‘What happened, Mamma?’ Eirik said, staring around him with wide eyes and clutching my hand hard enough to hurt.
I didn’t answer him. I was staring too, trying to comprehend the destruction that lay in front of us. I’d known it would be bad, but nothing could have prepared me for this. It seemed as if there was not a single building in Kirkenes left standing – not even the church. All that remained were piles of rubble stretching as far as the eye could see: the remains of walls and cellars, scorched and sooty, and stubs of telegraph poles and chimney stacks, the once-familiar roads that stretched between the buildings pitted and scarred with bomb craters. It was a fine day, with summer in full swing even this near to the Arctic Circle, but somehow the sunshine and blue sky made everything look worse.
I was struck by a sudden, visceral longing to be back in Fiskersay. It was nearly three months since the war in Europe had ended, a Tuesday in May that had begun like any other. I had been up at the radar station, checking on one of the RAF men who’d come down with a bad bout of tonsillitis, when the door to the medical hut suddenly burst open and two of his friends came in. ‘Have you heard? Jerry’s just surrendered!’ one of them cried. Despite my half-hearted protests, the man with tonsillitis had leaped out of bed and the three men had danced around the hut arm in arm, cheering. Before long, the whole island was buzzing with the news. That evening, there had been an impromptu dance at Talafirth Hall and everyone had come. I’d joined in, spinning around the floor to the merry sounds of the jigs and reels played by the band until I was dizzy and gasping for breath, a smile plastered across my face even though all I wanted to do was run from the hall, sobbing. I knew I should be happy, but all I could think about was Bill. I’d received his last letter a month earlier, and read it so many times I had all but memorised it. As with all his letters it had been heavily censored, but he’d told me he was living in a hotel. But since then, there had been nothing. It’s because he is busy, I kept telling myself. And it always takes a long time for letters to arrive, especially from overseas.
A week or so after VE Day, when I still hadn’t heard from him, I’d thought about getting in touch with the Red Cross again and asking about him, too, but I hadn’t been able to make myself do it. It was easier to keep telling myself Bill’s next letter had been delayed than let myself acknowledge something might have happened to him.
A few days later, Flight Lieutenant Jackson had called me up to the camp.
‘I wanted to thank you, Hedda, for everything you have done since you came to Fiskersay – for us here at the station, and for the island’s residents,’ he’d said. ‘And I wanted to ask you what you’d like to do now the war has come to an end and it is safe for the Thomsons to return. If you wish to, you and Eirik might be able to stay here on Fiskersay, or there is a Norwegian community on the Scottish mainland in a town called Buckie, near Aberdeen, where you would be made very welcome. We can help you to make the necessary arrangements.’
I had taken a few moments to consider what he had said. The offer was tempting; for the most part, I had been happy here, and Eirik was settled, with many friends. But shortly after Bill’s last letter had arrived, I’d received one from the Red Cross after writing to the address Flight Lieutenant Jackson had found for me. Someone had been in contact with the Red Cross in Norway, and they had confirmed that many of Kirkenes’ inhabitants were still living there in a temporary camp. As soon as I’d read that, I’d known I had to go back. The man who’d written the letter couldn’t give me any names, but if there was even the slightest chance Anders was still there, I had to go and face him.
To my surprise, Flight Lieutenant Jackson leaped in straight away and helped me to organise everything, even our new passports. I was still astonished by the tremendous effort he made. He had also given me an address, insisting I contact him again if there was anything else he could do for us. Would I ever stop being amazed at how kind some people could be?
And now – after many sad goodbyes to Elizabeth, Donald and all the other friends we had made on Fiskersay, and promises to keep in touch, then weeks of travel, including a sea journey where both Eirik and I had been terribly sick and I had spent each day in terror that we would sink, still haunted by what had happened on our passage to Shetland – here we were, back in Kirkenes after almost three years away, with Bill’s letters and the letter from the Norwegian Red Cross in my bag alongside our papers.
‘Mamma?’ Eirik said, his voice trembling.
‘It was the Germans,’ I said. ‘But they have gone now. Come on. We must be brave, lille vennen.’
I took his hand and we began to pick our way through the rubble in the direction of the Haugen, where the house we’d shared with Anders used to stand. I couldn’t think of it as home any more; truth be told, I never really had.
‘Eirik!’ The voice came from behind us. At first I thought I had misheard, but then it came again. ‘Eirik!’ And then, ‘Tante Hedda!’
We both turned around, and I saw a girl in a blue dress, her dark hair in two long plaits, running towards us.
‘Marianne!’ I gasped. She was taller, thinner, but it was unmistakably her.
‘I knew it was you!’ she said. ‘I told Grandmother I had seen you!’
‘Ingunn is here?’
‘Yes! Come!’ She caught hold of Eirik’s other hand, tugging on it.
