Hanna
It took me a few moments to realize where I was, to know that I was safe.
I woke in a room that didn’t pitch and roll, or smell of engine oil and fish barrels.
With a sense of wonder, I brushed my fingers over clean sheets and a soft woolen blanket.
Above me was a whitewashed ceiling, and when I turned my head toward the light, a window framed a sweep of sea and sky.
A dull ache radiated from my shoulder. When I tried to raise my hand to reach for the glass of water on the bedside table, a searing flash of pain jolted the length of my arm, making me give a little yelping gasp.
The sound must have alerted the doctor, because he appeared in the doorway, saying, “Good morning, Miss Kristiansen. So, you’re back in the land of the living, are you?
” He held the water to my lips, and I took a grateful sip, wincing again as another dart of pain shot through my shoulder.
My mouth was dry, and my tongue felt thick and swollen when I tried to speak.
As he checked my pulse, he said, “You took a machine gun round to the shoulder. It passed clean through, fortunately, but you lost a lot of blood. That was quite a trip you made, crossing from Norway in that crate, but don’t worry, you’re safe now.” His grip on my wrist was gentle but firm.
“Where…?”
“You’re at Lunna House, in Shetland. A guest of the Special Operations Executive.
We were expecting you, although not the precise manner of your arrival.
” Even through the haze of my pain, I noticed his calm, reassuring manner and the warmth in his eyes.
“They picked up your boat out past Whalsay and towed you into the voe here. We thought you were a goner, but you Norwegians are made of strong stuff. We’d have transferred you to the hospital in Lerwick but, given the nature of your visit, it was deemed preferable to keep you here at Lunna.
It’s a little unorthodox, but we tend to specialize in the irregular.
” He smiled. “It’ll be a couple more weeks at least before you’re fit enough to do your training, so just you rest now.
I’ll ask Sergeant Albertsen to bring you some breakfast.”
As he turned to leave, I asked him, “What’s your name?”
“I’m Euan Williamson,” he said. “Very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
*
The wound to my shoulder healed well and, after a week of bed rest, I was strong enough to get up and explore my surroundings a little.
My legs were as shaky as a newborn reindeer’s, and I leaned on Dr. Williamson’s arm on my first tentative circuits of the house.
It was an imposing stone building, sitting on a ridge of land that overlooked the sheltered inlet they called Lunna Voe.
The fresh air and good food—far better than the rations I’d been making do with in Norway—soon helped me regain my strength even further, and after a few more days, I was able to walk a little way down the lane that meandered toward the beach, passing a small white chapel tucked into the hillside.
It might have been something to do with the early summer light, or the arc of the sky overhead, or maybe it was the way the ragged edges of the land met the sea, but I felt strangely at home as I walked along the twisting road.
I was aware of the others in the house, who seemed mostly to be Norwegian sailors.
Mealtimes in the dining room were noisy affairs, with much ribald banter as they tucked in to their plates of stew and potatoes.
I tended to sit a little apart, although it usually wasn’t long before one or another of the men would join me.
We talked about Norway, about where we were from and about the things we’d experienced, and when I mentioned Narvik, I noticed they showed me more respect.
It seemed everyone knew how bitter the battle there had been.
But no one spoke about what they were doing in Shetland.
They jokingly talked about having caught the Shetland Bus to get there, and I realized how often those little boats must be making that dangerous journey.
One morning after breakfast, the doctor, Euan Williamson, appeared in the entrance hall as I was tying my bootlaces in preparation for a walk to the shore. “Do you mind if I join you?” he asked.
I was pleased to have the company, and especially his company. In the days since my arrival at Lunna House, I’d begun to look forward to his visits to my bedside or to him coming to sit across from me in the dining room.
There was something about his manner, as he changed the dressings on my shoulder, that was gentle and capable.
He spoke with a soft Shetland accent, not unlike my Norwegian one, and told me he’d qualified as a doctor in Edinburgh, then joined up as an army medic when the war started.
