The Best Intentions (22 page)

Henrik looks at his new relatives, closed faces, uncertain glances, compressed lips. No, not Anna and Ernst; they look as if all this has nothing to do with them. Nor has it. The tension soon becomes thick and viscous. Carl has closed his eyes, probably pretending to be somewhere else. Oscar is smiling politely and inscrutably. Gustav is playing with the watch chain across his well-rounded waistcoat, gazing out the window and pursing his lips. Martha clinks her bracelets and puts her hand to her hair. Svea's head has begun to shake on its sinewy neck. Her forehead is red, and small beads of perspiration have broken out on her upper lip.

Svea:
As usual, no one dares say anything when Karin presents something to us as a fait accompli.

Oscar:
Svea, my dear!

Svea:
So I suppose I shall have to say what everyone else is thinking.

Gustav:
I really must protest. Svea does not represent the family's views. As far as I know, she represents no one but herself.

Svea:
How strange. Gustav, didn't you say only yesterday that Mammchen was highly dangerous? Do you deny it, Gustav?

Gustav:
That's a lie, Svea, and you know it. Your hatred of our mother really has no bounds.

Svea:
Since I am shortly to die, I am clearly the only member of the family who dares tell the truth.

Oscar
(
patiently
): Svea, dear.

Svea:
Svea dear, Svea dear. Is that all you have to say?

Carl
(
suddenly
): Shut up, Svea. Before you wither with malice. No one believes you have cancer anymore. Naturally it couldn't survive in a body so poisoned by malice. Otherwise, let me say that Mammchen's decision has been a bit of a surprise. When does the boss reckon we'll be thrown out?

Gustav:
I think Mama Karin, with her somewhat precipitate chess moves, wishes to indicate to us children that she has tolerated us for almost twenty years and is now heartily weary of both us and our families. We can't blame her for that.

Martha:
And we who like our apartment so much, where are we supposed to go?

Gustav:
Don't be silly, Martha! We're not exactly going to be out on the street.

Oscar:
I personally have no objections. The whole building belongs to Mama Karin. That's stated, clearly and simply, without a shadow of doubt. We're going to be generously compensated. As far as I can see, Mama can do whatever she likes with the place. Besides, have
we
ever taken
her
into consideration?

Svea:
But crawled and smiled and agreed with everything . . . that's what you have done! And scorned and mocked her behind her back! Gustav Åkerblom, Carl Åkerblom, Oscar Åkerblom. The Three Musketeers.

Ernst:
If this shit is going to continue, I'm leaving. Perhaps we should give a thought to the fact that Henrik Bergman is with us for the first time. For his and for Anna's sake, let's try to curb our tongues. (
To Henrik, smiling
.) Don't worry, it can be worse. Sometimes we're actually really quite human.

Carl:
You could say that Papa's death has pulled the cork out of the bottle.

Gustav:
A metaphor worthy of my brother Carl.

Carl:
You ought to know, Henrik, that my brother Gustav is the spiritual head of the family. If you ask for a piece of advice from him, he will give you three. If you don't follow his advice, you'll get hell for that later on in a sophisticated academic way. The professor is on the Professorship Commission, so he knows the way things work. I warn you in all friendliness, Henrik. Watch out for Mrs. Martha, too. She's far too friendly to handsome youths.

Martha
(
lashing out at him
): Carl, you're impossible!

Carl
(
sweats
): And Martha will get a big wet kiss from me when this wake is over.

Oscar:
I consider Mama's decision judicious. We have lived together in a combination of deceptive security, obligation, and habit. It's been like stagnant water. Our relationships have moldered without us doing anything about them. It'll be good for us to split up the family.

Svea:
And what about the summer place?

Oscar:
The summer place has always belonged to Mammchen.

Svea:
Then we'll be homeless in the summer as well?

Oscar:
Calm down, Svea. You've always disliked staying at our summer place, and gone on about spas and trips to Paris. (
Laughs harshly
.) Come to think of it, I don't really know how we've managed to endure one another.

Anna:
Why don't you say anything, Mama?

