Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 24 - Deep in the Ground

“Here is the room, if the young lady can make do with this,” she muttered aggressively.

It could have been worse. The room was modestly furnished with a bed, a chair and a washstand. There was a homemade chest of drawers over which hung a quote from the Bible. And there was a flower on the windowsill.

Anna Maria turned to her, smiling shyly. “It’s very nice. You run a very clean household, Mrs Andersdatter. Everything is so nice!”

“I do my best,” Klara said without smiling.

“You can’t do more than that,” said Anna Maria with a smile.

“No, but every so often even that isn’t enough. Will Miss be eating with us or would she prefer to see to her meals herself?”

Anna Maria hesitated. “If it’s not too much trouble, I would like to have a meal when I come home from school. The rest, breakfast and dinner, I will see to myself.”

Klara nodded firmly. “That will cost you a little extra. For the meal, I mean. The mining business is taking care of the rent.”

“All right. Well, what shall we say ...?” Anna Maria suggested a sum that made Klara raise her eyebrows. The girl clearly didn’t know much about the value of money – at least she didn’t know what it meant to these Swedish workers. But the suggestion was far from unwelcome! For that amount, the hostess offered a few extras, such as a cup of coffee on Sunday and every now and then in the evening. Anna Maria accepted the offer.

“Do you have children, Klara?”

“Four in all. But only the oldest one will be attending school. The others are too young.”

“I look forward to meeting them!” said Anna Maria with a radiant smile.

“If Miss would like to unpack now, I will leave you. Afterwards you may come into the kitchen and I will show you where everything is and I’ll have some food ready for you. You must be hungry, Miss?”

“Yes, I’ve been terribly nervous all day about arriving in a new place and meeting new people.”

“You are very young, Miss.

“Nineteen. But I have been alone for a long time now so I’m sure I’ll manage.”

“You are also good-looking. I’m sure the young men of the village will be queuing up here when winter comes.”

“Oh?” Anna Maria cried out in surprise. “No, no man has ever given me much attention.”

Klara looked at her suspiciously to see if she really was so simple-minded or was just putting on airs. But Anna Maria looked perfectly innocent.

Then the hostess went to prepare some food and Anna Maria began to slowly unpack her belongings. The jam jar was intact, thank goodness! She carefully placed her fine underwear in the coarsely carved chest of drawers, which had an acrid smell of lye. She arranged her few personal items on the chest to create a little atmosphere in the room and make it feel more homely.

The little embroidered tablecloth, the brush and comb of real silver that she had received on the day of her confirmation, the inlaid sewing box with the red silk lining: all of it reminded her of days gone by and all the loved ones she had lost ...

What was left of Anna Maria’s willpower ran out. There, in that strange, spartan room, she collapsed on the edge of the bed as she looked absently at the miniature portraits of her parents, Sara and Ola, together in a decorative wooden frame.

The old pain returned. The one she had felt for many months now, even though the journey and all the tension connected with it had displaced that bad feeling for some days.

Her sense of loneliness consumed her. The bottomless loneliness that comes from within and that has nothing to do with whether there are people around one or not.

“God,” she whispered, “Dear God, how am I to make it better? It’s too late now.”

And what am I doing here? At the edge of the sea, in this remote corner of the world? Did I think I could escape my thoughts here?

How stupid! How shortsighted. You can’t escape yourself!

Disheartened and powerless, she looked at the bare walls of a stranger’s house, the worn floor with the clumsily made rag rug, old and well-used furniture – used by others. Where were her own things? Why had she left her beloved home?

But she knew perfectly well why. She couldn’t stand just existing at home, walking restlessly from one empty room to another, constantly being reminded of her parents. Her thoughts would just have driven her mad. She had had to get out and feel that she was needed in some way.

So as to numb herself? No, she mustn’t think that way any longer.

Adrian Brandt!

What a bad idea it had been to come here! Imagine that she had actually thought she meant anything to him! And he could barely remember her!

She simply had to look to the future now! Behind her lay all the gloominess and all the things she couldn’t overcome that she, in her naivety, had thought she could escape.

But that was, of course, impossible.

Miraculously, the schoolroom was ready on Wednesday. That was something she hadn’t expected. But when she stood looking around the room in the early morning she couldn’t escape the depressed mood she felt inside. This wasn’t exactly what she had been hoping for.

When they had referred to benches they had meant it quite literally. There were three coarsely carved long benches in the room, so the children would have to sit in rows with their books on their laps as they worked. As the teacher she had been given a worn chair to sit on and a wobbly desk. But there was one good thing placed right behind where she was standing: they had actually managed to acquire a real blackboard with a slate pencil and everything!

But that was all there was.

Well, there was also the stove, the miracle of miracles: an old, rusty iron stove that had been installed in the corner with a big pipe that, in the ugliest way, bent upwards until it reached and entered the wall behind it. But it certainly wasn’t a fire hazard: the area around it had been properly mortared. Drops of mortar had solidified here and there on the floor and wall, and no one had bothered to remove them.

Still, it was an impressive piece of work to accomplish in a matter of just two days!

She herself had spent her Tuesday going through the schoolwork, planning and preparing for the first day. She had spoken to the clerk, Nilsson, and had been granted permission to order the materials that she and the children would need. Within limits, of course!

She still didn’t know anything about the students – what levels they were at and which textbooks they had.

The wind had started blowing. The muggy autumn rain was swirling about her when she walked home to eat breakfast before the classes began.

She and Klara had had a talk on Tuesday evening after the children had gone to bed. The hostess expressed an aggressive bewilderment at the many fine things the young lady owned. A silver brush and paintings, and such fine clothes! Was it really necessary for the young Miss to take up such a dreadful occupation?

Then Anna Maria told her about her situation. About the death of her father and how she had had to take care of her mother for two years. And then how she was suddenly alone in life. And how she had had the choice to live with relatives and not lift a finger, or repay the kindness of her parents in using the good education they had given her and putting it to use for others.

Klara had pondered this and thought it sounded relatively sound.

“I couldn’t imagine anything better than walking around in fine clothes and being waited on. But ... it would probably become boring in the end, yes,” she admitted. “And a woman who is alone must work for a living,” she said, nodding. “But I’m sure the young Miss is still rich?”

Anna Maria sighed. “In a way. When I inherit my grandmother’s estate I will be wealthy,” she said and grimaced. “But I love Grandmother Ingela and want her to have a long life. I don’t look forward to having money because of her death.”