Thea dropped her spoon and did the same with her bowl, smiling at me with her finger between her teeth. ‘There is no shame in appetite,’ she said, and both of her parents nodded.
When Thea walked me home that afternoon, her arm in mine, she asked if I would show her the village.
‘There isn’t much to see,’ I said.
‘You can show me who lives where,’ she replied.
We had reached the lane. Being a day of rest, there were no men working in the fields, and Kay was even quieter than usual. Only smoke drifting silently from chimneys indicated that people were home.
‘Well, this house belongs to the Pfeiffers,’ I said, nodding to a small, one-windowed cottage, the path to the front door pitted with puddles.
‘Oh yes, I met them with Mama. They have two daughters.’
‘Yes. And that house there . . .’ I pointed, and Thea strained her neck to follow my line of sight. ‘See the larger house there, with the goat staked in front? That’s Elder Gottfried Fr?hlich’s house. He’s also a shoemaker.’ It had started to snow. I unwound my arm from Thea’s and pulled my headscarf down on my forehead. ‘I should go home,’ I said.
‘Why? There’s at least another hour of daylight.’
When I didn’t respond, Thea took my arm again and pulled me onwards. ‘Who lives there?’
‘Reinhardt Geschke and his new wife, Elize. And his father, Traugott. Wheelwrights by trade.’
We walked on into the heart of the village, where the cottages crowded the lane, narrow fingers of land spilling out behind.
‘That’s your house over there, isn’t it?’ asked Thea. ‘Is that your pig?’
I nodded.
She leaned closer to me and whispered, ‘And who’s that?’
‘Where?’
Thea nodded to the Pasches’ cottage and I saw Hans standing in the yard, carrying a milk pail. He raised his free hand in greeting as we passed.
‘That’s Hans Pasche,’ I told Thea. ‘Elder Pasche’s son.’
‘I thought Elder Pasche was not yet married?’
‘Rosina will be his second wife. Hans’s mother died.’
‘Thirsty?’ Hans called out to us, lifting the pail. I could see steam lift from it in the cold air.
Thea laughed and shook her head.
I was about to stop and farewell her there, in the lane, when I saw Magdalena and Christiana come around the far corner of my house. Without thinking, I veered sideways into the Pasches’ yard, dragging Thea with me.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
‘Shh.’
Hans stared at us in surprise as I pulled Thea into the Pasches’ barn.
‘Hanne?’ Thea stumbled in the gloom.
I put a finger to my lips and peered out just in time to see Magdalena and Christiana stop on the swept flagstone and stamp the snow from their shoes. I ducked back around as Christiana glanced up, eyes sweeping the yard, and heard her call out a greeting to Hans.
‘It’s the Radtkes,’ I whispered, turning around.
Thea rested a hand on the flank of the Pasches’ cow and raised her eyebrows.
Hans stepped into the barn then and set the pail on the floor. ‘She’s gone inside your house now, if that’s who you’re hiding from, Hanne.’
‘Hello,’ Thea said, lifting her chapped fingers into the air. ‘I’m Thea.’
Hans nodded, glancing between us. ‘Hans.’
‘I don’t want her to see me,’ I mumbled.
‘Christiana?’
‘I didn’t realise they were visiting.’
The three of us stood together for an awkward moment. Thea ran her hand over the cow and smiled at Hans. ‘She’s lovely,’ she said.
Hans beamed. ‘She’s a bit sad, poor thing.’
‘Oh?’
‘My father just sold her calf.’ He scratched the cow behind the ears and pressed his own forehead to hers.
‘Sorry, Hans,’ I said. ‘Forget we were here.’
Hans shrugged, head still against the cow. ‘Don’t worry about it. I hide in here all the time.’
‘I knew at once you didn’t like her,’ Thea said, as we walked along the fence line that separated the Pasches’ land from my father’s. It was snowing heavily, white slowly covering the dun of the bare fields.
‘I never said that,’ I said. ‘She just . . .’ I hesitated, wondering how to explain that I yearned for Christiana’s approval and yet hated to be in her company. ‘She makes me feel . . . I don’t know. As though I am nothing.’ I took a deep breath. Cold air flooded my lungs.