The Hidden Child

Chapter 26

‘Hilma!’ Something in Elof’s tone of voice made both his wife and daughter dash out to meet him.

‘Heavens, how you’re shouting. What’s going on?’ exclaimed Hilma, but her voice trailed off when she saw that Elof was not alone. ‘Are we having guests?’ she asked, nervously wiping her hands on her apron. ‘I was just in the middle of washing the dishes.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Elof assured her. ‘The boy won’t mind how things look in the house. He came on the boat with us today. He was fleeing from the Germans.’

The boy held out his hand to Hilma and bowed when she shook it.

‘Hans Olavsen,’ he said in his lilting Norwegian. Then he held out his hand to Elsy, who shook it awkwardly, giving a little curtsey.

‘He’s had a hard time on the way here, so maybe we could offer him some refreshment,’ said Elof. He hung up his peaked cap and handed his coat to Elsy, who held it in her arms without moving.

‘Don’t just stand there, girl. Hang up your father’s coat,’ he said sternly, but then he couldn’t resist stroking his daughter’s cheek. Considering the dangers that now accompanied every voyage, it always felt like a gift when he was able to come back home and see Elsy and Hilma again. He cleared his throat, embarrassed to have succumbed to such emotion in the presence of a stranger. Then he motioned with his hand.

‘Come in, come in. I’m sure Hilma will find something nice for us,’ he said, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs.

‘We don’t have much to offer,’ said his wife, her eyes lowered. ‘But what little we have, we will gladly share.’

‘I’m sincerely grateful,’ said the boy, sitting down across from Elof as he hungrily eyed the plate of sandwiches that Hilma was setting on the table.

‘All right, help yourself,’ she said, and then went over to the cupboard to pour a little dram of aquavit for them both. Liquor was scarce, but this seemed a proper occasion for it.

They ate in silence. When there was only one sandwich left, Elof pushed the plate towards the Norwegian boy, urging him with a glance to take it. Elsy watched surreptitiously as she stood next to the counter, helping her mother. This was all so exciting. In their very own kitchen was somebody who had fled from the Germans, coming all the way here from Norway. She couldn’t wait to tell the others. Then a thought occurred to her, and she almost couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. But her father must have had the same thought, because he asked the very question that was on her mind.

‘There’s a boy from here in town who was taken by the Germans. That was more than a year ago, but maybe you…’ Elof threw out his hands, fixing his eyes on the boy across the table.

‘Well, it’s not likely that I’d know anything about him. There are so many people coming and going. What’s his name?’

‘Axel Frankel,’ said Elof. But the hope in his eyes turned to disappointment when the boy, after thinking for a moment, shook his head.

‘No, I’m afraid not. We haven’t come across him. At least I don’t think so. You haven’t heard anything about what happened to him? Nothing that would supply a little more information?’

‘Unfortunately, no,’ said Elof, shaking his head. ‘The Germans took him in Kristiansand, and since then we haven’t heard a peep. For all we know, he might be -’

‘No, Pappa. I don’t believe it!’ Elsy’s eyes filled with tears, and feeling embarrassed she ran upstairs to her room. She couldn’t believe that she’d humiliated herself and her parents that way. Crying like a baby in front of a complete stranger.

‘Does your daughter know this… Axel?’ asked the Norwegian, looking concerned as he stared after her.

‘She’s friends with his younger brother. And it’s been hard for Erik. For Axel’s whole family,’ said Elof with a sigh.

A shadow passed over Hans’s eyes. ‘Many people have been sorely tested by this war,’ he said.

Elof could tell that this boy had seen things that no one his age ought to have witnessed.

‘What about your own family?’ he asked cautiously. Hilma was standing at the counter drying a plate, but she stopped what she was doing.

‘I don’t know where they are,’ said Hans at last, his eyes fixed on the table. ‘When the war is over – if it’s ever over – I’ll go back to look for them. Until then, I can’t return to Norway.’

Hilma met Elof’s eyes over the boy’s blond head. After carrying on a silent conversation, based solely on an exchange of glances, they reached an agreement. Elof cleared his throat.

‘Well, you see, we usually rent out our house to summer visitors and live in the basement room ourselves while they’re here. But the room is empty the rest of the year. Maybe you’d like to… stay here for a while and rest up, before you decide what to do next. I can probably find you some work too. Maybe not full-time, but at least enough so you’d have money in your pocket. First I’ll have to report to the district police that I’ve brought you into the country, but if I promise to look after you, there shouldn’t be any problem.’

‘Only if you let me pay rent with the money that I earn,’ said Hans, looking at him with a mixture of gratitude and guilt.

Elof glanced at Hilma again and he nodded.

‘That would be fine. Any contribution is welcome during these times of war.’

‘I’ll go downstairs and put things in order for you,’ said Hilma, putting on her coat.

‘I can’t thank you enough. I really can’t,’ said the boy in his lilting Norwegian as he bowed his head, but not fast enough. Elof managed to catch a glimpse of the tears in his eyes.

‘It’s nothing,’ he said, embarrassed. ‘It’s nothing.’