An Elderly Lady Must Not Be Crossed

by Helene Tursten

  Maud edged backward. She reached into the key cupboard and took out a stubby little padlock key, then she put the front door on the latch and ran down the cellar steps.

  The corridor was dark. She closed the cellar door quietly and switched on the light. She’d already worked out where she was going to hide. She began to count the storage facilities; when she got to eleven, she stopped. This one belonged to her father. She undid the padlock and peered inside. There was plenty of room. She left the padlock on the hasp, but didn’t click it shut. Hopefully those idiot boys wouldn’t realize it wasn’t actually locked. With a determined expression on her face, she quickly went back and switched off the light.

  For a moment she stood there motionless. It really was pitch dark. There was no way anyone’s eyes could get used to this. Good. She held out her hand in front of her and set off, counting to eleven once more. She slipped inside.

  All she had to do now was wait.

  Within minutes she heard the brothers, quarreling as usual, pushing and shoving in an effort to be first through the door. When it slammed behind them, there was a brief silence, followed by a panic-stricken voice.

  “Turn the light on, for fuck’s sake! Turn the light on!”

  A grim smile spread across Maud’s face. So Algot the hard man was scared of the dark! After more swearing and scuffling, one of them found the switch.

  “Fucking idiot! Surely you realize you have to turn on the light before you close the fucking door!”

  Algot again.

  “But you were the one who—” Torsten attempted to stick up for himself.

  “Shut the fuck up! Start searching!”

  They approached Maud’s hiding place, and she felt her heart rate increase. Fortunately they kept going.

  “We need to check the boiler room,” Algot decided.

  “It’s probably locked,” Torsten said nervously.

  “Ha!” Algot had discovered that the door wasn’t locked. Relief made Maud go weak at the knees. They were on their way into the boiler room. And the coal cellar. The realization filled her with an icy calm. Now it was just a matter of doing everything right.

  Cautiously she opened the storage facility door and crept along to the boiler room. The boys were already struggling with the heavy steel coal-cellar door, but it wasn’t even half-open.

  “There! I saw it first!” Algot shouted.

  “No, I did!”

  They shoved and pushed, desperate to be the first to grab the envelope they’d spotted.

  Maud moved fast. She strode across the floor and slammed the door before either of the brothers had time to work out what was going on. The bar was a challenge, but she managed to push it down.

  As she left the boiler room, she could hear the faint sound of yelling. She paused to replace the padlock on Father’s storage unit. It was important that everything looked the same as usual. She left the corridor light on.

  When she got back to the apartment, Hilda was still in Charlotte’s room. Maud replaced the keys, then went to see her sister. Hilda was busy tucking her in.

  “Shall I make some tea?” Maud asked.

  Hilda gave a start, as if she’d forgotten that Maud was home.

  “Oh! Yes, please, sweetheart!”

  “Chocolate,” said the bundle in the bed.

  Clearly her big sister was already feeling better. Maud felt positively cheerful as she headed for the kitchen.

  When the big clock struck six, the family—apart from Charlotte—was sitting around the dining table. Because Charlotte had had such a bad day, Hilda was taking special care of her, shuttling between the kitchen and the bedroom with hot soup, which the patient refused to drink, and hot chocolate, which she was more than happy to drink. She also managed a couple of Hilda’s homemade oatcakes with a slice of Edam cheese.

  They’d just begun to eat when the doorbell rang. They heard Hilda hurrying to answer, and after a moment she appeared in the dining room.

  “Stark would like to speak to you, sir.”

  Father raised his bushy eyebrows, took his gold watch out of his waistcoat pocket, and looked at it meaningfully. He grunted, then put it away again. He removed the napkin tucked beneath his chin, then got to his feet. Mother and Maud remained seated, listening to the hum of conversation in the hallway. They couldn’t hear what was being said, but Father raised his voice occasionally.

