The Star of Kazan by Eva Ibbotson Page B

strange; a little husky. And then, ‘This is Annika.’
    The woman turned. She had very blue eyes, but her brows were black and the crescent of hair showing under her hat was black also. With her strong features and her height, she looked to Annika like a queen.
    The woman stood absolutely still and gazed at her. She lifted up her long arms so that her cloak spread out on either side like a pair of wings, blotting out the two professors. And only then did she say the words of Annika’s dream.
    ‘My child,’ said the tall woman, ‘my darling, darling daughter – have I really found you at last?’
    And she stepped forward and took Annika into her arms.

C HAPTER T EN
H APPINESS
    T here is nothing more amazing than walking into one’s own dream. Her mother was real, she had come, and Annika, from the moment she felt her mother’s arms round her, was in a daze of happiness. She could hardly bear to be separated from her even by the length of a room.
    Annika had imagined an elegant and confident woman, but even in her wildest dreams she had not thought that her mother might be an aristocrat – a nobly born woman with a ‘von’ in front of her name and a family crest – yet it was so.
    Her mother’s name was Edeltraut von Tannenberg and she lived in an ancient, moated house in the north of Germany which had been in her family for generations.
    Not only that, but she was beautiful: tall with thick black hair that she wore in plaits round her head; long, narrow hands and feet, and a slender neck. The way she carried herself, the way she spoke – in her deep, serious voice and in an accent so different from the lilting speech of the Viennese – held Annika spellbound. Even the scent she wore was different: a dark, musky, exotic scent that smelt as though the flowers it was made of came from an unknown land.
    Frau von Tannenberg had of course brought papers to show that she was truly the woman who had left her baby on the altar steps in the church at Pettelsdorf. Among these was a document witnessed by one of Vienna’s most famous lawyers, Herr Adolf Pumpelmann-Schlissinger. It was an affidavit signed by the midwife at Pettelsdorf, Amelia Plotz, swearing that she had assisted at the birth of a daughter to Frau Edeltraut von Tannenberg on the sixth of June 1896.
    There could be no doubting a document witnessed by Herr Pumpelmann-Schlissinger. He was a small dapper man with a well-oiled moustache, who wore pointed shoes and purple cravats and could be seen at most fashionable gatherings in the city. The professors knew him well; he belonged to the same club as Professor Julius, collected silver salad servers, and was often called in by the university in their disputes with the council.
    ‘If Pumpelmann-Schlissinger’s put his name to it, then that’s the end of the matter,’ said Professor Julius sadly, and all hope that there had been a mistake or a misunderstanding had to be abandoned.
    The afternoon was spent in business matters, but as supper time drew closer there were problems. Frau von Tannenberg obviously could not eat in the kitchen. On the other hand if she dined with the professors, Annika could not be expected so suddenly to eat upstairs. So most tactfully Annika’s mother invited her daughter to join her for supper at the Hotel Bristol, where she was staying, so that they could get to know each other quietly by themselves.
    ‘My God, the Bristol,’ said Ellie – and she and Sigrid pulled themselves together and washed Annika’s hair and buffed her nails and dressed her in the brown velvet dress that Sigrid had made for her for Christmas . . . And they were only just ready when the doorbell rang and it was Annika’s mother come to fetch her in a hansom cab.
    The Bristol was Vienna’s most luxurious and expensive hotel. Even royalty stayed there when they visited the city and Frau von Tannenberg was pleased with it.
    And her new daughter was going to be a credit to her, she could see that. Watching