The Day the Germans Came by Ella Gyland

Author:Ella Gyland [Gyland, Ella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008530358
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers

Chapter Seventeen

Helsingør

27th September 1943

Bodil met Oskar on the outskirts of Snekkersten. After her experience on the beach with boys throwing stones at her, she wanted to be as discreet as possible, and the only one who knew about the meeting was Aksel.

He’d sent her a worried look, not judgmental, and he hadn’t commented. Perhaps he understood what it meant to her to have a suitor for once, even if he was the ‘wrong kind’.

But how could anyone fail to like Oskar when they got to know him? Courteous and gentle, he took her arm to help her over uneven ground and made sure to shelter her by letting her walk in the centre of the forest path rather than on the sloping side. No one had ever treated her with this level of consideration, except her mother, and she felt like a duchess.

When he took her hand in his and sent her a look of – what? Longing? – she blushed from head to toe, and had to look away.

As they turned deeper into the forest, she experienced a brief moment of alarm. Was this safe? How much did she really know about this man?

Oskar must have sensed her hesitation for he stopped. ‘I mean you no harm, Bodil. But if you wish, we’ll go no further. Perhaps we can find somewhere to sit? Is there a bench?’

‘There won’t be any benches, but I know the perfect log.’

He smiled. ‘Everything is perfect when I’m with you.’

‘You’re just saying that.’

‘No, it’s the truth.’

Oh, how she wanted it to be true. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, but that was for another day to worry about. Right know she just wanted to enjoy every moment in his company, for as long as it lasted.

They found the log and sat down. It was slightly damp moss and moisture in the air, and Oskar spread his uniform jacket out for them to sit on. It was sheltered here away from the breeze on the sea front, but Bodil hoped he wouldn’t get cold.

Here they talked about whatever was on their minds. The war, that was hard to avoid, but also Oskar’s home in Bavaria. His eyes shone with passion for the place when he spoke of the mountain air, the animals lowing in the pastures, the whitewashed farmhouse with window boxes by every window, teeming with petunias and lobelias, his mother’s cooking. He’d done the same when they first met, but Bodil found she couldn’t get enough of it. It was exotic and different, like a story from another world.

‘It sounds so wonderful,’ she sighed.

‘We work hard,’ he said. ‘And it’s not always easy in the winter, but yes, it is wonderful. I think about home every single day.’

He clenched her hand, then loosened his grip and stroked her palm instead, caressing the callouses and rough skin.

‘See,’ he said, showing the palm on his own hand, holding it next to hers, thumbs touching like a mirror image. ‘We have the same hands – rough around the edges, soft and pink in the centre, a little bit of dirt under the fingernails.

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