“Soooo … they were considering adoption.”
“Yes.”
“What kind of doctor was this Goldblum?”
Irene held the sheet up to the light to help her read the blurred stamp. “It says ‘Doctor of Gynecology.’ ”
“All right. So what is Turner syndrome?”
“No idea.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes, there’s a rental contract for a studio apartment with kitchen on Drottninggatan. It’s made out to Lovisa Lowander for a four-month period from November ’46 to February ’47.”
“Did she have Sverker in Stockholm?”
“It appears so. I remember him saying that she had to have expert care during her entire pregnancy. It was quite complicated, he said.”
Irene flipped until she found some small, thin pieces of paper. “Here we have bank receipts. At the end of each month, Hilding put two hundred crowns into an account. The first deposit is the last day of August ’46 and they end on the last day of February ’47. He didn’t need to make a payment in March because Tekla had already hanged herself.”
“You think the money was for Tekla?”
“Yes, it’s the right period of time. Probably he was trying to deal with a bad conscience.”
“Did she ever have another job?”
“No idea. Maybe she was too depressed to work.”
They fell silent as they contemplated this new information. Finally Tommy said resolutely, “I have to know what kind of illness this Turner syndrome is. I’m going to call Agneta.”
He picked up the receiver and quickly dialed his wife’s work number at Alingsas Hospital. She was soon on the line. Tommy said, “Hi, darling, can you help me out? I need to know what Turner syndrome is.”
Tommy said nothing else but began to write in his notebook. Two times he lifted his eyebrows toward Irene, but he remained silent and continued writing, turning pages as he ran out of room. Irene wondered if he was in the midst of composing a medical dissertation.
Finally, after a long time, Tommy stopped writing. He put down his pen, thanked his wife for her help, and kissed into the receiver. Once he’d hung up, he looked Irene right in the eye and said, “Hold on to your hat. Lovisa Lowander never could have had children. She didn’t have working ovaries.”
Tommy sat down and began to read out loud from what he’d written in his notebook.
“ ‘Turner syndrome is a chromosomal disorder that only affects girls. Normally, boys have the chromosomes XY and girls have XX, but girls who have Turner syndrome have only one chromosome, and therefore it’s noted as XO. These girls are short and do not undergo puberty. They can be treated with female hormones in order to develop breasts and the like’—but I imagine that wasn’t a possibility during the twenties, when Lovisa was young. ‘Regardless, girls with Turner syndrome are always sterile.’ ”
“Sterile! But how—”
She was interrupted when Hannu knocked on the door and came in. He had a number of faxes in one hand.
“Hello. So what did you find out?” Tommy asked.
“Lots. Anna Siwen is deceased. I reached her son Jacob Siwen. He still lives in Stockholm.”
“Were Anna and Tekla related?” Irene asked.
“Yes, they were cousins. Tekla’s mother died when Tekla was born, so Anna’s parents took her in. Tekla’s father started to drink heavily after the death of his wife and was unable to care for a child. He died two years later and left Tekla some money.”
“Does Jacob Siwen remember Tekla at all?”
“Not well. He was six years old when she died. He says that he remembers one Christmas when a lady who cried all the time stayed with them. He believes this must have been Tekla. He had some letters Tekla had written to his mother that she’d saved. He faxed them to me. And I also found a photograph of Tekla in one of the envelopes.”
Hannu handed all the papers to Irene. The photograph was on top. Nicely printed on the back were the words “Tekla Olsson. Graduation from nursing school, June 1943.” Irene turned it over.
In spite of the fact that the photo was faded with age, Irene saw at once something that made her head spin. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Tekla is Sverker’s mother.”
Her two colleagues looked at her in surprise.
“How can you say that?” Tommy asked.
“Look at her eyes.”
Tommy grabbed the photo and looked it up and down. “How can you tell in this black-and-white picture? Cute face, though.”
The white cap with its black band was placed firmly on tightly pinned blond hair. Tekla’s face had regular features, and her laughing mouth revealed perfect teeth. Tekla Olsson had been quite a beauty. Although the photo was black and white, and somewhat yellowed at that, Irene imagined that her eyes were greenish blue, the color of clear seawater.
“Lord in heaven! I really believe Sverker knows nothing about any of this. And yet we are now certain that Lovisa was sterile and never could have had a child.”
Hannu regarded her, contemplating. “He should have known. Both his parents are deceased. It would have been on the death certificates if he were either their natural-born or adopted child.”
Tommy and Irene both looked at Hannu. Tommy was the one who said it first. “Do you think you could track down those death certificates?”
Hannu nodded and headed out the door.
Irene began to search through the file marked “Personal.” She was sure she’d glanced at something behind one of the tabs. There! She pulled out the sheet of paper.
The top of the yellow sheet stated “Delivery Record.”
“Look at this! A delivery record for Mrs. Lovisa Lowander. January second, 1947, at Sabbatsberg Hospital in Stockholm. There’s a lot of strange jargon—‘nulliparous’ … ‘pelvimetry carried out’ … ‘shows tendency to …’ Here! A male child was born without complications at 4:35 P.M. Weight at birth, seven pounds, six ounces.” Irene looked up from the sheet. “What’s this all about? We know that Lovisa couldn’t have children. Probably Tekla Olsson and Hilding Lowander are Sverker’s parents. How can there be a delivery record under Lovisa’s name?”
“Who wrote the record?”
“Let’s see.… Well, what do you know. Our friend the gynecologist who wrote the adoption certification. Here he is again: Dr. Ruben Goldblum.”
“The very good friend of Mr. and Mrs. Lowander.”
“He must have helped them create a fake delivery record.”
“Why?”
“No idea. Perhaps something to do with biological versus adoptive children.”
“Maybe. And remember, that recommendation for adoption was never sent. It’s still here.”
They both thought a minute.
“If Hilding was Sverker’s biological father, he wouldn’t have to adopt his own son,” Tommy said. “But Sverker could not have been Lovisa’s son. We know that. Therefore she must have adopted him. Right?”
Irene thought again and nodded. “Yes, I think you’re right. That’s what happened.”
“Know what I think? The whole arrangement with the fake delivery record and all that talk that Lovisa was under a specialist’s care was just an attempt to hide a scandal—that Hilding had gotten another woman pregnant.”
“Perhaps Lovisa had a deep need for a child—even an adopted one. There weren’t any alternatives in those days. Not like today, when a fertilized egg can be inserted into a sterile woman’s womb.”
“Yes, that’s done these days.”
“But not fifty years ago.”
“No.”
Hannu stuck his head into the doorway. “On the death certificate, Sverker is registered as Lovisa Lowander’s
