Chapter 21
4. An Uneasy Encounter
Early spring. People were lined up to buy sandwiches. It wasn’t a famous shop, but for the cheap price, the taste was decent.
I joined the long line. The man standing in front of me turned to see who had arrived, then his eyes widened in surprise. He quickly tapped the shoulder of the person standing ahead of him.
I only smiled faintly, though inside, I wasn’t smiling at all. Damn it. This is exactly why I hate crowded places. Along with my name, my face had started to spread among people. When my photo took up a whole section of the newspaper, I nearly fainted.
Fortunately, no one tried to talk to me, nor did anyone shout “Look, it’s her!” Most people were far too focused on getting their sandwiches quickly and heading back.
Then it happened. Someone tugged on the hem of my thin trench coat.
Looking down, I saw a little girl, her cheeks flushed red, staring up at me.
“Um…”
The child glanced back at who seemed to be her parents, then mustered her courage.
“Can I have your autograph?”
“Oh, sure.”
One must always be kind to children—or at least, that’s what I believed. I scrawled my name on the paper the girl handed me.
Anna Keating.
The girl bowed politely after receiving my autograph, then ran off happily. I watched her for a moment before burying my face in my scarf and lowering my head.
I should’ve just asked Albert to buy these! Too late to regret it now. I only wanted some fresh air. And honestly, with my face already splashed in the newspaper, a short outing wasn’t going to make much of a difference.
It took about ten minutes until I finally got my sandwich. I paid and immediately walked away quickly, trying not to draw attention. Especially here in Ipswin—who knew what kind of trouble might happen. Maybe in Vitelsden it would be different, but not here.
Only after stepping inside the row house where I was staying could I finally loosen the suffocating scarf. I looked at my reflection in the mirror: a woman with light hair tied back. Months had passed since I bleached my hair blonde, but I still wasn’t used to it.
I slid the key into the lock to open my door, but before I even turned the knob, the door swung wide open. A tall man appeared, grinning broadly as he called out my name.
“Anna!”
“Please don’t shout so loudly!”
I hissed in a whisper, shoving him inside and hastily closing the door. He looked at me with that same brazen expression, as if he had done nothing wrong.
“I was just happy to see you.”
“It’s been less than twenty hours since we last parted.”
“Do I need to wait a long time before I’m allowed to be happy to see you again?”
“Enough. Stop making a scene and just eat this.”
I shoved the sandwich into his arms, then hung my trench coat on the rack. Albert followed me, sandwich in hand.
“This much is fine, isn’t it? Anna is such a common name. There are two other Annas living just upstairs.”
“I still want to be as careful as possible, okay? How many times have I told you? Until I leave this place, I can’t do anything that draws attention.”
Albert nodded obediently—though without an ounce of real remorse.
It had been over two months since I first met Albert Shaw. Even after I decided to trust him, part of me still wondered if he might betray me—or if he had some hidden scheme.
But all he seemed interested in was helping me get abroad. The idea of reinventing myself as a pianist had been his, too.
When he discovered my talent for piano, Albert was overjoyed. He told me, Anna, that’s basically your ticket abroad.
He seemed like a good man—cheerful, optimistic. I had never met anyone like him. More than that, he even devoted himself to helping me.
Perhaps I could trust him after all.
Not because he was kind or outgoing, but because I was certain of one thing: he had no connection whatsoever to Giles Hessen.
That fact alone made him worth trusting.
Albert unwrapped his sandwich, then grumbled.
“I don’t like egg sandwiches.”
“Yesterday you said scrambled eggs were your favorite dish.”
“That’s scrambled. This is boiled. I don’t like hard-boiled eggs.”
If he had a flaw, it was being irritating like this. What difference did it make between scrambled and boiled? With no choice, I handed him my portion too. His face lit up again, while I swallowed my annoyance.
“So why did you suddenly want to see me? This early in the morning?”
“Am I not allowed to see you in the morning?”
“Don’t twist my words.”
“What if I said there was no reason at all—would you be mad?”
Seeing my glare, he quickly changed his tone. A rare seriousness appeared on his handsome face.
“It’s just that I have good news.”
“Good news?”
