Maud unlocked the balcony door and peered over the balustrade. It was around eight meters to the ground, and there was a circle of light from the lamp above the door. There was a lone street lamp next to the parking lot. Tall trees lined the path leading to Södra Vägen, casting deep shadows between the trunks and the bushes. Pretty creepy in the dark; anything could happen, Maud thought with a grim smile. She took out the rod and the purse, then carefully wrapped the thin fishing line around the handle of the purse. When she was confident that it was secure, she held the rod over the balustrade and began to lower the bait.
Her heart turned over when the west door opened and someone stepped out. She hadn’t heard Rapp’s office door close! She locked the reel and bent down to pick up the ice, then stopped mid-movement. The figure down below had a wool shawl wrapped around her head. Maud recognized it as belonging to the cleaner. Fortunately the woman hadn’t noticed the purse dangling a meter above her. Maud’s legs were trembling and her heart carried on pounding for a long time after the slight figure had disappeared into the darkness among the trees. The woman would never know how close to death she had been.
Maud took several deep breaths. Her heart rate slowed, and she was able to continue her task. She lowered the purse, aiming for the very edge of the circle of light. Perfect! The first thing Rapp would see when she walked out was a beautiful crocodile purse on the ground.
Maud could hear the rattle of the trams and the sound of cars from Södra Vägen. People were strolling along the sidewalks, and loud music was coming from one of the cafés. Jazz, Maud thought. But the area around the school was quiet and peaceful. The temperature was dropping fast, and her fingers and toes began to feel cold and stiff. She wiggled them just a little; there was no risk of anyone picking up the small movements. She was well hidden up on the balcony, and she’d left the door open just a crack, so that she would know when Rapp left her office.
It was another fifteen minutes before she heard a door closing, followed by heavy footsteps plodding down the stairs. Maud pressed herself against the wall. She was ready, and her brain was crystal clear. Her heart was beating normally, and her legs weren’t shaking at all. She took out the lump of ice and rested it on the balustrade.
The door below flew open and Rapp appeared, wearing that scruffy old black hat. She locked the door, then turned to set off for the tram. However, she suddenly stopped dead. Looked around. Walked over to the purse. As she bent down, Maud took aim and gave the lump of ice a shove. It struck Rapp on the back of the head with a dull thud. She went down like a sack of potatoes and remained lying there on her stomach.
Maud waited for a few moments, observing the motionless figure. Eventually she decided it was safe to continue with her plan. First she reeled the purse back in, and placed it and the rod into her shopping bag. Then she began to gather up the snow and ice that had fallen onto the balcony. There was quite a lot, and without hesitation she threw it down onto the body below. Eventually the balcony was clear. She took one last look to reassure herself that Rapp hadn’t moved. Time to get out of there—and fast. She put her bag in the corridor, then brushed away all traces of her presence with gloved hands. It went well; there was only a thin coating of frost on the balcony now, with no sign that anyone had been standing there.
She locked the balcony door, retrieved her bag, and hurried home.
She let out a long breath as the front door of the apartment closed behind her. She leaned against it and shut her eyes. She was so tired, but at the same time she felt a surge of triumph.
She’d done it. Rapp had been . . . taken care of. Dead? Maybe, but certainly badly injured.
“Maud?” Charlotte called out faintly from her room.
Maud straightened up. “Coming. I’m just taking off my coat.”
She ran into her own room, tore off her coat and skirt, and threw them into the wardrobe along with the hat and the shopping bag. She pulled on the suit she’d been wearing at work, automatically smoothed down her skirt, and went to see her sister.
As expected Charlotte was in bed, but she was wearing her robe. She must have been up and about during the evening.
“Have you eaten anything?”
“No. I was waiting for you,” Charlotte replied sullenly.
Like a little kid, Maud thought. But that was just the way it was. Charlotte would always need someone to take care of her, and that someone was Maud, because there wasn’t anyone else.