They all look at Mrs. Karin. She has been sitting with her head slightly bowed and playing with a small green ruler. She raises her eyes now and looks at her family with an absent, almost sleepy smile.

Karin:
What do you want me to say? You've always squabbled among yourselves. Now that your father is dead, you start on me. That's natural. I have to understand that.

Gustav:
Excuse me, Mama, but actually it's only Svea who has to . . .

Karin
(
raises her hand
): Let me finish. Sometimes I can't help thinking about what family life would have been like if I hadn't married into it, and been an accessory. (
Smiles
.) Yes, an amusing thought! I was so eager and so well-meaning; order, cleanliness, fellowship — education. Good intentions. Don't think I'm bitter. I'm just thinking.

Carl:
And what would have happened to you, Mammchen, if you hadn't had to look after us?

Karin:
Well now, Carl! You do ask clever questions although you're so . . . irregular. What would have happened to me? I would probably have gone on to become a teacher. And continued to bring to other people's children a few manners and some education. I have probably never really doubted the rightness of my actions. I may have acted wrongly in minor matters, but in the main ones I have nothing to reproach myself.

Uncertainty. Afterthoughts. Emptiness. Disinclination. Bitterness. Weariness. “What about having coffee in the salon?” says Anna. “I've made a cake.” “Of course,” says Karin briskly, getting up from the table.

“We're not as bad as we sound,” says Gustav, propping his coffee cup on his stomach, cake crumbs scattering onto his waistcoat. “Sometimes, I'll have you know, Henrik, we can even be quite pleasant.” “You and Anna must come to dinner with us to celebrate your engagement,” says Martha sourly, embracing Anna from behind. “What a sweet boy,” she whispers into Anna's ear. “Let bygones be
bygones,” says Oscar Åkerblom, putting a hand on Henrik's arm. “Call me Oscar. I thought our last meeting extremely unpleasant, but I considered myself obliged to exaggerate it all. I am, if I may say so myself, a good-natured fellow. You and Anna must definitely come to dinner with us before we go to the country!”

Svea caresses Anna's cheek with an emaciated spotted hand. “I'm so terribly ashamed of my outburst. The doctor says it's the drugs that make me so unbalanced. Henrik, you really mustn't believe that your Aunt Svea — Henrik is to say Aunt Svea — that your Aunt Svea is usually so unpleasant.” Then Carl sails up and breathes on the confused betrothed: “I warned you and now you're caught! Oh, well, you have only yourself to blame, you poor wretch. Anna is frightfully pretty, but don't let yourself be deceived by her lovely face. She has too much Åkerblom in her. I'm just warning your husband-to-be,” grins Carl, breathing all over Anna. “Like hell, I'm warning him, but it's a damned waste of time.” “What have you been drinking, Carl?” says Anna with mock indignation. “Well, it wasn't roses,” says Carl, sighing.

“Let's go,” says Ernst, tugging at Henrik's coat. “I've told Mama that we must give you an airing. Come on, Anna. That was a damned lousy cake you made.” “Good-bye, Mrs. Karin, and thank you,” mumbles Henrik, bowing behind Mrs. Karin's back. She turns around. She has just told Lisen to put dinner off for an hour. “Good-bye, Mrs. Karin,” says Henrik and bows again. “You'll be back for dinner, won't you!” says Mrs. Karin softly, her face pale and eyes tired. “You'll be back for dinner?” “No, thank you, Mama. We won't be back for dinner,” says Ernst firmly. “We're going out on the town, Anna and Henrik and I. We're going to get as drunk as lords.” Mrs. Karin smiles and shakes her head. “Enjoy yourselves,” she says quickly. “You've got some money, I suppose?” “Thank you, Mama dear, we'll manage,” says Ernst and kisses his mother on the mouth.

III

After the funeral, 12 Trädgårdsgatan was closed, then invaded at the beginning of August by building workers, craftsmen, and movers. The family dispersed, some to Austria, others to Ramlösa Spa, the children to friends of friends in the archipelago, Henrik to his position in Mittsunda, and Anna to her friend Fredrika Kempe, a fellow student at the Sophiahemmet nursing school. Fredrika had married into a wealthy family right after taking her finals and was already expecting her first child. Mrs. Karin went to their summer residence in Dalarna together with Miss Lisen, who was to stay on with her mistress for the rest of her life, or what turned out to be twenty-four more years.

