Oslo Spies: Phyllis Bowden Book 2 Read online

  “Nice…to…meet du,” he said hesitantly. “My name…Lars.”

  “Nice to meet you, Lars. I’m Phyllis.”

  “Fill…us,” said the boy and the man together, looks of wonder on their faces.

  She turned to Jay. “This is Jay.”

  Jay stretched out her hand to the boy who took it and repeated, “Ja-ay.” He beamed triumphantly. “Nice to meet…du.”

  “Same to you, mate.” Jay handed the menu to the boy with raised shoulders. “Food?”

  His confused expression made Phyllis wonder if they’d ever get anything to eat. Suddenly, a smile spread across his face and he pointed to an item on the menu. “Farikal…iz…good.”

  Both Arne and Lars looked so proud that Phyllis and Jay could only smile and nod in return. The man and boy rushed back to the kitchen.

  “What did we just order?” asked Phyllis.

  “Wait a minute. I think I have a Norwegian language dictionary with me.” Jay dug around in her purse and pulled out a small book. She thumbed through a few pages. “Here it is. Farikal: mutton stew.”

  “Mutton stew? Great.” Phyllis spread her paper napkin on her lap and looked toward the kitchen. “Wonder what else is in it.”

  Jay smiled. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  Just then the man, with a hastily donned apron, brought out two steaming cups to place before the women. He smiled and left quickly.

  Phyllis glanced into the cup, held it up to her nose.

  “What is it?” Jay eyed her cup suspiciously.

  “Well, it’s brown, so I think it’s supposed to be coffee.”

  “Try it and see.”

  Phyllis snorted. “Want me to be the guinea pig?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She raised the cup to her lips and blew in it before taking a cautious sip. Phyllis swirled it in her mouth. After she swallowed, she glanced over at her friend.

  “Well?”

  “It’s not coffee, but it’s hot.”

  “Just what we needed on a summer day.” Jay picked up her cup for a taste. “Not bad, whatever it is.”

  Phyllis’ face scrunched in thought. “In my preparation for this assignment, I remember something about there being no coffee at all in Norway because they weren’t allowed to import anything. I think this may be roasted rye.”

  Jay licked her lips. “It tastes nutty. I bet you’re right.”

  “When in Rome,” began Phyllis as she took another sip.

  “…do as the Romans do,” finished Jay.

  They clinked their cups and downed more of the brown liquid.

  Arne and Lars brought in two large bowls with towels protecting their hands.

  “That looks hot,” commented Phyllis.

  “Ja,” said Lars. “Hot.”

  After placing the bowls on the table, they stepped back and watched anxiously as Phyllis and Jay picked up their spoons. Phyllis poked around in her bowl.

  “Mutton, potatoes and cabbage.” She blew softly on a heaping spoonful before putting it in her mouth. Her eyes widened. “Good!”

  Jay dug in and they ate happily with Arne and Lars applauding briefly before hurrying back to the safety of the kitchen. Lunch went smoothly and Jay put some bills on the table when Arne brought the check. Phyllis glanced at the unfamiliar currency.

  “Glad you got some Norwegian money. I’m new in town and haven’t changed my money yet.”

  “Well, good luck when you try. With our diplomatic connections, we’re able to get small amounts of kroner, but money is one of the big problems in Norway right now. They’ve got to stabilize the currency to get their economy back on track. If our embassies can’t get kroner, we’ll have to resort to the black market.”

  “Black market’s big here?”

  “Right now, yes, because there’s little available to eat or buy, but it’ll fade as soon as the supplies coming in lessen the demand. Good thing too,” she said finishing the last of her rye coffee. “It’s expensive to buy anything on the black market.”

  “I bet. Let’s see more of Oslo.”

  A left turn out of the café and a few empty stores down took Phyllis and Jay right back to the war. They stopped abruptly with dropped jaws when remembrance of wartime horrors stood in front of them.

  The crass writing in thick white letters was slopped on the front of a store window. Phyllis didn’t need to know Norwegian to understand what the words meant.

