Läggesta was a children’s home, mainly for German children, and with a few from Denmark and Sweden. In this way, Frau Adriani made full use of her property on Lake Maelar. Two nieces helped her with the work: one, like an extension of her aunt, was as feared and hated as she was; the other was gentle but downtrodden and timid. She tried to intercede when she could, but she was rarely successful. When the older woman had one of her days, her two nieces were nowhere to be seen. She had forty children. She had no children. The forty had a hard time of it. The woman took trouble over the children, but she was hard and she beat them. Did she enjoy beating? She liked power. Every child that left the home before time was, in her eyes, a traitor – to what, she couldn’t have said – and every one that joined it was a welcome addition to the domain she ruled over. Even if many of the children complained and were taken away, there were many orphans, and new girls kept arriving.

Giving orders . . . it wasn’t easy to do that otherwise. Because when the Swedes give way, they do it with a gracious bow, and because they have agreed. They only obey when, at a certain point, they see that it’s necessary, useful or honourable to do so . . . otherwise, someone wanting to give orders has few opportunities in this country. They wouldn’t understand him; they would laugh at him and do as they pleased.

Frau Adriani made frequent changes in her staff, bringing new employees back from Germany, where she regularly went on visits. In winter, she sat up there almost deserted, only a few children left to her – like little Ada for example. Her husband . . . when Frau Adriani thought of her husband, it was like having to brush away a fly. That man . . . she didn’t even shrug her shoulders any more. He sat in his room, putting his stamps in order. She earned the money. All winter she would wait for the summer – summer was her time. In summer she could boom down the long corridors of her villa, commanding and forbidding and decreeing, and everyone around her would be asking each other what sort of mood she was in, and they would tremble with fear. She relished that fear to her fingertips. To feel other people’s wills under her own was . . . it was life itself to her.