Live the Dream

by Claire Lorrimer

  It was several minutes before Kristoffer was able to calm her. Then he learned the facts. Gerda had been returning late one night to the room she rented near the kafeteria. It was three minutes after curfew. Two German soldiers who happened to be passing had seen her reaching in her bag for her door key, and with several shots of akevitt inside them and nothing better to do, they had apprehended her for her tardiness. Hoping to escape retribution, Gerda had smiled at them as she apologised. It had been a mistake as immediately the more dominant of the two had told her that they would not report her for breaking the curfew if she agreed to go down a nearby alleyway with them for a ‘goodnight kiss’. Guessing what they intended to do to her, she had refused to go with them, at which point their jocularity became nasty. Each taking an arm, the two soldiers had dragged her to the alleyway and taken it in turns to rape her. After they had done so, they had dragged her back to her doorway, joking with one another in their guttural German voices.

  Gerda’s voice suddenly hardened as she continued, ‘When I managed to unlock my door, they followed me inside and raped me again. Finally they let me go and threatened that if I told anyone what they had done they would say I was lying in order to get back at them for not letting me break the curfew.’ After a slight pause, she continued in a more level tone of voice: ‘The next day, I went to see Lorentz and asked him if he had a job which involved killing Germans. It was all I wanted to do; felt I must do. He wouldn’t promise anything but said he had something in mind and would let me know, but it might be dangerous. When I came home, I couldn’t tell Mor or Far what had happened to me. They would have been so angry, so distressed and anyway, there was nothing they could do.’ Her voice trembled slightly as she added in a whisper: ‘I have such horrible nightmares, Kris!’ She started crying again but then stopped abruptly and announced in a firm voice: ‘I shall never get married now. Never! I always thought that one day you and I … well, no matter. I’ll never let a man touch me … not even you, Kris!’ She managed a weak smile. ‘I was terribly jealous when you told me about the English girl you met in Germany. Did you manage to see her when you were in England last week?’

  Kristoffer pulled up a chair and sat down beside her, still holding her hand. ‘No, no, I didn’t see her, but I gathered from her twin that both she and Dilys had joined the English Air Force. Una said her sister never spoke about me, that it was over two years since we were all in Munich together and she thought I’d virtually been more or less forgotten – not that she put it quite like that.’ His voice broke and he concluded sadly, ‘Oh, Gerda, it hasn’t been a good year for either of us, has it? I’m so sorry about your horrible ordeal. I wish there was something I could do to help you forget it!’

  Gerda suddenly sat up straight, the colour returning to her cheeks. ‘There’s nothing you can do, Kris! I won’t feel better until I’ve killed some of those German pigs … preferably long, slow, hideous deaths where I can hear them beg for mercy …’

  She broke off, her cheeks now flushed an angry red, her fists clenched. Although Kristoffer fully understood why she needed revenge, he was shaken by the ruthless depths of her emotions.

  ‘Maybe I can give you a little comfort after all,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve been asked to vet you, Gerda, for a very dangerous job: one where you will need to be very calm and your timing exactly right for the plan to succeed. You would have to be working in an old castle full of German soldiers as a waitress, catering to their needs. You would have to smile in a friendly fashion and be deferential. I realize it won’t be easy for you knowing how you feel now about the brutes who attacked you.’

  There was a strange smile on Gerda’s face, almost, Kristoffer thought, like that of an animal stalking a prey. A phrase shot into his mind – ‘the smile on the face of the tiger’. Then she stood up and turned to him, her voice now calm and controlled, and said, ‘When can we leave? Tonight … tomorrow? I don’t mind how dangerous the job is, and I won’t care if I even have to clean their filthy boots! I’ll do anything, anything at all so long as I can wipe some of them off the face of the earth.’

  Two days later, their orders all finalized, she and Kristoffer left Oslo together to take the train to Grulvik and Estridborgen, where the destruction of the German secret ammunition development and the scientists involved was to take place.

