TWELVE
Kristoffer sat down at the table in the room above a jewellery shop in Bergen where he had just joined four other resistance workers in his cell. They were smiling as they congratulated themselves on the mission they had accomplished the previous day. Lorentz, their leader and radio operator, had informed the London headquarters about their successful destruction of a train carrying vital army equipment, and now London, where their Norwegian director was located, had decided to include them in a far more important mission.
‘They want you to go over there, Kris, so they can spell out the details. Sounds more involved than usual.’
He and the other two men turned to look at Kristoffer, who said, ‘I wonder why they specified me?’
‘Because you’re bilingual!’ Lorentz replied. ‘Your German is good enough for you to pass as one of them.’ He was about the same age as Kristoffer and, like the other three men, his clothes and appearance were as unremarkable as possible. This enabled them to pass scrutiny without questioning when they attended their daily jobs in a factory now making ammunition boxes for the Germans. The owner was a fiercely patriotic family man. He had given them fictitious jobs which frequently took them away from the factory so they could be absent when their intermittent tasks as resistance workers needed them. He was as keen to hinder the German occupiers as they were and never hesitated to provide fictitious cover for them when they were absent.
‘You’re to go to London immediately,’ Lorentz was saying. ‘They are sending a plane to pick you up on Thursday night at the usual place, weather permitting. I have alerted Bertil to have his men ready to guide it in.’ He smiled grimly as he added: ‘Sounds a bigger job than we’ve done so far. I gathered that two other cells will be involved.’
Kristoffer knew that his four compatriots were anxious to be doing bigger and more dangerous jobs than those they had undertaken since last June when Norway had finally surrendered. By now a large number of men like themselves had formed groups all over the country who continued to hamper the invaders in any way possible. The population as a whole remained defiant, showing their feelings in simple, unpunishable ways such as refusing to sit down on a vacant bus or tram seat if it was next to a German. There were, however, a number of people now called Quislings after the German puppet, Vidkun Quisling, who fraternized with the enemy, but the population as a whole was intensely loyal and there were many like those in the Resistance who risked their lives harassing the invaders.
Kristoffer’s heart was now beating fast with the news Lorentz had imparted. Not only was he to be involved in something of major importance but he was to fly to England – to the one place in the world where he could, hopefully, find Dilys. It was now nearly two years since she had been whisked away by her father and he’d never had a reply from her to the letter he’d addressed to Sir Godfrey. He clung to the hope that the memory of her commitment to him the day she had allowed him to make love to her had not been transitory. His spirits now soared as he realized that at long last he could search for her – that he could confront her father in person and ask him to reveal where he might find her.
Kristoffer’s companions were now speculating as to what the important secret task might be. With Italy now allied to Germany, Britain being bombed night and day and the decimation of the shipping by Germany’s U-boats, the Allies were looking perilously close to losing their lone battle against the enemy. Even in the Middle East the British army was being defeated by Field Marshal Rommel’s forces.
Kristoffer bade his companions goodbye and made his way across the town to see Gerda. She was serving in a kafeteria near the harbour as one of the waitresses. It was also a ‘safe house’ – somewhere where active patriots could meet, pass messages to one another or simply disappear into a storeroom at the back if there was a sudden inspection. The ever-vigilant Germans made frequent visits to such places, demanding to see identity papers or looking for a Jew or a suspect resistant.
Gerda had changed her appearance as well as her name when she had joined one of the resistance cells. Her blonde hair was now cut short so that it could be covered by a dark brown wig. This double identity enabled her to move around freely as Ingrid without being recognized by relatives or friends when she was at work, something which would endanger their lives if she were caught when actively involved with the resistance cell who used the cafe for passing messages and making plans for sabotage.
Kristoffer was able to drop in for a drink or a meal as any casual customer might do, to pass on a message from his cell. They never discussed their clandestine activities when they were at home. Sometimes when he saw her in her brown wig he failed to recognize her for an instant when she came to his table to take his order.
On this occasion, the kafeteria was full, mostly of office workers who were snatching a quick lunch of whatever meagre unappetizing food was now available to the population. Kristoffer ordered only a cup of almost unrecognizable coffee and informed Gerda in an undertone not to expect to see him for several weeks.
After finishing his coffee he walked back to the drab single room he had leased in a dingy block of flats overlooking the harbour. On the opposite side of the town to his home, he used it whenever he was involved in resistance activities in order to safeguard his parents if the Germans were searching for him. In one corner of the single room was a wooden bunk, besides which was a shabby armchair. On a hook above the bed were the clothes he wore on occasions when he was working as a docker and needed a disguise. He now slumped down in the chair and allowed himself time to contemplate his trip to England.
The London headquarters had been set up by those in authority who had escaped to England before the final surrender. The premises were where cohesive decisions were now made for the increasingly large number of resistance cells dotted around the country. Coordinated in London, their isolated activities were now planned to cause more effective maximum disruption to German activities in Norway. Kristoffer’s thoughts turned to the Norwegian in charge of these operations. According to a colleague who had already been to London to receive orders, the man was both charming and extremely knowledgeable about the whole of Norway, and highly efficient and sympathetic to the desperate needs of the resistance fighters for arms and equipment.
