Anna woke with a jolt as the car bumped down a laneway. She grabbed Lalka by one leg to stop her falling off the seat. Papa pulled up in front of an old shop. Professor Jäger, impatient to get out, opened the door himself, sending an icy wind piercing through her bones.
‘Wait here, Gustav.’
Papa left the engine running. He sat behind the steering wheel, staring straight ahead, as though his head were fastened to the collar of his grey chauffeur’s uniform. His hat had a tiny feather sewn into the felt braid.
Anna yawned. They had left Munich before dawn, and she had drifted in and out of sleep along the way.
‘Hello, my princess.’ He turned to face her. ‘Are you hungry?’
‘Not really, Papa.’ Her tummy rumbled loudly, betraying the truth.
He handed her half a sandwich.
‘We’re almost there, darling. Are you excited?’
‘Yes, Papa.’
He lit a cigarette and took a few quick puffs. In the long year since Mutti had died, this was the first time Anna had been invited to visit the professor’s huge country house in Landsberg am Lech. Up until then Papa had driven to and fro over the weekend, while Anna spent hours alone in her room playing with her toys. But from now on she would be joining Papa each weekend in Landsberg. She was looking forward to this new adventure. She had filled her satchel with a notebook and pencil, a spare pair of socks and a carefully chosen doll to show Professor Jäger, whom Papa told her was a keen doll collector. And of course, Lalka came too.
The sun was trying to peek out from behind heavy clouds. Trees held onto their frosty buds, doubting that spring had arrived.
‘Anna, darling,’ Papa blew a smoke ring. ‘I just want you to remember that sometimes things are not always what they seem.’ Through the foggy window Anna watched Professor Jäger as he knocked on a blue door to which a wooden sign was nailed.
Pignataro’s Puppetarium stood on a corner of the main street and a small alleyway. A family of wooden marionettes hung in the window display – a woman, a man and three children – all coated in a thick layer of dust. They looked terrified but had no mouths to scream. The only part of their faces that had been painted on were the eyes, which gave them a barely human appearance – a ghastly theatre of ghouls. Anna thought they might have been the kind of dolls used by an old witch. The light shining in cast long, thin silhouettes of the puppet family onto the side wall.
Huddled inside his thick overcoat, the fur collar turned up to warm his neck, the professor stood waiting as he hopped from one foot to the other. He rubbed his hands together, wisps of foggy breath curling upwards into the cold air. A short woman answered, her hair tucked under a red scarf. They exchanged a few words before she pulled out a small package from the pocket of her apron. Professor Jäger slipped the parcel inside his coat. Looking around for a moment, he hurried straight back to the car, motioning for Papa to leave.
They followed the river Lech as it wound its way through the centre of Landsberg, past the main square. The village, with its candy-coloured houses and cobblestone streets, looked like it had sprung from the pages of a book of fairytales. Under the shadow of a tall tower, market stalls were piled high with greens and fruit, sides of pork strung up beside giant sausages. Chickens and ducks huddled in wicker baskets. Anna’s eyes feasted on the vibrant scene as they drove past. She could hear the muffled cacophony of people selling their wares, hoping dearly that the professor might ask Papa to stop the car. Instead he sat motionless, his gaze fixed upon the parcel now resting in his lap as the market disappeared behind them.
The car snaked along a winding road. On the outskirts of the village Papa turned left into a driveway, which led to a grand house guarded by gargoyles. The sun had crept higher in the sky, melting the layer of frost blanketed over the landscape. Between the trees Anna glimpsed the shimmering surface of the river at the bottom of the garden. An elderly gardener was busy tending to flowerbeds lush with lavender and cornflowers. He rested his rake against an old wheelbarrow and stood scratching his beard as he stared at the arrivals. This time Professor Jäger sat still as the car pulled up, waiting for Papa to run around and open the rear door for him. Anna slid across the leather seat and hopped out next, Papa winking as he patted her head. The gardener, smelling of dung and compost, doffed his cap as they walked past. Anna waved shyly and he raised his hand hesitantly in response, his fingernails blackened with dirt.
