The headmistress sat down in her comfortable chair and pointed to the wooden chair on the opposite side of the desk.
“Please take a seat.”
Maud perched on the edge and smoothed down her skirt.
Ekman looked at her in silence for a moment, then said, “You’ve been with us for three semesters now, Maud. I really am very pleased with your work, but . . .”
She paused briefly. Maud’s heart began to pound, but she kept her face expressionless.
“. . . Greta Rapp is returning in the new year. She will be taking over all French teaching. We can offer you a permanent post in English, and I do hope you’ll accept. We’re giving you fru Tellander’s five English lessons too; she’s swapping them for your Latin.”
The final sentence was followed by the hint of a smile—something fru Ekman was clearly unused to, because it disappeared immediately.
Maud sat there as if she were paralyzed. Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears, she was finding it hard to hear what Ekman was saying. Her field of vision shrank, as if she were looking at the woman across the table through a telescope that was turned around. Funnily enough, she noticed that Ekman had a proper mustache—coarse gray hairs that . . . What the hell had the old witch said? She took a deep breath, tried to focus. So Rapp was coming back, taking over all French teaching. Maud’s Latin classes would be taught by Tellander, who was head of German, so of course she would be keeping all those hours.
Maud didn’t mind losing the Latin, but the thought of not teaching French was a real blow. It was the most popular language among the pupils, followed by German. English was still a comparatively small language.
A permanent contract as an English teacher sounded good, but given that this was a small school, there wouldn’t be anywhere near enough hours to make it a full-time post.
Maud cleared her throat and managed to speak. “So . . . the English post is permanent?”
“Yes. Technically it has to be advertised, but we can get around that. None of your senior colleagues wants it.”
The shock began to give way to icy rage. Maud recognized the feeling and knew she couldn’t let it show. If she gave into it, she might just jump straight over the desk and scratch Gudrun Ekman’s eyes out. She sat motionless for a few seconds. The rage slowly ebbed away, but the ice remained. It moved to her brain, which immediately began to calculate. It was no good tackling the headmistress; her target was someone else. The boil that had begun to grow inside the school.
She got to her feet and held out her hand. “Thank you! I’m very happy to accept,” she said with a smile.
“I’m so pleased, Maud!”
Christmas passed in the usual way. Maud had bought presents for Charlotte and Hilda. As always, she bought a gift for herself as well, pretending it was from Charlotte. Her sister was only vaguely aware of the festive season. From time to time she realized what was going on and demanded to know why there was no Christmas tree in the big room. Maud replied as she had over the past few years:
“They’d run out of trees. We’ll have to light the candles instead.”
Which they did. They placed the two big silver candelabra on the kitchen table, because the dining-room table was much too big for three people. Hilda was working at the hospital on the night of Christmas Eve, but she managed to have dinner with them before she left.
As usual, Charlotte’s Christmas present was a book of new sheet music, including several of Schubert’s best-known pieces. He was one of Maud’s favorites too. She had bought real nylon stockings for herself and Hilda, who flushed with pleasure when she unwrapped her gift. She was in her thirties and had kept her youthful looks. She had a slender figure and there was an energy in the way she moved, while at the same time she spread an aura of calm around her. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, and high cheekbones: a typical Nordic appearance. She claimed that her ancestors were Finns.
Last summer, Hilda had spent a few days in the village in Värmland where she grew up. When she returned to Gothenburg, she seemed happy and well-rested. Almost immediately, the letters began to arrive—at least one a week. Each time there was an envelope with her name on it in the mailbox, Hilda’s eyes began to sparkle. When Maud asked her straight out, she confessed that she’d met someone during her visit to her childhood home: the new pastor. She had smiled shyly, and Maud had felt her stomach contract. If this romance continued to blossom, then Hilda would soon leave them. Marry her pastor and move back to Värmland. And there was nothing Maud could do about it.
However, right now Maud had more pressing concerns. On December 29, she received a letter from Gudrun Ekman outlining her new timetable. Quickly she counted her hours; it was worse than she’d expected. Her teaching commitments had dropped by almost 50 percent, which meant that her salary would fall accordingly. This was simply unacceptable! A disaster! She had to take action.
Greta Rapp made her entrance on the first day of the spring semester. Most of the teachers had gathered in the staff room to welcome her back. Maud stayed well behind everyone else, which enabled her to scrutinize the woman who’d taken her place. Because that was how she felt: Rapp hadn’t resumed her post, she’d kicked Maud out. And robbed her of half her salary.
She’s twice as fat as me, and twice as ugly. The thought gave Maud a certain satisfaction. Unfortunately the woman also had twice as many university points, plus, of course, all those years of teaching experience. She was no easy opponent.
Rapp paused in the doorway and gazed at the assembled company through her thick round glasses. Her brown tweed suit undoubtedly dated from the beginning of the war, with its wide shoulder pads and somewhat shapeless calf-length skirt. Wool stockings and heavy boots, Maud noted, just managing to stop herself from pursing her lips. A large leather briefcase completed Rapp’s outfit, along with a black hat—worn-out imitation fur!—slightly tipped over one eye. A gray wool coat was draped over her arm.
