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- Herausgeber: Allison & Busby
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
'I loved it. It broke me! Beautiful, heartbreaking and hopeful' Liz Fenwick Occupied Norway, 1944. Anni endures the war alone, aiding the resistance while longing for news of her sailor husband. Her daughter, Ingrid, is her joy, and Anni is determined to keep her safe. But when a German official is billeted at their home, danger escalates, and Anni faces an agonising dilemma. London, 1952. Ingrid has been trying to understand her mother's mysterious disappearance at the war's end. Clinging to Anni's promise that she would always come back for her, Ingrid sets out to discover what happened all those years ago. NetGalley readers love The Silent Resistance: 'A poignant tale with much emotion.' 'Really made me think and open my eyes.' 'I could not put this book down; it really put me through the ringer emotionally.' 'This is a beautifully written heartbreaking fictional story based on true events.' 'This book is a definite must read!'
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
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THE SILENT RESISTANCE
Anna Normann
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To my Tante Berit who lived through the war in Haugesund as a little girl and remembers so much. Natalie.
To my wife Maria for her support and inspiration. Anan.
Contents
Chapter One
Ingrid, seven years old Haugesund, Norway, September 1945
Ingrid kept her head down and ran through the schoolyard gates as fast as she could. She needed to get away quickly, before the other children noticed. She stopped abruptly on the kerb to check that it was safe to cross.
A convoy of military lorries passed by, filled with German soldiers sitting in the back, guarded by Norwegian soldiers. Last year, the German soldiers had been billeted at the school. Ingrid remembered how they used to give the children sweets.
It was peacetime now, yet many of the German soldiers remained. Her besta had said that Germany was so destroyed, their soldiers had to stay in Norway and wait until they could be sent back to their own homes.
She shivered despite the heat. She wished they would all go away. She wished she could go away. She wished she 8could find Mamma, and she wished she didn’t need to feel scared anymore.
Ingrid held her breath, waiting for an opening in the traffic so she could run across. All the while, she kept looking over her shoulder.
From the schoolyard she heard children laughing and yelling, eager to get home after a long day. She had to be gone before any of them caught up with her.
She was almost in the clear, had one foot on the road, ready to run, when someone grabbed her by the neck and pulled her back.
‘Oh no, you Nazi bastard. You don’t get off that easy.’
Ingrid looked up at the older boy. Runar who only months earlier had been her friend, and now here was so much anger and hate in his eyes, and she knew what was coming. It had been the same ever since she started first grade at Gard Primary School in August, a few weeks earlier. From the first day, she had been singled out. Nobody wanted to play with her, be near her, and nobody talked to her. In the classroom, they’d pull their desks away from her and whisper behind her back. Even the children that had been in Mamma’s crèche didn’t want anything to do with her.
At some point Ingrid gave up trying to befriend anyone and accepted that this was how her school life would be. She kept her head down and tried her best to be invisible.
Runar was the worst. And it hurt so much more when Runar picked on her than when any of the other children did. He had been her best friend. Then the war ended, and everything changed.
‘Nazi spawn like you shouldn’t be allowed to go to school,’ he continued. ‘My father says you should all have 9been drowned at birth, and then … and then hung like those Nazi fathers of yours. You’re worse than that bastard Quisling, and he’ll be executed any day now, Father says.’
He spoke so angrily, he was spitting in her face. Ingrid squirmed to get loose, but he only held her harder.
‘My Pappa is in England, and he’s not a Nazi!’ she said.
‘As if anyone believes that. Why isn’t he here, then?’ Runar was fuming. ‘Your real pappa is one of those Nazi officers. Admit it!’ He took a firmer grip on her collar.
The dress would tear, Ingrid knew that, and then she would have to lie to her grandmother about how it had happened. She didn’t want Besta to know what they were calling her pappa.
Ingrid made fists with her hands and tried to hit him. That only made him laugh. He shook her so hard she could barely breathe.
While he was holding her with one hand, he put the other in his pocket and pulled out a piece of charcoal. He looked at her, then drew something on her forehead with hard, angry strokes. Then he threw the charcoal away. Ingrid could hear it shatter when it hit the ground.
‘What did you do?’ she yelled. She tried to pull away again.
The collar of her dress tore, and she fell to the ground again. From the corner of her eye, she spotted other children gathering against the fence, cheering him on. Laughing and screaming at them.
‘Nazi bastard! Nazi bastard!’
Ingrid looked around for a way out, but there was another car coming, and she couldn’t run into the road. She didn’t know what to do. There was no place to run or hide.
10Runar stood over her, feet apart, hands raised and a pained expression on his face. For a second she thought he was going to kick her. She tried to crawl backwards, away from him, but he followed her.
Ingrid swallowed. He wasn’t going to let her go this time. He would keep on beating her. Something inside her shifted. It felt as if she was burning.
‘I’m not a Nazi!’ she yelled, and managed to get up on her feet. ‘You’re the bastard!’
‘My father says your mamma is a Nazi slut, and that makes you a Nazi bastard! Everyone knows that!’ he shouted at the top of his lungs.
Ingrid lost it when he berated her mamma. She hurled herself forward and hit him with both hands in the chest, so hard he lost his breath and almost fell over.
‘My mamma is not a Nazi slut! Take that back, you … you ugly shit,’ she said, remembering a bad word her grandmother used. ‘And your father is a big, fat liar and a bastard!’
Her tiny fists hammered at him, but he was a year older, and heavier and taller. Runar tried to hit her back, but by now she was so furious her hands kept hammering at him. The best he could do was to protect his face.
‘What’s going on here?’ One of the teachers came out from the schoolyard and pulled Runar away from Ingrid. ‘Stop that!’
While the teacher was holding Runar by the ear, forcing the boy to stand on his toes, she turned to the gawping children on the other side of the fence. ‘Anyone standing here in the next minute will have detention for the rest of the month.’
11In a flurry, the children scampered off and disappeared.
Ingrid barely noticed. She held her fists high, ready to defend herself from Runar again.
‘She started it,’ Runar muttered, not looking at her.
‘Liar!’ Ingrid yelled, trying to get to him.
