Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

Wallflower Swede
Wallflower Swede
Wallflower Swede
Ebook275 pages4 hours

Wallflower Swede

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars

()

Read preview

About this ebook

Ruth is a 19 year old woman sent to Stockholm, Sweden, by the State Department in 1939 as a lowly translator and typist. Being short, dark and disfigured by acne, she is placed at the bottom of the pecking order in the embassy office with four, clear-skinned beauties. Ruth takes partial revenge by snagging the most eligible bachelor in Stockholm, a handsome and brilliant student, using a combination of whit, charm and her deft dancing abilities. While the dark clouds of World War build around them the young couple spend evenings on his featherbed overlooking the Stockholm inner harbor and weekends on his sailboat cruising the archipelago. When war breaks out around Sweden her lover is drafted and sent to the northern border, along with thousands of other men, to deter the Russians from invading the little country. Meanwhile, Ruth is pulled into the devious scheme of the feckless American ambassador who is being manipulated by a beautiful, charming and promiscuous British agent. The ambassador and resident consul hatch a plot to halt shipments of valuable metals from northern Sweden to a warring Germany despite the declared neutrality of the United States and they drag Ruth into their scheme. Ruth can only save herself and her newly discovered Swedish relations from ruin by her considerable and quick verbal talents and her hands-on knowledge of dynamite.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 17, 2012
ISBN9781452482682
Wallflower Swede
Author

Mikael Helmetsmith

Mikael Helmetsmith is an American who moved to Sweden three decades ago and now divides his time between Sweden and the United States. He has written more than 35 journal articles and book chapters. Wallflower Swede is the first novel of a planned foursome about an unattractive yet bright woman and her daughters in Sweden and the US.

Related to Wallflower Swede

Related ebooks

Historical Romance For You

View More

Related articles

Reviews for Wallflower Swede

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars
0 ratings

0 ratings0 reviews

What did you think?

Tap to rate

Review must be at least 10 words

    Book preview

    Wallflower Swede - Mikael Helmetsmith

    Wallflower Swede

    A novel by

    Mikael Helmetsmith

    Published by Mikael Helmetsmith at Smashwords

    Copyright © 2012 by Mikael Helmetsmith

    All rights reserved.

    Wallflower Swede is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are from the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

    Smashword Edition, License Notes

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    The cover is a watercolor by Ingemar Almeros of Umeå, Sweden

    Chapter 1

    A New Girl in Stockholm

    The American embassy of Sweden in 1939 was a two-story building built from earthen colored brick, under a flat roof with green, metal framed windows of small glass squares. It was set back about 100 feet from the street, Gärdesgatan, in a small park allowing thorough inspection of approaching visitors by the lone marine guard who was on daytime duty. There was nothing remarkable about the building other than being located near a desirable quarter of Stockholm, called Östermalm.

    Spring had come to the city that year at the usual week in late April, none too soon for the locals. Being mid-May now, the leaves, shrubs and the manicured lawns of the embassy grounds were all bright green with a sprinkling of yellow flowers. The young fellow in his crisp brown uniform of the US Marines met Ruth just in front of the wide official entrance with a smile and asked her business.

    I have just arrived from London – I mean from New York. Nobody met me at the dock so I hired a taxi for a lift here, replied Ruth. Here is my passport. I am here as a secretary and translator and was told to make my way to the embassy. I've been sent by the State Department with these written orders.

    Oh yes. We've been expecting you any day now, the polite guard took a few seconds to inspect her passport and returned it to Ruth. Were is your luggage? Don't you have at least one trunk, quizzed the young man.

    Cunard Lines lost my trunk. I just got off the ship in London and nothing was brought down. I waited for two hours at the dock this morning. They said they will find my trunk and have it delivered to the embassy here.

    Ruth was depressed throughout the passage from London to Stockholm and kept talking. I had been promised a room with a view on board but they placed me in the bowels of the ship, somewhere around the engine room, I guess. Continually noisy, a very loud racket all night long.

    Sorry to hear that. Let me introduce myself. I am private William Swanson, United States Marine Corp, and on-duty during working hours this week. There are twelve of us marines here at the embassy. You will meet the other guards later, I'm sure. I can't leave my post, so please step around the corner, to the switchboard room and let Penny take care of you.

    He was on guard alone because nobody else was needed. His station was underneath a short roof at the entrance with enough view to watch the street and just enough foot-room to stand aside and open the door for those with proper affairs. Being but a private he was unarmed while on duty, though several rifles were stored close to the entrance. Regulations. But nothing of note ever happened while he was duty. This was Sweden.

    Penny, here is Ruth, he smiled as he motioned around the corner to a small office just inside the door. She's the young lady from the States you all have been waiting for.

