The Star of Kazan

Annika stopped for a moment and felt a pang of envy. What would it be like to have a tree that would fill a whole room with its scent and its beauty? She imagined candlelight from the floor to the ceiling, the shimmer of silver and gold . . .

But that night, Mitzi, the Eggharts’ maid, came round to see them.

‘Guess what?’ she said. ‘The tree’s too big! They had to cut the top off and Loremarie’s having a tantrum because there’s nowhere to hang the star!’

After the tree, Ellie and Annika began to make the gingerbread house. By this time the professors had realized that Christmas was near and started to think about presents. On the grounds that the best presents are those one would like to have oneself, Professor Julius bought Annika the new edition of Kloezberger’s Mesozoic Fossils, and Professor Emil bought her The Encyclopedia of Eighteenth-Century Painting, which they gave to Sigrid to wrap up. Professor Gertrude took the advice of the lady in the shop and bought her a manicure set that included tweezers for removing facial hair.

Then Sigrid brought down the decorations from the attic. They had been made over the years from scraps of silk, ribbons, fir cones painted silver and gold – but each year they made new things, and each year the sweets had to be wrapped in silver paper and hung on the lower branches so that the younger Bodeks could reach them when the time came.

In Vienna Christmas is celebrated on the twenty-fourth – on Holy Night. But it is not a goose or a turkey that is roasted on this night of nights. No one on Holy Night would dream of eating meat. What is roasted is a fish – and not any fish but a carp, the largest and most succulent fish in Austria’s rivers.

And just three days before Christmas, the carp arrived.

It arrived packed in lumps of ice from the salt mines of Hallstadt and the fishmonger had done them proud.

‘It’s the biggest we’ve ever had,’ said Annika, and certainly the fish was magnificent, the kind that appears in fairy stories, rearing up out of the sea and granting wishes.

During the next day it was clear that Ellie had something on her mind. She and Sigrid talked together, and when Annika came they stopped suddenly and looked at her in a considering sort of way.

That night, just as Annika had got into bed, she heard footsteps coming up to her door and Ellie entered. She usually said goodnight downstairs – Ellie’s legs were tired by the end of the day – so it was clear she had something important to say, and she had.

‘We think you can do it.’ Ellie’s voice was solemn. ‘We have made up our minds.’

‘Do what?’

‘Cook it entirely by yourself. Without any help.’

‘Cook what?’ said Annika, bewildered.

And Ellie said, ‘The Christmas carp.’

Annika came downstairs the next morning looking pale, with dark smudges under her eyes. Ellie too looked as though she’d had a sleepless night.

‘I’m sorry, pet, I shouldn’t have suggested it. You’re too young. There’s ten things to go into the sauce alone, and there’s the stuffing and the basting . . .’

Annika put up her chin. ‘Yes, I can. I can and I will. Please will you get down The Book for me.’

So Ellie lifted down her mother’s worn and faded recipe book, which contained all the wisdom of her family, and Annika found the page headed ‘Christmas Carp’.

The instructions were written in crabbed handwriting in violet ink, not even by Ellie’s mother, but by her grandmother, and they covered nearly three pages.

Annika began to read. The fish had to be washed four times in running cold water and the fifth time in water and lemon juice. At least four times, the book said. After that it had to be put to soak in a marinade – a kind of bath of white wine, chopped onions, herbs and lemon.

‘It says here that Chablis is the best wine to use.’

Sigrid raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s the most expensive,’ she said.

‘But it’s the best,’ said Annika firmly, and Sigrid went down to the cellar without another word.

By lunchtime the fish was in its marinade, where it would stay for the rest of the day, and Annika had started to assemble the things she needed for the stuffing. She had been given the main kitchen table to work on. Ellie prepared the vegetables and the desserts at the smaller side table, but she was beginning to suffer, seeing Annika heave the enormous fish kettle about. Annika’s hands were red and chafed, she had tied her hair up in an old cloth, and when anybody spoke to her she didn’t hear. Something was sure to go wrong, thought Ellie, and to stop herself from interfering she took herself off to the shops.

By now the news that Annika was cooking the professors’ Christmas carp entirely by herself had gone round the square. Pauline in particular was very upset and she came in after lunch bringing her scrapbook of people who had done brave and difficult things even though they were too young or too old or too ill.