When they’d offered him the chance to join a special unit, operating in Shetland, he’d jumped at it.
“Not many people want to come to a place this remote, but for me it was a homecoming,” he said.
“My job description may have changed a bit, but my medical training certainly comes in handy from time to time. Our Bus route is fraught with dangers. You’re not the first casualty I’ve had to look after. ”
I thought it was an odd thing for him to say. I’d assumed he was there simply as a doctor, but perhaps there was more to his role. Just another of those things we didn’t ask about.
I certainly understood his desire to come home to Shetland, though.
There was a sense of freedom in this windswept place, where the boundless sweep of sea and sky seemed to hold the rest of the world at bay.
One morning, before I went out for some fresh air, I told him about my own private kingdom back in Norway, and how I generally preferred the company of otters and storm petrels to that of people.
“We have those shy little birds here,” he told me, smiling as he tied the ends of my bandage in a neat knot.
“We call them alamooties. Like us, they choose to live a bit apart from the world, in places that might seem wild and inhospitable to others.” Then he offered me his arm, which I took, even though I was perfectly able to walk unaided by then.
The day was bright and breezy as we set off down the track.
Puffs of white cumulus drifted above the bay, chivvying their own reflections across the water, and the green of the fields was dotted with cloud-white sheep.
When we passed the farm gate, a ewe stamped her hoof at us in warning, protecting her twin lambs.
Out in the voe, some sort of training exercise was underway. We stood on the shore and watched as a group of Norwegian sailors rowed out to a ship moored a little way off and appeared to apply themselves to brushing its sides with long-handled brooms.
“What are they doing?” I asked Euan.
“Practicing setting explosives. They’ll be returning to Norway very soon.
The latest members of the Norwegian Independent Company.
” He must have noticed my quizzical look, because he explained, “The Nazis may think they control Norway, these days, but there’s a whole secret army of resistance fighters operating under the command of your king.
They call it Milorg. And they’re a pretty formidable force.
The unit’s been made a division of the British special forces, even though its members are all Norwegian.
We help from this end, supporting operations and so on, and are only too pleased to be of assistance.
Up here in Shetland, we train some of the resistance fighters in sabotage.
Those guys out there will soon be catching the Shetland Bus again, to go home and do their bit.
But you know all about that. It’s how you got here, after all. ”
I think I was silent for a while then, digesting what he’d just said. When I’d told Per I wanted to do more, I’d had no idea about the existence of these organizations. I was impressed, as well as a little daunted, by the scale of what I’d got myself involved in.
As the men rowed back toward the jetty, I said, “And what is my role in all this?”
“It’s not my place to tell you that,” he said, “but it is my place to ask you whether you now feel well enough to begin your training. Not that you’ll be expected to do anything like that bunch. I think the role they have for you is more along the communications line.”
I nodded. “I’m ready,” I said.
He turned to face me. “Miss Kristiansen. Hanna. Do you understand how dangerous the work will be? I don’t think many women get involved in frontline operations.
Most of the female passengers we see coming here are refugees.
You can easily be found accommodation in Britain, where it’s safer for you. ”
I saw the earnest look in his eyes, but I didn’t hesitate for a second.
“No, thank you. I will go back to Norway, to fight alongside those others to get my country back. I have a twin sister there, you see. I shall be fighting for her, as well as for all the other Norwegians who aren’t able to do so for themselves.
I know that if my parents were here today, they would do the same. ”
I raised my chin to prevent the tears that welled in my eyes from spilling over as I thought of Mamma and Pappa; of Per, too.
A single one escaped, and ran down my cheek, but I didn’t lift my hand to wipe it away.
I just stood there, letting the wind dry my face, looking out across the bay toward the eastern horizon where Norway lay in the cold, hard grip of the enemy.
He was silent for a moment, then reached out and put his hand on my arm. His fingers were warm through the sleeve of my blouse. “They would be very proud of you. In that case, I’ll let the powers-that-be know you are ready to start your training.”
*