Kristoffer’s excitement at the thought of his trip to England now gave way to a wave of anxiety. Would he be obliged to return to Norway immediately after his briefing in London and have no time in which to search for Dilys. To be in the same country as her but not able to find her would be unbearable. Even allowing for the fact that if he did so she might tell him she no longer loved him, he would rather know it than continue his life with such painful uncertainty.
Three days later, at two o’clock on a Tuesday morning as planned, an RAF Lysander made the hazardous landing in an isolated field in the safety of darkness. The men who had guided the plane in with torches hurried to unload the supplies requested by the Resistance. They then helped Kristoffer on board and the pilot turned the plane and taxied away, finally lifting off into the night sky. Kristoffer had been given a briefcase containing maps of strategic locations where considerable German activity was taking place, which would be of use to those in London planning future raids by the Resistants.
Undetected, the plane returned safely to its base in Scotland where Kristoffer was given a change of clothes, a meal and a warrant for his night train ticket to London. In the taxi the following morning taking him from Euston railway station to the address he had been given in Baker Street, he was shocked to see the devastation caused by the relentless air raids, rubble sometimes still being cleared from a bombed-out block of offices. The elderly taxi driver, a cheerful cockney, informed him that Hitler was wasting his time; England would never surrender. At the Norwegian offices, Kristoffer gave his name and was shown immediately into a small room where he was warmly greeted by a uniformed officer who shook his hand and introduced himself as Kaptein Martin Linge. Kristoffer handed over the package containin
g the maps and coded messages from Lorentz.
As time passed, Kristoffer became more and more impressed with the organization in London which had been set up to coordinate the various haphazard groups of men, and indeed women, who wished to continue the fight after the occupation. The maps he had delivered were apparently exactly what Kaptein Martin Linge wanted. He was now told about the fabrication of some parts for a new type of weapon which was being developed in a huge castle near Oslo. Along with the specialist German scientists employed there were several German foremen who supervised the work and a high-ranking German officer responsible for the overall smooth running of the factory, before the finished results were despatched to Germany.
Information had been sent to the London HQ to say that the parts made there, although sounding harmless, were actually intended for some revolutionary secret weapon cooked up by Hitler’s scientists. It was now explained to Kristoffer that the Resistance were to blow up this place, eliminating its capacity to produce anything at all, ensuring that a considerable amount of time would be needed to rebuild the factory and replace the specific machinery they were using.
The job would have to be done at night, Kristoffer was told, when there was no danger of any Norwegian workers being on the premises. He was to be in charge of the actual operation on the site in conjunction with an explosive expert who would be co-opted from another cell. A sketch of the interior of the building and placement of the vital machinery was among the papers Kristoffer had brought with him. It had been produced by one of the Norwegians employed as an electrician, and a copy had been made and given to Kristoffer. He was to show it to the explosive expert as soon as possible on his return as it was known that a date had already been chosen for an inspection visit by a high-ranking German official to congratulate the staff on their satisfactory output. Security would be increased in preparation for his visit, Kristoffer was told, but despite this drawback it was hoped that the official and his entourage would be eliminated at the same time as the building.
It was an exciting project, Kristoffer thought as he left the building, and by the sound of it a very important one, although it was not yet known exactly what was the ‘secret weapon’ for which the parts were needed. Added to his excitement was the fact that he was told he could remain in England for the rest of the week as some of the false identity papers and equipment needed by the Resistance was not yet ready for Kristoffer to take back with him. Now, at long last, he was able to go and search for the girl he loved.
THIRTEEN
The first thing Kristoffer did when he left the building in Baker Street was to make his way to the Houses of Parliament where he attempted to see Sir Godfrey. After much scrutiny and questioning, he was finally taken to a small waiting room where, after a long wait, Sir Godfrey’s secretary arrived to see him. A tall, thin, elderly woman, she regarded him suspiciously and appeared to disbelieve his insistence that he was a friend of Sir Godfrey’s daughters. Were that so, she said coldly, she would already know of his name and address. It was some minutes before she relaxed when he explained his connection in Munich with Dilys and Una. She then recalled the shreds of the letter from Germany which she found Sir Godfrey had discarded, perhaps wrongly, in the upheaval following the news of the outbreak of the war. Feeling a trifle guilty, she now gave him the address of Sir Godfrey’s London flat, instead of the family home in the country, leaving her boss to make the decision on whether to enlighten the young man any further.
Regardless of the cost, such was Kristoffer’s impatience that he took a taxi directly to Greencoat Place rather than waste any time walking there. He had failed to consider the possibility that Sir Godfrey would not be at home when the porter informed him but, to his relief, he was then told that Lady Singleby was there. Without hesitation, Kristoffer insisted the porter telephone her to say he was on his way up to see her and, three minutes later, he stood outside the door of the flat.
His first impression of Dilys’ mother when she let him in was that she bore no resemblance whatever to the girl he loved so dearly. She was a small, birdlike figure, her face thin, her chin pointed but, overall, she was not unattractive. She was fashionably dressed with a lot of jewellery and her hair was carefully waved.
