The Lily Pond (24 page)

Well, the whole story about what happened at school. She can’t get herself to tell even Vera that the name of the real reason she doesn’t want to go back is Irja. Irja and Sven.

“No.”

They’re standing above the seashore, at the spot where the islanders swim in the summer. The cliffs where she and Vera sunbathed last year are covered with snow, and the big rock they jumped from protrudes out of the ice. A cold, raw wind sweeps in off the sea.

“Let’s keep walking,” says Vera. “I’m getting cold.”

The path down to the swimming spot is so narrow they have to walk single file.

“So what about what’s-her-name? May, is it?” Vera asks when they’re able to walk side by side again.

“What about her?”

“Will she be coming here again?”

“I don’t know,” says Stephie. “I doubt it.” Saying that makes her sad.

“I’ve missed you,” says Vera. “I’m glad to have you back.” She puts an arm around Stephie’s shoulders, and Stephie puts her arm around Vera’s waist.

“Next year I’m going to try for a position as a housemaid in Göteborg,” Vera tells her. “You could, too. Just think of all the fun we’d have. Going dancing in the evenings …” She laughs. “Oh, I forgot, your aunt Märta wouldn’t like that.”

Vera looks bright and cheerful when she talks about the future. But the picture of the future she’s painting is so unlike the one Stephie has always dreamt of. She feels a stab of regret. What has she done? Given up her future, and why? On the other hand, did she have any choice?

Stephie’s lips are blue with cold when she gets home after walking all afternoon with Vera. She stamps the snow off her boots and unbuttons her coat with stiff fingers.

Aunt Märta comes into the vestibule.

“You’ve got visitors,” she says. “They’re in the sitting room.”

Visitors? Who could they be?
Stephie doesn’t have time to ask; Aunt Märta disappears again.

She hangs up her coat and goes through the kitchen into the sitting room.

May and Hedvig Björk are sitting on either side of the table.

“Good day, Stephanie,” says Hedvig Björk.

“Sit down,” says Aunt Märta from behind. “Miss Björk has something to tell you.”

Stephie sinks into the third chair at the table.

“Would you like some more coffee, Miss Björk?” Aunt Märta asks.

“Oh, yes, please.”

“Stephanie,” May whispers while Aunt Märta is pouring Hedvig Björk’s coffee. “Everything’s going to be all right. Don’t worry.”

She’s not worried, just confused. What’s the point of all this?

“You must be wondering what we’re doing here,” Hedvig Björk says, as if she has been reading Stephie’s mind. She nods her thanks to Aunt Märta, who is on her way to the kitchen. “Or, rather, I’m sure you realize it has something to do with what happened during the German test yesterday.”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s all been resolved,” Hedvig Björk says. “No one suspects you of anything. Alice has admitted that the note was hers.”

“But how …?”

“Miss Krantz told me what happened,” Hedvig Björk continues. “Or what she thought happened. I couldn’t really believe it, so I had a word with May, who said she was
certain it hadn’t been you. What I couldn’t figure out was why you didn’t tell Miss Krantz the truth at the time.”

“She would never have believed me.”

“You may be right,” Hedvig Björk says thoughtfully. “We all have our blind spots. Personally, I blame myself for not having realized what was going on with Alice much earlier. It’s terribly unfortunate.”

“What do you mean?”

“The way she expects herself not only to be a good student, but the best. Perfect, in fact. Her desire to excel is so powerful she was prepared to cheat and lie. She must come from a very unhappy home.”

“Alice?” May can’t help herself. “That girl has everything! She lives in one of the fanciest mansions in town.”

“But she
is
unhappy, in any case,” says Stephie. “Haven’t you noticed?”

May shrugs, but Hedvig Björk looks attentively at Stephie. “You’ve noticed, then?”

“Yes.”

“You’re good at seeing below the surface of people,” Hedvig Björk tells her. “Take advantage of that gift.”

“What’s going to happen to Alice?”

“I don’t know yet. I spoke with her this morning, and we agreed that she would go home for the rest of the week. I’ll be seeing her parents tomorrow evening. If they choose to keep Alice at school I will, unfortunately, have to lower her conduct mark for this semester, and I’m sure Miss Krantz will
lower her grade in German. But my guess is that they’ll put her in a different school. Maybe one of the private ones, or a boarding school.”

Hedvig Björk takes the last sip of her coffee.

“Now I suggest you go upstairs and pack your things,” she says. “We ought to be able to catch the six o’clock boat back to town. All three of us, I mean.”

They look at Stephie—May excitedly and a little nervously, Hedvig Björk firmly and calmly.

“Not me,” says Stephie. “I’m not coming.”

“Why—” Hedvig Björk begins, but May interrupts her.

“Stephanie, don’t be silly,” May says so softly only the three of them can hear. “You mustn’t let a boy ruin everything for you. Think about your education, about becoming a doctor. Think about your parents.”

Stephie knows May is right. But the very thought of going back to the Söderbergs’ apartment, going back to Karin’s old room with Sven on the other side of the wall, is intolerable. Knowing that he’s there, so close and yet so far out of her reach. That he’s lying in his bed thinking about Irja until he falls asleep. She can’t bear it. She shakes her head.

“I don’t know who
he
is,” says Hedvig Björk, “and it’s none of my business. But there’s one thing I think you ought to know, Stephanie. No matter how strong your feelings for this boy are just now, they will pass. And in a year, or two years or five, you will have equally strong feelings for someone else. Sooner or later you’ll meet someone who cares just
as much for you as you do for him right now. You may not believe it, but I know that it’s true. If you don’t see him for a while—”

“That’s not possible,” says Stephie. “Not if I go back to town with you.”

