To make herself look plump, she’d donned every item of clothing she could, with her tan raincoat over her winter coat. She’d put talcum powder in her hair and pinned it up under her hat. With the reading glasses she’d found abandoned on a bookshelf, she appeared several decades older. Or so she hoped.
After she’d stuffed as many personal items as possible in her briefcase and pockets, she’d stashed her suitcase in the supply closet in the bathroom, ridding herself of everything that made her look like Else Jensen, wanted by the Gestapo.
Her feet shuffled on the tile floor, eager to leave, fearful to leave.At closing time she’d hidden in a bathroom stall with her feet up on a toilet. She’d slept the best she could on a table, then hidden again at opening time.
She had to get to Lyd-af-Lys before Hemming left for the boardinghouse in the afternoon. She had to warn him about Fru Riber and give him his journal and Bible and Havmand figurine.
But she also needed to avoid leading the Gestapo to Lyd-af-Lys.
Her watch read nine thirty, half an hour after the library opened. It was time.
With a deep breath, Else shifted the glasses low on her nose so she could see and left the bathroom. She busied herself in the stacks for a few minutes, then headed for the exit with slow and stiff movements, which wasn’t difficult encased in so many clothes.
The librarian barely glanced her way, and Else gave her a polite nod.
Outside, a clear sky greeted her as if nothing were wrong in this very wrong world, a world where landladies betrayed women they’d once called dear.
Else’s throat thickened, and she swallowed hard.
Nørreport station was closer, but she’d go to Vesterport. Granted, the Gestapo would have alerts for her at all the stations, but Nørreport carried the highest risk.
As she walked, she reviewed the route she’d planned the night before in the library over a railway map with her flashlight in hand. Her route involved four S-train lines, crossing lines at stations, and doubling back a few times until she arrived at Osterport, where she’d catch the Kystbanen north to Vedbæk.
At Vesterport, two German soldiers guarded the entrance.
Else’s empty stomach heaved, but she kept moving. A clump of four businessmen approached the entrance, and Else tucked in behind them, her head low.
Had the guards seen her? Did her disguise make her look like a middle-aged woman? Or like a young woman trying to disguise herself?
Else bought a ticket to the last stop on the Vestbanen, although she’d get off long before.
At her platform, she tried to memorize the looks of the passengers without looking nosy.
After the train pulled in, Else took a seat close to the door so she could leave quickly if necessary.
When she sat, the layers of skirts rode up and her raincoat parted below the bottom button, showing her blue overcoat underneath. Else winced and rearranged things.
Across the aisle, a man in his thirties in a black homburg watched her, then cut his gaze away.
Else held her breath. Did he suspect her? Or just think her odd? Could he be Gestapo? Or a stikker?
She forced slow, calm breaths. If only she had a book to make her look busy, but the only books she had were Hemming’s Bible and journal, neither of which should be seen in public.
Instead, Else tried to look bored while tracking the comings and goings of passengers. All too often, she caught the man in the black homburg watching her.
Heat built up, and Else itched to remove layers. A trickle of sweat ran down from her armpit, another along her hairline.
Sweating would raise suspicions, but so would removing a raincoat to reveal a second coat—a bright blue coat certainly mentioned in police alerts.
Her breath came faster. What if he did suspect her? What if hewasGestapo?
At the next station, Else pushed herself to standing, and with a stiff gait, trudged off the train and down the platform.
Not until the doors closed and the electric train whished away did she venture a glance behind her. No sign of the man in the black homburg.
Else lowered herself to a bench with a sigh all the way from her toes. Now to wait for the next train and continue her trek.
Two boys pedaled their bicycles up Strandvej, so Else kept walking past Lyd-af-Lys. As soon as they were out of sight, she darted back and passed through the villa’s gateway.
