“Let me know as soon as I can go back on deck.”
“I will.”
The gale lasted many hours. It was only when it began to ease that the Noreg could continue on its way. After a while Harald was able to serve hot food again. When Anna went on deck once more it was like returning to civilisation. The terrifying mountains of water had subsided to rough waves that continued to drench the deck with spray, but presented no danger to the Noreg in spite of some storm damage. She saw with surprise that the lifeboat had gone and she guessed that it had been torn from its davits by that first gigantic wave. Karl had kept that from her! No wonder he had been so insistent about the life-jacket. Not that anyone could have lasted long in that icy sea.
It was refreshing to be in the open air again, even though the sharp wind stung her face. The clouds were lifting, allowing glimpses of a clear, wintery-blue sky. But with this fresh change in the weather, everybody on board had become highly alert. She knew the reason why and joined them in keeping a constant watch for danger from the skies.
It was just before daylight began to fade in the late afternoon that there came a warning shout. “Enemy aircraft ahead!”
The Heinkel had come out of the clouds not far distant. The men rushed to their action stations. What Anna had thought to be an oil-drum on deck proved to be a hiding place for an anti-aircraft gun, which rose up on some cleverly constructed support that brought it to the right height. Bren guns had been snatched up from elsewhere, Karl grabbing one in his turn, and all were taking aim from various parts of the boat. Overhead Anna caught a glimpse of swastikas on the broad span of the Heinkel’s wings as she flung herself down on the deck by the wheelhouse. It zoomed over like a great roaring bird of prey, its cannons spitting forth, and met concentrated gun-fire from the boat. The deck was gouged inches from Anna’s arms covering her head and somewhere glass was shattered.
With danger momentarily past, she sprang to her feet again and hurled herself into the wheelhouse. Skipper Skansen was still at the wheel.
“Oh, it’s you, is it?” he remarked evenly, giving her a glance. “Why aren’t you below?”
“There was no time.” She saw that it was here the glass had been smashed and the cold wind was blowing in through the gaps. “This will be like driving a car without a windscreen.”
“Never mind that. You look out for the broken shards and the splinters. Those can be dangerous.”
In spite of her tension a little laugh burst from her at his dry humour. “I’ll be careful.”
Being at the Skipper’s side, she was able to see the Heinkel flying round to come into the attack again, even lower than before.
“Get down!” he ordered sharply. “Now!”
She obeyed him instantly, crouching down with her arms covering her head once more amid the roar and thunder of the attack. But this time, unbelievably, it was followed by the sound of cheering. The Skipper, who had dodged down briefly behind the wheel, stood again to give a long triumphant whistle.
“They got the bastard!”
Springing up, Anna saw the Heinkel flying away, smoke pouring from one of its engines.
But the jubilation had ceased. There was a casualty. It was Harald, who had been badly wounded. Karl and another man carried him below, but although everything was done to try to save him he died within the hour. Anna held his hand the whole time. She did not move until Karl took her gently but firmly by the arm to draw her away. Skipper Skansen conducted the service for burial at sea and all the men stood bare-headed. When Harald’s body was committed to the waves one man began to sing Norway’s national anthem and all joined in.
As everybody quietly returned to their duties Karl looked closely at Anna. “Are you OK?”
She nodded, turning away in private sorrow. The shadow of grief lay over everyone on board as the Noreg sailed on as before.
Chapter Four
Although the Noreg was twenty-four hours late, a watch had been kept on land as Karl had predicted. Under the cover of the early darkness he and Anna were taken ashore in a rowboat by a farmer, addressed as Leif, who had shaken hands with them in whispered greeting. Other men in rowboats were silently fetching in the cargo.
Anna looked back at the Noreg, a black silhouette on the dark water. It would return to Shetland as soon as the cargo was discharged and the glass was replaced in the wheelhouse with some that Leif could supply. The Noreg would be carrying two refugees and five escapees, who had already gone on board from the other rowboats. The vessel would be crowded, but nobody could be left behind.
On shore there was a thick blanket of snow. Anna had seen it glimmering on the mountains and rocky crags when the Noreg had hugged the coastline. It scrunched underfoot as Leif led the way in silence through a wood and on across a wide stretch that was probably a field. Before long a farmhouse began to loom out of the darkness, but with every window blacked out there was not a light to be seen. But when Anna entered the unlit hall she inhaled nostalgically the good aroma of pale timber floors, daily breadmaking and fragrant juniper that seemed to permeate these old farmhouses. Abruptly a kitchen door swung open and she blinked in the light and the sudden encompassing warmth.
“Come in! I’m Leif’s wife, Eva.” The middle-aged woman, who drew back for her and the two men to enter, had neat, grey-streaked hair that framed a sensible, broad-cheeked face, her expression kindly. Her husband, short with rugged features, was clapping Karl on the back, the need for silence over. Anna thought admiringly that the couple looked exactly what they were, honest country folk who had worked hard all their lives. Yet now they were risking everything to help others.
Leif was joking with Karl. “When Eva began getting anxious about you and the young lady not getting here, I reminded her that you seem to have nine lives! So both of you’d be all right!”