  SIXTEEN

  1941 had been a momentous year, Dilys thought as she sat by the wireless listening to the shocking news of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour, killing 2,403 Americans and destroying a large part of their fleet. For a moment she paused in her task of wrapping Christmas presents. With another three weeks to go before Christmas day, she had decided to start her preparations early while she had a few moments to spare.

  Time was passing surprisingly quickly, she realized, looking across the room to where her daughter was playing happily with the old doll’s house brought over from Hannington Hall. Each day she was busy looking after little Tina who was getting into whatever mischief she could find and caring for Betty, Archie and Joe, her three evacuees from London’s East End. Most people in the village had only been able to accommodate one or two children, but James’ large house had room enough for the two boys and their sister, so they had been able to stay together.

  Although Mrs White still did all the cooking, washing and ironing – her contribution to the war effort, she said proudly – it fell to Dilys to stand in the long queues outside any of the shops open in Fenbury village which had an unexpected supply of offal or fish or other supplements to the meagre ration allowance. The children were always hungry and thanks to Mrs White and Dilys’ efforts, the evacuees had added weight to the skinny frames they’d had when they’d arrived from the heavily bombed East End of the City.

  It hadn’t been easy when the three children had first arrived. Bewildered and homesick, they found themselves suddenly in the totally unfamiliar surroundings of the countryside. They were unaccustomed to so many things, from running hot water to nightly baths, to milk from the cows at the nearby farm instead of bottles from the dairy. The little girl, Betty, aged five, was desperately homesick at first, her only comfort her rather grubby ragdoll from which she refused to be parted when Mrs White suggested washing its dress. The boys, aged seven and eight, were all but unmanageable at first, having been allowed to run wild in the bombed-out ruins of their streets, their schools closed. Their father had been called up and was abroad somewhere in the army, and their mother was working long hours at one of the factories now hurriedly making uniforms, parachutes or parts for munitions. Gradually, Dilys and Mrs White between them had calmed them down, Dilys earning their total devotion by allowing the boys to have one of the farm puppies and Betty a kitten.

  Dilys smiled to herself as she recalled how the little girl had changed almost unrecognizably from a shy, weeping, scrawny waif to a smiling, happy, plump child who considered herself Tina’s guardian, mothering her as she had once fussed over her now-discarded ragdoll. Tina adored her, seeming sometimes to prefer Betty’s company to her own. Not that she minded, as it was lovely to see them running round the garden hand in hand, or to watch Betty with a book she could not in fact read, pointing out the pictures, frequently identifying an animal wrongly and making up names when necessary. Dilys realized that one day, when Tina started school, she would have to unlearn these fictitious identities, but for now nothing mattered except the children’s happiness. She was not even concerned by Tina’s imitation of Betty’s cockney accent.

  Busy as she was, Dilys had very little time to consider whether she, herself, was happy. James had now been a lieutenant in the Royal Army Veterinary Corps for the past two months and was somewhere overseas. She received infrequent airgraphs from him thanking her for her letters and Tina’s scribbles and telling her the little that the censor allowed about his activities, but not that he was in North Africa facing the German General Rommel’s far better-equipped army. She guessed he played down the danger he was in and was touched by his unfaili
ng expressions of how much he missed her company and how often he thought of her and Tina.

  Despite the fullness of her days, she, too, thought frequently of James and of that last night before his call-up departure date the next day. He had been unusually silent throughout supper; such comments that he’d made nearly all concerned his satisfaction with the way his busy practice was now being handled by the elderly vet in Oxford. The man had managed to obtain an extra petrol allowance to enable a van, equipped with James’ accoutrements, to travel once a week to the outlying villages. Every letter from James ended unfailingly with the simple phrase: ‘With all my love.’

  Invariably, reading those words left Dilys feeling uncomfortable, forcing her to face the fact that she was not in love with James although she had possibly let him think so. She remembered how Una had suggested that as James had so obviously fallen in love with her, Dilys might consider allowing him to sleep with her before he went off to war and was maybe killed. It would be a way to repay him, Una had said, for being her saviour, for marrying her so she could keep Tina and subsequently doing everything he could to keep her happy.