The teacher pulled Runar further back. Ignoring Ingrid, she looked at the boy. ‘Did you do that to her face?’
Ingrid remembered the charcoal and touched her forehead. When she looked at her hand, her fingertips were smudged.
She scowled at Runar. ‘What did you do?’
The teacher still ignored her. ‘You know better, Runar. That’s detention for you for a week for fighting.’
‘But my father …’ Runar said, his lower lip quivering.
‘Yes, I know your father, but there’s no excuse for fighting. Especially not with a girl younger than you. One week,’ the teacher said, grim faced and clearly angry.
She finally looked at Ingrid.
‘And you. This is the second time you’re fighting. I don’t understand why you’re not like the other little girls. Run along home to your grandmother now,’ she said.
Ingrid caught her breath. She looked at her, determined to have her say. She pointed a shaking finger at Runar. ‘My mamma is not a Nazi slut, and my Pappa lives in England,’ she said. ‘You’re a liar!’
The teacher looked at her, her eyes cold, and Ingrid knew. Her teacher believed the lies, same as Runar and everyone else.
‘Run along, I said. Now, before I change my mind and give you detention too.’
Ingrid wished she could say more, wished she could make 12them understand. Instead she scowled and turned away.
Safe on the other side of traffic, she suddenly couldn’t take it anymore. She turned and looked at them. ‘My Pappa is a hero. He sailed for Norway the whole war, fighting the Nazis, and you all know it. You’re the bastards,’ she yelled at the top of her lungs.
The teacher ignored her, and brought Runar back to the schoolyard.
Ingrid turned her back on the school. Her anger had given way to tears. She was crying so hard she could barely breathe. She rubbed her nose with the sleeve of her dress.
The dress was torn and dirty with coal dust. Besta will be so mad, Ingrid thought. This was her best dress, the last one Mamma made before she went away. She couldn’t bear to show the state of it to Besta. Not again.
She ran as fast as she could to get away from that horrible school. I hate them, she thought. I hate them all.
She didn’t stop until she came to her house. The house she had shared with her mother, not where she now lived with Besta. It was empty, of course, all the doors and windows locked. Her mother had left in June, when the war ended, and she hadn’t come back yet. Mamma will come, Ingrid thought. She knew it was true, because her mamma always told her she would come back for her. Always.
Ingrid still had her mother’s house key. It felt important.
She slipped into the house, closing the door behind her.
It was hot and dusty inside, and when she climbed up the stairs, she spotted spiderwebs in the corners. In the bedroom, the bedding was still on the bed. The flowers in the vase on Mamma’s nightstand had withered and died long ago.
13Ingrid went over to the vanity table, and looked at herself in the mirror. On her forehead Runar had drawn a mark. She recognised it, of course. It was the ones the Germans had on their flags.
She rubbed at it with her hand until there was only a smudge left. Then she looked at herself. ‘I hate Runar,’ she said. Hating Runar was easier than missing Mamma.
She threw herself on the bed and tried to remember Mamma. Nothing smelt like her any more, but when she shut her eyes real hard, she could almost see her face.
Every day she tried with all her might to keep the memories alive, but all their pictures had vanished, Mamma’s clothes were gone, and it was like Ingrid had never slept in this bed, next to Mamma.
Ingrid couldn’t stand staying in the empty bedroom any longer. She grabbed Mamma’s bedspread and dragged it behind her down to the cupboard under the stairs. Their secret place.
She crawled inside and wrapped the bedspread around her.
Inside the little room, she finally felt safe. This was where Mamma had told her to hide if the bad men came.
Ingrid cried until she fell asleep, curled up under the dusty blanket.
She woke up to a door slamming shut. It took her a minute to realise she was in the old, secret cupboard.
Oh no, she thought. Had Besta or someone else seen her come here? Besta didn’t like it when she had to come and pick Ingrid up from here. Last time it happened, she had said she would change the locks.
14Ingrid pulled away the blanket and sat up on the floor. The only light in the cupboard came through the crack in the door.
Steps approached and she held her breath, remembering Mamma’s word: Don’t come out until it’s safe. She knew no soldiers would come now; they were all gone, but still, she was terrified. Maybe Runar or some of the other children had followed her.
Unsure what to do, she remained completely still.
‘Ingrid? Are you in here?’
Ingrid recognised Besta’s voice at once and her whole body flooded with relief. She pushed up the little door and peeked out. She couldn’t see her.
‘I’m here, Besta,’ she called back.
‘Ingrid, what are you doing?’ Besta came into the hallway and looked at her with a frown. ‘When you didn’t come home from school, I didn’t know where you were, or what had happened to you.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Ingrid muttered, scooting outside.
Besta sat down on the floor next to her. ‘That’s good, but not good enough. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, Besta,’ Ingrid said, struggling to hold back tears.
‘What happened this time? And don’t lie to me, little one. I can tell when you’re lying.’ She took her hand and held it between her big ones.
Ingrid slumped. It was true. Besta always did. ‘It was one of the boys,’ she muttered. ‘He said bad things.’
‘He did? Did you fight him?’ Besta touched the rip on her dress.
‘Yes, he pushed me and I hit him.’ Ingrid pulled her other hand under her nose. ‘He was mean.’
15‘Was it Runar?’ Besta’s voice was so soft, so kind, Ingrid started crying again.
‘Yes, but it’s not only him. They all think it, even the teacher.’
‘What does the teacher think?’ Besta patted her hand. ‘You can tell me.’
Ingrid sniffled, then pulled the sleeve of her jacket under her nose. ‘I’m not a Nazi bastard, am I?’
Besta pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. ‘Good heavens, of course not. You were born two whole years before the Germans came. Anyone saying that is an idiot who doesn’t understand basic maths or biology – you can tell them I said so. Now tell me everything that happened. You’re not in trouble, I promise.’
Ingrid sighed. When Besta talked like that, she knew she would have to be truthful. She told her everything, sniffling as she talked.
‘I’m sorry about my dress,’ she muttered, rubbing her eyes.