“They live in the same apartment,” May explains. “If only my family were moving sooner, you’d be able to come and live with us now.”

“Would it make things easier for you,” Hedvig Björk asks, “if you had somewhere else to stay?”

“I think so.”

“All right. You’re welcome to come and stay with me. At least for a few weeks.”

“And then you’ll move in with us,” May says excitedly. “Oh, Stephie, do come!”

Stephie looks from one to the other. May and Hedvig Björk are her friends. They want to help her.

“Thank you,” she says. “I’ll go pack.”

Aunt Märta makes them all dinner, apologizing profusely to Hedvig Björk for the simple fare. Miss Björk tells her she hasn’t tasted such delicious fish in a long time. “It’s so nice and fresh!”

When they are ready to leave for the boat, Aunt Märta takes Stephie aside.

“I miss you more every time you leave,” she says. “But this time I am glad you’re going.”

May helps Stephie carry her suitcase to the port. When
they are almost there, someone comes running toward them. Someone with long red hair streaming in the wind.

“Are you leaving?” Vera shouts from a distance.

“Yes.”

Vera stops in front of them, extending a hand to May. “I’m Vera.”

“I’m May.”

“I know.”

Vera walks them out onto the pier.

“I never really thought you’d be staying,” she says softly to Stephie. “You don’t belong here, not the same way I do. I doubt I’ll ever get away from this place.”

“Of course you will,” says Stephie. “If that’s what you want, you’ll do it. And if you move to town next year, we
will
go out dancing, no matter what Aunt Märta says.”

Vera laughs. “See you soon,” she says.

She stands on the pier, waving until the boat leaves.

you Monday, then,” May says one Saturday in early March when she and Stephie are leaving school. “I’m going home to pack. You pack, too, all right?”

Monday is the big day, when May and her family are moving from their one-room apartment in Mayhill to the new one in Sandarna. And Stephie’s moving in with them. She, May, and Britten are going to share a room. It’s a bright room with a linoleum floor and blue-and-white striped wallpaper. Stephie knows because she’s been along to inspect the new place.

She nods. “I don’t have that much to pack. Since I sleep on the settle in Miss Björk’s kitchen, I haven’t spread out. Everything is in my suitcase.”

“Oh, look,” says May. “Isn’t that Sven?”

Stephie’s heart stops. Yes, it’s Sven all right. He’s standing outside the fence, with no cap in spite of the cold, and with his brown hair hanging in his eyes.

She hasn’t seen him in five weeks.

Her first impulse is to hide, pulling May with her into a doorway on the schoolyard and not coming out again. But he’s already spotted her. He’s looking at her now.

“See you Monday,” she says to May.

She walks slowly toward Sven and stops inside the fence. Somehow it feels right to keep the fence between them.

“Stephanie,” he says. “How are you?”

“What are you doing here?”

Stephie knows she sounds rude, but like the fence, an unfriendly tone of voice is a way to protect herself.

“I have a letter for you. From your parents. Here.”

He passes her a long, thin envelope. She glances at it. Papa’s handwriting. German stamp.

“Thank you.”

Putting the letter in her pocket, she steps back from the fence.

“Stephanie,” Sven says again, in a pleading tone. “Couldn’t we talk for a while?”

“What about?”

“Don’t be angry with me,” he says. “Come along, just for a few minutes.”

“Where to?”

“The lily pond?”

They walk side by side along the path to the pond. Their shadows fall on the snow, blue and long.

“I’ve missed you,” says Sven.

“You have her, don’t you?”

She can’t make herself say the name. Irja.

“Don’t be silly,” says Sven. “You are you. No one can replace you. I want us to be friends. Couldn’t we?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can we try?”

“I don’t know.”

“I understand,” he says. “I hurt you, although I had no intention of doing so. Can you believe me if I tell you I had no idea about your feelings? I saw you as a little sister, a friend, but never … And I should have told you about Irja, but I was so afraid Father would find out that I didn’t dare to tell anyone. Can you forgive me?”

He’s stopped at the edge of the pond and turned to face her so she has to look him in the eye.

“Stephanie?”

“All right,” she says. “Yes, I forgive you. I was in the wrong, as well. I believed what I wanted to believe. I heard what I wanted to hear you say, not what you actually said.”

“So are we friends now?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Sven says with a smile. “Putte’s missed you, too.”

There’s one more thing she needs to find out.

“Have you told your parents about Irja?”

Sven looks shamefaced. “Not yet. I guess I’m not as heroic as I’d like to be. And I’m certainly not as brave as you are.”

“There’s nothing brave about me.”

“You are the most courageous person I know,” Sven tells her. “You and Irja. She’s only two years older than me, but she’s been through such a lot. Real things, not just the kind of stuff that happens at school. She’s had a job since she was thirteen. And you know what? She’s part of a group that helps Norwegian refugees. They receive them when they arrive, and help them stay clear of the police. She’s incredible. I know you’d like her if you got to know her.”

Before they go their separate ways, Sven asks Stephie for her new address.

“I’ll be in touch,” he says. “And you know where to find me. I’d like to take you to another concert and to the pastry shop. Or just walk Putte together. All right?”

“All right.”

“Are you going in my direction?”

“No, I’m staying with Miss Björk. She lives up that way.”