Several of the teachers jumped when Rapp bellowed: “Good morning!”
She marched over to the hat stand to hang up her clothes, openly staring at the jacket Elsa had made by altering Maud’s mother’s finest Persian fur. With a snort of derision she snatched it off the hanger and dropped it on a nearby stool, replacing it with her own coat, which had definitely seen better days. She placed her ridiculous hat on the shelf, then went to greet Gudrun Ekman. The two women exchanged warm smiles as they shook hands.
It was clear to Maud that they knew each other well. No doubt that was why the headmistress had kept Rapp’s post open for three semesters, hoping that her friend would come back. There were several similarities between them: the same mustache, the same build, the same old-fashioned attire. Although to be fair, Ekman’s suit was a much better fit and nowhere near as ugly. They also had the same outdated hairstyle, with the hair scraped back into a tight bun. Ekman’s was lighter, her gray streaks almost white, while Rapp’s was steel gray.
Rapp went around the room shaking everyone’s hand. She reached Maud last. Maud quickly adopted a pleasant expression as she held out her slender hand. Without looking down, Rapp grabbed it in her huge paw and squeezed hard. The pain made Maud jump, but her face didn’t change.
“So, this is little Maud, who’s looked after my job while I’ve been working at the university,” Rapp said, pushing her face close to Maud’s. Her breath stank, but Maud merely nodded and smiled. “Well, I’m sure you’ve done as well as one could expect from a recently certified teacher, but I’ll have my work cut out making sure the girls catch up.”
A few colleagues laughed; Maud could detect an underlying nervousness. They’re afraid of the old bat, she thought. I’m not.
There was no need to fear someone who wouldn’t be around for long.
When Maud received her salary at the end of January, her calculations proved correct. It had fallen by 48 percent. This was unsustainable in the long term. Although Hilda c
onscientiously paid for her food, she lived rent-free because she helped to look after Charlotte. When Maud attempted to discuss the possibility of renting out some of the other rooms in the spacious apartment, Charlotte always broke down in hysterical tears. “Strangers in my home! Never! Never! I’d rather DIE!” There was no point in trying to make her understand how precarious their financial position was.
Which left only one solution. Rapp had to go.
The whole of January and most of February had been particularly cold, with an unusual amount of snow for Gothenburg. In keeping with its nickname of Little London, the city had enjoyed a few warmer days toward the end of February, and some of the snow had begun to melt, but the temperature dropped at night, turning the slush to ice. This was followed by a period of high pressure moving in across the west coast at the beginning of March. The sun shone, and a thaw set in, which caused major problems for the citizens of Gothenburg. Periodically, snow and ice crashed down from the rooftops, and people were injured by falling icicles and huge dollops of snow. Several sidewalks were cordoned off, including those where Maud lived.
Which gave her an idea of how to solve The Problem: lance the boil.
The opportunity arose a few days later. The last two lessons had been canceled so that the teachers could have their usual midterm departmental meetings to discuss grades. Since the languages department was the largest group, they had been allocated the hall on the ground floor. The size of the room wasn’t impressive, but the beautiful murals by Ivar Arosenius more than compensated for this. He’d painted them in 1906. They were the artist’s last great work; he died of a burst blood vessel in his throat three years later.
The meeting began with the election of one member of staff as spokesperson; he or she would then report back to the headmistress. Needless to say, Rapp was chosen. No other candidate was proposed, and Maud realized that things had always been this way. Rapp was feared and respected, and no one dared to challenge her.
The atmosphere was stiff and formal. Colleagues raised their concerns about students who had underperformed during the first half of the term. Without exception, Rapp insisted that their grades be lowered. “No kid gloves!” she exclaimed. “Lazy students must be made to understand that they have to work harder if they want better results!” No one pushed back.
As the meeting came to a close, she turned to deliver a hard stare in Maud’s direction. “Personally, I will be spending the rest of the afternoon—and probably most of the evening—going through all my students’ grades from the past three semesters. I already know their level of knowledge is unacceptably low in relation to the grades they’ve been given.”
Maud had been prepared for some form of attack, so she didn’t react. Now, more than ever, she believed her decision to solve The Problem was justified. And she knew just where and when it would all go down.
Maud left the building with the other language teachers just before four-thirty. The janitor always locked the main door at five o’clock on the dot. Maud hurried along, partly because she was in a rush. The temperature had begun to drop; the thaw was over for the day. Perfect!
It took her only ten minutes to get home. She ran upstairs and unlocked the door of the apartment.
It was Hilda’s day off, and she was going to the cinema with a friend to see The Heavenly Play, starring Rune Lindström and Eivor Landström. According to Hilda, it was supposed to be amazing.
She’d left a pan of pea soup on the stove, and she’d made pancakes for dessert. They were on a plate in the oven, keeping warm.
