Live, Love, Lose - 3. Chapter 3

Soon enough, they arrived at Hull and before the boat was tied up to a dock, Karl was waiting, ready to leave the boat. He got off rather quickly, eager to be back on dry land, so much so that he even forgot to thank the man who had taken him there.

It felt somehow weird for him to set foot in a land that wasn’t his, but it was intriguing at the same time.

Artur got off the boat shortly after he did, and stood beside him.

“It may not look as nice as Denmark, but you’ll have to get used to it,” he told Karl.

Of course, Karl was very well aware of that. He took a few steps forward as if to experience for the very first time what it was like to walk on a foreign ground. He looked straight ahead of him. They weren’t alone in the harbor, there were some Englishmen present as well. Everything looked calm and peaceful.

He turned around and approached Artur.

“Well, looks like our ways part here,” the man told him.

“Thanks for everything,” Karl replied, with a tiny, but genuine smile.

Artur nodded to him.

“Mind yourself.”

It was Karl’s turn to nod this time.

“I will.”

He turned away, to set off and explore the city. He would consider exactly what to do later.

Artur called after him.

“Wait!”

Karl stopped, he turned around swiftly. Artur caught up with him.

“Even if I can’t stay with you the whole time you’ll be living here, I can still give you a hand while I am here. Just follow me.”

Karl said nothing and simply did as he was told.

They walked for a while until they arrived at the train station.

“Even if you don’t have any money, you can still get a train that’ll take you to London. If you are to stay here for a long time, you might as well go and look for a place to live in a more attractive city than Hull,” Artur told him.

Karl pondered his words. He guessed the man was right and decided to take his advice.

“Thank you for helping me.”

Artur gave him a small lopsided smile.

“You already thanked me a few moments ago, boy. Now this is the one you have to take for London. It’s a direct one,” he said, pointing at the train.

“How do you know that?”

“I have my tips,” the older man answered with a smirk.

Karl stared at him, an earnest look on his face. “It’s not the first time you’ve come here, is it?”

“Hey, I’m a sailor, son, and a merchant. So I know other places than Denmark.”

Karl nodded. Of course, that was very logical.

“Well, now it’s time for us to bid farewell for good this time,” Artur added.

“Yes.”

“Good luck,” he said, before extending his hand.

Karl took it and shook it.

“Thank you.”

A few moments later, the young Dane was hopping the freight train that Artur had shown him and climbed on a wagon at the back without being seen.

He removed his pack and put it down next to him. There wasn’t actually much inside of it. Just some food so he wouldn’t starve for the first few days, and a small woollen blanket he could wrap around himself in order not to be cold in case of bad weather. Even if it was springtime, it could still rain!

He sat at one end of the wagon, hugging his knees to his chest. He thought about his parents. And his brother and sister. He wondered what they were doing now, if they were alright, tried to imagine what they were thinking about if they were thinking at all, but he was no mind-reader, especially not from such a long distance.

The trip took four hours. It was about noon by the time he got to London.

He hopped off the wagon and made his way, being careful not to be seen, out of the freight yard. He found a way out onto a street which led to the station. Soon he was standing amidst the crowds on the London streets and he struggled to keep his breath steady as he wasn’t used to this.

He decided to explore the city, he had nothing better to do, just like he had wanted to do in Hull. There was no farm work any more for him. It felt strange. He really was like a tourist in a foreign country, except he was penniless.

His top priority, for now, was to find a place to sleep, for tonight at least. He thought about finding a job to make a living, but he didn’t speak a single word of English, so it would be complicated. He didn’t know anybody who could put him up. And certainly, no one would accept to put up a foreigner and a stranger in their home.

Besides, now that he thought about it, he couldn’t do anything else other than farming work. And he was in London, not in the countryside anymore.

He didn’t even know which way to turn first. So he took a random direction and wandered aimlessly in the busy, lively London streets. It was nothing like where he lived. But it wasn’t unpleasant.

He went South, and after walking for a very long while ended up reaching a river. A river in the middle of a city, how funny. He stopped to stare at it. The sun was shining on it. There were only a few clouds in the sky, otherwise, it was a clear blue. Different from the sea, yet at the same time similar. He found a spot at the edge of the river and sat cross-legged on the ground to eat a bit of his food. He had to save as much of it as he could if he didn’t want to go hungry.

He had no water to drink. His father really must have packed his things in a rush… he could survive for a bit without food, but not without water….

He seriously started to question his father’s decision. He would have liked to know what happened in his father’s head exactly at the moment the men left the farm.

Yes, he had only meant to protect him by doing this. But would he really have been in danger had these men taken him away? Would they have hurt him? From what he had heard and been told, no.