  “Jode. Stengt.” She took a steady breath. “I know Jode means Jew and I bet the next word means closed.”

  Jay dug out her dictionary, skimmed a few pages and nodded. “You’re right.” Shaken, she let the small book fall from her hand onto the dirty sidewalk. Her pale face reddened with anger. “Just when you think it’s over, the hateful past sends you a reminder.”

  Phyllis leaned over to pick up the dictionary and hand it back to Jay. “We’ll never be free of this war and all the horrors that were committed. Never. We probably haven’t learned a tenth of what happened.” She clenched her teeth so tightly that her jaw hurt. A calming breath slowed her rapidly beating pulse, but what she’d seen would never leave her memory. Of that, she was certain.

  The store had once sold toys. A plastic horse and a small tea set with cups, saucers and a teapot painted in bright pink and blue sat in the dusty window. Phyllis looked past the display to broken toys scattered on the floor with shelves torn from the walls. An overturned desk sat in a corner with papers, headless dolls and ripped stuffed toys tossed about as remnants of another battle. The winners of the fight had caused absolute destruction of this tiny piece of Norway and had gone off to fight other battles. Tears pooled in Phyllis’ eyes when she turned to see the moisture collecting in Jay’s. Seeking understanding, Phyllis and Jay stood frozen even as tears slid down their faces. Finally, Phyllis wiped her eyes and reached out to hug her friend. They stayed that way until the noise of the street reached their ears shaking them out of their painful reverie.

  “I can’t even imagine. Can you?” asked Jay.

  Phyllis shook her head. “Let’s…concentrate on what we’re in Oslo to do.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “To help put the country back together.”

  Small smiles eventually claimed their faces.

  “I can do that,” said Jay. “Let’s go.”

  Another block down, they came to a city park. Instead of the usual grassy areas with trees and bushes, a small pond perhaps and children’s play equipment, the entire park was covered with various plots of land with people working the land, growing gardens. It was a busy place with people hoeing, pulling weeds and harvesting. They walked over to the nearest garden for a closer look. An older man and woman were digging in the dirt. They continued their harvest and smiled benignly when Phyllis and Jay walked up, hands raised in hello.

  “Potatoes.” Phyllis watched the man with tattered pants and rope for a belt pull the hardy vegetable from the ground. His confident smile showed a broken tooth in front when he proudly held the potato up for his wife to see.

  She had crouched down, working on another row and tugged free two heads of cabbage. They said something in rapid-fire Norwegian to one another before showing the vegetables like trophies to the women watching them. Jay sighed and laid her hand on Phyllis’ arm as they moved away.

  “My boss at the embassy told me to leave my money at home.”

  “Why’s that?” asked Phyllis.

  They walked down the many rows of gardens watching Norwegians doggedly pull, tug and cut the food from the ground. Potatoes, cabbage and carrots filled the baskets that lay scattered everywhere. People had the proud looks of mothers and fathers with newborn babies.

  “Because,” Jay sighed again, “he knew I’d want to give all my money away to everyone I meet.”

  The corners of Phyllis’ mouth curved. “So you’re a big softie.”

  “I am.”

  “Just think about all the good work you’re doing at the embassy
.”

  Just past the park, Phyllis and Jay came upon a building with an open front and Norwegian flags planted on either side. A small crowd of children was assembled, laughing and chattering noisily. Women in white paper hats lined up behind a counter to hand out bread and sausage to anyone who walked up. The children waved Norwegian flags and munched happily as they clustered around the sides of the building.

  “What’s happening here? I mean, I can see they’re eating, but where did all this food come from?” Phyllis tapped the shoulder of one little boy. He was five or six years old wearing a slick rain hat. His rosy cheeks were stuffed with the bread he was eating and his eyes were bright with excitement.

  “Ja? Hva vil du?”

  She pointed to the bread. “Do you speak English?”

  “Engelsk?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “No.” He shook his head and went back to eating his bread.

  A little girl with blonde braids slipped alongside Phyllis and took her hand.