‘Don’t worry about the dress. It’s nothing that can’t be mended. You don’t have to apologise for defending yourself, Ingrid.’
Ingrid looked at her. ‘Why do they hate me? They never used to. Why do they call Mamma bad things?’
Besta didn’t answer those questions; she never did. Instead, she patted Ingrid’s hand and smiled at her.
‘Before you started school I was so worried about you. I know what they’re gossiping about, bunch of wet hens, they are. Then my worst fears came true the first time you came home like this. That’s why I have written a letter to your father.’
16Ingrid’s mouth fell open, but Besta didn’t seem to notice.
‘I told Lars that if he insists on living over there in London, at least he has to do right by you. And I got word from Lars yesterday. He’s coming to bring you to London to live with him.’
Her father hadn’t been home once since the war ended. He had been sick, Besta had said. But she never said what was wrong with him.
Ingrid looked at her. ‘Leave here?’
‘Yes. You’re unhappy and you need a change. That lot at the school will never let you be. I can’t … I won’t have you paying the price for … for someone else’s sins.’
Ingrid didn’t understand what she meant by that, but she shook her head. ‘I have to stay here, Besta.’
‘Ingrid, I will not have you come home with bruises and torn clothes every other day,’ Besta said, frowning. ‘No, this is how it will be. Even if it means sending you away … You’re not going back to school before you leave. We have a lot to do to get you ready. I don’t think Lars will stay for long.’
Even the surprise that her father would finally come back didn’t stop Ingrid from protesting. Did Besta not understand?
‘But what if Mamma comes home and I’m not here? How will she find me?’ Ingrid shook her head several times. ‘No, I can’t go away.’
Besta patted her hand. ‘You don’t have to worry about that.’
‘Mamma will come back for me,’ Ingrid said, trying desperately to make Besta understand. ‘She promised she would, and she always does. She will come.’
17Besta got a strange expression on her face. ‘I promised Anni that I would do everything in my power to take care of you, and that’s what I intend to do. If Anni comes home, I will tell her where you are. But it’s not easy for her to return, you know that.’
Besta hadn’t told her where Mamma was, only that she had to go on a trip and that she didn’t know when she would return. Ingrid wanted so badly to know where she was. She dreamt about her at night and she thought about her every day. When she asked Besta, she wouldn’t say, not properly.
Besta put her hand on her chin. ‘I know it’s difficult. The world is still in so much chaos from the war. But I know your mamma wants you to be safe and happy, and in London nobody will know what happened here. Do you understand?’
Ingrid folded her hands so hard her fingers hurt. ‘Yes, Besta.’
‘Now, come with me back to the farm for your supper and we’ll talk no more about this.’
Ingrid knew what that meant. She was not to mention Mamma again. It was so frustrating that no one would tell her what her mother had done to make everyone so angry.
But Besta is wrong, she thought. Mamma will come and find me. She always finds me.
Perhaps Mamma would come before she had to go to London. She hoped so.
Chapter Two
Anni, twenty-four years old Haugesund, Norway, November 1944
The autumn storm bit down hard. The little house by the sea creaked and moaned as the wind shook it.
Anni could only hope the roof and the windows would last them another winter.
With Lars gone, she had to manage everything herself, but she had a strong suspicion that fixing the roof might be beyond her abilities.
‘Look, Mamma. There’s fog on the window when I blow air on it,’ Ingrid said.
‘That’s because the windowpane is cold and your breath is warm,’ Anni said, smiling at her six-year-old daughter. ‘Where’s your kofte?’
‘I don’t know.’ Ingrid was busy breathing on the glass, delighted when the fog appeared. She still had a bit of a cold. Taking her outside in this weather was probably not 19the best idea. The other mums would also not be thrilled if their kids picked up Ingrid’s sniffle. But they needed all the money they could get, and the impromptu crèche she ran at the little prayer house was not something she could afford to lose. Normally Guri, her mother-in-law, would look after Ingrid if necessary, but she was out in the hinterland, and Anni didn’t have anyone else. A quick look at her watch told her they would soon be late. She didn’t like having the children wait outside the prayer house in the rain.
‘Your kofte?’ she repeated while trying to find the item in question.
Ingrid grinned from ear to ear, pointing at the knitted jacket she had on. ‘I’m wearing it, Mamma,’ she said.
Anni laughed. ‘Yes, you are. How clever of you to hide it by wearing it!’
Ingrid giggled. ‘I can put my coat on myself.’
‘Good girl. I’ll help you with your boots. The other children will arrive soon, and we want to heat up the room first, don’t we?’
Ingrid’s boots were worn down almost to the sole and they were getting too small for her feet. Anni sighed. Ingrid had only had those boots for six months. How she could grow so fast on the rations they were getting, was a mystery.
‘We’re taking a trip to town tomorrow, and then we can see if we can’t get you something better for your feet.’
She had to try to hand over the new illegal newspapers Martin had brought, and looking for boots was a valid excuse to make the trip into town.
‘I still have some old jumpers of your pappa’s we can barter with,’ she said.
20‘But won’t Pappa need them when he comes home?’ Ingrid said.
‘I’m sure he has new jumpers by now.’ Hopefully, Anni thought. She hadn’t seen Lars since 1940, shortly before Ingrid’s second birthday. Somehow a Red Cross letter had found its way to her in 1941, telling her he was on a cargo ship heading for Canada, and that was the last she had heard from him.
Anni tried not to dwell on it too much. Not knowing where he was, or even if he was alive, was too hard.
He could be anywhere in the world by now. When the Germans attacked, most of the Norwegian merchant marine, hundreds of ships and thousands of sailors, refused to return to Norway, and instead joined up with the Allies to help defeat the Nazis.
Anni sighed. She was so proud of Lars for doing his part. But now, after all this time, she didn’t know if he was still on the same ship, if he had been transferred, or, God forbid, torpedoed. Tossing and turning at night, her mind cruelly kept picturing him in the sea, waves pulling him down, with a sleek, ugly, Nazi U-boat circling the waters like a giant shark.