    Penny was a woman about twenty years old who tended the telephone switchboard fitted with rows of wires, plugs and lights mounted on an oak panel above a solid oak desk and swivel chair. Those days, May 1939, your telephone calls to most anyplace in the world were connected manually and always by an underpaid women. Penny had thick brown hair, freshly cut and curled over a fine featured face with a soft pale complexion. It was obvious that she never suffered a blemish in her life and other than eye-brow color and a little rouge she needed no makeup.

    Oh, happy to meet you, Ruth, is that correct? Penny was genuinely pleasant but Ruth could see a quick moment of withdrawal on Penny's face followed by resignation mixed with slight pity.

    Hope your voyage here was comfortable, I suppose the spring weather on the Atlantic Ocean can be rough at times?

    Thanks for asking. Yes, the trip over was interesting at times, fairly rough but sunny. Gave me only a few moments to read my book on deck. Ruth thought her direct answer would perhaps place Penny at ease.

    If you are wondering what I normally do here, this is it, the switchboard. My mother was Swedish so I learned a little while growing up. I was assigned the switchboard a few months ago because I can usually understand who is calling and what they want. On slow call days I can sometimes read a few book chapters or a newspaper.

    Then Penny offered, I'll introduce you to the girls, but I can only take a moment. Can't be away from the switchboard for more than a few seconds. I'll catch you at lunch or at break time, you know, so we can get to know each other?

    This last phrase was taken by Ruth as more than a pleasantry, for Penny seemed sincerely pleasant and perhaps even kind-hearted. Penny took Ruth through a short corridor to a large office where four other young women were seated at substantial oak desks. The room was lit through both the east and west brick walls by large windows and by several lamps hanging from the twelve foot ceiling. The incandescence light was kind enough to show off the smooth complexions and fine features of the women's faces, who all were much younger than thirty.

    Ruth felt inadequate as she surveyed this brood, for being short with the slowly vanishing marks of her poor complexion she instantly realized she was out of place. Being but nineteen years old, Ruth was naturally insecure with her only dress in the world the one she was now wearing and badly crumpled after days at sea.

    She had grown up on a farm not far from the small town of Foley, Minnesota. The lack of opportunity for a short woman with the residue of a dreadful complexion had driven her to respond to a request from the US State Department for translators willing to travel. So here she was, in an office costing as much as her parents entire farm being introduced to urbane women who could never be bothered to travel to Minnesota, let alone her small town of Foley.

    Ruth first met Edith with Penny providing a short introduction and who then slipped away almost unnoticed. Edith was rather tall, which made her wiry frame look even thinner. She was wearing a dapper, pleated wool skirt and fine cotton blouse which gave a kindly accent to her figure. Her blouse was remarkable for the time, being large-collared, buff colored and was soon to be fashionable worldwide. The ensemble made Edith look as if she should be a mannequin displayed in the front windows of the Sears Roebuck store in Minneapolis. Precisely how Edith wished to be seen. Not having ever been treated to high fashion, Ruth knew it when it was displayed.

    Ruth and her sisters had always taken the opportunity to ride to the small town of Foley whenever her father drove there, which was usually every Saturday. The women's latest were first seen in magazines well before becoming available. She observed some new fashions on her way to Sweden when she rented a room in Manhattan while waiting for the Atlantic liner. Ruth had but little money so she used her days and the good weather in that great city to go window shopping up and down the many streets.

    She felt safe for nobody ever noticed her New York City. That is except the old Jewish couple with a small furrier shop. They tried to sell Ruth a full-length raccoon coat. After they realized Ruth was only a poor farmer's daughter the three had a long, pleasant conversation about Minnesota. Their interest was genuine since they had never been further west than the west bank of the Hudson river. Ruth couldn't afford even an indulgence as the sheer blouse worn by Edith let alone a genuine fur coat.

    Hello Ruth. So nice to meet you, smiled Edith. I am the ambassador's secretary. You do know who our ambassador is, don't you? Edith then sucked in a deep breath having stated her position while the others looked on. Her chest was rather broad giving the impressions that her breasts were smaller than they really were. For Edith had just turned twenty six and her breasts, which had been firm and upright since her teen years, were beginning to sag. Only she noticed, but to her the situation was exaggerated by her tall frame. Many mornings left Edith disappointed with their forthcoming disposition which had changed to resignation as of late. She cheered herself up after looking at in the mirror by always concluding – I'm pretty good looking and will still look wonderful five years from now! Such was her daily attitude which one might describe as perky.

    Yes, the State Department send me several letters. They even sent me a telegram offering me this position. He is Mr. McMahon, right and you are in charge of the personnel here? Ruth asked very politely, since she immediately picked up that Edith was responsible the secretary's room and both women wished to make the best first impressions.

