Anastasia's Secret Read Online Free PDF Page A

used her for my own purposes, but I somehow felt I was justified.
    It wasn’t hard to wake up early the next morning. I was so full of anticipation I barely slept. Which was a good thing, because although the dawn came all too soon at that time of year, the day turned out to be rainy and the sunrise was barely noticeable.
    I wore the coat I hadn’t wanted and that I was hoping would be given to the orphanage the next year, the one that had been handed down all the way from Olga and was beginning to show signs of wear. Armed with my basket of treats, I crept through the secret passages and turnings that I hadn’t, in fact, forgotten, and made my way to the garden to meet Sasha.
    He was there, waiting for me. His outline was indistinct in the mist, as if he had moved when his photograph was taken. Even though it was the middle of the summer, the rain and damp made me shiver. “You’re not afraid, are you?” whispered Sasha when I reached him.
    “No, I’m fine. Just a little cold.”
    “This way.”
    He took my arm and steered me firmly toward a towering yew hedge, and for a moment I panicked that perhaps instead of being my friend he actually wished me harm. And I had ensured that there would be no secret police or their spies around to rescue me if that were the case. But soon enough I discovered that the hedge hid a low gate in the iron palings that I had never noticed before. We crept through it and pulled it shut behind us. The gate led to an alleyway behind some small houses. I knew where these were; we passed them often enough on our way to visit the local hospital.
    Soon, however, we were beyond the part of the town that I knew, and the houses became poorer and shabbier. Some looked as though they might fall down. Their wooden sides had been propped up with rough poles leaning against them. I thought at first that they must only be sheds for animals—they had no windows, and gaps that surely let the wind whistle through in the bitter winter.
    “A family of ten lives in that one,” Sasha whispered. He was so close to my ear that he startled me, and I frowned at him.
    “Don’t exaggerate!” I snapped. He shrugged and gestured for me to follow him again.
    I was sure we would soon leave the town altogether, as the houses became more sparse, and here and there a goat or some chickens scratched about in the mud for a bit of food. We climbed a hill, beyond which I thought would be nothing but open fields. Yet when we reached the crest, I gasped.
    Spread out from the sides of the hill, sloping away for about a mile and a half was a filthy campground dotted with fires. People in rags slept on the open ground, curled up against the rain that fell steadily. A few had constructed lean-tos out of discarded blankets and old broom handles. I covered my mouth and retched. Even from this distance, the stench was abominable. Clearly there was no place for human waste other than among the people themselves. When I recovered myself enough to talk, I asked Sasha, “How many of them are there?”
    “It depends on the time of year. Two or three thousand just now I think. In the winter, more people try to come into town for shelter.”
    “I cannot believe that my papa and mama have any idea that this”—I swept my arm in an arc—”could possibly exist.”
    “I don’t blame them specifically,” Sasha said, “but I blame their ignorance of what’s really going on in this country. People are starving in the countryside and being worked to death in the factories.”
    I looked down at my pathetic little offering of cakes and pastries. “I don’t suppose these will do much good.” But I was at a complete loss as to what else I could do. Papa would be able to order the engineers to construct a field of stout, dry tents and dig latrines. But I was only the youngest grand duchess, hardly ever spoken to except to be congratulated on making everyone laugh, or for performing a piece well on the piano or the balalaika. My father