Buried Angels

STOCKHOLM 1925

They had nearly been thrown off the train. The conductor took the bottle away from her and shouted that she was too drunk to travel. Of course she wasn’t. She just needed a little pick-me-up now and then to be able to go on with life, which anyone should be able to understand. She was constantly forced to beg for money and perform the most degrading tasks that were tossed her way, out of charity and ‘for the girl’s sake’, and usually she ended up having to put up with those panting, hypocritical whoremongers paying visits to her room.

It was for the girl’s sake that the conductor had taken pity on her and allowed them to stay on the train all the way to Stockholm. And that was lucky, because if he’d thrown them off halfway there, Dagmar had no idea how they would have made it back home. It had taken her two months to save up for a one-way ticket to Stockholm, and now she hadn’t so much as an öre to her name. But that didn’t matter, because once they got there and had a chance to talk to Hermann, they would never need to worry about money again. He would take care of them. When they met and he realized what she’d been through, he would immediately leave that deceitful woman he’d married.

Dagmar stopped at a shop window to study her reflection in the glass. It was true that she’d aged a bit since they last saw each other. Her hair was not as thick, and now that she came to think about it, she hadn’t washed it in a while. Her dress, which she’d stolen from a clothesline before they left, hung like a sack on her thin frame. Whenever she had money she chose booze over food, but that wouldn’t happen any more. Soon she would look as she once had. Hermann would feel such tenderness for her when he heard how hard her life had been after he left her.

She took Laura’s hand and started walking again. The girl resisted so much that Dagmar had to drag her along.

‘Get moving!’ she snarled. Why did the child always have to be so slow?

They had to keep stopping to ask the way, but eventually they found the right door. Tracing his address had turned out to be easy, because it was listed in the phone book: Odengatan 23. The building was as big and impressive as she had imagined. She tugged on the handle, but the door was locked. As she stood frowning, a gentleman came towards them, took out a key, and unlocked the door.

‘Who did you want to see?’

She pulled herself up and announced proudly, ‘The Görings.’

‘Ah, well, I can see why you might need some help,’ he said and let them into the building.

For a moment Dagmar wondered what he meant by that, but then she reminded herself that it didn’t matter. They were here now. She studied the names listed on the board in the lobby, took note of which floor the Görings lived on, and began dragging Laura up the stairs. With a trembling hand Dagmar rang the bell. Soon they would be together again. She and Hermann. And Laura. His daughter.