    Right you are, replied Edith without hesitation, and you are from Minnesota. What town? Quite a trip?

    Yes, this is first time I have been away from Minnesota. I grew up near a small town called Foley, on a farm, actually. Until I went to New York the largest city I had ever been in was Minneapolis or maybe Milwaukee, which are large cities, you know. The train ride to New York was tiring, since I couldn't get any sleep, but I made up for it on the boat trip across the Atlantic. Slept the entire journey when I wasn't on the top deck. Sunny the entire boat ride. The wind blew so much I thought it might straighten my hair.

    Edith took over the introductions to the other young women. There was June who was helping Edith with typing and filing. She was just over twenty years old, hailed from Virginia, taller than Ruth but with a perfect complexion and a figure for the movies. Small hipped, June displayed large breasts that caught long glances from the simpler sex. June was schooled to be polite and she immediately observed that Ruth was not at all attractive and wouldn't likely catch the boys eyes. So perhaps our new Ruth was a potential friend, certainly not a rival she thought. The three American girls, Edith, Penny and June, needed more friends, for while they had many acquaintances amongst their Swedish crowd, they knew they could only rely on each other in a pinch. Now they might well be a foursome.

    Hello Ruth. Though my name is June, everybody here calls me by my state name, Virginia. So Virginia it was. Since she and Edith neither spoke nor read Swedish both of them were limited by language and were very dependent on help from the woman introduced next.

    Camilla. She was almost as tall as Edith but even better looking. In fact Camilla was beautiful. Large blue eyes with long lashes needing no brush. Perfectly straight nose, not too long and without a single pock-mark on her face. With a very wide mouth, large perfect teeth and large blond curls far below her shoulders, so thick it would have hung straight except she treated herself to weekly salon visits. Since Camilla was only twenty two her teeth were still white, but developing a slight stain from the continuous smokes and coffee she treated herself.

    Camilla sought nothing more than the next pleasurable sensation, whether it was the nicotine high, the caffeine buzz or the sexual orgasm. What comes next and how soon can I have it? That was her driving force along with an abhorrence to mental or physical stress. Camilla immediately wrote Ruth off as beneath competition. No boy that would be of interest to Camilla would bother spending a night with Ruth.

    What had she been thinking before the introduction? Yes, she Camilla, just might be able to afford that fall dress she had seen yesterday at NK. (Everybody in Stockholm called the largest and best department store in the city NK, which is short for Nordiska Kompaniet, simply meaning, Northern Company.) Not the flowery type of dress which was becoming so common, but the fine cotton dress that just might pass for satin under soft lights. The dress with the plunging neckline, which would fit her perfectly. Something to think about over her afternoon coffee. That was what Camilla wanted for herself this week, the first week of real summer.

    Edith introduced Camilla as the Swedish-English translator. Both Edith and Camilla knew better. Camilla spent her hours at the embassy – that is after usually arriving at 9 a.m. – brewing strong coffee and finding excuses for another smoke break. Every now and then Mr. McMahon would request her at a meeting, most often with Swedish businessmen. On the other hand the Swedish ministers always brought along their own translators for meetings which were almost always held in English, anyway. So the lucky businessman, but not minister, would find himself seated next to Camilla, offering her a light and enjoying her presence. This almost always made for good business.

    The problem with Camilla was that she could not be bothered to type her own reports, most often she would reply to Edith's request for a belated meeting summary with, I'm working on it, or, I can't read my notes very well. Camilla had lived with her parents for two years in London and there had learned to say yes to the boys in English. She didn't like the English beer so she made them bring her scotch. Too much scotch was well appreciated, yes.

    Sometime during the winter of 1939 Edith convinced Ambassador McMahon that the embassy needed a woman, a girl using his term, who was fluent in Swedish and could type. They needed a translator who would watch out for the US side of any business deal and could help him during difficult discussions with the Swedish ministers. Somebody from America whom they could trust with confidential conversations. Hardly top secret or an expensive request, they cabled to the State Department directly which in turn made several inquiries to congressmen in Minnesota. Somebody in Washington D.C. knew Swedish was still spoken in that state and so they found Ruth.

    The fourth girl in the large office was Annika, another local. Quite bright, shorter than the rest, though still taller than Ruth, she also spoke good English and was the secretary of the consul. Edith introduced Ruth to Annika on the run for Annika was always on the run, she liked to lose herself on the job.

    Glad to meet you, so sorry but I have to follow the consul to a small meeting, in her office around the corner, which were the only words uttered by Annika to Ruth that day.

