Page 70 of Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt
‘Apparently so. But none of us are safe here now. We must make plans to leave immediately.’ I put my left arm around Elle and she buried her head in my chest. I looked back up at the building as the sound of sirens began to encroach, my cello bow against my leg. The pattern of my life had repeated itself, and I had lost everything. But this time, I had Elle by my side.
‘Where will you go?’ asked Karine.
‘As far away as possible. America, we hope.’
‘We will miss you, Karine,’ Elle sobbed. ‘You have been like a sister to me.’
‘And you to me, Elle.’ Karine bit her lip. ‘What if there was a way that we could all stay together? Would you be interested?’
Elle and I looked at one another. ‘Of course, Karine,’ she replied. ‘You are more than welcome to come with us. Perhaps you could join us on our voyage to America?’
‘Actually, I was thinking that you could accompany me. As you know, Pip has offered to take me to Norway. I’m sure, given what has happened tonight, that he would be more than willing to extend the offer to you. What do you think?’
‘Yes. Oh, yes!’ Elle replied, before I’d even had a chance to absorb the information. She turned to me. ‘Bo, it’s a perfect plan.’
Still in a daze, I nodded. ‘If Pip agrees, of course we would come. Thank you, Karine. You have no idea how much that offer means to us.’
‘It is settled. The end of term is only a few days away, and then we can take the passage to Bergen.’
‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘When I said that Elle and I would be gone by tomorrow night, I meant it. It is of the utmost importance for our... forElle’s safety that we leave Leipzig immediately.’ I glanced pointedly at my lodgings.
‘I understand,’ Karine accepted. ‘I will talk to Pip first thing. All he cared about was having his work performed, and he achieved his objective tonight. Hopefully we can all be out of Leipzig by the evening.’
‘In the meantime, Bo, you need somewhere to stay,’ Elle said. ‘I’m sure Frau Fischer wouldn’t object to you spending the night on our floor, given the circumstances. Is that all right with you, Karine?’
‘Of course.’
Thankfully, my presence was permitted. I took the wooden chair in Elle and Karine’s room and placed it by the window,determined to make amends for what had happened earlier. If only I had been more vigilant, this could all have been avoided. With the protection of Elle my responsibility, I was confident that I would not falter at this second opportunity. I waited until the sun rose at just before five a.m., before finally retreating to the floor to get some rest, certain that Kreeg wouldn’t try anything during daylight hours. At seven, I heard Karine leave to speak with Pip.
She returned a few hours later and assured us that the family would welcome us into their home, and that Pip was currently in the process of making a hurried phone call from Principal Davisson’s office to at least provide some warning to his kin in Bergen.
The rest of the day was a flurry of packing. I helped Elle to sort her possessions, oddly relieved that I didn’t have to do the same, given that mine were now a pile of ash. Only my cello had survived, left at the Gewandhaus last night – not that I would be able to collect it; the operation was simply too much of a risk. A lump formed in my throat as I bid a silent farewell to my instruments. At least the diamond was safe, secured as always around my neck. As I bent my arm to feel its familiar shape in the pouch, a bolt of pain surged through my elbow. I yelped.
‘Oh Bo. You must see a doctor,’ Elle said. ‘Here.’ She took one of her scarves and tied it around my neck as a makeshift sling. She gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek and stroked my bruised face. ‘My poor love. You’re going to be the colour of beetroot before too long.’
‘And then mustard after a week or so,’ I added.
‘I forgot to mention,’ Karine interjected. ‘Pip’s mother, Astrid, is a nurse. She’ll be able to see to your arm.’
‘There you go, Bo.’ Elle managed a smile. ‘Things are looking up already.’
Regardless of all that had occurred during the last six months, I was still a little heartbroken to be forced out of Leipzig. When Elle and I had arrived, I dared to dream that we might finally be free to live out our lives together – as musicians, no less – unburdened by the past. However, as I suppose it was always going to, it had caught up with me, conspiring with the present to not only harm me, but Elle too.
Selfishly, I pray that Norway is far enough from Kreeg.
Please, dear reader, forgive my long absence. As I write now, I can scarcely believe that over eighteen months have passed since my last entry. One factor alone accounts for my lack of chronicling – my arm. It transpired that my ‘fall’ in Leipzig resulted in both a dislocated elbow and a compound fracture. Apparently, the situation was not helped by the fact I stoically penned a number of pages on the two-day voyage from Leipzig to Bergen.
Upon our arrival in Norway, the kind and wondrous Astrid Halvorsen ensured that I received immediate care from the Haukeland Hospital. My arm was sealed in a cast for six weeks, and I was told that healing could take a year or more. Although I do seem to improve marginally each day, writing has continued to prove difficult. Many times, I have attempted to lift my elbow and put pen to paper, and subsequently given up due to the pain. However, I am glad to report that what was once a searing heat in my arm is now merely a dull ache, and therefore... I am able to continue my diary. What a luxury!
I will endeavour to recall events in detail, for I believe that if you are still reading this, you have a vested interest in my tale.
After walking down the steamer gangplank, Astrid had taken one look at my elbow and decreed that I would almost definitely need an operation. She was proved right, and despite resistance from the kind Halvorsen family, I had insisted that all hospital costs were paid for by myself. This, in effect, saw the end to the funds provided by Monsieur Landowski’s Prix Blumenthal.
Mercifully, the Halvorsens were beyond generous to us. In those early days, they provided us with a roof, sustenance, and countless happy evenings filled with music and laughter. Pip and his parents treated me and Elle like family (and Karine too, of course).
Pip’s father, Horst, is a fellow cellist, and plays in the Bergen Philharmonic. I have therefore received inordinate amounts of sympathy from him during my time in Norway, as I can no longer properly lift my bow arm. It is simply too stiff. I was therefore never able to engage in what became traditional post-dinner performances, featuring Pip at the piano, Karine on the oboe, Elle on the flute or viola (depending on the piece) and Horst on the aforementioned cello. Pangs of sadness would crash inside my chest like waves as I stared longingly at my former instrument.
Those first few months in Norway were just what was required after our turbulent exit from Germany. Here, Elle and I felt safe. Norway is perhaps the most beautiful country on the planet. In my short time here, I have marvelled at misty mountains and stared in wonder at waterways that drift off into eternity. One of my favourite pastimes is to hike up into the local park, the Bergens Fjellstrekninger, with a sketchbook and a set of pens to try and capture some of the naturalbeauty the country boasts. Even the air here has a certain purity. One can almost become drunk on it, intoxicated by the sharp, fresh chill.