  An icy lump began to form in Maud’s stomach. The janitor usually went down to the cellar in the early evening to attend to the boilers. Of course he’d found the two brothers—that’s what she’d expected. They’d been shut in for almost three hours. What had they said? The lump grew bigger.

  After a while Father returned. To Maud’s relief he seemed puzzled rather than angry. He sank down on his chair and looked at his wife and daughter.

  “Stark found those wretched Aronsson boys locked in the coal cellar a little while ago. They’d been messing around in there, and somehow the door slammed shut and the bar dropped down. They were pretty spooked by the time they got out. Stark dragged them home to their mother. They claim that you, Maud, lured them into helping search for an envelope containing money that I’d apparently dropped. What do you have to say about that?”

  The lump of ice was rock hard now, but Maud was determined not to show any sign of nerves. She gazed up at her father and said in a trembling voice, “I’m sorry I lied, Father. I did it to help Charlotte.”

  Before her father could ask any more questions, Maud began to tell him about the afternoon’s events. She vividly described how Algot had dangled the wriggling rat in Charlotte’s face, sending her sister into hysterics. That was why she’d made up the story about her darling father’s having lost an envelope containing money. It had worked, because the boys had left Charlotte alone and run off to start searching. Maud may have neglected to mention that she’d set a trap in the coal cellar.

  When she’d finished, she decided it would be appropriate to shed a few tears to lend an authenticity to her impressive performance.

  Her father stood up and walked around the table to her chair. For a second, Maud felt as if her heart had leapt into her throat. When he bent down and tenderly stroked her hair, her heart tumbled back to its proper place.

  “Your account perfectly matches what Stark’s wife told him. She looked out of their window and saw the boys tormenting Charlotte; you appeared before she could intervene. She said you spoke to them, then they threw the rat away and ran off.”

  He fell silent and cleared his throat before continuing.

  “What you did was . . . wonderful.”

  “Darling, you don’t need to apologize for lying,” her mother said. “You did it for a very good reason.”

  She didn’t touch Maud; she rarely did, unless it was to pull at her hair or her ear because of some transgression. Mother only hugged her elder daughter, the gifted musical genius.

  Father went and sat down. He tucked his napkin into his collar once more, but didn’t immediately pick up his knife and fork. He looked steadily at Maud.

  “One more thing. According to Stark, the boys insist that there was an envelope on the floor of the coal cellar. He thinks they’re lying or imagining things, because he didn’t find any envelope, and they didn’t have one on them. They claim they were so relieved to have been let out that they left it behind. Do you know anything about an envelope, Maud?”

  Maud shook her head. “No, Father.”

  “You just made it up?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Good! In that case we’ll leave it there.”

  With that he called to Hilda and asked her to bring him a fresh portion of hot food.

  However, Father didn’t exactly leave the incident there, so to speak. The following day he went to see the Aronsson family and gave them a month’s notice. The boys had attacked Charlotte and
messed around in the coal cellar, and that kind of thing simply wasn’t allowed. The tenancy agreement clearly stated that “parents or guardians are responsible for ensuring that children do not play on the stairs, in the laundry room, cellar, or attic.” Therefore, the Aronssons had failed in their obligation. Something very serious could have happened, so they had lost their right to rent an apartment.

  Fru Aronsson had wept and begged Father to reconsider, but he had been implacable. The family had to go.

  Maud had made sure to stay out of the way of the brothers during the four weeks that remained before they moved. It had worked in school as well; her classroom and Torsten’s were on the same corridor, but he was clearly avoiding her too. December 15 was the big day, and the best thing of all was that Algot and Torsten would be starting at a different school in the new year.

  The day before Christmas Eve, Maud bumped into Stark on the steps leading down to the courtyard. He looked just as miserable as ever, and as usual Maud bowed her head politely.

  “Good afternoon, herr Stark,” she said.

  “Good afternoon, Maud.”

  He’d never answered her before. She was so surprised that she stopped and looked up at his face, grubby with coal dust. A broad smile spread across his cracked lips, revealing an uneven tobacco-stained row of teeth with several gaps.

