The Lily Pond (13 page)

It’s a sad and beautiful story. Stephie’s tears run down her cheeks, and she hears Lilian sniffle loudly.

In a daze, they walk out through the side door along with the rest of the audience.

“I thought it was just wonderful,” says Lilian. “And she was so gorgeous in that long gown.”

“Dark hair is so attractive,” Harriet says. “You’re lucky, Stephanie. Brunettes are definitely more mysterious than blondes. More romantic, too.”

“She reminded me of Alice,” Stephie says.

“Alice Martin? Not in the least!” Harriet sounds indignant. “Alice’s face is a whole different shape. If the actress looked like anyone, it was you.”

“You’re joking,” says Stephie.

“I am not,” insists Harriet. “You’ve got big eyes like hers, and long eyelashes.”

They’re so busy talking they don’t notice the people around them. By the time Stephie spots a familiar face in the crowd, it’s too late to get away.

It’s the round, cheerful face of Miss Holm, the lady from the post office on the island, and the gossip monger of the community.

“Well, if it isn’t our little Stephie,” she says. “So you were at the movies, too? Imagine! I thought the Janssons were religious. This is my sister, who lives here in Göteborg. And
I suppose these girls are your classmates. How nice to see you, dear. Drop in to the post office the next time you’re visiting, and we can have a chat.”

Stephie is rigid with fear. On Monday Miss Holm will be behind the window at the post office, telling every single customer about her visit with her sister in Göteborg, about how they went to the movies, and how she happened to see Stephie outside afterward. By Tuesday, at the very latest, Aunt Märta will know all about it, as will all the other members of the Pentecostal church.

whole week after the movies, Stephie keeps expecting Aunt Märta to turn up at the kitchen entrance in her city coat and hat, to give Stephie a good talking-to or even to take her back to the island, away from the temptations of city life.

But Aunt Märta never appears. Could Stephie have been lucky? Could Miss Holm have forgotten all about it? Perhaps she didn’t find it so remarkable to bump into Stephie in Göteborg. She probably had lots of other interesting things to tell people after her visit.

On Thursday after school, Stephie goes to May’s. As they’re walking from the tram, she sees Sven in front of them on the street. This time there is no doubt about it: he’s no more than twenty yards ahead and Stephie knows it really is him. He turns in at the tavern. Stephie slows down
enough to have a look through the window. She watches Sven hang up his coat and sit down at a table. His back is to the window and his body is blocking the table, so Stephie can’t tell if there is anyone sitting opposite him.

“What are you looking at?” May asks. “Was that somebody you know?”

“No,” Stephie says. “I got it wrong.”

“That makes sense,” says May. “I didn’t think you knew anybody around here.”

The minute they walk into May’s courtyard, Britten comes running.

“May, May,” she shouts. “Hurry up! Ninni can’t breathe.”

May rushes over with Stephie at her heels. Ninni’s sitting in the pile of gravel that serves as a sandbox, coughing and gasping for air, trying to scream. Her little face is going blue and she looks as if she is choking.

“Ninni,” May screams, picking her up in her arms. “Ninni, don’t die on us!”

Suddenly Stephie remembers something from a very long time ago, when Nellie was little.

“Quick, we have to get her inside,” she instructs May. “Britten, do you know where your mamma is?”

Britten nods.

“Run as fast as you can. Tell her she has to get hold of a doctor. Ninni has the croup.”

“How do you know?” Britten asks.

May just gives her a push. “Didn’t you hear what Stephanie said?” she shouts. “Go on!”

Britten rushes off while May runs up the stairs with Ninni in her arms and Stephie right behind.

“We have to boil some water,” Stephie tells May.

May nods. “Take the big enameled pot from the larder.”

Stephie lights the gas stove and fills the pot with water. Ninni has a hacking cough. It sounds awful, as if something inside her were smashing to pieces.

“Are there some old sheets we can soak and hang up?” Stephie asks.

“Take the twins’ sheets from under the settle.”

Stephie pulls out a set of sheets from beneath the kitchen settle and holds them under the faucet. Once they’re soaked, she hangs them over the kitchen washing line. Dripping water makes a puddle on the floor.

Ninni’s whole body is arched, and she’s gasping for air. Her little round face is blue and pale.

“Do you have an umbrella?”

“An umbrella?” asks May in bewilderment.

“She has to inhale steam,” Stephie explains. “We need an umbrella to keep the steam close to her.”

“No, we don’t have an umbrella,” May says, almost beside herself with fright. “She’s dying, can’t you see she’s dying?”

“We’ll use a blanket instead,” says Stephie.

She pulls a blanket out of the drawer under the settle. May is sitting on a chair, rocking Ninni in her arms and weeping.

Finally the water begins to boil.

“Come over here,” says Stephie. “Hold her as close to the pot as you can without getting scorched.”

May places Ninni’s head over the steaming pot. Stephie takes the blanket and makes a tent of it over Ninni, May, and the boiling water.

After just a few minutes, Ninni is coughing less and breathing more easily. At first she struggles as if to free herself from May’s grip, but a few minutes later she has calmed down and relaxed.

“I can hardly breathe in this heat,” May says from under the blanket. She pops her head out, her face all red and her glasses fogged up.

“Want me to hold her for a while?”

They change places.

Under the blanket the heat is unbearable. Ninni’s little body is sweaty and slippery. Stephie feels a surge of relief when May’s mother comes rushing in with Britten close behind.

“I’ve got a taxi outside. Give me Ninni and I’ll take her to the hospital.”

They carry Ninni down to the taxi and make another little tent in the backseat out of one wet sheet covered by the blanket. May’s mother shuts the door and the taxi takes off.

“How did you know what to do?” asks May.

“My papa’s a doctor,” Stephie says. “That’s what he did when my little sister got the croup.”

After a couple of hours, May’s mother is back. Ninni has to spend the night in the hospital.

“But she’s out of danger,” May’s mother tells them. “The attack passed, and when I left, she was asleep. The doctor
said it was lucky she got to inhale steam right away. Things could have been much worse otherwise.”

“I was so scared,” says May. “I thought she was dying.”

“You both did an excellent job,” May’s mother says. “Stephanie, you must know how grateful I am.”

Grateful. For almost a year and a half, Stephie has heard people telling her how grateful she ought to be to everyone who has helped her. Now May’s mother is grateful to her. It’s an unexpected pleasure.

May’s mother doesn’t go back to work. She sits in the kitchen over a cup of coffee for a long time.

“After an experience like this, we deserve a little treat,” she says, sending Britten to buy two Danish pastries. Stephie and May get to split one; May’s mother shares the other one with Britten.

No homework gets done that afternoon. The other women in the building heard the commotion and saw the taxi, and they drop by, one by one, to find out what the excitement was all about. May’s mother pours them coffee and tells the story over and over again. The women share their woes and compliment Stephie and May for saving Ninni.

Stephie finds all the attention a little embarrassing, but at the same time, she’s proud of herself. As she walks to the tram, her head is so full of the afternoon’s events she doesn’t even remember to be on the lookout for Sven.

she gets home that evening, there’s a letter on the table in the hall.

In an instant all the pleasure she was just feeling is swept away.

Imagine if she had been able to come home and tell her parents what she had done that day! They would have been proud of her, she knows.

Why should she be the one with a dark shadow hanging over her all the time?

Why can’t she be like the other girls, who worry most about getting a bad grade, or having a nose that’s too big?

Why did her parents send her away?

For her own good, she knows, but still …