A tall butler stood inside the entrance. With his left arm extended he had turned himself into a living coat stand, staring at a point on the opposite wall, his twitching bushy eyebrows the only part of him that moved. Papa carried the bags inside and arranged them at the foot of the stairs. He straightened his jacket and whispered something to a young housekeeper, who wore a starched white apron tied around her waist. She curtsied, turned and hurried down the corridor. Professor Jäger threw his coat over the butler’s arm and disappeared into a side room, closing the door behind him. Papa lugged the suitcase up the staircase, followed closely by Anna, who carried the bag that held her dolls. At the top of the landing he opened the door to the first room on the left. He flung open the curtains and Anna rushed to look out the window. Red geraniums cascaded down from an ornate wrought-iron window box. Below, a lone apple tree grew in the centre of a vegetable patch that was surrounded by low brown-brick walls. A huge garden gradually changed from manicured to wild as it sprawled towards the river’s edge.
‘This is where you will be staying, sweetheart.’ He placed her suitcase at the end of the bed.
‘And you, Papa?’
‘I’ll be downstairs in the servants’ quarters if you need me. But don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Now leave your things here and go explore the grounds. I think you’ll love the garden. The housekeeper will let you know when lunch is ready.’
Papa walked towards the landing. She heard his footsteps halt for a moment as he headed downstairs.
He called up to her: ‘I’ll see you later this afternoon, darling.’
Anna felt a little sorry for Professor Jäger. It was such a large place for a man to live in all alone. He seemed quite sad. Deciding she would explore the house later, Anna raced out to the garden, carrying Lalka in a small bag. Making her way across a meadow, she passed a flock of sheep who were too busy grazing to notice her. The mountains in the distance were still snow-capped, but the sun was warm now. Spring had arrived at last; lambs were wagging their tails, crickets whirred and ducklings darted around lilies on the pond, frantically trying to catch up to their mothers. A fringe of birch saplings grew along the bottom of the garden. Beyond them lurked the giants of the forest, oak and fir trees towering over glades of woodland ferns.
She followed a narrow path lined with daffodils and sat down under the shade of a giant oak, ringed by a carpet of moss. Peeling off her shoes and socks and slipping them into her satchel, she tiptoed down to the riverbank, mud squelching between her toes. A few iridescent blue beetles scuttled out of the way as she inched her way into the water. Small fish approached cautiously, some of the braver ones daring to nibble at her ankles. A mother ushered her ducklings across to a small island in the middle of the river, commanding them with a gentle but firm quack to hide among the reeds. Anna scrambled up an old willow tree that dipped its fronds into the water.
The forest felt alive with strange, whispering creatures. The Waldgeister would surely be nearby, skulking around his demon cave inside a large pine. And the Holzfrau too, protector of ancient trees, her tangled strands of moss hair dragging on the ground behind her as she limped along pushing a broken wheelbarrow. Reaching out to the gardener, she would ask for food and, if he was kind to her, she would reward him with a pile of woodchips, one of which would turn into gold at midnight. But if he refused, then her nails would instantly transform into sharpened claws and she would scratch a permanent reminder to be kind to strangers right across his face.
Elves watched Anna from their hiding place underground. They had left behind rings in the grass, a sign they had been dancing hand in hand under the moon the night before. As the children of witches and devils they held special powers, able to take on whichever form they chose; even a butterfly or a beetle boring into the entrails of a fir tree may well be a spying elf in disguise. Most people who lived near forests dreaded these creatures and were careful not to offend them, lest elfin malevolence afflict them with some mysterious illness.
Storms were a particularly treacherous time for country folk. That was when the wilden Jäger, a bespectacled oaf, took his revenge on those who dared laugh at him for once losing his rifle to a clever rabbit. He approached his victims with a piercing cry – Hu Hu! – striking terror into their hearts. Also known as the Wandering Jew, it was said he was doomed to roam the earth restlessly until Judgement Day because he had refused to allow Christ to drink from a horse trough, inviting him instead to lick muddy hoofprints on the ground.
