Buried Angels

FJÄLLBACKA 1925

Dagmar stared at the newspaper lying on the ground. Laura was tugging at her sleeve, saying over and over ‘Mamma, Mamma,’ but Dagmar paid her no mind. She was so tired of hearing that demanding, whining voice, and the word was repeated so often that she thought it would drive her mad. Slowly she leaned down and picked up the paper. It was late in the afternoon, and she was having trouble seeing clearly, but there was absolutely no doubt. In black type it said: ‘German ace pilot Göring returns to Sweden.’

‘Mamma, Mamma!’ Laura was pulling at her even harder, and Dagmar gave her such a swat that the girl tumbled off the bench and started to cry.

‘Stop your whining!’ snapped Dagmar. She hated that phoney sobbing. The child lacked for nothing. She had a roof over her head, clothes to wear, and she wasn’t starving, although they had little enough at times.

Dagmar returned to the article, haltingly spelling her way through it. Her heart started pounding very fast. He’d come back, he was in Sweden, and now he would be coming to fetch her. Then her eyes fell on a sentence further down: ‘Göring is moving to Sweden with his Swedish wife Carin.’ Dagmar felt her mouth go dry. He’d married somebody else. He’d betrayed her! Fury rushed through her, made worse by Laura’s shrill cries that were causing passers-by to turn and look at them.

‘Shut up!’ She slapped Laura with such force it made her hand sting.

The child fell silent, clutching her fiery red cheek and gazing at her mother, wide-eyed. Then she started sobbing again, louder than ever, as Dagmar felt despair slicing right through her. She fixed her eyes on the newspaper, re-reading the article until the name Carin Göring echoed over and over in her mind. The article didn’t say how long they’d been married, but since she was Swedish, they must have met here in Sweden. Somehow this woman must have tricked Hermann into marrying her. It must be Carin’s fault that Hermann hadn’t come back to get Dagmar, that he couldn’t be with her and their daughter, with his family.

She nodded as she crumpled up the paper and reached for the bottle on the bench beside her. Only a few dregs remained, which surprised her, since the bottle had been full that morning. But she didn’t think anything more about it. She drank what was left, savouring the lovely burning sensation in her throat from the blessed liquor.

The child had stopped howling. She was sitting on the ground, sniffling, with her legs drawn up and her arms wrapped around her knees. No doubt feeling sorry for herself, as usual. Only five years old and already the girl was cunning as a fox. But Dagmar knew what had to be done. It was still possible to put everything right. Once Hermann was reunited with them, he’d soon teach Laura to behave. A father who could rule with a firm hand was exactly what that child needed, because nothing seemed to work, no matter how much Dagmar tried to beat some sense into her.

Dagmar smiled as she sat there on the bench in Brandparken. She’d worked out what was at the root of all their troubles, and now she was going to fix things for herself and for Laura.