She shook her head. Don’t think like that, she reminded herself. Letting her mind play out her darkest fears and sleeplessness didn’t help anyone. She needed to believe things would work out, needed to stay strong for Ingrid. He’ll come home, she thought.
Every month she went down to the shipping company Lars sailed for to collect money from his paycheck, like she used to do before the war. It wasn’t much, even they were struggling now that most of their ships were abroad. But 21it was enough to keep them afloat. She clung to the hope that as long as the payments arrived, Lars was still alive. He had to be.
‘Does Pappa miss us?’ Ingrid leant against her.
Anni smiled, happy to be interrupted. ‘Of course he does. He loves you so much, and he thinks of you all the time. When he left, he said he would come home to you as soon as possible.’
‘But then the soldiers came,’ Ingrid said.
‘Yes, they did, and nobody knew that would happen. And your pappa can’t come home to us yet. But he will,’ Anni assured her daughter.
‘Do you promise? Do you cross your throat promise?’ Ingrid frowned.
‘Cross my throat promise,’ Anni said, planting a kiss on the top of her head. ‘And when your pappa’s ship arrives in Haugesund, we’ll be right here waiting for him.’
‘But can he come for Christmas?’ Ingrid didn’t give up that easily.
Anni thought about how the war was progressing. France had been liberated in August, the Russians crept ever closer to Germany in the north, and the Germans were getting more and more antsy by the minute. Dreaming of the war to end wasn’t a pipe dream any more. It was a possibility.
‘I can’t promise he’ll come home by Christmas, but I hope so, sweet pea, I really do.’ Anni wouldn’t allow herself to think anything else. Lars would come home, and that was what she wanted Ingrid to believe too.
Ingrid seemed happy with her vague reassurances, and Anni breathed a sigh of relief. It was becoming such a 22challenge coming up with stories about Lars. Ingrid had been so little when he left, still a baby. She only knew him from their wedding photograph. But it helped Anni too; it helped keep Lars a part of their lives and make Ingrid excited to meet him.
Please come home safe, my darling, Anni thought. Just come home.
Ingrid put her hands on either side of her face. ‘Mamma, we have to go now. The prayer house is cold for the children.’
She looked so much like Lars, Anni had to blink to stop her eyes from getting teary. ‘Yes, we must go now.’
Anni put on her own coat, an old seaman’s coat Lars had left behind, and frowned when one of the buttons came off and broke in half when it hit the floor. She picked up the two pieces and sighed. Finding new buttons was a nightmare, and involved bartering on a whole new level. She would have to be extra creative this time.
There was no time to worry; she would have to manage. Either make a new button with some yarn, or see if she could locate a safety pin. Although that was probably as impossible as finding a new button.
She was too engulfed in the drama of the broken button to hear the rumbling engine outside their house.
‘Mamma! Look! Look! Soldiers are coming,’ Ingrid shouted, pressing her face against the window.
Anni took a quick look out the window, and saw a big, black car pulling up outside their drive.
Familiar fear started to creep up along her body. She closed her eyes for a second. She couldn’t show Ingrid how terrified this made her.
23They were here. After all this time, they had finally caught up with her. Thank God Guri isn’t here, she thought. Now all I have to do is to keep my mouth shut until the others can escape.
She took a deep breath and pulled herself together. This was it. They’re coming for me. I have to keep calm, she thought. All she wanted to do was grab Ingrid and run.
‘Come away from the window, sweet pea.’ She didn’t want them to see Ingrid.
Her mind was racing. She tried desperately to remember what she was supposed to do. I know this, she thought. I have a plan. We have a plan. All I have to do is remember the plan and stick to it.
Every morning she woke up, expecting Gestapo to kick down the door and take her away. She had made preparations and drilled into Ingrid what to do if the worst happened. It was a delicate balance between not scaring her too much and still making her remember what to do, but she couldn’t pretend that the war wasn’t everywhere.
Even a six-year-old knew it was dangerous. Ingrid knew to hide when the RAF bombers flew over the house, when the soldiers in the schoolyard started yelling, and to stay behind Anni when there were patrols in town. But then, Ingrid also chatted with the soldiers over at the school, hoping they would give her sweets, so it wasn’t a perfect system.
Anni listened to the slamming of car doors and knew there wasn’t much time. She turned to Ingrid. ‘This is it, sweet pea. You know what to do?’
‘Yes, Mamma. Hide in the tiny room under the stairs until they go away, then run to Besta when everything is 24quiet,’ Ingrid said, rattling off the words like a nursery rhyme.
‘And when Besta isn’t home, like today, then what do you do?’
Ingrid frowned. ‘I … run to Mrs Olsen, even if I don’t like her, and she doesn’t like us, and Besta thinks she’s an old bat.’
Normally, that would make her smile, but today they were outside her door. The Olsens were Guri’s closest neighbours, and despite their fondness for all things Nazi, they would not dare to turn away Guri Odland’s granddaughter.
‘Good girl. Your grandmother will be back tomorrow and she’ll look after you. Go on, hide now,’ Anni said. ‘And don’t come out whatever you hear, even if you hear yelling.’
Especially if you hear yelling, she thought.
Anni waited until Ingrid had crawled into the closet under the stairs. The little girl scooted underneath all the rubble Anni had carefully put in there, to make it look unused. Inside the walls, behind the old wallpaper, the illegal newspapers were hidden. She could only hope they didn’t ransack the house too thoroughly. Thank God the basement is empty, she thought.
If they didn’t do a thorough search she might wriggle her way out of whatever they were coming to arrest her for.
She put some old clothes on top of Ingrid, making sure she could breathe under there.
‘Mamma? Can I ask something?’ Ingrid whispered.
‘Say it quickly,’ Anni said.
‘Can I run to Runar instead of the Olsens? He’ll be at the prayer house by now.’
25Why didn’t I think of that? Anni thought. ‘Yes, you can run to Runar and stay with him and his mum until Besta comes home. But now you must stay absolutely still. Like a tiny mouse hiding from the naughty cat,’ Anni whispered.
Ingrid giggled but stayed hidden. Anni stood up and closed the door. It was almost invisible. Almost would have to be enough.
Goodbye, my sweet girl, Anni thought.