Karl laughed and swung off his rucksack as he introduced Anna. Eva turned to her in welcome. “You were expected with Karl, although he’s usually on his own. If by chance you were alone we would have passed you on tomorrow to another safe house.”
“That’s what I’d been told in London. I don’t think anything was certain about Karl then, but he managed to catch the boat in time.” Anna was holding on to the back of a chair, for she could still feel the movement of the Noreg after so much rough weather. With her balance uncertain she had taken Karl’s arm all the way to the farmhouse. “I’m sorry we’re late in arriving.”
“That doesn’t matter. All that’s important is that you’re here safely. Now come with me. I’m sure you’ve had enough of men’s company for a while.” Eva picked up Anna’s suitcase and led the way out of the kitchen, speaking over her shoulder. “If you want any washing done, give it to me. I’ll have everything ready for you by the time you leave in the morning.”
When Anna returned to the kitchen she had bathed, her hair soft and shining after its washing, and she was wearing fresh clothes. Karl, newly-shaven and equally spruce, had just given Eva some coffee and sugar that he had taken from his rucksack. Her face was flushed with pleasure and Leif was already tamping down his pipe with the tobacco that had been his gift.
Anna was poignantly reminded of Harald, whose parents would never again receive such gifts from him. To her dismay Karl must have been watching her, for he broke into her thoughts.
“Is anything the matter?”
“No.” She had answered him more brusquely than she had intended, but she did not want him taking note of her all the time. “I’m just tired.”
Eva swept forward. “Of course you are! Come to the table. You’ll feel better when you’ve eaten. At least on a farm we get enough to eat, not like the unfortunate people in the towns.”
She would have made a pot of the new coffee for her guests, but Karl would not let her, saying it was for her and Leif to enjoy. So she served a jug of milk instead. There was homemade goat’s cheese on the table, pickled herrings, farm butter and a delicacy known as spekekjott, which was dried and salted meat cut in thin s
lices. Only the bread was poor, being dark, tough and heavy, for as Eva explained all the refined flour went to the Germans, either for those occupying Norway or else to be shipped back to Germany with local livestock and other foodstuffs, leaving the Norwegians hungry.
Both Anna and Karl were able to have a few hours sleep, but they were up by five to be ready to accompany Leif to Bergen. He was taking a load of cabbages, which were surplus to German requirements, into town. With no petrol to be had, the lorry was fuelled by wood in a large stove fixed to the back. Anna and Karl said goodbye to Eva, who gave them a packet of food and wished them good luck.
*
It was a cold, crisp morning and they sat in the front of the lorry with Leif for a bumpy ride along a narrow country road that eventually brought them on to the route into Bergen. The lorry did not go far on a load of wood and twice another sackful had to be tipped into the stove before they reached the ferry for the last stage into Bergen. They were stopped before going on board by two German guards. One looked in the back of the lorry and the other came to the driver’s window.
“Papers!” he barked. “All three of you. And what’s your business in Bergen?”
“I’ve a load of cabbages to sell,” Leif answered amiably. “My nephew and his fiancée here have been helping me on the farm since I became short-handed.”
The papers were examined and returned when the other guard had confirmed that the lorry held only cabbages. Leif was waved forward on to the ferry, which sailed soon afterwards. Neither he nor his passengers showed their relief at getting through, for there were other Germans on board who might have been watching them.
Leif had certain small shops that he supplied and, as soon as he drew up outside the first one in a narrow street, people came as if from nowhere to start queuing for whatever was to go on sale. Housewives ran from their homes, putting on their coats as they came. Some called out to him as he lifted the first sack from the back of the lorry.
“What have you brought? Cabbages!” The word was passed quickly down the line. Nobody paid any attention to Karl and Anna as they left the lorry and walked away with rucksack and suitcase down the street.
“Are you still feeling the effects of the fishing boat, Anna?” he questioned considerately.
“No,” she replied cheerfully. “The sleep I had at the farmhouse settled that.”
She was looking in the shop windows as they went by. Now and again there were some clothes on display, as well as shoes and handbags such as she had been given, but everything required clothing coupons. Long lines of people were waiting patiently outside any food shop that had something to sell. German military vehicles were trundling past, no shortage of petrol for them, and enemy soldiers and sailors were everywhere, for Bergen was an important port. The German Navy had bases for their U-boats scored into the rock at the sides of the fjord. It was from here that these submarines slid out to torpedo Allied convoys in the Atlantic.
Soon she and Karl came within sight of the old fish market on the quayside. She remembered it as being a busy place as the day’s catch was sold from the stalls, the fishermen making jokes and laughing, for the Bergenese were renowned for their witty sense of humour. But today the fish left from German consignments were already sold out and the stalls were bare.
It was as she and Karl were passing these stalls that there came the sound of soldiers singing as they marched. Soon they came into sight, helmets gleaming, heels crashing down, their voices booming: “We march against England...”
“They sing it all the time,” Karl muttered.
“Considering that the RAF stopped them getting there in the Battle of Britain, it seems a poor choice of marching song to me,” she whispered back.
Karl looked quickly behind her to make sure that nobody had overheard her remark before giving her a warning frown. “You can’t be too careful,” he said sharply. “Remember that.”