  There had been many times when Dilys had considered doing what Una had proposed, but she had kept putting off the decision to do so. Always at the back of her mind, stupidly, was the feeling that she would be being unfaithful to Kristoffer. She knew such thoughts were ridiculous but until that evening she had not needed to reject them. Suddenly, time to think about the past had run out and she’d realized that it was James’, not Kristoffer’s happiness she must consider.

  After Una had returned to London, Dilys had taken her courage in both hands, and when it came to her usual bedtime, she had crossed the room and held out her hand to James, saying, ‘I’d like it if you came up and said goodnight to me later, if you aren’t too tired.’

  James had looked up sharply, his eyes searching her face with a questioning look. She’d known she was blushing as she added quickly: ‘Only if you want to, James!’

  A smile now lit up Dilys’ face as she recalled how awkward that next hour had been, but how pleased she was afterwards that she had taken Una’s suggestion to heart. James had been so gentle, so thoughtful, so controlled that she had no memory of Kristoffer’s passionate lovemaking. James had demanded nothing from her, making love to her in silence. It was afterwards he’d told her he had fallen in love with her. It was something he had never expected to do, he confessed, and he had not intended to tell her. Now he would be able to take with him the memory of his last night at home, and it would ensure that he came back to her when the war was over.

  Three weeks later, James had been given forty-eight-hours’ embarkation leave, during which he had made love to her again in his quiet, gentle way, requiring Dilys’ acceptance but no passionate response. This obvious happiness and satisfaction left Dilys feeling she was at last repaying James for the huge debt she owed him for safeguarding her and her child.

  Now, reading his latest airgraph, her memories of him were both caring and tender and intensified by her gratitude for his marrying her so she could keep the beloved little daughter who brought her such joy every day. Telling herself that in many ways she had grown to love James, at the same time she knew that it was not the deep fundamental love she’d felt – and still felt – for Kristoffer.

  On the evenings alone by the fire, Una far away on some distant posting and the children safely tucked up in their beds upstairs, her mind would wander back, uncontrolled, to the days in Germany she’d shared with him: so many long, happy days, dancing, skiing, skating, singing in the trains returning to Munich after weekends in the mountains and picnics by the lakes. Colouring every moment were the wonderful hours in his arms, his kisses, his caresses and the exciting plans they had made for the future once they were married.

  Such memories would bring stinging tears to her eyes which she brushed aside, forcing herself to think how much she had to be happy about. Not only did she have James’ faithful, obliging Mrs White to help her cope with the house and the children, but now the three young evacuees had settled happily in her care. Exhausting though they were, and constantly up to mischief, they were no longer homesick, making friends at the village school and enjoying country life. Dilys had become genuinely fond of them and tried not to worry that her small daughter copied both their London accents and their not always desirable manners.

  Once the war was over, Dilys often thought, and the evacuees had returned to London and James was safely home, she might have another baby – James’ child. He would be pleased, as would Tina, who would miss the children even more than she would. After the war! When would it be over? she asked herself as she sat darning holes in the children’s socks. The war in the Far East was escalating, more and more shipping was being lost at sea and the 8th Army were suffering terrible losses in their fighting in North Africa where the German Field Marshal Rommel had the advantage of far better-equipped troops. Although James’ letters were censored and he never referred to the danger he must be in, it was always a relief when one of them arrived saying he was well.

  Dilys’ thoughts returned to the Christmas present for her father she was wrapping – a precious package of cigarettes, which were in desperately short supply, that she had managed to hoard over the past six months. For her mother, Dilys had wrapped two large Kilner jars of fruit from the garden, picked from the plum tree the past summer. She had found some lavender talcum powder in the village shop for the aunts, and at the village jumble sale she had acquired some second-hand games and toys for the children, and had saved her sweet ration so they would all have extra sweets in their stockings.