Lady Singleby regarded the strange young foreigner calling himself Kristoffer Holberg with a mixture of curiosity and approval of his exceptional good looks. He now explained to her that he had been a student in Munich at the same time as Una and Dilys and was anxious to look them up now he was in England. He did not say he was a Norwegian but she automatically assumed he was one of the very many foreigners who had escaped from their occupied countries to Britain, when they were miraculously rescued from the beaches of Dunkirk where they had been marooned by the unprecedented flotilla of small ships. These foreigners had joined the British fight against their common enemy, hoping for victory so they could return to their homelands.
When Lady Singleby realized exactly who Kristoffer was, and that he must be the father of Dilys’ baby, her immediate instinct was to think of a way to stop him discovering her whereabouts. Mercifully, Dilys seemed happy in her marriage and she herself could see no good coming from a meeting with this young Norwegian boy. Hurriedly, she said the first thing that came to her mind, namely that both her girls had joined the air force and were now engaged in some kind of secret work which they were not allowed to tell her about, nor even where they were stationed.
Crushed with disappointment by the news, it was a minute or two before Kristoffer could find his voice. Then he said urgently, ‘Please, Lady Singleby, if they should telephone you, would you be so good as to tell them that I am in London until the weekend, and if it is at all possible, to meet me.’ Quickly he searched in his wallet for a scrap of paper on which he scribbled the name of his hotel and also his home address in Bergen and begged Dilys to try to get a message to him. He gave it to Lady Singleby, asking her to ensure Dilys knew of his visit and that he sent her his love.
Lady Singleby’s immediate reaction was a feeling of anger as she recalled the disgrace this young man had so nearly inflicted on Dilys but, reading the note, her anger gave way to an unprecedented awareness of his good looks. Had she been Dilys’ age, she thought, she might well have succumbed to the young man’s attraction and charm. Her emotionless, almost sexless marriage had never awakened her to the kind of passion and pleasure hinted at by her woman friends. Now, however, she suddenly discovered herself understanding how her daughter could have been tempted to enjoy forbidden intimacies.
She shook Kristoffer’s hand as he turned to go. ‘If either does telephone me, I will pass on your message,’ she said, at the same time knowing that it would not be in her daughter’s interest for her to reveal the young Norwegian’s presence in London. ‘We must hope this dreadful war will be over in the not-too-distant future,’ she added in an effort to uplift Kristoffer’s spirits. ‘Then we can all travel wherever we want and renew our fractured friendships again.’
Immeasurably depressed, Kristoffer left the building and walked dejectedly up Buckingham Gate, around the front of the Palace and on into Green Park. Coming out into Piccadilly, once more among the crowds of office workers out for their lunchtime break, he passed by the Royal Air Force Club without at first realizing its significance. He saw three uniformed officers approaching before stopping to chat to one another then disappear into the building. It struck him suddenly that it was just possible that Dilys and Una might belong to this club and someone there might know the whereabouts of two WAAF girls. It was a very long shot, he realized, but he had nothing better to do with his time.
He was about to go in when the doors opened and a young woman in WAAF uniform came out on to the steps, putting her uniform cap on her shining red hair as she walked down into the street. Kristoffer’s shock was so intense that for a moment, he could not find his voice. Then he stepped forward and said huskily: ‘Dil, it’s me, Kris! Thank God I’ve found you!’ He broke off as the slight frown of bewild
erment left Una’s face and was replaced by a wide smile.
‘Goodness gracious me, it’s Kristoffer! What on earth are you doing here?’
Finding his voice, he smiled happily, saying: ‘Dil, I’d given up hope of finding you! I’ve just left your mother who told me you and your sister had joined the air force, but she didn’t know where you were.’ He paused, clearing his throat before saying huskily, ‘Dil, why didn’t you write back to me? Didn’t your father give you my letter?’ He broke off as Una put a hand on his arm.
‘Kristoffer, I’m not Dilys, I’m Una!’ she said awkwardly, her heart sinking. Kristoffer’s words, the depth of longing in his voice, left her in no doubt that he was still in love with her twin. Dilys had been right in believing that the love they had shared was no transitory affair. How could she possibly tell him now that Dilys was married … married to a man who was not the real father of her baby … Kristoffer’s baby.
His disappointment was palpable as he said, ‘I’m sorry! I thought … Una, where can I find her? I must see her.’
When Una did not immediately reply, he added: ‘She hasn’t … she hasn’t been hurt in one of these horrible air raids we heard about in my country? Una, please, tell me that she is unharmed. I have only two more days before I have to return to Norway. I’ll go wherever she is. Please tell me where I can find her.’
Una tried frantically to think of some way to reply. One thing was uppermost in her mind, that it could only make Dilys desperately unhappy to know that Kristoffer was in England searching for her and that he had not stopped loving her. It would be kinder not to do so. As for Kristoffer himself, he’d said he would be returning to Norway in two days’ time. Perhaps she should have told him Dil was married so he could forget all about her.
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