I immediately sat beside him. Albert proudly pulled something from his coat pocket: an envelope sealed with wax.
“Your golden ticket.”
“What’s that? Stop joking and give it here.”
“Tsk, Anna.”
He raised the envelope high, out of my reach, teasing me.
“I can’t give the golden ticket to someone without manners.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s a magic word.”
“Stop with the jokes and give it!”
“You have to say the magic word. Just one little word. Come on.”
He was being petty. With a deep sigh, I gave in and said what he wanted.
“Please.”
Albert seemed to find my frustration endlessly amusing.
“Please what?”
“The letter.”
“The letter what?”
“Please give me the letter, damn it!”
Thankfully, he knew when to stop. “Alright, alright,” he said, handing it over.
I broke the seal and unfolded the densely written pages inside.
“This is…”
“Didn’t I tell you it was good news?”
“You’re not joking, right?”
“Anna, I’d never joke about this. It’s what you’ve been waiting for.”
The so-called “golden ticket” was an invitation—from none other than Vitelsden. And it was even kindly translated into our language.
I couldn’t believe it was real, so I read from the very first line again.
*Dear Miss Anna Keating,
It is our honor to write to you on behalf of the Vitelsden Philharmonic Musicians’ Association.In our search for a worthy musician, we learned of an extraordinary pianist who has recently swept through the competitions of the past several months.
If it pleases you, we would like to invite you to Vitelsden as our orchestra’s resident pianist…*
“You know how much effort it took to spread your name, right?”
“When did this arrive?”
“I don’t know what time the postman came, but the moment I saw it, I rushed straight here.”
“Then… I can really go?”
I had always longed to leave the country—for one reason. Abroad, I believed I would be safe. In a foreign land where no one knew me, where the language was different… maybe I could finally live without fear.
“Of course, Anna. They’ve officially invited you to Vitelsden. There’s no reason you can’t go.”
“I… I thought maybe the chance would never come.”
“You? Come on. You’re an incredible pianist! You were even in the papers—A Meteoric Newcomer Who Swept the Big Three Competitions. People know your name now. Soon you might even have a recital under your own name.”
Yes, the newspaper. That was also a problem. The fact that my news had reached Vitelsden was good, but it also meant he could learn of me too.
The reason I had to leave Ipswin was because he haunted my dreams. A man whose very name I hated to recall: Giles Hessen. Nightmares of him chasing me. I couldn’t live like this. I had to run, far enough that his claws could never reach me.
“Anna, are you really going to Vitelsden?”
“Why are you asking the obvious?”
“In case you changed your mind—so I can cancel the train ticket if needed.”
“You already bought the ticket?”
Albert had already secured it. I was shocked at his initiative, yet also wondered why he was so dedicated to me. He treated my situation as if it were his own.
“I thought you’d want to leave as soon as possible.”
“You’re not saying I have to pack and leave immediately, right? I haven’t even prepared a bag yet.”
“There’s plenty of time. Trains to Vitelsden aren’t frequent, so tickets have to be booked well in advance. That’s why I bought it early. The train leaves in about… a week, I think?”
The moment he said that, I thought about stocking up at the market. I’d buy loads of food and spend the week indoors without stepping outside once. That way I could finally feel safe.
Not long ago, I had gone out and seen soldiers on patrol. I hid behind a wall, frozen stiff like a statue, until they were completely out of sight.
Albert had comforted me then.
“I’ll go with you until you arrive in Vitelsden. You’ll be safe there. He won’t be able to follow you. What could he possibly do in a foreign country?”
I thanked him quietly. For all his occasional annoyances, Albert was still a good man. More than that, he was on my side. Sometimes I wondered what would’ve become of me if I had never met him.
“Where do I board the train?”
“At Montreal Station.”
I had never heard of that place before. Though I was born and raised in Ipswin, I didn’t know the geography well—I had spent most of my life shut in.
“So I just have to go there a week from now?”
“That’s right. If you arrive after noon, the Orient Express will be waiting.”
I repeated the name of the train silently to myself.
The Orient Express. The train that would carry me to unknown lands.
Albert sat beside me, beaming with pride. He looked like a hunting dog that had just brought back a deer, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
