The Lifeline

by Deborah Swift

  Night came unnoticed and they slept fitfully as Einar drove on. Several times they had to drive through small villages to avoid the patrols in the towns. As light grew and the landscape grew brighter they had to stop and fill the burner with more charcoal from a bag in the boot of the car. After another day’s driving they finally pulled up at an isolated farmhouse where Thoresen, the farmer, greeted them warmly.

  Astrid let her shoulders relax. So far, so good. Yet the thought of the walking tomorrow weighed on her mind. What if they got lost? What if the next farm turned them away? By Isaak’s face she knew the self-same thoughts must be going through his mind.

  He leaned forward to talk to her. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘We’ll make it. Three days from now we’ll be on a boat to Shetland.’

  ‘What’s Shetland like, Pappa?’ Sara asked.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. They’re Scots, so I suppose they wear kilts and eat porridge.’

  ‘What are kilts?’

  ‘Skirts that men wear.’

  That made Sara giggle so much that Astrid couldn’t help but turn to smile back.

  CHAPTER 26

  On Jørgen’s one day off Morag had volunteered to take him to the Loch of Girlsta — one of Shetland’s biggest deepest lochs, and very popular with the local fishermen. He eyed the thick dark cloud over the hills and the bands of rain coming in off the sea and hoped for a glimmer of sunshine.

  The battered Morris soon rattled into view and he climbed in.

  ‘New gloves?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. Cold this morning. Should have sold these really and got some winter clothing coupons for them.’

  ‘You knit those yourself?’

  ‘Yes, all the girls do,’ she said, pulling out into the road. ‘They pay us too, a pair of Fair Isle mittens fetches three and six on the mainland. But my hands were cold, and they were such a lot of work I decided to keep this pair.’

  ‘You know I’m going out on the Bus again tomorrow.’ The fact he might not survive it was always the unspoken dialogue in both their thoughts.

  ‘Yes. You got your instructions?’

  ‘Larsen’s a stickler, but he generally just lets us get on with it. He’s not stuffy at all, is he?’

  ‘He’s learnt that letting Norwegians save their country their way, is by far the best policy.’

  The drive took a while, and they drove without speaking. It was as if his imminent departure had made all other conversation irrelevant. He looked down at Morag’s legs and her feet on the brake and the accelerator, and thought how much he’d like to put a hand on her knee. Did he dare?

  In the end he didn’t. He just watched as the squall of rain got nearer and the rain battered the windows. When they got to the loch, the sideways wind and rain that Shetland was so famous for had truly arrived, and they were reduced to sitting in the car watching grey runnels of rain obscure the view.

  ‘D’you want to hear the legend of the loch?’ she said.

  ‘Is it cheerful?’

  ‘Not particularly. But it’s got a Norwegian girl in it.’

  ‘Go on then, I’ll risk it.’

  ‘It’s named after a Norwegian girl called Geirhilda. She drowned here whilst ice skating on the loch, in 870 AD. Her father was a legendary raven master, Floki of the Ravens. She was buried on that holm over there.’

  He peered through the rain. ‘What holm?’

  ‘Sorry. This wasn’t quite what I planned. I imagined it would be frosty and sunny and we’d have a lovely picnic in a scenic spot. I wanted you to have a glorious view on your last day, in case…’ She paused. ‘Guess Shetland had other ideas.’

  ‘I doesn’t matter. I like the company here just fine.’ She smiled, and did he imagine the blush? ‘And I like our outings. I really look forward to them,’ he said.

  ‘Me too.’ She was looking studiously away, but now he did put a hand on her thigh, just gently. She didn’t move away. Instead, her Fair Isle-gloved hand moved to rest softly on top of his.

  She turned to look at him, ‘Jørgen, I —’

  But it was too late. His other arm reached for her and he kissed her slowly on the lips. The kiss lasted a long time and she didn’t pull away. The last time he’d kissed anyone, it had been Astrid. At the thought of her he drew back, feeling immediately guilty. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I got carried away.’

  ‘No, don’t apologize,’ she said, flustered. ‘I can’t bear it.’

