Hanna
Liv seemed somehow diminished in the wake of the brutal attack by Captain Stolz.
Side by side, we’d managed to stand firm in the face of all we’d lost before that—even the loss of Erik, which had been so devastating for her—but the assault had taken something different from her, planting in its place a darkness that I couldn’t protect her from.
I watched her carefully as the weeks went by and saw the relief on her face one morning when her monthly blood came.
She fetched water to wash the rags we used, though she still seemed unable to rinse away the memories of what he’d done to her.
We kept ourselves busy, picking and preserving the last of the season’s produce to see us through the winter ahead and packing away the fish from the drying frame, but neither of us felt like venturing out beyond the skerries.
We kept to the bounds of our hidden kingdom, setting pots in the bay to catch a final few crayfish, gathering whelks and seaweed along the shore rather than taking the boat farther out into the fjord to fish.
The autumn chill brought dense banks of fog rolling in, shutting out the world.
Instead of resenting it for depriving us of the last precious days of the year’s sunlight, we were thankful for its cloak of invisibility.
I drew my shawl a little tighter around my shoulders as I hurried through the fog to the sea barn one evening, the fine mist of water droplets transforming my hair into a veil of damp lace.
I set up the wireless and connected the antenna, turning the dial to find the right wavelength.
Then I waited, listening for the stream of high-pitched dits and dahs to surface like bubbles through the sea of static.
There were three messages that night, which I transcribed onto my pad of paper.
The first two were the usual coded messages, unintelligible to me but holding meaning for the fishermen who would collect them from the compartment beneath the hut later that night:
A LONG SPEAR IN THE FIST.
AUNT ANNE IS WEARING HER APRON.
The third one, though, surprised me.
THE ALAMOOTIE SHOULD EXPECT A VISIT FROM THE DOCTOR.
I read the decoded words again and again. A spark of excitement kindled a flicker of hope in my heart as I shut the door of the barn and hurried back to the hut, into the misty halo of light cast from the candle that Liv had lit in the window as usual.
I watched the sea for three days, expecting to see a boat slip through the rocks at any moment as I turned the soil, clearing the vegetable patch for the winter. But when Euan did come, it was from the hills.
He wore a Norwegian-style tunic and walking boots, carried a canvas pack on his back, and whistled to me softly as he strode down the track etched into the grass between the spring and the hut.
I flung aside the fork and ran to him. He gathered me into his arms, oblivious to my muddy hands and disheveled appearance, and kissed me.
“How on earth did you get here?” I asked, as we walked back to the hut.
The curve of his arm around my waist reminded me of my time in Shetland and the safety of the hidden voe at Lunna.
His presence brought hope and reassurance, and I think I realized then that I’d been living in a state of constant tension since my return.
“I caught the Bus, of course, just as you did.” How good it was to hear his voice again, instead of straining to search for his words among a coded stream of Morse, adrift in an ocean of static.
“They needed someone to do some reconnaissance, so I volunteered. Thought I’d take the opportunity to come and visit my girl. ”
My heart swooped and soared like an eagle when he called me that, and I laughed for the first time in months. He made it sound so normal. I could only imagine the hurdles he’d had to clear to get here, but I knew better than to ask for details.
Liv was wary of him at first. The sudden appearance of any stranger was a shock, but I quickly reassured her he was a friend.
I’d still told her very little about my time in Shetland, but I could see her putting pieces of the puzzle together as we prepared a meal for him.
After we’d eaten, she made an excuse about going to gather seaweed along the shore to put on the newly dug patch of garden, giving us time alone together.
It was a relief to be able to talk. Euan asked many questions about our life in the hut. I told him of Erik’s death in the far north, and his face darkened even more when I admitted we’d been visited by a Gestapo officer whose body was now food for the fishes.
“You are at grave risk staying here, Hanna,” he said, squeezing my hands between his own.
“That’s one of the purposes for my visit.
I’ve come to tell you it’s time to move back to Narvik.