She closed her eyes for a second, saying a small prayer that she would be able to stay strong. Too many people depended on her.
When the knock came, she braced herself, took a deep breath and opened the door before the soldiers could knock it down and drag her away.
The wind wasn’t as strong as it had been earlier. The rain had calmed down some. Anni suppressed the urge to run. The moment of truth had arrived, and she had to stay calm.
The car was parked in her yard, and she could see the driver sitting quietly.
A man in a heavy coat stood with his back to her, looking at the scenery. She knew what he was watching. The tip of the monument’s mid-pillar, and the ramshackle sheds lining her property.
She noticed he was holding an umbrella in one hand, and that he wasn’t wearing a uniform. For a second, it threw her. He was a civilian. Her mind couldn’t wrap itself around it. What was a civilian doing here? He had to be Norwegian, she was sure of it, but the car confused her. Was he a quisling? One of the people who happily joined the Nazis?
Anni stood absolutely still, with her hands folded in 26front of her. He was alone, except for the chauffeur. There was no sign of the company of soldiers she had anticipated.
She had seen people getting arrested in town. There were usually a lot of soldiers present, a lot of screaming and shouting. And now, for her, there was only this one man, standing in her doorway as if he was a friendly visitor.
Anni waited, afraid to say something, until he turned to look at her. ‘Frau Odland?’ he said, smiling slightly.
She nodded. ‘Ja,’ she said. So, not Norwegian, then. Not when he called her ‘Frau’.
‘I know you speak German, so I think we can talk, yes?’ He frowned slightly as if he expected her to lie.
Anni nodded again. Although her German was far from perfect, it was good enough to get by.
‘My name is Hugo Kerber. I’m in charge of the administrative office at Hagland Fortress,’ he said. ‘Including this whole area and the soldiers’ camp at Gard’s primary school.’
‘I see,’ Anni said, puzzled by why he was telling her this, and confused about why he hadn’t arrested her yet.
He didn’t talk like any of the few German officers she had met, and while she knew that the Germans had German civilians working for them, she had never met one.
Then her scrambled brain realised he wasn’t from the dreaded Gestapo, and she thought – she hoped – there was a slim chance he wasn’t there to arrest her.
‘I arrived at Hagland Fortress a few days ago,’ he said. ‘You know the place, yes?’
Anni nodded. ‘Of course.’
The Hagland Fortress was further north from her house. 27The Nazis had been building coastal batteries out there, ever since they arrived, preparing for the British invasion that so far had failed to materialise.
Anni was trying to muster the courage to ask him what the bloody hell he was doing at her house, but she was too scared. She hated that feeling, especially when all she could do was wait, and try not to panic in the meantime.
‘I was told you and your child live alone in this house? I hope it’s not an inconvenience if I take lodgings here,’ he said, with a surprisingly friendly smile. ‘To billet, you understand?’
Anni blinked. She wasn’t sure if she did understand what he said. This was the last thing she had expected. She hoped her face didn’t reveal the shock and the fear she was struggling to hide from him.
‘We … we only have one bedroom,’ she finally said. It wasn’t strictly true, but since Lars left, Ingrid slept in her bed. ‘The … there is a second bedroom, but it’s small, barely more than a closet, where my daughter used to sleep. It’s not suitable for an … an adult,’ she said, in case he would think her lying.
‘What about downstairs?’ He looked around as if he was expecting a bedroom to materialise out of thin air.
Anni didn’t dare to lie. ‘There’s a lounge where we spend most of our time, and then there’s the dining room. But we don’t use that.’
‘May I come inside and see for myself?’
His friendly politeness scared her more than anything. Silently, she opened the door all the way, stepped aside and let him in. She was sure he could hear her heart pounding. She was convinced she could hear it herself.
28He left his umbrella in the corner by the door, took off his hat, revealing short, dark hair, and placed the hat under his arm while he looked around as if he was appraising the house for a possible sale.
The whole situation was extremely absurd.
Anni wasn’t sure what to do. Should she follow him into the lounge or stay in the hallway, hoping he would bugger off soon?
He solved the mystery for her by looking over his shoulder.
‘This is the lounge, yes?’
Anni nodded. ‘It’s difficult to heat the whole house during winter,’ she said, her voice shaking slightly. ‘The … the dining room is larger and also has its own fireplace.’
Why the hell did I tell him that? Now I sound like a landlady talking to a prospective lodger, she thought. This is becoming more absurd by the minute.
‘May I see it?’ he asked, in the same calm tone.
Anni pointed towards the kitchen. ‘It’s through that door. There’s a narrow hallway between that room and the kitchen. You might be disturbed when we eat, I’m afraid.’
Why am I telling him all this? Anni followed when he walked in front of her into the lounge.
He’s a bloody Nazi, he can do what the hell he wants to, he can throw us out of our house if he gets a fancy, and then we have to go and live with Guri and her damn goats.
She shuddered at the thought. As much love and respect she had for her mother-in-law, she had no desire to live with her.
I should tell him the ceiling is leaking or that the 29windows are draughty, or that we have rats in the basement. Something to make him change his mind, Anni thought, swallowing her anger. His politeness was getting on her last nerve. His behaviour, all gentle and nice, was unnerving.
‘The fireplace hasn’t been used for a long time, so I don’t know what condition it’s in,’ she said instead. ‘We are unable to warm up more than one room.’
All he did was smile, and Anni felt as if she would faint if he didn’t stop being there, in her house, soon.
‘Because of the shortage of firewood,’ she added, but realised that he most likely already knew that. Not that any of his people would suffer from shortages of any kind. God knows they’ve been robbing us dry, she thought, looking down so he wouldn’t see the flare of hatred in her eyes.
He didn’t seem to hear what she said, or perhaps he didn’t care.
She watched him from the doorway, seeing her house through his eyes. It was worn down. The curtains were made from cheap materials. She had used the good pre-war drapes to make clothes for Ingrid. The furniture had all seen better days, and what little they had once owned of good and useful things she had sold or bartered to keep them warm and fed. She had tried her best to make it a home for Ingrid and herself, and this man was an intruder.