  What couldn’t she bear? But she had pulled open the door and run over to the side of the loch, where she was staring out in the rain, her hair whipping around her face.

  Should he go after her? He didn’t know. In the end he just climbed out of the car, and stood in the rain waiting. After a few moments she came back.

  ‘What terrible weather,’ she said, smiling. Though he could see she was tearful.

  ‘Morag!’

  But she was already jumping into the car and starting the engine. ‘I tell you what,’ she said, not meeting his eye, ‘we’ll go back to the Mission, get a nice hot cup of tea, and eat our sandwiches there.’

  ‘Good idea,’ he said, though really he thought it a terrible idea. The Mission was always full of other people coming and going and he’d wanted time with her alone, especially if he was to go on another trip to Norway.

  As they drove back, Morag didn’t speak, except to point out a sheep that had strayed, and to call out when there was a pothole in the track. He could feel unspoken words as if they were solid inside the car, so that when they got out at the Mission, it was actually a relief.

  Morag seemed to feel it too, for after stripping off her wet coat and gloves, she hurried on ahead and busied herself with tea. Seeing her doing that made up his mind. He definitely wanted more with Morag. It was only after they’d sat down that he decided to get it out in the open and broach the subject of Astrid, and tell Morag that he would write to Astrid and tell her he’d met someone else.

  He was about to speak when a familiar voice interrupted them. ‘Wet out there, was it?’ Karl asked. ‘You look like drowned rats.’

  Blast the man. Karl sat down next to Morag, who smiled politely at him. ‘How’s the painting going?’ she asked. ‘Is the waterline finished?’

  ‘No, but I went to see Harcourt about getting on the next run. All this waiting about is getting to me.’

  Jørgen raised his eyebrows. ‘But only the other day you said you weren’t bothered.’

  ‘Well, I changed my mind.’

  ‘What did Captain Harcourt say?’ Morag asked.

  ‘He’ll think about it. Doesn’t want to change the rota. Went on about getting the right people in teams, where we were best suited, blah blah blah.’ Karl’s foot was tapping up and down as if he couldn’t sit still.

  ‘I thought you and Harcourt were friends?’

  ‘Old Hard-core? He’s a bit of a bore. If I have to listen to him telling me how to play billiards again, I’ll shove the cue where it hurts.’

  Morag raised her eyebrows.

  Karl turned to Jørgen. ‘Don’t see why you’ve got on the next run and I haven’t. We arrived at the same time, after all.’

  ‘What’s the hurry? There’ll be plenty of other boats going out after this one. You going back for any particular reason?’

  ‘I’m bored kicking my heels here. I’ve never been one for sitting still, you know that. I like a bit of adventure. Can’t stand to fill another box of ammo, knowing it will go on a boat back to Norway, when I can’t. Put in a word for me, will you?’

  ‘Won’t do much good; I have no say in it. It’s up to Larsen, or Harcourt, who crews which boat.’

  ‘But a word from you might help. They seem to like you.’

  That was rich, coming from him.

  ‘Don’t worry, we need every man we can get. Your time will come soon enough,’ Morag said, obviously trying to smooth things over. ‘Meanwhile, I’d just treat it as a holiday.’

  Karl looked rattled, then stood up. ‘I don’t want
a holiday. Are you driving back to Scalloway, Morag? Can I cadge a lift? I persuaded Haraldsen to bring me on the back of his motorbike, but he’s gone back already, and I promised Larsen I’d only be gone an hour.’

  ‘Of course,’ Morag said, putting her cup back in the saucer, and starting to pick up her things.

  Just then, Harcourt came out of his office. ‘Ah, Nystrøm. Just the man. I was going to ask you to come in. Some last minute instructions. Can you come in now?’

  Jørgen hesitated. What last minute instructions? He didn’t want to let Morag go without talking to her again, and he wanted even less to let her drive away with Karl Brevik. But Harcourt was waiting, and he was his superior, so he just said, ‘Right,’ and tried to catch Morag’s eye.

  Morag had started to put her coat back on. With annoyance Jørgen saw Karl hold it out for her to help her get her arm into the sleeve. He cursed his luck. Karl’s smug face was the last thing Jørgen saw before he was obliged to follow Harcourt into his office.