“Why are you wearing wool stockings? You never wear those to school. And why are you so late?” Charlotte whined.
“It was cold this morning, so I went for wool. And I got held up at a meeting to discuss the students’ midterm grades, then I had a couple of things to do. Sorry. Let’s eat.”
The lie about the cold morning and the wool stockings was nothing to worry about; her sister rarely woke before midday.
Slowly Charlotte clambered out of bed and trailed after Maud into the kitchen.
By the time Hilda returned from her visit to the movies at about ten o’clock, Maud was getting ready for bed. She was in the bathroom brushing her teeth when she heard the door. Charlotte had eaten and been given her medication; now she was back in bed.
Maud had also hung up the brown coat and skirt right at the back of the wardrobe, and she’d stashed the hat and crocodile purse on the shelf. She’d put Mother’s flat shoes and the fishing rod in the storage unit in the cellar, and the shopping bag was in its usual place.
She pulled on her old robe and opened the bathroom door.
“How was the movie?”
“Fantastic!” Hilda gave her an enthusiastic overview of the plot, then they said goodnight. Before long Maud heard the toilet flush in Hilda’s little bathroom.
Everything was normal.
That night, Maud enjoyed a deep and dreamless sleep.
The following morning, Maud dressed as usual. A clean blouse, new nylon stockings, but the same suit as the previous day. She put her hair up using a comb on each side and gave her face a few gentle dabs with the powder puff. Finally she painted her lips red. She examined herself critically in the mirror. Smart and fresh as always, she thought, smiling at her reflection. Nothing out of the ordinary. It was essential not to attract any attention.
She set off for school with a spring in her step, making a point of arriving at exactly the same time as she did every day, twenty minutes before the first lesson. She walked a little faster as she crossed the schoolyard; it would look good if she was slightly out of breath. When she pushed open the heavy main door, the headmistress’s imposing figure was the first thing she saw. Most of the teachers were gathered behind her, talking quietly. Ekman’s expression was grave.
Maud paused in the doorway, apparently taken aback.
“Good . . . good morning,” she said uncertainly.
Gudrun Ekman nodded to her. “Good morning, Maud. But actually it’s not a good morning at all. Something very tragic has happened.”
Maud swallowed, but said nothing. She opened her eyes wide and raised her eyebrows.
The headmistress sighed heavily. “Greta Rapp had a serious accident last night. Extremely serious. We don’t know if she’s going to . . . survive.” Ekman’s eyes shone with tears.
“Oh . . . that’s . . . terrible,” Maud said faintly.
“Indeed. Today’s lessons have been canceled, and the students have been sent home. I’m asking the staff to gather in the hall.”
Ekman turned and walked toward the double doors with a heavy tread. The teachers fell in behind her, with Maud at the back.
“What happened? Did she get hit by a car?” Maud whispered to the colleague in front of her.
Without even glancing over her shoulder, the woman replied, “No. Apparently an icicle hit her on the head.”
“An icicle . . . How awful,” Maud murmured.
It wasn’t an icicle, it was a grea
t big lump of ice, she thought.
There was never any suggestion that it had been anything other than an accident. The ice had fallen from the school roof just as Greta Rapp was leaving work. She had been very unlucky. She’d been unconscious and suffering from severe hypothermia when she was found by a man walking his dog at about ten o’clock that night. She had several damaged vertebrae in her neck and had also suffered a significant bleed on the brain. The prognosis was uncertain.
Against all the odds, she survived, but she was wheelchair-bound for the rest of her life. Her ability to speak was severely compromised; she rarely managed to produce an intelligible word. According to Gudrun Ekman, however, there was one word that she repeated constantly. It sounded like: “purse, purse, purse . . .” but no one ever managed to work out what she meant by it.
Maud was asked to take over all the French teaching, in addition to her own English classes. That made up a full-time post, which she kept until she retired.
The clink of bottles on the drinks trolley woke Maud. What time is it? she wondered sleepily. She heard the flight attendant’s voice asking the couple behind her:
“What would you like to drink with your meal?”
