Hanna #2
Much of the town had been razed to the ground in the bombardment, but building work was going on all around us as we picked our way through streets that had once been so familiar. Euan had told me to go and see the pastor at the church, who would give us the address of our new lodgings.
We were stopped at a roadblock and asked to show our papers, and I trembled with fear that they’d tell me to open the suitcase to check its contents.
“What brings you two young ladies to Narvik?” one of the soldiers asked.
“We’ve been away for the summer and are moving home now that autumn is here,” replied Liv.
“Ah, good. Maybe I’ll see you around, then.”
She made no reply but managed to force herself to smile disarmingly.
He handed back our papers and waved us through with our luggage.
As I walked on up the street carrying the suitcase, my shoulders were tense.
I expected to hear a shout or even a gunshot at any moment.
But none came, and soon we turned the corner and were out of sight of the soldiers.
To my amazement, the bookshop was back in its old place.
It had been rebuilt after the fire, and smelt of new paint when I pushed open the door and went in.
I’d hoped to find Mr. Mosling behind the counter, but the woman who stood there told me he’d left Narvik just after the battle and she had no idea where he was.
“With family in Oslo, perhaps.” She shrugged.
“I believe he had a daughter there.” She looked at me a bit more closely.
Then her gaze flicked across to Liv, who stood by the door with our luggage.
“Aren’t you Mrs. Kristiansen’s twins? I thought you looked familiar.
She was a good woman, a sad loss to this town.
” She’d known Mamma from when she worked at the town hall, she told me.
Just then, the door to the back room opened, and a young woman emerged. She stopped short when she saw us, and her face broke into a wide grin.
“Nina!” I exclaimed.
“Hanna! And Liv! I thought you’d left for good. Oh, my word, but it’s wonderful to see you both. The town hasn’t been the same without you.” We hugged, clinging together for a moment, and I knew we were both thinking of Per.
“I’m so sorry we lost him. I know how much he loved you, Hanna,” she whispered.
“He was the bravest person we’ll ever know,” I told her, wishing I could say more but knowing it was best not to mention his visits to the hut. It would only invite more questions that I couldn’t answer.
“Are you working here now?” Liv asked her, gesturing toward the books neatly arranged on the shelves.
Nina dropped her gaze, momentarily evasive, then said, “Yes, I am. I suppose you’ll be wanting your old job back, Hanna.”
I shook my head, smiling. “Much as I’d love that, I have other things to occupy my time now.”
Her eyes slid toward the suitcase, which I’d set on the floor, half concealed by our other bags. She hesitated, looking at me appraisingly, and I met her gaze without flinching. I felt as if she’d asked a silent question of me and I’d given her my answer.
She reached beneath the counter and slid a folded sheet of paper toward me with a brief nod. “It’s nice to see you two back in Narvik,” she said. “Let me know where you are, once you’ve settled in. And do drop by whenever you’re passing.”
“Thanks,” I said, slipping the paper into my pocket without looking at it as I gathered up my belongings. We hugged her again, then continued on our way.
It was only once we’d seen the pastor and got to our lodgings, in the basement of an older townhouse up the hill near the church, that I took the sheet of paper from my pocket and looked at it.
It was a crudely printed underground newspaper, the typewritten letters faded from being copied many times over.
It contained news from around the country and beyond, giving details of the progress of the war, as well as a message from the King in exile, urging his people in Norway to continue their acts of resistance.
Once we’d unpacked and I began setting up the wireless, I noticed Liv poring over the paper with interest.
“We’d better use that to light the fire when you’ve finished reading it,” I said. But I was glad to see a little vivacity returning to her face as she devoured its contents. Perhaps the move back to town would prove to be good for her spirits after all.
*
The next day, we climbed a little way into the hills to pick some flowers.
It was late in the season, and as we walked, the wind tumbled leaves from the birches alongside the path.
We gathered bunches of heather, which was turning from purple to a rich autumnal red, and bound them with the stems of golden grasses, then went down to the churchyard to place them on Mamma’s grave.
We stood in silence for a while, remembering the day of the funeral for her and the other women who’d died on the shore.
Then at last, Liv spoke. “I think I’ll see if I can find work in town,” she said. “Perhaps I’ll go and see Nina at the bookshop.”
Her tone was nonchalant, but I knew exactly what she was thinking.
Reading that newspaper had kindled something within her, and she wanted to do more.
My instinct was to protect her again, to tell her to find a nice safe job in an office, or stick to sewing and offer her services as a seamstress as she’d been planning to do.
But who was I to stop her? I was putting both of us at risk, operating the wireless set under the very noses of the Germans in the town. “Okay,” I said. “But be careful.”
She laughed, taking my arm in hers, but made no other reply as we walked the short distance back to our lodgings.
*
Being in town made life easier as winter drew in.
The streetlights kept the long hours of darkness at bay, and although food was strictly rationed, there was a plentiful supply of fish at the market and canned goods in the shops.
To supplement the savings we’d inherited from our parents, which were all we had to live on now, Liv advertised her services as a seamstress.
But she spent all her spare time with Nina and the others in the bookshop, helping type up the newspapers and distributing them to “good” Norwegians around the town.
She would hide copies in the folds of the garments she sewed, and in that way was able to pass through the roadblocks without arousing suspicion.
I was far busier with decoding and passing on messages for the resistance than I had been at the hut.
More commando raids were being planned, targeting power stations and factories used by the Germans, and the daily movements of ships in and out of the harbor had to be monitored and reported.
Usually, I passed messages through the priest at the church, but occasionally there’d be a knock at the door, and someone would hand me a slip of paper or whisper a coded message for me to transmit.
People would call with work for Liv, as well, mostly clothes for patching and mending to see them through another long winter, so we had a fairly constant stream of visitors.
But each knock at the door made me jump, expecting to find the Gestapo standing there.
I could have been arrested for so many different reasons.
What if they found Captain Stolz’s body in the fjord and realized he’d been shot, rather than simply drowning in an unfortunate accident?
What if the Direction Finders managed to track down my radio transmissions and pinpoint them, or they discovered the aerial for the wireless set, which ran up through the building and poked out of one of the chimney stacks on the roof?
What if they caught me handing messages to the priest, or they arrested and tortured a member of the resistance who gave away my name?
I lived with all these possibilities, day in, day out.
In the end, though, it was because of Liv’s activities that we were caught.