I don’t care what he thinks, she reminded herself. He’s a bad person, one of them.
He walked into the dining room and stood still. Perhaps he doesn’t like it, she thought. Perhaps he’ll go and live with the neighbours instead. Perhaps she should suggest that.
‘There’s no furniture in here,’ he said, looking at her.
30‘No, there isn’t,’ she said, unwilling to tell him that she had used the table and a few of the chairs as firewood last winter.
‘My … my neighbours up the road have a bigger house. You passed it when you came here,’ she said, her voice slightly shaking again. They were also strong supporters of the new regime, but she didn’t say that.
‘Yes, I am aware,’ he said, ignoring her statement.
Anni frowned. He seemed to know an awful lot.
He stood in the middle of the room and looked very comfortable. ‘I understand that you have lived here for some years?’ he said.
‘Yes, I have. We moved in here in 1937.’
‘And you are taking care of the little prayer house down the road?’
‘Yes, I do. I look after children when their mothers have to work, and … and sometimes they have to come here,’ she said, desperately hoping that would scare him off.
She had done everything possible to stay out of sight from the occupants, keeping her head down at all times, not engaging with any of them. And yet, here was this Nazi officer, no, Nazi civilian, indicating that he knew things about her.
Anni put her hands behind her, and knitted her fingers as tightly as possible to keep herself from revealing her emotions.
‘Good, good. It’s important that children receive proper care.’ He smiled at her, like a person who wasn’t representing the enemy.
Anni couldn’t make herself smile back. She watched him warily, as if he was a wolf loose in her lounge.
31He went over to the window. ‘Lovely view. What are those pillars?’
She knew what he was looking at. ‘That’s Haraldshaugen. It’s a memorial for a battle that happened in Hafrsfjord about a thousand years ago, and it’s also the presumed burial site of King Harald Fairhair. What you see is the middle pillar. There are smaller ones, surrounding that one. The smaller pillars represent the counties that surrendered to him.’ Anni stopped.
‘He was the Viking king who unified Norway under his rule, yes?’ Herr Kerber looked at her for confirmation.
‘According to legend and tradition, yes, that’s what he did,’ Anni said.
‘And why was he called Fairhair?’ Herr Kerber didn’t look at her when he asked.
‘Supposedly he refused to cut his hair until Norway was one kingdom, and it became very long and very pretty,’ she said.
She knew she was babbling, and she almost screamed at him to leave, but she forced herself to keep still. Even when he picked up her wedding photograph standing on the shelf.
‘Are you a widow, Frau Odland?’
For a second she hesitated, but decided not to lie. He probably already knew. ‘No, I’m not.’
He put the photograph down. ‘Of course not. Your husband is a sailor, yes?’
‘Like most men in this town have been for centuries,’ Anni said, defiance creeping into her voice.
She almost told him that Lars was a third officer. She held her tongue and refused to give him more information. 32For all she knew, Lars might have made captain by now.
He waved his hat around, before putting it on his head again. ‘This will do fine. You will of course be paid for the inconvenience.’
Damn, Anni thought, hoping against hope her reaction didn’t show on her face.
‘I … see. You should know that there’s only cold water in the sink, there’s no bath and the … the facilities are outside. In the outhouse,’ Anni said, in a last desperate attempt to make him change his mind.
‘I am aware of that.’ His smile widened.
Anni almost took a step backwards, to get away from him.
He seemed unfazed. ‘You will hardly notice that I’m here, Frau Odland. I’ll leave early in the morning and likely come back late in the evening. I’ll also be travelling in periods. I’ll take most of my meals at Hagland. All I need is a peaceful place to sleep.’
It was such a strange thing to say.
Anni didn’t know what to think about that. ‘I see,’ she said again, not knowing the right response.
Soldiers were billeted all over town. Hers was by no means the only house commandeered by the Nazis. And there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.
‘Good,’ he said again, heading for the door.
A thought occurred to her. ‘There’s not even a bed in there,’ she said, half expecting him to say he’d take hers.
‘I will send a car with everything I need.’ He turned and held out his hand. ‘One more thing. Do you have a house key for me, or do you leave the door open?’
Anni opened the key box by the door, took out the 33keychain Lars had left behind and forced herself to hand it over. ‘This is the only spare I have,’ she lied.
‘Danke,’ he said. ‘I will be quiet when I return.’
He suddenly smiled again, his features softening. ‘You have a lovely daughter,’ he said.
Anni turned around quickly and discovered Ingrid sitting on the floor, with the secret door wide open behind her, staring wide-eyed at Kerber. Her heart sank. All he needed to do was give the closet a search and she would be done for.
‘Danke,’ she said, turning back.
‘May I ask her name?’ His eyes softened when he looked at the little girl. Anni thought she could see longing and perhaps sorrow. It was disturbing. She wanted to think of the enemy as the monsters they were, not as actual humans with feelings.
‘Ingrid,’ Anni said, almost whispering.
He smiled then, and Anni almost lost her breath. She hated his smiling. It was unnerving, and she didn’t like it.
‘That’s a good, strong name for a lovely girl.’
Herr Kerber put on his hat.
‘Auf Wiedersehen, Frau Odland,’ he said, then bowed and left the house.
Anni closed the door after him, hardly able to breathe.
She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. But that would scare Ingrid and alert the German.
Instead, she swallowed her scream and leant against the door frame, sliding down onto the floor, willing her heart to calm down. Most of all, she wanted to cry, but she fought it with everything she had.
‘Mamma? Was that a bad man?’ Ingrid slid over to her, 34and put her hand on her knee.
‘No, no, sweet pea, he’s not.’ Anni leant forward. ‘Why did you come out? I told you to say in there.’
Ingrid’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m sorry, Mamma. I thought he had left. It was so quiet.’
‘Don’t cry, sweet pea. I’m not angry.’ Anni pulled her close and hugged her tightly.
Her thoughts raced, and she managed to stop herself from crying in front of Ingrid. Instead, relief filled her whole body.
Oh my God, she thought. I’m not on my way to the Gestapo house. I’m not being tortured. Guri, Martin and Nina are safe. I’m still here and I still have my girl.