We followed her through the maze of ruined buildings and bomb-scarred roads. Up ahead, I saw a collection of Nissen huts that reminded me of the huts at the radar station in Fiskersay. They looked new, and strangely out of place among the ruins surrounding them; they’d clearly been erected to provide temporary shelter for the town’s remaining residents. How many are left? I wondered. There didn’t seem to be anyone around.
‘Grandmother! Grandmother!’ Marianne called, and as we came around a corner I saw Ingunn, sitting on a wooden chair outside one of the huts, her face turned up to the sunshine. When she saw me, a broad smile spread across her wrinkled face.
I flew to her and we hugged, half laughing, half crying, with me trying to hide my worry at how tired and thin she looked. When she released me, I asked after the others – Mette, Doctor Johannessen, everyone else I had known and cared about before I had to leave.
‘Mette went with her family to Sweden,’ Ingunn said. ‘She wrote to me a little while ago and they are alive and well. But Doctor Johannessen…’ Her face clouded. ‘He died in a bombing raid last year, I’m afraid.’
It was the same story for many others I knew – they had either fled, or had been killed. Those who stayed and managed to survive were beginning the long and arduous task of rebuilding the town.
‘I’ve been so worried about you,’ Ingunn said. ‘I did not know if you were alive or dead!’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I thought about writing to you, but I was scared the letter would fall into the wrong hands. So much happened after Eirik and I left Kirkenes – I have so much to tell you!’
‘Don’t apologise,’ Ingunn said, catching hold of my hands. ‘I prayed to God every day to keep you safe, and he has.’ She indicated another chair nearby. ‘Come, tell me what happened to you both.’
Keeping half an eye on Eirik, who was playing on a nearby rubble pile with Marianne, I told Ingunn everything. When I reached the part about the German officer, her brows drew together and she said, ‘Good riddance!’ and when I told her about taking the fishing boat over to Shetland and how we had nearly drowned, she went pale.
‘How on earth could they have thought you were the spy!’ she said indignantly when I’d finished.
‘It was only a misunderstanding,’ I said. ‘The people in Fiskersay were very good to us, as were the men at the radar station.’
A twinkle appeared in Ingunn’s eye, and she smiled. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘This Bill – the one who saved you – you will have to tell me more about him.’
I did not return the smile. ‘I haven’t heard from Bill for months. It is quite possible he is dead,’ I said. Before she could answer me, I took a deep breath. ‘Ingunn, where is Anders?’
As soon as I mentioned his name, her face changed. She glanced at Eirik and Marianne, who were still out of earshot.
‘You might as well know,’ she said at last. She pointed a crooked finger. ‘He is living in that hut over there with Solveig Aaberg.’
Solveig – Agnes Pedersen’s sister. The woman who, before I left Kirkenes, had been seeing a German. ‘He is?’ I said. Suddenly, my heart was pounding – not with fear, but with anticipation.
‘Please stay away from him, Hedda. He is worse than ever – he spends his days drinking and complaining about how hard his life is, as if it isn’t hard for everyone else too. What Solveig sees in him, I don’t know. Personally, I suspect she is with him to stop people attacking her for going out with that German officer a few years ago.’
‘No. I want to talk to him.’
‘But Hedda—’
‘Oh, goodness, I’m not going back to him!’ I cried, suddenly realising why she looked so worried. ‘As far as I am concerned, Solveig is welcome to him. I want to ask him for a divorce. Hopefully, if he is happy with her, he will agree to it.’
‘Ah, I see.’ Ingunn’s face cleared, but then she frowned again. ‘But then what? Where will you go?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I will do whatever’s best for Eirik, I suppose.’
Ingunn glanced at Eirik and Marianne again. ‘Did you not hear?’ she said.
Now it was my turn to frown. ‘Hear what?’
‘In October, Rädda Barnen and the Swedish Red Cross have organised for all the children of Kirkenes to be taken to Sweden where they will live with foster parents while the town is rebuilt. It is for the best, I am sure, but they say it may be a year or more before they can return.’
‘Even if their families are here?’ I said.
Ingunn nodded. ‘They say it’s best for the children to go, even if it means being separated from their parents and grandparents. They can feed and educate them and help them grow strong again.’
I looked at my son with horror. I could see the sense in it – with the winters we got here, these huts would be no place for children – but after everything that had happened – after everything I had done to keep him with me, and safe – the thought of being apart from Eirik for a whole year was unthinkable.
I gave myself a mental shake. I needed to deal with Anders; I would worry about Rädda Barnen and the Swedish Red Cross later. ‘Will you keep an eye on Eirik for a little while?’ I said.
Ingunn nodded. ‘Be careful, Hedda.’
‘I will.’ I patted her hand to reassure her, and made my way over to the hut she had pointed at.
I knocked on the door. I was not surprised when Solveig herself opened it and squinted out into the sunlight at me. What did startle me was her appearance. Before I’d left Kirkenes, she’d had long blonde curls and a voluptuous figure she’d been inordinately proud of. Now her head was brutally shorn, as if someone had attacked her with a razor, and she was thin and angular-looking. She stared at me as if she had seen a ghost. ‘You!’ she said.