  “Envelopes burn in no time if you put them in the furnace,” he said.

  Then he turned and set off down the cellar steps.

  Maud woke with a start; someone was leaning over her. Her heart was racing. Had she been asleep? Where was she? Who was looming over her? It took a couple of seconds before she realized it was the flight attendant. Of course, she was on a plane. On the plane from Copenhagen to Dubai.

  “Is everything okay?” the attendant asked politely.

  Maud had to clear her throat a couple of times to make sure her voice would hold.

  “Absolutely fine.”

  “Would you like some champagne?”

  “Yes, please.”

  At least it would calm her nerves, she thought as she flipped down her little table. The attendant placed a glass in front of her and continued to the seat in front. Maud studied the bubbles as they rose to the surface. To the surface. Memories rise to the surface. That’s what happens when you get older.

  She picked up the glass and took a deep swig. The champagne wasn’t quite as cold as she would have wished, and it was too sweet. However, it was free, so she kept on drinking. When the attendant came back she would ask for another.

  Memories. There were many memories that she’d suppressed over the years. No point in brooding over the past. Sometimes a person had to do certain things in order to survive the hard life of a single woman with a heavy burden of responsibility to bear. In Maud’s case that burden hadn’t been a child, but a grown woman. Her sister had been eleven years older, but after their parents’ untimely death, it had always been Maud who provided for them both. They’d had no living relatives, so there was no choice. Their few friends had gradually disappeared as Charlotte’s mental state worsened, and, of course, a contributing factor had been Charlotte’s refusal to see anyone except Maud. And Hilda.

  Maud remembered their maid with unaccustomed warmth. Without her they never would have survived the war and the early post-war years.

  Hilda had intuitively understood that Charlotte needed a reassuring, motherly presence. No one else in the family could provide that, least of all Mother herself. Hilda had happily taken on the role. When Father died and war broke out, her support became even more important. Mother never recovered from darling Father’s death and had slowly faded away. Maud was able to continue her studies thanks to the fact that Hilda took care of both Mother and Charlotte.

  After Mother’s death, Maud couldn’t afford to keep Hilda on. Fortunately Hilda found a post as a night healthcare assistant at Vasa Hospital, only a stone’s throw from their apartment. Maud was happy to let her stay on in the room she’d occupied for so long.

  Having someone around who could help out was invaluable. Charlotte usually slept until lunchtime, thanks to her medication. Maud would hurry home to make a light meal, but the fact that Hilda was there made it so much less stressful. She was able to take care of Charlotte during the day and early evening. She also prepared food for several days at a time, so all Maud had to do was take it out and heat it up.

  Maud was truly grateful and didn’t charge Hilda any rent for her room.

  The flight attendant reappeared, interrupting Maud’s train of thought.

  “Could I have another, please?”

  With a smile, the attendant topped off her glass. Maud thanked her, taking a closer look at the young woman. Was the airline really employing teenagers?

  She sipped her drink with pleasure. Thinking of Hilda reminded her of The Big Problem, which had threatened the sisters’ entire existence.

  Lancing a Boil

  During the war Maud had taken up a post at the local girls’ grammar school, teaching French, Latin, and English. She was only under contract for two semesters, but there was a chance that it would become permanent if the regular teacher, Greta Rapp, decided not to come back. She was currently teaching French at the University of Gothenburg, while writing her doctoral thesis. She was obviously a good teacher, but she wasn’t particularly well-liked by her pupils at the school. Maud had heard whispers in the corridor: old witch and always had her favorites, for example.

  Maud might not have been a shining light in social situations, but she was an excellent teacher. She never favored one child over another, focusing on their results instead. Plus she was less than half Rapp’s age. She tried to compensate for her lack of social skills by being youthful, but scrupulously fair. The latter was part of her nature, but youthfulness was a lot harder to access.