They both ordered beer. All the drinks were free in business class, but Maud knew the passengers had already paid for those drinks, given the cost of the tickets. When it was her turn, she asked for a glass of champagne, a small bottle of white wine, and a Cognac. She chose the fish option, followed by fresh fruit and cheese. She thought she would probably survive this long journey.
After her meal she sat there swirling the Cognac around in her glass, a pleasant feeling of relaxation spreading through her body and her brain. She finished her coffee and sniffed at the brandy. It might not be the finest in the world, but it certainly wasn’t the worst. She savored the last few drops and decided that was enough alcohol for the time being. The flight attendant came along and removed the cup and the glass. Maud flipped up her table and reclined her seat. It wasn’t really time to go to sleep, but her eyelids were growing heavy.
She awoke with a start. No! She didn’t want to experience this again. No, no! So many memories, pushing their way to the surface, but there were those she absolutely refused to acknowledge—one in particular. No!
“Is everything okay?”
It was that girl again, the one dressed up as a flight attendant. She was leaning over Maud with a warm smile on her lips, but a troubled expression in her big brown eyes. Was I talking in my sleep? Did I scream? Maud wasn’t sure.
“Everything’s fine, thank you. I just had a nightmare,” Maud said, making sure to make her voice sound particularly croaky.
“That’s what I thought. Can I get you a glass of water?”
“Please.”
The young woman made her way down the aisle; Maud noticed how smooth her movements were. The red uniform fit her slim body perfectly. That’s what I looked like sixty or seventy years ago, Maud thought with a soft sigh.
As she sipped her water, she watched a film on her screen. It was called Mamma Mia! and was set in the Greek islands.
Tiredness crept up on Maud again. She made a couple of attempts to concentrate on her book, but she couldn’t keep her eyes open. What was wrong with her? Was she ill, or maybe suffering from anemia?
That was her last conscious thought before she fell asleep.
The Truth about Charlotte
Fall. Rain. Wind. Depressing! And it was only going to get worse. Chilly, overcast weather was forecast for the rest of November. Then again, October had been beautiful. The autumn leaves glowing red, yellow, and orange; glorious sunshine; blue skies; and a wonderful crispness in the air. But unfortunately those days were gone. It was the first week in November; dead leaves swirled around in the wind, rain clouds hung low over Gothenburg, and the contours of the city dissolved in the damp mist.
Maud was on her way home through Vasa Park. It was five o’clock in the afternoon, and already dark. In some places the fog seemed to cling to trees and street lamps. On an evening like this she could almost imagine meeting Jack the Ripper. If I did, he’d be the one who’d make out worse, she thought with a grim smile. She’d completed a self-defense class with some of her colleagues during the spring semester, and just to be on the safe side, she carried a can of pepper spray in her coat pocket.
If only I could get away to some place warm, she thought with an audible sigh as she buried her chin in her wool scarf. But there was no chance. At school they were entering the intensive phase leading up to Christmas break, which was only two weeks long. Then it was back to work for the spring semester. To be honest, she was usually pleased by that stage; she loved her job and much preferred school to being at home. That was where the stress lay.
For thirty-three years, Maud had cared for Charlotte. Over the years her sister’s condition had deteriorated, but she flatly refused to consider any kind of care home or respite facility. Maud sighed again. Imagine being free for a week. Or two. Going away. Being able to think only of herself. Put her language skills to good use. She taught French and English; her pronunciation was perfect, and no one would suspect that she’d never left Sweden. Maud’s deepest desire was to travel, see the world, but it was never going to happen, at least not as long as Charlotte was alive. Her sister was sixty-one, and apart from her mental-health issues, there was nothing much wrong with her. She wasn’t particularly fit, of course, because she never set foot outside the door of the apartment.