Mrs. Karin was now alone in both the external and the inner sense. At the end of her year of mourning, she ordered seven identical skirts, blouses, and dresses from Leja's fashion house, all of the same cut, color, and shape. From the spring of 1912 on, she always wore dark clothes: ankle-length skirts, gray shantung blouses with a silver brooch at the throat, black dresses with no waistline, high black boots, and white hemstitched collars and cuffs. Within eight short months, her hair had turned white, still thick and gleaming, but white, not gray.

Anyone who is amused by explanations and interpretations may wonder about the reasons for Mrs. Karin's partial abdication. After all, she was no more than forty-six. She sold the property with no unnecessary comment, divided her apartment down the middle, and shared a considerable portion of the resulting fortune among the agreeably surprised though somewhat confused members of the family. So Anna possessed a capital sum not to be sneered at, and she
knew how to manage it, a fact that was for a long time to be a source of annoyance to Pastor Bergman (but of considerable help in the daily life of the family).

Autumn came early that year, brilliantly glowing across the river and the dark edge of the forest, thin ice appearing on the grass and on the tub below the green pump by the well. The nights were crystal clear, windless and starry. Birch-wood fires crackled in the tiled stoves, and the hills beyond Djurås and the Gimmen were sharply outlined. The threshing machines rumbled away in the barns, and the tawny owl was already emerging from the forest at dusk and perching on the outhouse roof.

Mrs. Karin and Lisen spent the summer and autumn in silent but not in the slightest bit hostile symbiosis. When the first snow began falling at the end of October, the news came that the apartment at 12 Trädgårdsgatan was ready. The two women packed what had to be packed, closed what had to be closed; shutters were put up and white sheets draped over the furniture and the piano. Bottles of fruit juice and jars of preserves were packed into wooden crates to be sent to the new addresses of the members of the family. The old ginger cat was boarded out, the door locked, and the two women, both the same age, wordlessly left for Upsala on the morning train. It was a touching day, as departures are nearly always apt to be, a light mist swirling up from the river, white snowflakes falling gently, the light bright and without shadows. The summer house shone like a red patch in all that gray and white, just like the rowanberries.

The brief and insignificant scene that follows occurs ten days before the aforementioned departure. The setting is the spacious light kitchen with its window facing the forest and the hills. Mrs. Karin and Miss Lisen are sitting at the gate-legged table in peaceful accord, cleaning black currants, the fire roaring in the stove, a tall preserving pan exuding steam and fragrance. The top square windows have steamed up. Fresh coffee in their cups, some sleepy summer flies staggering around on the warm stove wall.

Karin:
I had a letter from Anna this morning.

Lisen:
Everything all right?

Karin:
She writes to say she has decided.

Lisen:
Is she really going to take that cooking course? Oh, that's good. Then we'll have her home this winter.

Karin:
She's not coming home; nor is she taking any course.

Lisen:
Anna ought to learn a little ordinary cooking. Though she can do desserts. And cakes. (
Pause
.) Almost as well as I can.

Karin
(
smiles
): Well, she isn't coming, anyhow.

Lisen:
Whaty's going to happen then?

Karin:
They're getting married in November. That's when Henrik starts his pastorate up there in Forsboda.

Lisen:
Oh, yes.

Karin:
Anna wants to be with him from the start. She says in her letter that that's more important than everything else.

Lisen:
Then we're going to have a wedding in November.

Karin:
Whether we want to or not.

Lisen:
What kind is being considered?

Karin:
A grand one, Miss Lisen. (
Smiles
.) A grand party. Sometimes there is good reason to celebrate one's adversities.

Lisen:
I think I know what you mean, Mrs. Åkerblom. All one can say is that they'll make a lovely bridal pair. Like in a fairy tale.

Karin:
Precisely. Like in a fairy tale.

Their hands move quickly, the cleaned black currants gleaming in the yellow earthenware bowl. Lisen gets up and puts more wood in the stove, then sits down again, sighing with aches in her joints.