The reminders kept her calm.
After a while, Ingrid wriggled loose, and looked up at her.
‘The children,’ she said.
Anni had forgotten the children. They would be waiting outside the prayer house by now, standing in the cold.
Chapter Three
Anni cracked open the door and peeked out, to see if the car was still there, but they were gone. Thank God, she thought.
‘Let’s go. The poor children must be freezing. We have to run,’ she said.
‘Can we run faster than the wind?’ Ingrid seemed to have forgotten the visitor already.
‘We can try,’ Anni said, looking around the room to see if she had forgotten anything.
Ingrid waited by the door, humming to herself, looking like a tiny, adorable fisherman in her rain clothes.
Anni locked the door behind them. When she turned around to take Ingrid’s hand, her eyes fell on the outhouse.
‘Oh, that’s not good,’ she muttered. She looked at Ingrid. ‘Wait here. Don’t leave this spot.’
36‘Why?’ Ingrid looked up from under the sou’wester.
‘So I know where to find you when I come back in.’
Anni ran over to the little shed and opened the door.
As quickly as she could, she pulled down the magazine pictures of the royal family, making apologies to His Majesty and the rest of them.
‘Apologies, Your Majesties, but I can’t risk getting arrested if this idiot sees you,’ she muttered.
There was a pile of newspapers and a few pre-war magazines on the bench next to the sitting holes.
‘Filled with more royal pictures,’ she muttered to herself.
She grabbed the magazines but left the newspapers. They were softer than the toilet paper they sold in the store. They were also filled with propaganda and lies. Let him wipe his bum with that, she thought.
She would bring the magazines to the prayer house and burn them. She stuffed them inside her rucksack, and headed over to Ingrid, who was entertaining herself by jumping up and down on the bottom step of their front steps.
Anni grabbed Ingrid’s hand. They ran and skipped down the gravel road.
A few minutes later, they stood outside the gate to the tiny, white prayer house. A burly boy, a year older than Ingrid, jumped up from the front steps.
‘Mrs Odland is here!’ he yelled.
From behind the fence, five more heads popped up. All dressed in more or less the same hand-me-down fashion as Ingrid.
‘Good morning, children,’ she said.
37‘Good morning, Mrs Odland,’ they echoed.
Anni opened the gate and let Ingrid inside the small garden. ‘Have you been waiting here long?’
The boy took charge. ‘Not for long. We hid when the big car drove past us. Why did they drive up the road?’
Anni smiled at him. ‘They came to tell us something, Runar,’ she said.
‘What did they say?’ Runar was the responsible one of her kids, the one who always took care of the others. That made him bossier and certainly more curious.
Anni was not about to tell any of the children that a Nazi officer was moving into her house. She knew they’d find out soon enough. She had to inform the reverend first, then the parents. No need to scare them before she had to.
She smiled at him. ‘Nothing that would interest children.’
Runar narrowed his eyes, obviously not believing her. Anni turned to the others before he managed to ask again.
‘Inside, children. It’s too cold and wet to stay out here,’ Anni said, shepherding them all inside.
Still four children short, but that wasn’t unusual. She wasn’t a teacher or childminder in any formal capacity. But some of the other mothers needed to work, and then they would send their youngest children to her. And since she already worked as the caretaker of the little prayer house, she had talked to the reverend and persuaded him to give her permission to open a small informal crèche.
Sometimes the children didn’t come. Like today: either because they lived too far away and couldn’t get a ride, there was no food at home, they didn’t have warm shoes, a sibling needed the wellingtons, or one of the million other things that made everyday tasks hard under the Occupation.
38‘Mrs Odland?’ One of the girls pulled her hand. ‘It’s cold in here. Can we keep our coats and hats on?’
‘Of course you can. I’ll get the room warmed up soon enough,’ Anni said.
‘Who wants to tell us how their weekend was?’ she asked, to keep the children busy while she struggled to fire up the ancient oven.
One of the girls put up her hand. ‘Me, Mrs Odland, me!’
‘All right, tell us, Liv,’ Anni said.
The old wood burner in the prayer house wasn’t always cooperative, especially when it was raining. She tore out pages of the magazines, twisted them and put them under the firewood before lighting it.
‘We had to slaughter one of our hens. It wasn’t laying any more eggs and Mamma cooked it for Sunday supper,’ Liv announced proudly. ‘And do you know, she had to boil it for hours and hours and hours, she did, but it was sooo delicious.’
The other children looked both impressed and jealous at the same time, and Anni hid a smile. None of them were starving, but a constant diet of potatoes, turnips and salted herring took its toll. They were too skinny, too pale all of them. Every sort of food was rationed, but a ration card didn’t make much difference when there was nothing to buy. Meat was a luxury so rare, it was hard to remember what it tasted like. The same with the milk. The fatless milk that was available was called ‘blue milk’.
She sighed. Sometimes all she could think of was the food she missed. It made her feel embarrassed. She looked at the children. It was different for them.
These little ones couldn’t remember sweets or sugar. 39They were too young to have tasted the real thing, they had no idea what marzipan or raisin buns tasted like and couldn’t remember a time when they could slather a freshly baked slice of bread with real butter and proper sugary jam.
The memory made her swallow. She could almost taste the bread and the melting butter. Oh, butter, she thought, trying to ignore her growling belly.
While the heat slowly spread through the room, she went over to the window facing the primary school across the road. The children talked eagerly behind her, exchanging stories about their weekend. The bragging became more and more exaggerated, and made Anni smile despite the sadness the sight of the school brought her.
Gard school had been used as barracks for Wehrmacht soldiers since they came in 1940. She remembered when the schoolyard was filled with happy, playing children. Now they had to walk to the old restaurant in the park about two kilometres away for their schooling.
‘Mrs Odland, can we take off our coats now?’ Runar said.
‘You can all do that, but keep your wellies on,’ Anni said, glad to be taken out of her own thoughts.
She had to help a few of them. The mothers would layer them up to keep them warm, and it took a good deal of time to unwrap them all.