When Charlotte wasn’t sleeping, sedated with the strong medication she took, she would play the piano for hours or roam the apartment like a restless soul. Maud locked the door of the music room at night, so she and the neighbors could get some sleep. When Charlotte couldn’t get to her beloved piano, she became anxious and started wandering. Actually she ought to be super-fit; she must walk miles every night, Maud thought sourly.
In recent years she had begun to increase the dose she gave Charlotte at bedtime. To be honest, she was giving her a lot more than the doctors had prescribed, but it was for the best—for herself and for her sister. It enabled Charlotte to sleep for a few hours; Maud worried that she might trip over something when she went on her nocturnal ramblings. It wasn’t completely dark, because Maud left a lamp on in each room, but if it was too light, Charlotte became distressed. Maud couldn’t bear to think about what would happen if her sister ended up in the hospital with a broken leg; she would be hysterical.
Recently Charlotte’s confusion had increased, and she sometimes got disoriented in the apartment. She would stand in the middle of a room crying, with no idea where she was. Worst of all, she often failed to find the bathroom. Trying to put her in a diaper or incontinence pants was pointless; she would immediately rip off the offending item, hissing, “I’m not a baby!” Maud was having to wash her clothes and sheets more or less every day, not to mention cleaning the floors. Plus, of course, she had a full-time job as a teacher.
For many years she’d kept several of the doors in the apartment locked, including Father’s gentleman’s room and her parents’ bedroom. At first this had infuriated Charlotte, but nowadays she never mentioned it. She’d probably forgotten that those rooms even existed. Like most other things. She was living in a bubble that was getting smaller and smaller—and forcing Maud to do the same.
Why do I put up with this? Maud often asked herself, but she knew the answer. Ever since she was a child she’d been told to help and protect Charlotte, and she’d promised their mother on her deathbed that she would look after her big sister.
The truth was that she’d done it almost all her life, without questioning her role. Charlotte was now her only living relative.
I’m beginning to feel as if I’m serving a life sentence in jail, Maud realized. Except my clothes are rather sharp, she quickly added. Why were these thoughts coming into her mind now? Presumably because she was fifty years old—with the emp
hasis on old. Where was the time going? She knew there was no simple solution to her problematic situation—at least not one that she could see. Her only option was to grit her teeth and persevere. She worried about what would happen when she could no longer cope, but it didn’t bear thinking about.
She felt a knot of stress in her belly, and she started walking faster. Deep down she knew that something had happened during the four hours Charlotte had been alone in the apartment.
Since Hilda had moved back to Värmland, Maud rushed home during her lunch hour every day to make something for herself and her sister. Charlotte was usually asleep, because, of course, she was tired after her nighttime wandering, but she would brighten up after lunch. She used to sit and play the piano for several hours, but Maud was rarely met by the sound of music when she got home in the evenings anymore. These days she never knew what to expect.
She put her key in the door with a sense of dread.
The apartment was dark and silent.
“Charlotte? I’m home.”
No response.
She turned on the light in the hallway, took off her coat and shoes, then ran from room to room turning on the lights.
She found Charlotte in the bathroom. Naked. With her stinking clothes in a pile on the floor.
“Oh, good, you’re in here. Let’s get you in the bath . . .”
“NO!” Charlotte yelled. She moved away from the clothes and pressed herself against the cold tiles. Maud took a step closer and seized her sister’s thin wrist. Charlotte started lashing out at her with her free hand. They’d engaged in this particular dance so many times; Maud knew every step. Quickly she grabbed the flailing arm, edged Charlotte toward the bathtub, and forced her to step in. As always, the fight went out of her sister; she stopped struggling and began to weep.
Afterward Maud led Charlotte into her bedroom and got her into her nightgown and robe. The robe had been Mother’s; it was made of wool in a tartan pattern, lined with soft cotton flannel. Charlotte loved it; wearing it always calmed her. Maybe she thought it still carried their mother’s scent, or maybe it was the weight that made her feel safe.
An Elderly Lady Must Not Be Crossed Page 5
