Punished
Prologue
PROLOGUE
She had taken off her shoes and was padding along the chilly floor of the hallway in socks. Anna had been given just a few minutes to gather her belongings. To leave, but without a chance to say goodbye to the children. If she’d known what was going to happen, she would have gathered several of them into her arms one last time, instead of simply waving as they boarded the bus, eager to go home for Christmas break to families they hadn’t seen in months.
The dormitories were empty and the beds stripped of their sheets, many of the mattresses stained. Sometimes the children wet the bed, and they weren’t always brave enough to confess.
The maids had returned after a few days off to scour the place before the next term. Anna had been meant to help, but she wasn’t one of them anymore.
She slowly approached Else-Maj’s bed, next to the wall, and picked up the pillow to press her nose against the soft fabric. She imagined that it still held the little girl’s scent. Suddenly finding it hard to stand, she sank onto the bed.
Six girls stayed in each dormitory, and they were all tiny when they first arrived, but Else-Maj had been so small that Anna thought something must be wrong. Could that short, skinny little girl really be seven years old? Now she was eleven, one of the older children, but she still hardly filled up her bed.
Anne-Risten had the bed next to Else-Maj, close to the window; she didn’t like the draft there. She was a beautiful child, all the maids agreed. They had talked about how they would have to keep an extra eye on her in the future, but right now she was only eight. Still, there were boys who couldn’t behave. Nilsa was the worst of them. He was trouble, that boy. The same age as Else-Maj, but already grown big, and sly besides.
When the door across the hallway opened, Anna leaped to her feet and pressed herself to the wall in the narrow gap between the beds. She didn’t want to face Housemother again. The radio sounded from Housemother’s quarters and then her quick footsteps tapped down the stairs.
Anna ran her fingers along the headboards, whispering goodbye to the children. Marge had been the only one who removed her sheets and pillowcase and folded them along with the blanket in a neat pile at the foot of the bed. Under them she left a paper heart that said “Anna.” Anna smiled at the memory; she had saved the heart, tucked it away in a box.
Housemother was back in the hallway and the walls shook as she flung open the door to her quarters. Anna walked past, stepping lightly, and went downstairs. She entered one of the boys’ dormitories, where a window was ajar. She shivered and stopped at little Jon-Ante’s bed. It hurt too much; this was too hard. But her voice held.
“I could have done more. I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t enough, she knew. It was unforgiveable.
She left the room and took the next flight of stairs down to the cellar, where she fetched her shoes and clothes, a lunch box, and her hairbrush. The sauna was cold and musty. Soon the maids would clean down here, but right now they were eating lunch in Lisbet’s kitchen. The switch hung on a nail outside the bathroom. It ought to be burned in the common room’s fireplace. Fury blazed up inside her, but she controlled herself. If the switch disappeared, one of the children would surely be blamed. She couldn’t bear it. And there was already so much else she had to live with.
At last she reached the front hall, turning around to gaze toward the common room, where the fire crackled, almost welcoming. An article pinned next to the front door showed Housemother in the common room with a few of the girls. Mrs. Rita Olsson, the children’s “extra mother,” the journalist had written below the photograph.
Anna placed her hand on the yellowed paper, her fingernails rasping over the words, leaving a rip in the devil woman’s eye.
She walked out the door for the last time. No one had yet swept away the snow on the steps outside. The wind whistled over the schoolyard, whipping the top layer into her face. It stung, and she cried.