‘You’re like a Christmas gift, aren’t you?’ she said, pulling a second jumper off one of the boys.
He giggled. ‘I can’t be a present, Mrs Odland.’
Finally, they were all ready. They stood straight and said their morning prayers in shaky unison.
40‘Well done. Now, let’s do some jumping and running around, to get warm.’
‘Can we sing?’ Liv asked.
‘As loud as you can, please,’ Anni said.
They jumped and skipped, and she was happy to see them enjoy themselves. I wish I could, she thought, thinking about Herr Kerber.
She knew she had to get a message to Martin, the leader of their little resistance group, and she had to tell Guri as soon as she was back at the farm. As long as this man stayed with her and Ingrid, there could be no refugees, no illegal newspapers or anything that could hint at what she was involved with in her house.
Martin wasn’t going to be pleased.
Oh, bother him, she thought. I’m the one who has to have that man in my house, not him. And if he gives me any grief over it, I’ll give him a piece of my mind.
Behind her the children had calmed down, and she shook her head. Time to start the day.
‘Have you had breakfast today?’
They all nodded in unison.
‘We had the last of the bread, but Mamma says the milk store will have bread today,’ one of the girls said.
‘We had fried potatoes for breakfast,’ one of the boys announced, looking smug. ‘And half an egg each.’
‘That sounds lovely,’ Anni said. ‘Also, good. Because Christmas is coming, and we have some serious drawing to do today, and your heads had better be working.’
The children giggled and started getting their paper and colour pencils. It wasn’t difficult to keep them occupied. Sometimes they did little projects, or they sang and danced, 41and when the weather allowed, they would spend most of the days by the monument or on the beach.
Anni forced herself not to think about Herr Kerber. Something about him unsettled her. Something beyond the fact that she couldn’t do anything to stop him from moving into her house.
When Anni opened the door to her house, she could see the Nazis had already been there. The thought infuriated her. Wasn’t it enough that they had invaded her country, now they wanted her home too? She ground her teeth in frustration.
Ingrid looked at her. ‘Mamma? Are you mad?’
‘I’m not, sweet pea. I’m hungry.’ She smiled at her. ‘Wait here in the hallway.’
After a quick search, Anni relaxed. No one was there now, and nothing of hers had been disturbed, not even Ingrid’s hiding place under the stairs. She allowed herself a sigh of relief.
‘Mamma, is the man here?’ Ingrid took her hand.
‘No, nobody is here. I’m being silly.’ She started taking Ingrid’s outer clothes off, tickling her in the process.
Ingrid giggled. ‘You’re silly, Mamma.’
Anni put away their coats and boots. ‘Yes, I am. Now go and play in the lounge, while I make us something to eat,’ she said.
On the way to the kitchen, she passed the dining room. The door was closed. She hovered with her hand over the door handle, then pulled away.
He might be in there, she thought, and hesitated. Then changed her mind.
42To hell with him, it’s my house, was her next thought.
Determined, she opened the door and looked inside.
‘Oh,’ she said.
The room was furnished. Sort of. By the window, there was now a bed that looked like a military bunk, with a pillow and a couple of thick blankets placed on top.
The bunk didn’t seem the least bit comfortable, but perhaps that was what he was used to.
They had also put in a big metal chest. For his belongings, she assumed. And there was a bedside table, a narrow bookshelf and a lamp. All of it very military looking. Not even a rug on the cold floor.
She blinked. The room had been empty and unused for such a long time, but she remembered the Sunday dinners they used to have in there: Lars cutting the steak, Guri telling him he was doing it wrong, and Ingrid slamming her spoon on the table, sitting in her highchair. It seemed so … so horrible that this room where she had such fond memories should now house a Nazi.
‘Mamma, what’s in there?’ Ingrid came over, dragging her doll behind her.
‘Nothing for us, darling. But from now on, we are not to go in there. Not you and not me.’ Anni stopped her before she could enter the room.
Ingrid looked wide-eyed at her. ‘Why?’
Anni sat down in front of her. ‘The man that was here this morning, you remember him?’
Ingrid hung her head. ‘Is he a bad man?’
Oh dear, Anni thought. ‘No, sweet pea. You don’t have to be afraid of him. He won’t harm us. We’ll barely see him. But he’ll sleep in that room, and we are not to disturb 43him. He’s a lodger. Do you understand?’
Ingrid nodded with her finger in her mouth.
‘Good. That’s my girl. Now let’s eat. You can bring your doll.’
Ingrid climbed up on one of the kitchen chairs.
‘What’s going on, sweet pea? You look very serious,’ Anni said.
Ingrid sighed. ‘Is Besta coming home tomorrow?’
‘It might take another day or two.’ Anni wasn’t looking forward to it anymore. Her mother-in-law was sharp as a hawk, and just as tough. She would not be happy about the new development.
‘Do you think she’ll bring me something yummy to eat?’
Anni laughed. ‘It’s that all you’re thinking about? Filling your tummy with yummies?’
‘Yes!’ Ingrid giggled.
‘I’m sure she’ll bring you something. She never forgets.’
Guri somehow managed to find special treats whenever she travelled to the hinterland. Since the war came to Norway, she had become quite the smuggler.
Anni turned away from Ingrid, so she wouldn’t see her concern. With Kerber in the house, they would have to be a lot more careful. Her home had been a sanctuary, a place to feel safe, but now the danger was inside her house. She had no idea how to deal with it, and that scared her more than anything.
Chapter Four
The next morning, they took the bus into town. The old bus creaked and moaned up the hill, leaving behind small clouds of black smoke from the woodchip engine.
Ingrid sat by the window, excited to be on a trip. She pointed at all the things she loved. Mostly at the fairground that was closed for the winter.
‘When will they open again, Mamma?’ She was pressing her nose against the cold window.
‘Not until next spring,’ Anni said. She missed it too. The music and laughter that carried down to their house in the evenings reminded her of better times, pre-war times.
‘Maybe Pappa can go with us then,’ Ingrid said, turning away from the fairground.
‘I’m sure he misses it too.’ Anni put her arm around Ingrid and pulled her closer.
45
