The Redbreast(80)

see it.’

Fauke went into the kitchen and shouted into the

sitting room.

‘It was Even Juul who rang and told me I would

be receiving a visit. POT, I was led to understand.’

‘Yes, but Juul told me you lived in

Holmenkollen.’

‘Even and I don’t have that much contact, and I

kept my telephone number as my move is only

temporary. Until I finish this book.’

‘Right. I went up there. I met your daughter and

she gave me this address.’

‘So she was at home? Well, she must be having

time off.’

From what? Harry was about to ask, but he

decided it would be too obvious.

Fauke came back with a large steaming pot of

coffee and two mugs. ‘Black?’ He put one of the

mugs in front of Harry.

‘Great.’

‘Good. Because you have no choice.’ Fauke

laughed, almost spilling the coffee as he poured it

out.

Harry thought it was remarkable how little Fauke

reminded him of the daughter. He didn’t have her

cultivated way of speaking or conducting herself,

or any of her features or dark complexion. Only the

forehead was the same. High with a thick blue vein

running across.

‘You’ve got a big house up there,’ he said

instead.

‘Endless maintenance and clearing snow,’ Fauke

answered, tasting the coffee and smacking his lips

with approval. ‘Dark, gloomy and too far away

from everything. I can’t stand Holmenkollen. On

top of that, just snobs living there. Nothing for a

migrant Gudbrandsdalen man like me.’

‘So why don’t you sell it?’

‘I suppose my daughter likes it. She grew up

there, of course. You wanted to talk about

Sennheim, I understood.’

‘Your daughter lives there alone?’

Harry could have bitten off his tongue. Fauke took

a swig from his mug. Rolled the coffee round in his

mouth. For a long time.

‘She lives with a boy. Oleg.’

His eyes were vacant and he wasn’t smiling any

longer.

Harry drew a couple of quick conclusions. Too

quick perhaps, but if he was right Oleg must have

been one of the reasons Sindre Fauke was living in

Majorstuen. Anyway, that was that. She lived with

someone, no point thinking about it any more. Just

as well, actually.

‘I can’t tell you too much, herr Fauke. As I’m sure

you understand, we’re working . . .’

‘I understand.’

‘Good. I’d like to hear what you know about the

Norwegians in Sennheim.’

‘Ooh. There were lots of us, you know.’

‘Those still alive today.’

Fauke broke into a smile.

‘I don’t mean to be morbid, but that makes it

considerably easier. Men dropped like flies at the

front. On average 60 per cent of my company died

every year.’

‘Well I never. The death rate of the hedge

sparrow is . . . erm.’

‘Yes?’

‘Sorry. Please continue.’

Harry, abashed, stared down into his coffee mug.

‘The point was that the learning curve in war is

steep,’ Fauke said. ‘Should you survive the first

six months, the chances of survival become many

times greater. You don’t step on mines, you keep

your head down in the trenches, you wake up when

you hear the cocking of a Mosin–Nagant rifle. And

you know that there is no room for heroes, and that

fear is your best friend. Hence, after six months I

was among a small group of Norwegians who

realised we might survive the war. And most of us

had been to Sennheim. Gradually, as the war went

on, they moved the training camp to places deeper

in Germany. Or the volunteers came directly from

Norway. The ones who came without any training .

. .’ Fauke shook his head.

‘They died?’ Harry asked.

‘We didn’t even bother to learn their names when

they arrived. What was the point? It’s hard to

understand, but as late as 1944 volunteers were

still streaming to the Eastern Front, long after those

of us who were there knew which way the war

was going to go. They thought they were going to

save Norway, the poor things.’

‘I understood you were no longer there in 1944?’

‘That’s right. I deserted. New Year’s Eve, 1942.

I betrayed my country twice.’ Fauke smiled. ‘And

ended up in the wrong camp both times.’

‘You fought for the Russians?’

‘In a way. I was a prisoner of war. We were

starving to death. One morning they asked in

German if anyone knew anything about

telecommunications. I had a rough idea, so I put up

my hand. It turned out that all the communications

people in one of the regiments had died. Every

single one! The next day I was operating a field