Buried Angels

VALÖ 1972

Annelie hated Inez from the very beginning. So did Claes. In their eyes she was worthless compared to their mother, who seemed to have been a saint. At least that was what it sounded like when Rune and the children talked about her.

Inez had learned a lot about life. The most important lesson was that her mother was not always right. Her marriage to Rune was the biggest mistake of her life, but she could see no way out of it. Not now, when she was pregnant with his child.

She wiped the sweat from her forehead and then continued to scrub the kitchen floor. Rune had high standards, and everything had to be polished and gleaming when the school opened. Nothing was to be left to chance. ‘This is about my reputation,’ he said, issuing new orders to her. She toiled from morning to night while her stomach grew, and by now she was so tired that she could hardly stay on her feet.

Suddenly Claes was standing in the doorway. His shadow fell over her, and she jumped.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, did I scare you?’ he said in that voice of his that always sent shivers down her back.

She could feel the hatred emanating from him, and as usual her whole body tensed, making it hard for her to breathe. There was no proof, nothing she could mention to Rune, and besides, her husband would never believe her. It would be her word against his son’s, and she had no illusions about Rune taking her side.

‘You missed a spot,’ said Claes, pointing behind her. Inez clenched her jaw but turned to wipe the spot he was pointing at. She heard a clang and felt water dousing her legs.

‘Sorry, I accidentally ran into the bucket,’ said Claes, but his apologetic tone did not match the malevolent gleam in his eyes.

Inez merely stared at him. Her fury grew with every day, every abuse, every ugly prank.

‘Let me help you.’

That was Johan, Rune’s younger son. Only seven years old, but he had warm, intelligent eyes. He had clung to her right from the start. The very first time they met, he had slipped his hand into hers.

With an anxious glance at his big brother, Johan knelt down next to Inez. He took the rag from her hand and began wiping up the water that had spilled across the floor.

‘Now you’re going to get wet too,’ she said, touched by the sight of his bowed head and the lock of hair falling into his eyes.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said.

Claes was still standing behind them, arms folded. Anger flashed in his eyes, but he didn’t dare reprimand his little brother.

‘What a wimp,’ he scoffed, and then left the room.

Inez sighed with relief. It was ridiculous. Claes was only seventeen. Even though she wasn’t much older, she was still his stepmother, and she was expecting a child who would be his sister or brother. She shouldn’t be so scared. All the same, for some reason she instinctively knew that she needed to keep out of his way and not provoke him.

She wondered how things would go when the students arrived. Would the mood be less oppressive when the house was filled with boys? Would their voices help to fill the void? She hoped so. Otherwise she was going to suffocate.

‘You’re a good boy, Johan,’ she said, running her hand over his blond locks. He didn’t answer, but she saw that he was smiling.