  With nearly everything now either rationed or unobtainable, it had become a world of make-do-and-mend or go without. Nevertheless, few people complained as everyone was aware that a shocking number of sailors were dying as their supply ships were routinely sunk by the U-boats as they struggled to bring vital supplies back from countries like the United States.

  It was quite remarkable, Dilys thought as she put away her sewing basket and prepared to go to bed, how their cigar-smoking Prime Minister, Sir Winston Churchill was managing to keep everyone’s spirits up with his moving tirades against Hitler. There could not be a person in the British Isles who owned a wireless set who did not listen to his rallying speeches and, without fail, to the Home Service six o’clock news. Dilys’ father had told her that, whenever possible, the broadcasts were listened to by the people in occupied countries despite the dreadful penalties they would incur if they were caught doing so.

  Was Kristoffer listening to the news? she always asked herself. Did he ever wonder what was happening to her in what was known as this last bastion of freedom from the Nazi yoke? She always put such thoughts quickly from her mind but, with little Tina growing more and more like him every day, it was not easy for her to forget him. Una, too, had not failed to notice the resemblance and said it was fortunate that neither James nor anyone else in the family had ever met Kristoffer.

  This Christmas was to be the last family gathering at Hannington Hall. The house was to be finally occupied by the Guards, after several months of bureaucratic delay, at the beginning of the new year – something her parents had agreed to as they came down to the country less and less often. Not only was her father so busy in London but the train services were all too frequently disrupted by the bombing raids and were completely unreliable. Her mother was equally prepared to brave the bombs in London, absorbed as she was in her duties in the WVS. Never a day passed when she was not required to cope with a newly bombed-out family needing clothes and accommodation. She was frequently exhausted and was glad to have their spacious flat in Victoria, where she could snatch a few hours’ rest before a further call for help.

  The life Lady Singleby now led was the very reverse of the pre-war days when she’d occupied her time meeting with other friends for luncheons or going shopping or to a beauty parlour, frittering time away at theatres and at seasonal events. Unlike so many other
s who rushed to take cover in underground shelters or cellars, she continued with whatever she was doing when the air-raid sirens wailed their eerie warnings, maintaining she would rather die above ground than be buried alive. Although bombs had fallen further up the road from the town flat she and Sir Godfrey occupied, his office had so far escaped the relentless nightly attacks. Curiously, her former fear of death was eliminated by the horrors she so often encountered following a raid. Resolute as she was, people, including her fellow workers, turned to her for guidance and were reassured by her calm, self-confident manner.

  Although Lady Singleby saw Una occasionally when her daughter was in London on one of her short leaves, she seldom had time to go down to the country to see Dilys. Una’s breaks were usually taken up with dates, invitations from army, navy or air-force officers on leave and wanting to forget the war and enjoy the entertainment London bravely continued to provide in the blackout. Not even the horrific bombing of the Café de Paris, which killed every one of its staff and customers, deterred others from braving the possible air raids in order to make the most of their too-short leaves in the few restaurants and cinemas which remained open.

  Dilys had neither the time nor the desire to take Tina to London, so all Lady Singleby knew of her little granddaughter was Tina’s piping treble on the telephone. With calls rationed to three minutes, they remained strangers to one another. Quite often bomb damage to the communication system made even phone calls impossible, and such lines as remained undamaged after a raid were kept for emergency use only.

  Despite these limitations, Lady Singleby had now come to acknowledge the hitherto ‘shameful’ existence of the child’s birth and, busy though she was, frequently sent an expensive present, usually from Hamleys or Harrods’ toy department.

  Una managed to spend most of her leaves with Dilys and Tina and was able to coincide a visit with Tina’s birthday in May. The little girl was old enough to recognize Una, who she adored, partly because Una always had time to play with her and partly because she found it funny that Una looked so like her mummy that she would often mistake one for the other. On this birthday visit, not only did Una bring with her her grandmother’s present, a doll complete with an entire wardrobe of clothes, but accompanying her aunt was a laughing, handsome, funny man in smart tartan trousers and a jaunty beret, the uniform of a Scottish airman.