  “I speak Engelsk. Du want food?” She held up a bun for Phyllis to take. Her angelic face nearly took Phyllis’ breath away.

  “No. Where did you get bread and sausage?”

  She pointed to the building and the ladies. “They give us.”

  “But where…” The little girl dashed away to run up the street with another girl. Phyllis chuckled at the sight of twin braids flapping as she went. “Guess that’s all I’m getting from her.”

  “May I help you?” One of the women distributing the food came around the corner. She wore an apron and looked as thin as all the other women Phyllis had seen so far in Oslo. With a limited diet for five years, no Norwegian looked fat or even sturdy. “I speak English.”

  “Great!” Phyllis swept a hand toward the crowd of children. “Where did all this food come from?”

  The woman ran her hands down her apron and straightened her hat. She nodded at Phyllis and Jay before replying. “The bread and sausage were confiscated from German military stores. We hand them free to anyone who wants them. The children come day and night.”

  “No bread or sausage when the Germans were here?” asked Jay.

  “We were lucky to have anything to eat. The first years of the occupation, grain, coffee and sugar were rationed. After that, we had nothing but the fish the Germans didn’t want and whatever we could raise ourselves.”

  “Yes,” added Phyllis. “We went by a park with gardens.”

  “Farmers did a little better than us in the cities, but not much. There was too much…” she seemed to be searching for the right word. “Spying.”

  “Spying?” asked Jay.

  She nodded, glanced back at the other women. “Germans spying on us, traitors spying for the Germans.” She blew out a shaky breath. “You didn’t know who to trust.” The woman thrust out her hand to Phyllis. “You’re American, yes?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Thank you for the supplies you are sending us.”

  She turned to Jay. “You’re English?”

  “Aye, mate.” Jay’s smiling eyes widened with surprise when the woman enveloped her in a fierce hug. Stepping back, she wiped away tears. They smiled broadly at one another.

  “The English are our saviors. We can never thank you enough.”

  “It was our pleasure, ma’am.”

  With that, the woman returned to her job handing out bread and sausage to more children who had collected for their treats. And with heads held high, they continued their labor of love as Phyllis and Jay walked by smiling and nodding their approval. A tip of the head from Jay to the woman they had spoken to and they were gone from the pleasant scene.

  THREE

  “Is that a fjord?”

  “Yep.”

  “What exactly is a fjord?”

  Phyllis opened Jay’s dictionary, skimmed through and began reading aloud. “It’s a deep, narrow lake drain with steep land on three sides. The opening toward the sea is called the mouth of the fjord and is often shallow.”

  Jay and Phyllis looked at the sight before them. Tall, snow-covered peaks surrounded the body of water with trails zigzagging through the trees to homes built in the mountains. Vivid blue seawater deepened in color farther away in the distance. Standing on a pier, Phyllis pointed to the beach below.

  “Look! They’re swimming.”

  Jay arched an eyebrow playfully. “Want to do it?”

  Phyllis laughed and they headed down to the beach. Once at the water’s edge, she stuck in a hand.

  “You’d think it would be cold this close to the Arctic Circle.”

  “It’s July,” said Jay. She stuck in a hand as well to test the water temperature. “Warm…”

  Glancing around the beach area, Phyllis spotted what she was looking for.

  “There it is.”

  “What?”

  “A guy renting bathing suits.”

  A tiny, wooden hut not far from the pier caught Jay’s eye. As they walked towards it, many Norwegians in various kinds of clothing smiled and said hello. Some wore bathing suits, some were in shorts and long pants. A few women wore long, white skirts.

  “Friendly people.”

  The man working in the hut wore a colorful sweater, shorts and a bright red knit cap. When the women walked up to him, a big smile creased his weathered face.

  “Goddag, damer. Trenger en badedrakt?” When his request met with blank looks from Phyllis and Jay, he tried pointing at the row of bathing suits behind him. “Badedrakt?”

  That, they understood.

  “Two, please.” Phyllis held up two fingers. The man discreetly checked out their figures, took two suits off the shelf and handed them over.