Behind her, the interior of the hut was dim – too dim to see in properly – but I was hit by a pungent waft of cigarette smoke and unwashed clothes and bodies.
‘I wish to speak to my husband,’ I told Solveig. ‘Is he here?’
After staring at me for a moment, she turned and called over her shoulder, ‘Anders! Hedda is here!’
I heard a chair being pushed back with a clatter, I drew myself up, my hands down by my side, steeling myself to face my husband again for the first time in nearly three years.
Suddenly, he was there, pushing past Solveig. ‘So you’re back,’ he said, one side of his upper lip curling in the sneer that would once have had me cowering away from him.
Now, I felt nothing but disdain. Why on earth had I been so scared of this man? He was nobody. Nothing.
‘I am back,’ I said coolly.
He pushed Solveig back inside and stepped out of the hut, closing the door behind him. ‘I thought you were dead,’ he said.
‘You thought, or you hoped? I see you didn’t waste any time finding another warm body to keep you company.’
His mouth dropped open.
‘Anyway, I don’t care. You can do what you want – be with whoever you like. The only reason I’ve come back here is to ask you to grant me a divorce.’
Slowly, he shook his head. ‘You have changed. You have become… bold.’
I looked him right in the eyes and held his gaze. It was the first time I had ever been able to do that. He stared at me. ‘Will you divorce me or not?’ I said.
‘What has happened to you?! Have you gone insane?!’ His cheeks were turning a dull red. Almost instinctively, I felt myself begin to shrink away inside, but I made myself keep still and continue to hold his gaze. ‘Believe me, I have never been more sure of my own sanity than I am now,’ I said.
‘Have you met someone else, wherever you’ve been? Is that what it is?’ He sounded anxious, although I could not work out why.
‘There’s no one,' I lied. 'And even if there was, would you care?’
He glared at me for a few moments, puffing air through his nostrils. ‘Fine, I will divorce you. But I am not paying a penny for that brat son of yours!’
‘Believe me, even if we were starving, you’re the last person I would ever ask for money. You can keep everything – I don’t care, as long as I am free of you.’
His face relaxed, and I realised that was what he’d been worried about – that perhaps I’d try to claim what was left of the money my aunt had given him, or demand that he contribute to Eirik’s care.
I began to laugh. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘If you like, I’ll even tell the judge it’s a mutual agreement – it will save you the embarrassment of everyone knowing how cruel you have been.’
‘Get out of my sight!’ Anders roared. ‘Get out of Kirkenes, and don’t come back!’
‘With pleasure,’ I told him. He went back into the hut, slamming the door in my face.
I returned to Ingunn, who looked relieved to see me. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.
I smiled at her. ‘I’m fine. I’ve told Anders I want a divorce. I am not sure how to go about it – there will be paperwork, of course, and I expect we will both need to sign lots of forms, so this may not be the last time I have to see him. But hopefully he will not change his mind. He seems as eager to be free of me as I am of him, so I think it will be all right.’
‘Oh, Hedda, I am so glad. I prayed for years that you would come to your senses and walk away from that man. It was terrible listening to him shouting at you every night.’
‘I am sorry,’ I murmured.
Ingunn shook her head, and said in reassuring tones, her wrinkled face crinkling with empathy, ‘Why should you be sorry? It was not your fault. I knew exactly what was going on. but I also knew I could not do anything about it – you needed to decide for yourself that you were going to leave. I will help you find out how to divorce him. Some of the men who were on the town council have returned. I will come with you to talk to them tomorrow.’ She beamed at me. ‘Oh, Hedda, I am so relieved you’re free of that man!’
I crouched down beside her and wrapped my arms around her. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Ingunn,’ I said. ‘Not just helping me to get away, but for looking out for me all the time I was in Kirkenes, and for looking out for Eirik, too. Without you, I’m not sure I would have been able to survive.’
‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ Ingunn said, her cheeks flushing, but she looked pleased. ‘I love you and Eirik as if you were my own family, you know that. And I always will, whatever you do next.’
‘What do you mean?’ I said.
‘You don’t intend to stay in Kirkenes without Eirik, do you?’ she said. ‘I can tell – you have that look in your eye.’
I shook my head and smiled. Nothing got past Ingunn – it never had.
From my bag, I took the leather writing case Bill had given me. Inside were his letters and a photograph: the one Eirik had taken that day at Odda’s Bay of us standing together, laughing. It was creased now, and one edge was torn, but since we’d returned to Norway I had looked at it almost every day.
I handed it to Ingunn. ‘This is Bill,’ I said, my voice wobbling as I said his name.
She glanced down at the photograph, then looked back up at me. ‘Sit down again,’ she said gently. ‘You said you think he might be dead, but do you know that for sure?’
I shook my head, not quite trusting myself to speak.
Ingunn gave me back the photograph. ‘Then you must try to find out what’s happened to him. And I will do everything I can to help you.’