Partly because we need a wireless operator there, but I believe it’ll be safer for you as well.
This hut is so remote, it makes it much easier for them to pinpoint you if a Direction Finder is in the area when you’re transmitting.
We think they’re stepping up their activity now.
You’ll be better hidden in the town. Would you and Liv consider it? ”
I was silent for a few moments as I digested this.
A move back to Narvik would bring with it many painful memories.
But another winter was on the way, and it would certainly be easier for us in town.
I met Euan’s gaze and could see the urgency written in his eyes.
He wouldn’t have gone to the lengths of coming here to deliver his message in person if he didn’t believe it to be of utmost importance.
I nodded slowly. “All right. And I think Liv will agree, as well. Or she can go back to live with Erik’s parents in Fagernes, perhaps, if she’d prefer that. ”
I’d been growing increasingly worried about her. I could see she was still suffering badly from the trauma of Captain Stolz’s attack, as well as the devastation of losing Erik. Perhaps the change of scene would do her good.
Euan stayed for just one night. I made up the mattress for him by the stove and went to lie down with Liv behind the curtain. But once she’d fallen asleep, I crept back through to where he lay.
He was waiting for me, his eyes candle flames in the darkness as he drew me close, pulling the eiderdown over us both. And then nothing existed beyond the circle of his arms, until at last the light of the autumn dawn stole in through the window and broke the spell.
I climbed the hill with him when he left, reluctant to say goodbye.
We held hands all the way up the path, not wanting to let go, and when we reached the top of the ridge, we perched on a boulder there for a final few minutes and sat looking out at the fjord.
The autumn wind ruffled the surface of the sea, making the waves toss their manes of white foam as the shadows of scudding clouds painted the water blue and grey.
There was too much to be said, so instead we sat in silence, the weight of all that love and hope and loss and pain unbearably heavy on our shoulders.
At last, though, he stood and hefted his pack onto his back.
“I’ll be seeing you, Hanna. I can’t say where or when, but we will be together.
I know this, just as I know how hard we will have to fight for it.
My love for you has seemed like an impossibility at times.
Yet here we are. Remember that in the months ahead.
Nothing is impossible. And the things we have to fight for become all the more valuable.
” He turned to face inland, the path he would have to walk winding ahead, into the mountains.
“Norway will be free again one day. I promise you this. You are never alone in your struggle.”
I held him tightly and kissed him one last time, not wanting to let go, even though I knew it was time.
And then I watched as he squared his shoulders and walked away, disappearing into a fold in the hills.
A cold gust of wind made me pull my shawl closer again as I set off back down the path to tell Liv about our move back to town.
*
It didn’t take us long to pack and make the hut ready for winter.
Although I tried to persuade her it would be safer, Liv refused to go back to Erik’s parents in Fagernes.
I think the house there held too many sad memories for her, and she took more comfort from the two of us being together, despite the dangers she knew we’d face.
We left most of our belongings in the hut, knowing they’d probably be safer there than in town, taking just the clothes we’d need for the months ahead.
On the morning when the fishing boat would come to take us back to Narvik, I looked around the hut one last time before I locked the door.
The pots and pans were neatly stacked on top of the cold stove, and the bedding was folded in the cupboard beside our mattresses.
Pappa’s books and the leather-bound collection of sagas remained on the shelf beneath our muddle of beachcombings.
I’d left the key to the trapdoor in its hiding place in the sea urchin shell.
Then all that was left was to dismantle the wireless set and put the components back into the suitcase, adding it to the small pile of our possessions on the jetty as we heard the fishing boat’s engine approaching.
*
The town was unrecognizable as the boat moored alongside a new pier.
The harbor was busier than ever, crowded with ships waiting to transport iron ore.
Hulking warships guarded its entrance, while a train unloaded its cargo at the reconstructed factory on the quay.
I saw Liv looking across to where our old house had once stood, her face blanching at the sight of the blackened ruins, and I put an arm around her shoulders, gently turning her away.