  She simply couldn’t relate to dancing to swing music or other popular pastimes enjoyed by people her age. All her time and energy had gone into caring for her sick mother and even sicker sister, while studying hard and subsequently working. She was also responsible for running the home and propping up their fragile finances. The temporary post at the grammar school was a godsend. Her only fear was that Greta Rapp would return.

  In an attempt to appeal to the girls, she embraced the new fashion that flourished after the war. This was made possible by a neighbor, Elsa Petrén, who was a trained seamstress. Her husband had died of cancer shortly after Maud’s mother had passed away, which had brought the two young women together. Elsa was now the single mother of a two-year-old son, Johannes. She used her sewing skills to supplement her widow’s pension.

  Maud went to see her with several pieces of clothing that had belonged to her mother. They were of the finest quality, but, of course, the style was pre-war. The size wasn’t a problem; both women had been equally tall and slim. Maud and Elsa had immersed themselves in various foreign fashion magazines, and when they had made their decisions, Elsa altered the old dresses and suits. The results were fantastic. Shoulder pads were removed, frumpy skirts became tight-fitting pencil skirts. Blouses lost any hint of a frill, a ruffle, or a lace trim.

  Maud was also one of the first people to purchase a pair of nylon stockings. There was a seam down the back of each leg, and she always took great care to make sure it was completely straight. Her heart was pounding as she bought a pair of low-heeled black pumps. They were on sale, but they were still way too expensive. Outdoors she was happy to wear her walking shoes or her old boots, but as soon as she entered the school building, she changed into her pumps.

  Mother used to say that she had a “pleasant” appearance, which meant that Maud was no beauty, but her regular features were perfectly acceptable. She wore her shoulder-length honey-blonde hair in a simple style, held back with a comb on each side. It was naturally curly, so she didn’t need to bother with a perm or rollers. A little powder and a dash of red lipstick c
ompleted the look.

  The pupils admired her tremendously. They thought she represented the new post-war era: hope for the future, youth, and the affirmation of beauty. The thirst for fun and frivolity was great after the privations of the past few years.

  Maud loved teaching and the school environment. The smell of chalk and the disinfectant the cleaner used on the linoleum floors in the classrooms filled her with a sense of calm. Back home in the gloomy apartment the daily chores were waiting for her, as well as the obligation to watch over poor, confused Charlotte. There was no time for seeing friends or going out and having fun. To be honest, she didn’t have any close friends. The only person she could call a friend was Elsa, the seamstress. Because the young widow was in the same position, neither of them had any kind of social life.

  Not that Maud ever said a word about her lonely life to her colleagues. She preferred to keep a low profile in the staff room. She tried to look cheerful and pleasant, but because she rarely joined in the conversation, the other teachers often forgot about her. Sitting quietly placed no demands on her; chatting and interacting was another matter entirely. As she was the youngest member on staff, she wasn’t expected to express her opinions, which suited Maud perfectly.

  The relief when her contract was extended for a third semester almost made her dizzy. She’d been hoping, of course, but hadn’t allowed herself to believe it would happen. She taught French, Latin, and English, so she had a full schedule and therefore a decent salary, which she needed. She was very happy at the school. Maybe there was a faint chance that Greta Rapp would stay on at the university. Until she retired, in the best case scenario.

  For a while, Maud allowed herself to think that life was working out at last.

  She held on to that feeling until the final day of the autumn semester.

  After the Christmas concert in the hall, the staff had gathered for coffee and gingerbread cookies as tradition dictated. When they’d all wished one another a merry Christmas and were getting ready to leave, the headmistress asked Maud to come along to her office. Maud was immediately on guard. What did the bad-tempered old bat want? Had one of the pupils complained? Unlikely. One of her colleagues, then? No, she couldn’t think of anything. Suddenly a pleasant thought struck her: What if Gudrun Ekman was going to offer her a permanent post? What a wonderful Christmas present! She had a spring in her step as she followed Ekman along the corridor.