    Nice meeting you..., replied Ruth. Not insulted for Annika did disappear with a notepad and pencil. Annika was a little thick at the hips but cute underneath her thick mop of light brown hair. She let it hang straight and kept it clean so it was neither unattractive nor exciting. Annika was hyperactive and always felt cold so she wore wool sweaters, usually red or blue colored, long sleeved except during the two to three months of full summer in Stockholm. She only had two skirts which she wore every day during alternate weeks, one dark blue and the other gray and she stuck to her organization whatever the occasion. Edith mentioned in a low tone that Annika had been unattached for the last year and didn't seem to be looking, but at twenty three she still had plenty of time. This was Stockholm, Sweden, where romance might happen when least expected and could always be found if one went searching.

    Finally, Edith introduced Ruth to Ambassador McMahon. She knocked on the solid wood door to his office and was answered with a loud Enter. Ruth found him medium height and stout, well over forty years old and reveling in his luxurious leather-cushioned office furniture with windows on all three outer walls. He drew back when he first saw Ruth, she didn't know whether it was to rise from his chair behind his deep desk or if it was at first sight of her. She had grown up with the latter response to introductions, typical of men when first sighting her acne ravaged skin. He paraded around to the front of his desk and forced a smile from a wide face underneath a full head of hair with fallen jowls. He held out his right hand with a pencil still stuck between two fingers. Ruth shook his thumb.

    So you are the little lady from Minneapolis? Good, good. We need somebody pretty sharp to keep our covey of secretaries on their toes, he spewed. The Ambassador liked to hear himself talk. After all, he was the highest representative of the most powerful country in the world sent to the little country of Sweden to do important things, though the German ambassador would contest this presumption. McMahon proclaimed his importance by linking it with the power of each country. He often reminded his unfortunate listeners of the various international reports of steel, coal and oil production and the number of automobiles manufactured, for which there was no comparison during that time of the last century.

    Oh yes, a covey of quail. I have never heard that word used to describe secretaries before, replied Ruth. My father and uncle Dolf would sometimes use the term when they were hunting or more often talking about hunting.

    You have an uncle named Dolf? The ambassador was nonplussed that Ruth allowed herself to finish her own statement but it took time for the name Dolf to register. He was still recovering from the previous evenings dinner of too much wine and far too much of his own whiskey after the dinner. Now being just past the noon hour the ambassador had partaken his usual cognac with lunch dessert and was still a bit slowed by the pleasant effect of that popular beverage. He walked back behind his desk.

    He continued, We were told by our friends at the State Department that you are fluent in Swedish, you can take dictation and can type 40 words a minute. Is this correct?

    The ambassador was also taking a mental note to telegraph the state department and ask why they sent a girl to him with an uncle named Dolf, obviously a contraction for Adolf. This would not do, would not give the right impression if word leaked out.

    Yes, we all spoke Swedish at home. You see my grandparents, from my father's side, lived with us for a while, Ruth spoke up. She aimed her short narrative directly at the ambassador, looking him squarely between the eyes.

    Probably common in Minnesota, responded the ambassador. He now decided he didn't really care about Ruth's upbringing or background, though he would still cable the State Department, just in case Ruth failed. Best to dispose of the little people like Ruth before they made trouble.

    He continued as was his usual habit, Well, we shall see about your secretarial abilities soon enough. We have too much translating and typing for this small staff, right Edith?

    Usually sir. It just so happens we are all caught up at the moment. I need to take Ruth into the city to make certain she can find her room. She just got off the boat from London this afternoon. Edith interjected this suggestion as much to get away from McMahon as to help Ruth out.

    By his silence the ambassador allowed Edith to take command of the conversation. She quickly gathered the ambassador would lose patience with this small talk with small people. Besides, she wanted to get to know Ruth and to get her started on the upbeat despite this miserable introduction. Edith had been working at the embassy for nearly two years and now took every opportunity to slip away to town.

    Yes, yes. Be on your way, he replied and that was that. Introductions completed.

    The embassy was at the east end of the best district of Stockholm. Across the broad avenue from the embassy grounds were old world streets lined with four and five storied buildings. Most of these presented offices and shops at street level and living quarters from the second floor up. The facades were invariably gray stone or dark brick and some of the streets were still paved with cobblestone and the main thoroughfares barely wide enough to admit passing automobiles between two sidewalks. During business hours it was easier to get around on foot than by auto.

    In downtown Stockholm it mattered little if the rule provided that roads, streets and highways were to be driven on the left, for many passages were barely wider than an 18th century horse cart. At that time, 1939, the alleyways were more likely to be trodden by hawkers pushing their wares and wood merchants calling from behind a wagon than driven on by an auto. The wealthiest merchants must have wondered if it was worthwhile even owning a car in Stockholm, for those days one simply drove from behind one horse cart to a position behind the next slowpoke.

    "I hope

    Enjoying the preview?
    Page 1 of 1