Anna’s daydreaming was interrupted by a rustling noise in the bushes. Her insides churned. She held her breath, scared of what creature may be lurking, ready to pounce. She could hear the gardener in the distance, whistling as he raked. Should she scream for help? A foot with long claws emerged from the bushes, followed by a scratching sound. To her relief, a shaggy brown hen who had ventured far from the chicken coop poked its head out. Anna climbed down the tree, as silently as she could, trying hard not to frighten the bird away. Once she was on solid ground, she snuck up from behind and reached down to grab it. Expecting a flurry of feathers and clucking protests, she was surprised to find it came willingly. Carrying the rescued fowl, Anna trudged back up the meadow towards where she had last seen the gardener working, past bushes that had been carefully trimmed into the shapes of animals – a bear, a cat, a rooster. She heard him splitting wood and followed a stone path along the side of the house.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I found her in the bushes down by the river.’ She held the chicken out for him. ‘I thought she might be yours.’
The gardener answered with a smile and put down his axe. Taking his time, he bundled the firewood into the wheelbarrow before heading towards a tumbledown woodshed at the edge of the garden. He was old and taciturn, but Anna felt safe in his silence. Still clutching the chicken she followed him, watching as he stacked logs into a neat pile.
‘Pop Ella down over there.’ He pointed to a chicken coop. ‘You’re quite good with animals, for a city girl.’
Anna smiled. She had shared her love for all creatures with Mutti, the two of them always stopping to pat a cat or chat to the owner of a dog. On their strolls together around the Englischer Garten, they would watch wild rabbits, foxes and squirrels playing among the trees.
The red door of the shed was wide open, and some hens raced towards them as they approached. Ella started flapping wildly and jumped down to join them. The gardener clucked softly as he reached up to a shelf lined with glass jars and large rusty tins labelled POISON. He took down a bucket of food and handed it to Anna. She tossed scraps to the birds, who eagerly pecked at carrot peels and green potatoes, scratching around in the dirt for loose kernels of corn. Within minutes they had polished off the lot. He came over and waved his arms about like a scarecrow, herding the chickens back into the henhouse, bolting the door behind them with a large rusty nail.
‘Some days I like to get the girls in much earlier than usual, especially if naughty ones like Ella have wandered off. The foxes are already likely to have sniffed out their chance for a quick snack.’
Anna followed him barefoot around the old shed. In the far corner, a pile of hay had been stacked against the back wall. The gardener teased out some small clumps, which he placed inside a wicker basket. He handed her a bucket of grain.
‘Would you like to help feed the rabbits?’
‘Yes, please.’
A large hutch suddenly came to life as rabbits emerged from underground tunnels. As the gardener opened the door they spun around his feet, making eager little grunting noises as they waited for him to toss some hay onto the floor. He called them to him by name, reaching out to pat each one. He let Anna hand them their food while he grabbed a large white male by the scruff of its neck and flipped it upside down. The rabbit lay motionless in his arms, paws frozen in the air, pink nose twitching.
‘Meet King Solomon,’ he said, ‘The father of all rabbits.’
He was a beautiful creature. As Anna stroked his soft belly, the rabbit stared up at her. The gardener lowered him to the ground, and he joined the others who were madly racing around the large hutch, dropping tiny round pellets behind them in their excitement. He picked up a small shovel and started cleaning out a mound of dirt from one corner. In a separate hutch off to the side, Anna noticed a few baby rabbits huddled together. She reached in and lifted one out. It had short ears and silky, white fur. An opaque film covered one of its eyes, the rim red and caked with crusts. She wiped it with her finger.
‘Stop!’ The gardener had noticed her and came rushing over. He grabbed the tiny rabbit from her, placing it back in the hutch. He led her over to a pump. ‘Here, quickly! Wash your hands. There are some nasty chemicals around here.’
‘Why are the babies separated from their mothers?’ she asked.
‘Never you mind,’ he snapped. ‘Best you run along now. They will be serving lunch up at the house shortly.’ He turned briskly, disappearing into the garden.
Anna raced back to the river, where she’d left her belongings in her rush to pick up the hen. She sat down and put on her shoes and socks, and lifted her bag, holding it close to her chest. On her way back to the house, she felt compelled to take one last look at the baby rabbits. She snuck back in and crouched beside the small hutch. The little ones all had bloodshot eyes, watery and opaque, as if they’d been crying. A sign penned in cursive script was pinned to the cage: Experimental Stock. There was one thing the young rabbits had in common, beyond their fluffy cuteness. Just like Anna and King Solomon, each one of them had different-coloured eyes.