She thought to herself that just when things seemed smoother between them, something she said or did promptly made him on edge with her again. “I knew there was nobody nearby, but sorry anyway.”
He relented and gave her a half-smile. “That’s all right. It becomes a habit after a time to watch one’s words in any public place.”
Leaving the fish market behind, they reached one of the main streets and a little distance ahead was a public hall with banners being displayed. She could see several young men, dressed in khaki-hued uniform, distributing leaflets to passers-by. They were members of the Hird, the small Norwegian Nazi organisation, under Quisling. Posters with his large, self-important face were prominently displayed. The hall was being used as a recruiting station.
As Anna drew nearer at Karl’s side, she found herself focusing her attention on a tall young man with thick, light hair in civilian clothes, who was talking convivially with a high-ranking Hird captain and two German officers. Then, as she gained an uninterrupted view of him in profile, she recognised instantly the lean, intelligent face with the forceful nose, the moulded cheekbones with the attractive hollows under them, the firm-lipped mouth she knew as well as her own and the determined chin. All colour drained from her face. Abruptly she clutched Karl’s arm in shock.
“I know that tall civilian! His name is Nils Olsen!”
Karl jerked her hand from his sleeve and crushed it in his own, bringing his face close to hers to speak in her ear as a lover might. “It’s OK!” he said quickly, smiling for the benefit of any onlookers. “I know him too. He’s with us. Nils is one of our best agents.”
She felt physically weak with relief at his words, having feared for one terrible moment that Nils had lost his committed allegiance to Norway’s independence, which he and his politically-minded friends had discussed so avidly in the days before the war. Now she recalled thankfully that he had always been among the vast majority of people who had considered Quisling to be a bad joke, never dreaming then that after 1940 the would-be politician’s name would give the world a new word for ‘traitor’.
Karl kept up the pressure on Anna’s hand, but she was scarcely aware of it. Joy was high in her that she had gained her wish to see for herself that Nils was alive and well. There he stood, lithe and strong, suddenly taking a step back as he laughed at something that had been said. She wanted to run to him, this man she had loved since her childhood when he had moved with his parents into the Molde neighbourhood and become the natural leader of her group of friends. It made no difference to her that it was four years since they’d last met. He was twenty-six now and married for all she knew, but time had changed nothing for her, no matter what it had done for him.
As he stepped forward again after laughing, he happened to glance along the pavement, his light blue eyes still full of mirth, and he saw her. Recognition flared and his gaze dwelt on her for a few telling seconds before he forced himself to look back at those he was with.
Karl spoke in Anna’s ear again. “Just keep going.”
“Don’t worry. I’m in control of myself.”
Every step was shortening the distance. Soon she saw that Nils held a handful of leaflets, which he must have been distributing. When she and Karl were almost level with him, he broke away from the other three men and blocked their path.
“You two look like good citizens,” he said in a friendly manner, “but you’re not wearing our party’s badge. Why not come into the hall now and listen to our speaker of the day? You’d appreciate all he has to say on the theme you see written up behind me.”
On the broad banner strung across the entrance was the slogan: ‘Forward with Quisling for Norway!’
Karl replied on an amiable note, “We haven’t time now, but we’ll try to come back later.”
“Take a leaflet to read in the meantime.” Nils handed one to Karl and then he turned to Anna. He looked deep into her eyes, his own full of pleasure. “You’ll want to read our literature too, fröken. It sets out our policy of full co-operation with our German friends for our country’s benefit.”
Karl had gone a few steps ahead and was waiting for her. She hastened to catch him up and they walked on together. She gave a long, satisfied sigh.
“That meeting seems to have pleased you,” Karl remarked.
“Oh, it has!” she replied happily, turning her radiant face to him. “Since the invasion I haven’t known if Nils was alive or dead. There’s so much I want to ask you about him.”
“I expect you do.” He was so non-committal that she did not know if he would be prepared to answer her questions or not.
They had reached one of the city’s many sloping streets. It was lined by tall wooden houses painted red or ochre, blue or grey. All were entered direct from the street and near the entrance of one Karl took a veiled, barely noticeable glance in both directions before he opened the door and they went in. There was no lift and it was divided into apartments on all five floors. It was a steep climb up the stairs to the top floor where he rang a doorbell. It was answered by a serious-looking young man, whose face closed warily when he saw that Karl was not alone.
“Relax, Lars,” Karl said as soon as they had entered the apartment. “Anna is with us.”
Lars did relax and his smile was wide. “Thank God for that! How are you, Anna?” To Karl he added, “I knew you’d get here in time. Everything is as planned. Only final details to be discussed.”
“Good.”
Lars was already taking a coat down from a peg. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’m going to fetch the others. There’s coffee in the pot and more in the kitchen cupboard.”
Anna had unfastened her coat, but she did not remove it for the room was chilly, all fuel being hard to come by for townspeople. “Do you think Lars can spare that coffee? I know it’s on ration.”
“We’ll only use what’s left in the pot.” Karl went into the kitchen where he reheated the coffee on an electric plate. Anna found some blue-flowered cups and saucers on a shelf.
The Fragile Hour Page 4
