opened the door to leave for work he came face to face with a pile of boxes. Below the boxes was a long skirt and boots that curled at the toe. Viggo recognised the boots, not the boxes. They belonged, along with the skirt, to Miss Olsen.
‘To what do we owe the honour?’ said Peter who was putting on his coat.
Miss Olsen huffed and walked into the apartment followed by a boy weighed down by more boxes of various sizes.
‘Has Christmas come early?’ said Viggo.
Miss Olsen rested the boxes on the table and straightened her hat.
‘Wait on the landing until I call for you,’ she told the boy. ‘Well,’ she said, addressing Viggo and his uncle, ‘Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?’
‘What’s all this?’ asked Anna, coming into the room, followed slowly by Celeste.
‘Madame Sabina expects you to be well turned out when you go to her house tomorrow.’
‘And Celeste too?’ said Anna.
‘I don’t know anyone by that name,’ said Miss Olsen.
‘Well, you do now,’ said Anna. ‘She used to be called Maria and now, with her new life, she wants a new name. Where’s the harm in it?’
‘I’ve never heard such rubbish,’ said Miss Olsen, as she unpacked dresses and petticoats from layers of tissue. ‘I hope you are not encouraging the child.’
‘Is all this for me?’ asked Anna.
‘Two dresses for day wear,’ said Miss Olsen. ‘Two pairs of detachable collars and cuffs, two sets of petticoats and bloomers. One coat, one hat, gloves and a hard-wearing pair of boots. One tea dress for special occasions and shoes to match.’
Even though the clothes were not of the best quality and the fabric far too thin for the weather, Celeste saw that Anna was transformed into a governess.
Miss Olsen stepped back to examine her work. Through a mouth full of pins, she said, ‘Though I say it myself, you look very smart. Just right for the part. The coat is on the thin side, but I had to work to a tight budget.’
It was Celeste’s turn. Her legs were weak, and she stood and stood and longed to sit down. At last Miss Olsen had finished and Celeste went back to her room to rest.
As the wardrobe mistress gathered up everything, Celeste heard her say, ‘I still can’t explain the difference in the measurements.’
‘What are you talking about?’ said Anna.
‘Measurements,’ said Miss Olsen, adjusting her hat again in the mirror. ‘I take pride in my measurements, I have an eye for waist, hips and height. I measured Maria when she came to the ballet school and again when she was to be Camille’s understudy. I’m never out, not by a millimetre. Yet the costume we made for her didn’t fit. It was made for someone taller. Hmm,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I measured a ghost.’ She paused a moment and then decided that was quite witty. She called to the boy who had been waiting outside and then she and the many boxes were gone.
After lunch Anna stoked the stove and swept and tidied the apartment until it gleamed. She asked Celeste to sort out the end of the table that was heaped high with sketch pads, boxes, small models and designs for sets.
When all the clutter was organised into a neat pile, Anna took off her apron and looked round. ‘This is much better, Maria.’
‘I’m not Maria,’ said Celeste. ‘Maria is my twin. Miss Olsen had measured Maria, not me.’
There was a silence between them filled with unspoken words. Then Anna took from her pocket a tiny cut-out Harlequin and placed it in one of Peter’s model sets. Celeste picked it up.
‘This is mine,’ she said.
‘Your clothes were returned to me when you left hospital and I found it in your pocket,’ said Anna. ‘Are you sure it’s yours?’
‘Yes,’ said Celeste. She studied the little figure and a memory flickered across her mind’s eye: her toy theatre. It was made out of wood, beautifully painted with an elaborate proscenium arch and a painted red curtain. A play too small for actors, she thought. The man in the emerald green suit had told her that was one of the things he wanted. I could put on a play, not performed by actors, but by cardboard characters. She was so lost in thought that she jumped when Anna said, ‘Mr Gautier told me that when the crystal galleon began to fall you were at the edge of the stage. He shouted at you to run – why didn’t you?’
‘Because everything was so wrong. The chandelier was wrong, you were wrong. You thought I was Maria, that I could dance. You didn’t recognise me.’
‘Maria… Celeste. This has to stop,’ said Anna. ‘You are far too old for childish games. I know you are Maria and I will call you Celeste if you insist. But this is foolishness and we won’t talk about it again.’
‘You are wrong,’ said Celeste.
But Anna was no longer listening.