  CHAPTER 27

  ‘We’ve had advance warning from a contact in the Milorg,’ Harcourt said. ‘Another agent needs picking up urgently. You’ll have some sympathy for him, he’s another W/T op. Got into some sort of trouble. Shot in the foot and needs to get out and get to medical treatment as soon as possible. We thought you might like to skipper this one.’

  ‘Thank you very much, sir.’ Jørgen was flabbergasted. Harcourt must trust him after all.

  ‘The other news is; Nazis are deporting all the Jews from Norway. Most of them have been taken to Berg and Falstad concentration camps. From there, we think they’ll probably transport them by ship to camps in Nazi-occupied territories.’ He paused, sucked on his empty pipe. ‘The routes to Sweden are clogged, so some are trying the Northern route. There’s a woman refugee with a child, escorting a Jew who’d had to leave in a hurry. They’re on their way to Ålesund. One of the Milorg has dropped them off within fifty miles of Ålesund, and they’re going by foot the rest of the way.’

  ‘So what do you want me to do?’

  ‘Better prepare the boat for extra passengers. Larsen suggested we could cut through the bulkhead and into the fish store to make extra room. But there’s something else…’ He smiled. ‘Another reason we thought you might like to skipper this one. The woman comes from your part of the world. She’s from Oslo. Intelligence says you might know her. Papers say she’s teacher called Astrid Dahl.’

  ‘What?’ Jørgen was so shocked he felt the blood drain to his feet.

  ‘She and her daughter have been escorted via the Milorg to the coast and they need to get out urgently. She’s on her way now. She was part of some sort of teacher protest.’

  ‘A daughter?’ Now he was flummoxed. ‘Is this the Astrid Dahl that was a teacher at Ullsborg Elementary School?’

  ‘I believe so, if our information is correct.’

  It could be a false name. But what were the chances of two Astrid Dahls, both teachers from Oslo? ‘There can’t be a daughter, if it’s the same woman.’

  ‘Maybe the daughter belongs to the man. He could be on false papers. A Jew under threat of being transported to Poland. Maybe he thinks the girl might do better without the J on her papers.’

  That would be just like Astrid, to think of the child. Jørgen was sheepish a moment. ‘Thanks for letting me know about the new passengers. If it is the Astrid I know, you’re right, I’d like to be there to meet her myself.’

  Harcourt smiled. ‘That’s what I thought. We discussed it, Larsen and I. He wasn’t keen. Thought it might compromise the safety of the crew if you had too much vested interest in the passengers. I spoke up for you though, said you’d been out on a few, that you weren’t a risk-taker, and I knew you’d keep your head. So you mustn’t let me down, okay?’

  ‘Thank you. I won’t.’

  ‘I’ve got the list here of what Milorg and Sivorg want us to take over to Norway this time. It’s quite a list.’ Harcourt held out a piece of lined paper torn from a notebook.

  Jørgen took it, and stared at the scrawled pencil list, but he wasn’t really reading it.

  ‘Best get loaded tonight. You’ll have to leave at first light. It sounds like they’re in a pretty dangerous fix. Larsen’s got it sorted — the civilians will be radio-ing them tonight, via their contact in Ålesund, at 21.45. They’ll tell them exactly where the pick-up is, and how to get to Radøy. If it makes you feel better, you could listen in, make sure everything’s in order?’

  ‘I will, thank you.’ Jørgen suddenly remembered Karl. ‘Oh, and Brevik asked if I could put in a word for him. He’s keen to get on a run.’

  Harcourt rubbed his chin. ‘So you two have finally resolved your differences.’

  ‘We never had any differences,’ Jørgen said.

  Harcourt sucked on his empty pipe, and paced. ‘We did take you seriously, you know,’ he said eventually. ‘We’ve maybe been too hard on Brevik, though. He seems to be completely above-board and he hasn’t pushed to get on a boat until now, so it could be, we were just being over-cautious. And I have to say, we rather liked him being around the base, good for morale.’

  He liked to play billiards with him, he meant. ‘Anyway, he seems very keen to get on a sortie now,’ Jørgen said.

