“But I’m going to be a doctor!” she cries. “I have to go to grammar school.”
Aunt Marta barks a short little laugh that sounds more like a cough.
“It’s about time you became more realistic and dropped those fine-lady thoughts of yours,” she says. “Where do you think you are, after all? Do you think we’re made of money? We can’t afford room and board in town for you; surely you understand that. And what good would it do? We don’t even know how long you’re going to be here.”
“But what will I do, then, after the school year’s over?”
“Help me in the house,” Aunt Marta tells her. “And when autumn comes you can take the home economics course here on the island. Like most of the other girls do.”
“I don’t want to take some old home economics course!” Stephie protests. “I want to stay in school, real school!”
“That’s the last I want to hear about it. You’re too stubborn for your own good. Now you go up to your room and stay there until you’re ready to apologize.”
The following day Stephie takes the math book and
“I’m not allowed to go on to grammar school,” she tells her.
Miss Bergstrom frowns. “Hadn’t you asked permission before you raised your hand?”
“No.”
“I see,” Miss Bergstrom says. “Do you know what? I’m going to come and have a word with the Janssons.”
“Oh, thank you,” Stephie gasps. “Miss Bergstrom?”
“Yes?
“Wait until Friday. Uncle Evert’s coming home then.”
“Will he be easier to persuade?”
Stephie nods. “I think so. And Miss Bergstrom? Please don’t say anything in class. About me not being allowed to go on.”
Miss Bergstrom understands. “No, I won’t.”
On the way home Stephie stops in at the post office as usual. There is nothing but a brown envelope with a typed address, to Evert Jansson. Aunt Marta sets it on the side-board for Uncle Evert’s return.
twenty-nine
“Stephie’s teacher is coming over this evening,” Aunt Marta says when they are finished eating. “She wants a word with us.”
“What kind of trouble are you in now?” Uncle Evert asks Stephie, but she can hear from his tone that he’s joking.
“None at all,” Stephie replies. She doesn’t want to talk about grammar school when Aunt Marta’s listening.
“We’ll see about that,” Aunt Marta says.
After dinner Stephie is instructed to dust the front room, although she dusted it just a couple of days before. Aunt Marta says things have to be spic and span when Miss Bergstrom comes.
Uncle Evert comes in while she’s straightening up.
“Uncle Evert,” Stephie begins.
“Yes?”
Just then he catches sight of the brown envelope on the sideboard. He takes out his pocketknife and cuts the seal.
“You know,” Stephie goes on, “Miss Bergstrom’s coming over because… well, not because of anything I’ve done wrong.”
“Now don’t you worry,” Uncle Evert tells her distractedly, pulling a typed sheet of stationery out of the envelope.
“I’m not worried,” Stephie replies. “But I… I’d really like…”
She stops talking because she can tell Uncle Evert isn’t listening. The more of the letter he reads, the deeper the crease in his forehead becomes.
Stephie lifts a potted plant to dust the windowsill.
“Stephie,” Uncle Evert says, “there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“What’s that?”
“This letter. Remember how I wrote to our member of parliament?”
As if she could have forgotten!
“Well, this is his answer,” Uncle Evert continues.
“What does he say?”
Uncle Evert sighs. “He says there’s nothing he can do for your mother and father.”
The plant slips out of Stephie’s hands, crashing to the floor.
“They can go to the Swedish embassy in Vienna and apply for entry permits, but their chances aren’t good. He writes that he has investigated the matter and as far as he can determine hardly any adult Jewish refugees are being granted entry to Sweden.”
Aunt Marta hurries into the room. “What broke?” she wants to know.
She sees the pot, and the soil and pieces of plant on the floor.
“Good grief, you are the clumsiest thing! My best geranium! And now, of all times.”
“Let the girl be,” Uncle Evert scolds. “Can’t you see she’s upset?”
He passes the letter to Aunt Marta. She reads it, then says in a gentler voice, “Would you please get the broom and clean up before Miss Bergstrom arrives?”
Stephie does as she’s told. When she’s finished she asks Uncle Evert if she may read the letter herself. She takes it up to her room and tries to decipher the difficult Swedish: “… a certain amount of restriction regarding the issuing of visas…”
She hears the front door open downstairs.
“Good to see you, Miss Bergstrom,” Aunt Marta says. “Do come in.”
“Thank you,” Miss Bergstrom replies. “Is Stephanie at home?”
“Yes, but-”
“I just want to say hello to her, too,” Miss Bergstrom adds.
“Stephie!” Aunt Marta calls up the stairs.
Stephie sets the letter aside and goes down.
“Good evening, Stephanie,” Miss Bergstrom greets her.
She sounds so formal. Miss Bergstrom is the only person on the island who calls her Stephanie.
“Good evening, Miss Bergstrom.”
“How fortunate you are to live here,” Miss Bergstrom begins. “You even have a room of your own.”
“Yes, it’s upstairs.”
“Good heavens,” Miss Bergstrom goes on. “I’m sure I haven’t been in this house for fifteen years. Not since Anna-Lisa-”
“Please come in,” Aunt Marta interrupts. “Come in and sit down.”
She shows Miss Bergstrom into the front room, where she’s set the table with coffee cups, a creamer, and a sugar bowl. It’s the best china, with gold edging and a flower pattern, not their everyday tableware. On a tall cake plate, there’s a sponge cake waiting to be served.
“Stephie, would you bring in the coffee, please?” Aunt Marta says while Miss Bergstrom is shaking Uncle Evert’s hand.
Stephie pours the hot coffee from the stove into the china pot Aunt Marta has taken out. Carefully she carries it in and sets it on the table. It’s heavy. Aunt Marta pours.