As he kept thinking it through, he came to the following conclusion, it was a reckless decision and he could only agree with his mother for once.

He sighed as he looked at his feet. He couldn’t be mad at his father. He guessed anyone could make mistakes.

But then he realised...there was one thing he couldn’t understand. If the men had come to the farm with the intent of taking him away, why had they left? What could his father have told them to make them leave? There was something strange about it. Besides, how could they have known they had a son still living with them?

The more he thought, the more his body tensed.

Could that mean other men beside them had come into every Danish house where there was a boy his age to do the same thing? That sounded crazy.

He shook that thought from his mind, stood up, and slung his bag across his shoulder.

He resumed wandering the city and didn’t stop until sunset. He ended up at a park, but couldn’t tell where. He resolved to sleep in the park, found a spot in the fresh grass where he was sure he wouldn’t be disturbed, and lay down, putting his arms behind his head of blond curls.

Fortunately for him it wasn’t wintertime.

For several days, he followed the same routine: wandering the London streets and sleeping out in the open, usually in parks whenever he could. He would drink whatever water he could find: in fountains, rivers. He was used to the lack of hygiene as a farmer, but the smells that emanated from him were becoming harsher and harsher to his nose as the days passed. He didn’t want to imagine what people thought when they saw him.

One afternoon, he was too hungry and too desperate, so he put aside one of the only few things his parents had taught him : stealing something from someone else was bad. But he hadn’t chosen to end up here homeless, penniless, worthless. He entered a shop full of food and while its seller was busy with other people, he took what he could, that is very little and shoved it in his bag, glancing at the man every five seconds to make sure he wouldn’t get caught. He left trying to be as casual as possible, thinking he wouldn’t get noticed but…

“Hey you! Wait a minute, will you?”

Karl started as he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder, the man’s voice stern and scary.

“Show me what’s inside your bag.”

He froze as he couldn’t understand a single word, but he knew what he had just done. He turned around to face the man and handed him his bag so he could inspect it.

Stealing must be an art, he thought.

He hardly dared look up at the man, but with one glance he saw how stocky he was, with dark eyes, grizzled hair and a moustache. He took out his blanket and let it fall to the floor. And then there it was. The food he had just taken.

“Don’t you dare think you can deceive me, boy. I’ve got eyes everywhere in this shop, and experience, which you don’t, I presume.”

“Well, you should be ashamed of yourself, young lad. What kind of parents raised you to steal food from an honest and respectable shopkeeper? War is the same for everyone. This is no reason to start stealing.”

The woman he had been busy with approached them, her face showing anger and shock.

“Do not worry, Mrs. Hill, I am going to deal with him, and be assured that his parents will think twice before letting him go on the streets all alone next time.”

She nodded in satisfaction.

“My respects. I will be looking forward to seeing you again soon.”

The woman smiled at him before she left the shop. She mustn’t have known what poverty was.

“Well, now, about your parents, have they got a phone number where I can call them or shall I bring you back home by the scruff of the neck?”

He couldn’t understand what he wanted. Was he still scolding him? Did he want him to apologise or something else? He had no idea.

“First, look at me when I’m talking to you and then answer! Do you really think I’ve got all my time to waste with you?”

He grabbed Karl by the shoulders, making him start again. He glanced at him as he was seized by fear.

“Det er jeg ked af. Jeg gør det ikke igen, det lover jeg.”

I'm sorry. I won't do it again, I promise.

The man said nothing more afterwards. As he was intrigued, he glanced up to see the man looking somewhat shocked. Was it because he had expected him to speak English? Did he think he was English like him and that woman?

The man removed his hands from his shoulders as he remained silent. He picked up his bag and put the blanket back inside before handing it to him.

Karl raised his eyebrows. So he wasn’t mad anymore, right?

“This is okay for this time, but I won’t be able to feed you for free next time. As Mrs. Hill said, war is the same for everyone,” his voice was solemn as he spoke.

He understood without words. He would let him go for this time, but he shouldn’t start again. This was more than fair.

“Tusind tak.” Thank you so much.

Their eyes met and he didn’t waste time to leave. He started wandering on the streets again.

But when night fell, as he was looking for a place to sleep, crossing a dark, narrow alley, he jumped as he felt hands grabbing him from behind. Next thing he knew, someone’s fist was colliding with his cheek and he fell to the ground, hitting his head hard on it. But it didn’t stop there. He was hit until everything became dark and he couldn’t think anymore.

What had he done to deserve that?

Hey ! Here you go with another chapter ! I hope you've enjoyed it