that. Parents have to be strong and perfect or the child can’t believe in them. You’ll have to fix it.”
Katri’s reaction was suddenly vehement. “But how long can they rely on what’s not reliable? For how many years do we fool these children into believing in something they shouldn’t believe in? They have to learn early, or they’ll never manage on their own.”
“I’ve managed on my own,” said Anna tartly. “And done very nicely. And look at this one: you say that sooner or later every child gets mad at his parents and it’s natural. Do you think I could have written that?”
“No, that was a mistake. There I wasn’t being you.”
“No, that wasn’t nice. If all children get mad, then that particular child is less important. He’s just like all the other children.”
“Well, maybe, but they move in packs,” Katri said. “They do their best to be all alike. It’s a comfort to them that all the others behave the same way.”
“But some of them are individualists!”
“It’s possible. But then they need to hide in the pack all the more. They know if they’re different they’ll be chased away.”
“And what about this one?” Anna went on. “Where’s the chitchat? He’s tried to draw a rabbit – obviously no talent at all – so here you could write something like ‘I’ve hung your picture above my desk’… This one’s learning to skate, and her cat’s name is Topsy. You can fill nearly a whole page with the skating and the cat if you write big enough. You’re not using the material.”
“Miss Aemelin,” said Katri, “you’re actually quite cynical. How have you managed to hide that?”
Anna wasn’t listening. She put her hand on the pile of letters and declared, “More affection! Bigger writing! And talk about my own cat: describe it, talk about it…”
“But you don’t have a cat.”
“That doesn’t matter. The whole point is to give them a nice letter… You have to learn how it’s done. But I wonder if you can. I almost think you don’t like them.”
Katri shrugged her shoulders and smiled her quick wolfish smile. “Neither do you,” she said.
Anna’s annoying blush rose over her cheeks, and she put an end to the conversation. “What I think has no significance. But they need to believe in me, to know I could never deceive them. And now I’m tired.”
* * *
Oh, Anna Aemelin, the only thing you care about is your own conscience. That’s what you cherish. You’re a charming little liar. A child writes, “I love you, I’m saving my money to come and live with you and the bunnies,” and you answer, “How lovely. You’ll be very welcome.” And it’s a lie. The promises made by a guilty conscience acknowledge and settle no debts… You can’t hide. In the long run, you can’t even try to make it easier for yourself by not daring to say no, by kidding yourself that everyone in the final analysis is nice and can be kept at a distance with promises or money… You know nothing about fair play! You’re a difficult opponent. The truth needs to be hammered in with iron spikes, but no one can drive nails into a mattress!
* * *
Relief at not having to write letters to children dug an unexpected hole in Anna’s well-regulated day, which became easy and empty and difficult to fill. But she continued to add her beautiful signature and to draw a rabbit at the bottom of every reply Katri placed before her. One day, when Anna was tired, Katri made a slip. She signed the letters and drew the rabbits herself. They were pictured from behind, sitting in the grass, which made it easier. Nevertheless, Katri’s rabbits were boldly and carelessly drawn. Anna looked at them and said nothing, but her glance was as cold as the whirling snow outside the house, and Katri drew no more rabbits.
* * *
Anna called Sylvia a couple of times, but there was no answer.
Chapter Nineteen
O CCASIONALLY PEOPLE STILL CAME to Katri for advice on some
Katri’s reaction was suddenly vehement. “But how long can they rely on what’s not reliable? For how many years do we fool these children into believing in something they shouldn’t believe in? They have to learn early, or they’ll never manage on their own.”
“I’ve managed on my own,” said Anna tartly. “And done very nicely. And look at this one: you say that sooner or later every child gets mad at his parents and it’s natural. Do you think I could have written that?”
“No, that was a mistake. There I wasn’t being you.”
“No, that wasn’t nice. If all children get mad, then that particular child is less important. He’s just like all the other children.”
“Well, maybe, but they move in packs,” Katri said. “They do their best to be all alike. It’s a comfort to them that all the others behave the same way.”
“But some of them are individualists!”
“It’s possible. But then they need to hide in the pack all the more. They know if they’re different they’ll be chased away.”
“And what about this one?” Anna went on. “Where’s the chitchat? He’s tried to draw a rabbit – obviously no talent at all – so here you could write something like ‘I’ve hung your picture above my desk’… This one’s learning to skate, and her cat’s name is Topsy. You can fill nearly a whole page with the skating and the cat if you write big enough. You’re not using the material.”
“Miss Aemelin,” said Katri, “you’re actually quite cynical. How have you managed to hide that?”
Anna wasn’t listening. She put her hand on the pile of letters and declared, “More affection! Bigger writing! And talk about my own cat: describe it, talk about it…”
“But you don’t have a cat.”
“That doesn’t matter. The whole point is to give them a nice letter… You have to learn how it’s done. But I wonder if you can. I almost think you don’t like them.”
Katri shrugged her shoulders and smiled her quick wolfish smile. “Neither do you,” she said.
Anna’s annoying blush rose over her cheeks, and she put an end to the conversation. “What I think has no significance. But they need to believe in me, to know I could never deceive them. And now I’m tired.”
* * *
Oh, Anna Aemelin, the only thing you care about is your own conscience. That’s what you cherish. You’re a charming little liar. A child writes, “I love you, I’m saving my money to come and live with you and the bunnies,” and you answer, “How lovely. You’ll be very welcome.” And it’s a lie. The promises made by a guilty conscience acknowledge and settle no debts… You can’t hide. In the long run, you can’t even try to make it easier for yourself by not daring to say no, by kidding yourself that everyone in the final analysis is nice and can be kept at a distance with promises or money… You know nothing about fair play! You’re a difficult opponent. The truth needs to be hammered in with iron spikes, but no one can drive nails into a mattress!
* * *
Relief at not having to write letters to children dug an unexpected hole in Anna’s well-regulated day, which became easy and empty and difficult to fill. But she continued to add her beautiful signature and to draw a rabbit at the bottom of every reply Katri placed before her. One day, when Anna was tired, Katri made a slip. She signed the letters and drew the rabbits herself. They were pictured from behind, sitting in the grass, which made it easier. Nevertheless, Katri’s rabbits were boldly and carelessly drawn. Anna looked at them and said nothing, but her glance was as cold as the whirling snow outside the house, and Katri drew no more rabbits.
* * *
Anna called Sylvia a couple of times, but there was no answer.
Chapter Nineteen
O CCASIONALLY PEOPLE STILL CAME to Katri for advice on some
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