  “How much?” asked Jay. When the man shook his head, she reached into her purse for the Norwegian dictionary. “Hvor mye?”

  The man looked confused, probably due to her wretched Norwegian pronunciation, but pointed to a sign on the side of the hut.

  “He wants five kroner per suit,” Phyllis asked her. “How much is that?”

  “About ten cents.”

  “Pay up, friend. I’ll pay you back.”

  Jay shrugged, fished out her wallet. “Going on the town with you is getting expensive. I thought you Yanks had money.”

  “Some do and apparently, some don’t. I promise to get cash tomorrow.”

  “I’m not worried.” Jay smiled. “I know where you live.”

  They changed in a small restroom behind the hut and hurried down to the water. Stowing their clothes on a chair recently vacated, Phyllis and Jay ran into the water and turned to one another to laugh before diving in. Phyllis was surprised and pleased at how warm it was. She swam underwater until she had to surface for a breath of air. What was it about water that seemed to protect and cleanse? Phyllis floated on her back for several minutes drinking in the impossibly blue sky overhead dotted with fluffy white clouds. It was a beautiful day and all seemed right with the world. Turning her head to the right and then the left, the mountains seemed larger from her new vantage point and she knew they’d been there for millions of years. They would stand for millions more.

  The beauty of the area softened her sadness of what Norwegians had endured during the war. The cleansing water washed away thoughts of ruined stores and stolen goods, destroyed homes and stolen lives. But the water couldn’t entirely wash away her thoughts about the children.

  The children of Norway had perhaps lost the most: their hopes and dreams for the future, their abilities to laugh and play, to be children. Without that necessary developmental step, what would become of them?

  Jay swam up behind and splashed water on her.

  “Hey!”

  “Well, you’re thinking too hard and this is our day off. Think tomorrow.”

  Phyllis chuckled, paddled to a shallow spot where she could stand. “You’re right. Tomorrow is soon enough for deep thinking.”

  “But I know what has put that serious look on your face.”

  “What?”
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  Jay’s eyes swept the fjord and over to the beach covered with exuberant people talking and laughing. It should have been a typical scene in a typical beach town or port city. Her wet hair dripped from curly auburn strands onto her glistening cheeks and neck. “The beauty we see contrasts sharply with the terror we know was here for five years. It would be unbelievable if we didn’t know it happened.”

  “I know what you mean. The reports I read of bombings, people shipped off to slave labor camps and other terrors make this moment incredibly poignant.” Phyllis nodded toward the people swimming nearby. “I bet everyone here has a story to tell and is counting their blessings the Germans have gone.”

  Jay took a deep breath. “Come on. Enough philosophizing for one day. We need to get back.”

  After changing clothes and returning the bathing suits, the women hiked to the pier to catch a trolley back to Army Headquarters. Riding along in the rusted old vehicle with Norwegians going home after work, Phyllis looked thoughtfully around her. She was beginning to like Oslo and Norway very much, but when she turned to speak to Jay, something caught her eye.

  Jay was babbling and pointing from her side of the trolley. “Can you believe it’s still daylight? Blimey, it must be seven at night at least. Why, I could…”

  “Jay.” Phyllis tugged on her arm. “Look at that.”

  “What?” She glanced where Phyllis was looking. Her eyes narrowed just as her lips flattened to a tight line. “What is that?”

  The bed of a large truck parked by the side of the street was filled with eight frightened women with shaved heads. Two women had black swastikas drawn on their foreheads and a paper sign with writing in Norwegian fluttered on a window.

  “What the hell is that?” Jay and Phyllis stood immediately to get a better look out the window. “Why are their heads shaved?”

  A woman next to them touched Jay’s sleeve. “Samarbeidspartner.” Another woman nodded in agreement.

  “What?” asked Phyllis.

  The woman was quiet a moment. “Quisling.”

  Jay thought that over. “They think these women collaborated with the Germans, like Vidkun Quisling. He was a Norwegian official who tried to take over the government when the king was deposed.”