Miss Björk leaves the room, shutting the door behind her. Stephie has to start by calling Aunt Märta to ask for the number of her official guardian on the relief committee.
“You’re not going to call and nag, are you? I don’t think it’s any use,” Aunt Märta says.
“Miss Björk has an idea,” Stephie tells her. “If it works out, I’ll tell you all about it.”
She takes the opportunity to ask Aunt Märta if she already has tenants lined up for the summer. She doesn’t.
“Miss Björk and a woman friend of hers would like to rent,” says Stephie. “For the whole summer.”
“I’ll give her a good price in that case,” says Aunt Märta. “Ask her to phone me, and I’m sure we can work it out. Incidentally, did you hear they found the
Wolf
?”
No, Stephie hadn’t heard.
“On Tuesday,” Aunt Märta tells her. “A fishing boat from the island of Hälso thought their nets were stuck on the seabed, but it was the
Wolf
. The navy brought in divers. They said a mine had done it in. Everyone on board was dead. It was awful. Young fellows, most of them.”
After their conversation, Stephie sits there for a few minutes, receiver in hand. Her mouth is dry. She gets her cup and takes a swallow of cold tea. Then she calls the number she’d jotted down.
She knows the lady on the other end is the one who accompanied her and Nellie from the railroad station to the boat when they first came to Sweden. But she hasn’t seen her since. She can’t remember what she looks like, only that she was wearing a yellow suit.
“Hello,” Stephie says. “Stephanie Steiner speaking.”
“Stephanie,” the lady says. “How are you?”
“I’m sorry to trouble you,” Stephie says, “on a Sunday and all.…”
“Yes?”
She has to pull herself together. Tell the woman why she’s calling. Like a grown-up.
“It’s about my education,” she goes on. “High school. I want to continue very badly.”
“I see,” the lady says. “But as I’ve already told Mrs. Jansson, we cannot afford to put every child through upper secondary school. You must realize you’re not the only one who wants further schooling.”
“But you said yes to one year?”
“As I told Mrs. Jansson.”
“What about two?”
“Two?”
“My homeroom teacher has offered to help me through the first year over the summer,” Stephie explains. “So I can finish high school in two years.”
There is silence at the other end of the line.
“An interesting proposal. Let me think about it,” the lady says. “I cannot make such a decision on my own. What’s your homeroom teacher’s name?”
“Hedvig Björk.”
The lady asks for Miss Björk’s telephone number, and Stephie gives it to her. She promises to have an answer for Stephie within a week. They agree that she will inform Miss Björk of the committee’s decision since there is no telephone where Stephie lives. Stephie says thank you and hangs up.
“I did it,” she rejoices to herself. “I did it!”
Hedvig Björk and Stephie take a walk along the streets in the neighborhood, which are empty on a Sunday afternoon. Then Miss Björk accompanies Stephie through the park with the lily pond and down the steps to the tram stop at the crossroads. She waits with Stephie until her tram comes.
“It’s all going to work out. I’m confident,” she says, giving Stephie a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving.
The tram is almost full, but Stephie spots a seat behind two girls, one her own age, the other a couple of years younger. There’s something familiar about the older girl’s face, but Stephie can’t place her. She doesn’t know her from grammar school, anyway. Her hair is curly and strawberry blond, her eyes are blue, and her skin pale and freckled. In spite of being fair-haired and blue-eyed, though, she doesn’t look Swedish.
As soon as Stephie sits down, the girl with the curly hair turns around.
“Stephanie Steiner?” she asks in German. “Aren’t you
“You’re not going to call and nag, are you? I don’t think it’s any use,” Aunt Märta says.
“Miss Björk has an idea,” Stephie tells her. “If it works out, I’ll tell you all about it.”
She takes the opportunity to ask Aunt Märta if she already has tenants lined up for the summer. She doesn’t.
“Miss Björk and a woman friend of hers would like to rent,” says Stephie. “For the whole summer.”
“I’ll give her a good price in that case,” says Aunt Märta. “Ask her to phone me, and I’m sure we can work it out. Incidentally, did you hear they found the
Wolf
?”
No, Stephie hadn’t heard.
“On Tuesday,” Aunt Märta tells her. “A fishing boat from the island of Hälso thought their nets were stuck on the seabed, but it was the
Wolf
. The navy brought in divers. They said a mine had done it in. Everyone on board was dead. It was awful. Young fellows, most of them.”
After their conversation, Stephie sits there for a few minutes, receiver in hand. Her mouth is dry. She gets her cup and takes a swallow of cold tea. Then she calls the number she’d jotted down.
She knows the lady on the other end is the one who accompanied her and Nellie from the railroad station to the boat when they first came to Sweden. But she hasn’t seen her since. She can’t remember what she looks like, only that she was wearing a yellow suit.
“Hello,” Stephie says. “Stephanie Steiner speaking.”
“Stephanie,” the lady says. “How are you?”
“I’m sorry to trouble you,” Stephie says, “on a Sunday and all.…”
“Yes?”
She has to pull herself together. Tell the woman why she’s calling. Like a grown-up.
“It’s about my education,” she goes on. “High school. I want to continue very badly.”
“I see,” the lady says. “But as I’ve already told Mrs. Jansson, we cannot afford to put every child through upper secondary school. You must realize you’re not the only one who wants further schooling.”
“But you said yes to one year?”
“As I told Mrs. Jansson.”
“What about two?”
“Two?”
“My homeroom teacher has offered to help me through the first year over the summer,” Stephie explains. “So I can finish high school in two years.”
There is silence at the other end of the line.
“An interesting proposal. Let me think about it,” the lady says. “I cannot make such a decision on my own. What’s your homeroom teacher’s name?”
“Hedvig Björk.”
The lady asks for Miss Björk’s telephone number, and Stephie gives it to her. She promises to have an answer for Stephie within a week. They agree that she will inform Miss Björk of the committee’s decision since there is no telephone where Stephie lives. Stephie says thank you and hangs up.
“I did it,” she rejoices to herself. “I did it!”
Hedvig Björk and Stephie take a walk along the streets in the neighborhood, which are empty on a Sunday afternoon. Then Miss Björk accompanies Stephie through the park with the lily pond and down the steps to the tram stop at the crossroads. She waits with Stephie until her tram comes.
“It’s all going to work out. I’m confident,” she says, giving Stephie a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving.
The tram is almost full, but Stephie spots a seat behind two girls, one her own age, the other a couple of years younger. There’s something familiar about the older girl’s face, but Stephie can’t place her. She doesn’t know her from grammar school, anyway. Her hair is curly and strawberry blond, her eyes are blue, and her skin pale and freckled. In spite of being fair-haired and blue-eyed, though, she doesn’t look Swedish.
As soon as Stephie sits down, the girl with the curly hair turns around.
“Stephanie Steiner?” she asks in German. “Aren’t you
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