On Friday there’s fried mackerel for dinner, as usual.
“Stephie’s teacher is coming over this evening,” Aunt Märta says when they are finished eating. “She wants a word with us.”
“What kind of trouble are you in now?” Uncle Evert asks Stephie, but she can hear from his tone that he’s joking.
“None at all,” Stephie replies. She doesn’t want to talk about grammar school when Aunt Märta’s listening.
“We’ll see about that,” Aunt Märta says.
After dinner Stephie is instructed to dust the front room, although she dusted it just a couple of days before. Aunt Märta says things have to be spic and span when Miss Bergström comes.
Uncle Evert comes in while she’s straightening up.
“Uncle Evert,” Stephie begins.
“Yes?”
Just then he catches sight of the brown envelope on the sideboard. He takes out his pocketknife and cuts the seal.
“You know,” Stephie goes on, “Miss Bergström’s coming over because… well, not because of anything I’ve done wrong.”
“Now don’t you worry,” Uncle Evert tells her distractedly, pulling a typed sheet of stationery out of the envelope.
“I’m not worried,” Stephie replies. “But I… I’d really like…”
She stops talking because she can tell Uncle Evert isn’t listening. The more of the letter he reads, the deeper the crease in his forehead becomes.
Stephie lifts a potted plant to dust the windowsill.
“Stephie,” Uncle Evert says, “there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“What’s that?”
“This letter. Remember how I wrote to our member of parliament?”
As if she could have forgotten!
“Well, this is his answer,” Uncle Evert continues.
“What does he say?”
Uncle Evert sighs. “He says there’s nothing he can do for your mother and father.”
The plant slips out of Stephie’s hands, crashing to the floor.
“They can go to the Swedish embassy in Vienna and apply for entry permits, but their chances aren’t good. He writes that he has investigated the matter and as far as he can determine hardly any adult Jewish refugees are being granted entry to Sweden.”
Aunt Märta hurries into the room. “What broke?” she wants to know.
She sees the pot, and the soil and pieces of plant on the floor.
“Good grief, you are the clumsiest thing! My best geranium! And now, of all times.”
“Let the girl be,” Uncle Evert scolds. “Can’t you see she’s upset?”
He passes the letter to Aunt Märta. She reads it, then says in a gentler voice, “Would you please get the broom and clean up before Miss Bergström arrives?”
Stephie does as she’s told. When she’s finished she asks Uncle Evert if she may read the letter herself. She takes it up to her room and tries to decipher the difficult Swedish: “… a certain amount of restriction regarding the issuing of visas…”
She hears the front door open downstairs.
“Good to see you, Miss Bergström,” Aunt Märta says. “Do come in.”
“Thank you,” Miss Bergström replies. “Is Stephanie at home?”
“Yes, but-”
“I just want to say hello to her, too,” Miss Bergström adds.
“Stephie!” Aunt Märta calls up the stairs.
Stephie sets the letter aside and goes down.
“Good evening, Stephanie,” Miss Bergström greets her.
She sounds so formal. Miss Bergström is the only person on the island who calls her Stephanie.
“Good evening, Miss Bergström.”
“How fortunate you are to live here,” Miss Bergström begins. “You even have a room of your own.”
“Yes, it’s upstairs.”
“Good heavens,” Miss Bergström goes on. “I’m sure I haven’t been in this house for fifteen years. Not since Anna-Lisa-”
“Please come in,” Aunt Märta interrupts. “Come in and sit down.”
She shows Miss Bergström into the front room, where she’s set the table with coffee cups, a creamer, and a sugar bowl. It’s the best china, with gold edging and a flower pattern, not their everyday tableware. On a tall cake plate, there’s a sponge cake waiting to be served.
“Stephie, would you bring in the coffee, please?” Aunt Märta says while Miss Bergström is shaking Uncle Evert’s hand.
Stephie pours the hot coffee from the stove into the china pot Aunt Märta has taken out. Carefully she carries it in and sets it on the table. It’s heavy. Aunt Märta pours.
“Why don’t you take a piece of cake up to your room?” she says to Stephie.
So she’s not to be allowed to hear the discussion! Stephie looks at Miss Bergström, who just sits silently, stirring her coffee.
Stephie cuts a piece of cake and carries it out on a saucer.
“Please shut the door behind you.”
Stephie stands out in the hall for a while, listening to the mumble of voices through the closed door, unable to make out the words. Just as well to go upstairs, then.
She sits on her bed, eating her cake nervously. She gets crumbs on her bed, but doesn’t care.
Half an hour later she hears the front room door open.
“But Miss Bergström, you know I’d be very happy to walk you home,” she hears Uncle Evert say.
“There’s no need at all,” Miss Bergström replies. “Do promise me you’ll consider the matter.”
“We’ll think it over,” Aunt Märta answers.
“Thank you for the coffee and the delicious cake,” Miss Bergström concludes.
“It was nothing. Thank you for coming.”
They’re out in the hall now.
“Good night, Stephanie,” calls Miss Bergström up the stairs.
“Good night.”
“See you on Monday.”
The front door opens and closes. Miss Bergström’s visit is over.