Maud took off her neat Persian jacket, then snuck into Charlotte’s room. Her sister was in bed, fast asleep. Good. Hilda had given her an extra tranquillizer with her afternoon tea, as Maud had requested. She’d told Hilda that Charlotte had had a bad night and been very anxious; a deep sleep would do her good.
Maud went back to the kitchen and quickly ate two pancakes, washed down with a glass of milk. Then she ran to her bedroom and tore off her work clothes, apart from her underwear and blouse. She swapped her nylon stockings for a thick wool pair. From the wardrobe she took out a dark-brown coat with a big fur collar, a calf-length gray skirt, and a brown cloche hat. She’d never worn any of these to school, because Elsa hadn’t gotten around to altering them yet. The hat couldn’t be remodeled, of course, but Maud had no intention of ever wearing it again—not after tonight. She tucked her hair beneath the brim, out of sight.
She examined her reflection in the mirror above the chest of drawers, and immediately wiped off her lipstick with a handkerchief. No red lips to remember, thank you! Unremarkable, that was the key. She found a pair of good flat shoes that had belonged to her mother. They had thick rubber soles, so she wouldn’t need to worry about her feet being cold. She slipped a flashlight into her pocket, pulled on a pair of thin leather gloves, and she was ready.
Before she set off, she took out her mother’s beautiful crocodile-skin purse and slipped it into the shopping bag Hilda used when she went to stock up on fruit and vegetables on Saturdays.
Cautiously she opened the front door and listened carefully to make sure there was no one on the stairs. Not a sound. Silent as a ghost, she slipped out and ran down the stairs, making for the cellar; she could easily have found her way blindfolded. She didn’t even switch on the flashlight until she was halfway down the steep cellar steps; a fall at this stage would be disastrous. It would be difficult to explain why she was lying there with a broken leg, dressed in weird clothes. The thought made her smile.
Once inside the cellar, she made her way to the family storage unit. The fishing rod was hanging on a hook just inside the door, where it had been ever since her father died. He’d loved to go out onto the ice when the spring sun began to shine; he would drill a hole, sit down on a stool, and fish. He liked to say that this was his form of meditation. Presumably it was also his attempt to explain why he never actually caught anything. Maud smiled again, but quickly grew serious. She had an important job to do. She took down the short rod and pushed it into her brown shopping bag. Then she left the unit and locked the door behind her.
Once she was back upstairs, she peered out into the courtyard: not a soul in sight. There were no lamps; the only source of illumination was the light seeping out of various apartment windows. Maud made her way to the gate, then hurried back to school.
The building was more or less in darkness. There was a light in one window on the first floor, next to the headmistress’s office, plus one or two on the top floor where the craft rooms lay. Maud knew the cleaner would be busy up there, and that she’d soon be finished. Instead Maud focused on the first floor, where Greta Rapp’s office was. From her chosen spot behind a large rhododendron, she could see Rapp’s steel-gray bun through the window. Good. The old witch was still at her desk.
All the teachers had keys to the three main doors. Maud avoided the glow of the street lamps as she worked her way around to the north door. It was considerably smaller than the main entrance and was rarely used, because it led out to the rear of the building, where there was nothing but a collection of trash cans.
The janitor had been busy gathering up the snow and ice that had fallen from the roof and had shoveled most of it up against the tall stone wall that surrounded the backyard. Anyone who left by the north door had to go all the way around the school and cut across the playground.
The west door, however, was used frequently, because it led out into a small parking lot, and to a narrow path down to Södra Vägen, where there were bus and tram stops. The path was poorly lit, but because it was relatively short, that was the route chosen by most of the teachers at the end of the workday.
Rapp was no exception. She always left by the west door, walked down to Södra Vägen, and caught the tram to Linnégatan, where she lived.
Maud took out her flashlight and examined the lumps of ice the janitor had piled up. In the end she chose a large one that
must have weighed around twelve to fourteen pounds. She removed the crocodile purse and the fishing rod from her shopping bag, dropped the ice in the bottom of the bag, then returned the purse and the rod to her bag before hurrying back to the north door.
She closed it quietly behind her; she didn’t want to announce her arrival by allowing it to slam. She remained standing just inside for quite some time, partly because she wanted to be sure that no one was around, and partly to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. When she was satisfied, she crept up the three steps from the door, then moved silently along the corridor, thanks to the thick soles on her flat shoes. The smell of chalk dust and disinfectant reached her nostrils. The stairs lay at the far end of the corridor; she mustn’t make a sound now.
When she reached the first floor—for in Sweden, the first floor was up one flight—she stopped and held her breath. Rapp’s office was in sight; fortunately the door was closed. Maud looked at the wall clock: almost a quarter to six. How long was Rapp going to stay in there? Not that Maud cared; she was determined to wait.
High time to complete her preparations.
She continued up to the second floor. Each staircase turned at a ninety-degree angle halfway up, where there was a wide landing. On the second-floor landing, there was a small balcony directly above the west door. The door was always kept locked, but all the teachers had a key in case of emergency since there was a fire escape on the side of the balcony.
An Elderly Lady Must Not Be Crossed Page 4