  ‘Yes, he asked me if he could crew on the next boat, but I’d already made the list. Maybe I can take Opheim off. And if you want Brevik on your crew, it’s fine by me.’

  ‘I think I’ve just got used to him, sir.’ Jørgen wasn’t thinking of Karl any more, his thoughts had sprung back to Astrid.

  ‘I’ll put him down for it then, you can leave it with me.’

  Afterwards, Jørgen walked in a daze. Astrid was coming to Shetland. She’d actually be here on this shore in less than a week. But what was he to do about Morag?

  Of course Morag had always known about Astrid, but neither of them ever thought she’d come here. Now he felt as if he was being torn in two. He’d have to choose, and he didn’t know how. His stomach was churning at the thought of letting one of them down. But obviously he had to make sure Astrid got out of Norway. He’d heard of the teachers’ strike on the World Service. It didn’t seem like Astrid to get involved in any kind of protest, though.

  He walked down to Moore’s Stores, near the pier and the new slipway. He usually enjoyed browsing the shelves for what he needed — the rope cordage, the screws and nails, the paraffin for lamps, the tin mugs and tinned foodstuffs, wire and crystals for radios.

  Today he walked aimlessly, seeing nothing, only Morag’s face and then Astrid’s face in his mind’s eye. If Astrid was bringing Jews out, it would be dangerous. He was surprised at how he felt after all this time; that the tight knot in his chest still pulled when he pictured her face. Or was it the thought of what Astrid’s sudden appearance would do to Morag?

  He coped with the uncomfortable feelings inside by getting busy. He itched to set off right that minute, but Milorg’s operations all demanded different things — sometimes grenades, or explosives for sabotage, sometimes transport, like a canoe, or a bicycle. Different orders, all for different agents or different operations. He pulled the list out of his pocket again.

  Ammo was kept in another building, and this was where he went now. He’d intended to sort out the stores for the next run; the explosives in their special containers disguised to be like fish crates, and the paint drums filled with a secret compartment to hold guns. The fact that a woman and child would be on board the same boat that carried all of this weaponry seemed crazy.

  Karl was already there packing oil drums with rifles.

  ‘You owe me a pint,’ Jørgen said to him. ‘You’ve got yourself a run.’

  Karl’s face seemed to sag with relief. ‘When?’

  ‘Tomorrow, soon as it’s dark.’

  ‘God, that’s quick. Where?’

  ‘Ålesund. We’re picking up an injured Milorg agent.’

  Just at that moment the door opened and Morag came in.

  ‘It
’s on then?’ she asked, her eyes flicking to Jørgen’s face. ‘I saw them prepping the Vidar with a radio transmitter, so I guessed you’d be going out soon.’

  ‘Tomorrow. We’re picking up an agent from Ålesund,’ Karl said. He turned to Jørgen. ‘What did you say his name was?’

  ‘You know they won’t tell us,’ Jørgen said. ‘It’ll be false, like always.’ He felt his face heat up just at the thought of Astrid. To cover his embarrassment he passed Karl one of the new steel inserts they must fit in the oil drums.

  Karl pulled down his welding mask but the blue light of the welding torch and the smell of burning metal was still not enough to distract Jørgen from the thought of Astrid, waiting somewhere in Norway, and Morag’s searching expression.

  ‘I just came to wish you luck,’ Morag said shyly to him, over the roaring of the blow-torch.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. He knew he should take her somewhere quiet, have chance for a kiss before he went, but the thought of Astrid meant he found himself frozen to the spot.

  Morag stood a moment, disappointment etched into her face, before she took a deep breath. ‘Safe journey, then,’ she said, and waved, before turning sharply and going back out into the bluster.

  He wanted to run after her, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned back to his work, feeling like a complete heel.

  Reaching for a welding mask, he pulled down the visor to shut out the world. He had to focus on the mission and on Astrid. It took a lot of effort to fit these false tubes inside the drums, load them, and then to seal them so the remainder could be filled with paint in case they were searched. When the day’s chores were done, he and Karl got a lift back to the Mission and sought out Harris, the lieutenant that acted as Harcourt’s aide and was the W/T officer.