Cast No Shadow, Peter Sharp [books to get back into reading txt] 📗

Seeing Kelly awake, his face lit up in a bright smile. He walked over to the bed and vigorously shook Kelly’s hand.

He said something in Norwegian, grinning broadly as he did so. Kelly took it to be a greeting and responded cheerfully in English. Gunnar Thorstaadt was a big man. He was over six feet in height with broad shoulders. Even allowing for the clothing he was wearing, his arms were as thick as most people’s legs and the calloused hand that shook Dan Kelly’s was huge. His deeply tanned face contrasted starkly with the shock of white wiry hair on his head and the grizzled salt and pepper beard. Gunnar Thorstaadt was every inch an arctic seaman.

Yet the face that peered into Kelly’s was not that of a hard, uncaring person. There was a gentleness about the broad smile and wrinkled weather-beaten face, and a childlike innocence in the dull powder blue eyes.

Gunnar called for Sybilla. She entered the room wearing a tight white roll neck sweater and light blue figure-hugging slacks. The couple arranged themselves on opposite sides of the bed and sat down on their respective sides. Kelly wondered momentarily about the wisdom of Gunnar bringing his full weight to bear on the wooden bed, but inwardly reassured himself that the quality of Norwegian furniture would withstand even this test.

Gunnar spoke directly to Kelly in Norwegian and waited for his wife to translate. Kelly responded similarly by answering Gunnar directly, but in English, then waiting for Sybilla to interpret. They exchanged pleasantries to start with, with Gunnar telling Kelly how excited he was that he was now looking so well and how worried they had both been. Kelly thanked Gunnar and Sybilla for all their help. He made it clear that he was in no doubt that they had saved his life. Gunnar waved away this acknowledgement from Kelly.

“It is because,” he said through Sybilla, “we are on the same side. We must get you back to your comrades somehow.”

Kelly pricked up his ears. “Do you have a plan?” he asked, the hope clear in his voice.

“I have some close and trusted friends. We have discussed your situation and there may be a way, but it will not be easy.”

“I’m willing to give it a go,” Kelly replied with enthusiasm.

Before Sybilla had even begun to translate, Gunnar’s face had exploded into a huge grin. He chuckled, nodding as the translation confirmed his understanding of the reply. “We never doubted that for a moment, Dan,” Sybilla translated, Gunnar beaming broadly all the while.

“Doctor Amundsen?” asked Kelly. “Is he one of your group?”

The smile waned on the big man’s face. “We are not a group,” he explained. “Simply a few friends. Amundsen is the family Doctor, nothing more.”

“Of course.” Kelly felt chastened. “That was an insensitive question. I’m sorry.”

The big Norwegian acknowledged the apology gracefully. “We have to be so careful,” he warned, “what we are doing is very dangerous.”

Kelly nodded apologetically. The Norwegian’s smile returned.

“Come!” he said. “We will eat together. Let us see if Amundsen’s magic has worked this time. Erik has donated some clothes. He is about your size. Call me when you are dressed, and I will help you into the kitchen.”

Kelly, wondering who ‘Erik’ might be, slowly and painfully dressed in his new clothes. He certainly wasn’t the same size. Erik was taller by at least an inch and perhaps a little thinner. Nevertheless, it was good to get into clothes again. The garments were old but in good repair and consisted of a faded blue shirt, a pair of corduroy trousers with a brown leather belt and a dark blue ‘Guernsey.’

Kelly called out to say that he was ready.

Gunnar entered and sat on the bed beside him. Then, with a gentleness that belied his size, he took Kelly’s left arm and hung it around his neck, clamping his own left hand around Kelly’s wrist. Gunnar then placed his right arm around Kelly’s waist and grasped the leather belt. Having secured Kelly in this way he stood up, lifting Kelly as he did so. Gunnar gently lowered him until his feet touched the floor. Kelly winced slightly and was immediately hoisted up once more.

“It’s alright,” said Kelly, “you can lower me.” He signalled with his free hand and Gunnar lowered him once more. Kelly was able to withstand most of his weight on his feet and only needed light support from Gunnar to walk into the kitchen.

He sat down at the wooden kitchen table where three places had been laid, and Sybilla served. The meal was a simple fish dish, herring Kelly surmised, served with potatoes, green beans and bread but, despite its simplicity, it was delicious. During the meal there was limited conversation and Kelly had a chance to observe his hosts. The contrast between them could not have been greater. Beauty and the Beast, thought Kelly briefly, then mentally chastised himself. The comparison was not just. Sybilla was certainly a beauty, but Gunnar was no beast. He sensed a depth of kindness in this simple man.

There was something about the interchange between the two that Kelly could not fathom. Not so much a coldness as a stiffness. No lack of warmth between the two, but no hint of intimacy. This was not a marriage based on love, thought Kelly, but if not love, then what?

Just before noon on the following day, Kelly was gingerly padding round on his bandages, feeling much better and pleased with himself, when he heard the door being unlocked. He was about to jauntily walk into the hall when he froze.

“Billa! Sybilla!” called a male voice. Seconds later Kelly heard the sound of running feet.

“Jürgen!” he heard Sybilla exclaim, followed in German by, “What are you doing here? I thought you were away for three more weeks.”

The two must be standing at the outside door. Kelly slowly sank to the floor, gently pushing the bedroom door closed. He dared not latch the door for fear the