Ingrid kept her head down and ran through the schoolyard gates as fast as she could. She needed to get away quickly, before the other children noticed. She stopped abruptly on the kerb to check that it was safe to cross.

A convoy of military lorries passed by, filled with German soldiers sitting in the back, guarded by Norwegian soldiers. Last year, the German soldiers had been billeted at the school. Ingrid remembered how they used to give the children sweets.

It was peacetime now, yet many of the German soldiers remained. Her besta had said that Germany was so destroyed, their soldiers had to stay in Norway and wait until they could be sent back to their own homes.

She shivered despite the heat. She wished they would all go away. She wished she could go away. She wished she could find Mamma, and she wished she didn’t need to feel scared anymore.

Ingrid held her breath, waiting for an opening in the traffic so she could run across. All the while, she kept looking over her shoulder.

From the schoolyard she heard children laughing and yelling, eager to get home after a long day. She had to be gone before any of them caught up with her.

She was almost in the clear, had one foot on the road, ready to run, when someone grabbed her by the neck and pulled her back.

‘Oh no, you Nazi bastard. You don’t get off that easy.’

Ingrid looked up at the older boy. Runar who only months earlier had been her friend, and now here was so much anger and hate in his eyes, and she knew what was coming. It had been the same ever since she started first grade at Gard Primary School in August, a few weeks earlier. From the first day, she had been singled out. Nobody wanted to play with her, be near her, and nobody talked to her. In the classroom, they’d pull their desks away from her and whisper behind her back. Even the children that had been in Mamma’s crèche didn’t want anything to do with her.

At some point Ingrid gave up trying to befriend anyone and accepted that this was how her school life would be. She kept her head down and tried her best to be invisible.

Runar was the worst. And it hurt so much more when Runar picked on her than when any of the other children did. He had been her best friend. Then the war ended, and everything changed.

‘Nazi spawn like you shouldn’t be allowed to go to school,’ he continued. ‘My father says you should all have been drowned at birth, and then … and then hung like those Nazi fathers of yours. You’re worse than that bastard Quisling, and he’ll be executed any day now, Father says.’

He spoke so angrily, he was spitting in her face. Ingrid squirmed to get loose, but he only held her harder.

‘My Pappa is in England, and he’s not a Nazi!’ she said.

‘As if anyone believes that. Why isn’t he here, then?’ Runar was fuming. ‘Your real pappa is one of those Nazi officers. Admit it!’ He took a firmer grip on her collar.

The dress would tear, Ingrid knew that, and then she would have to lie to her grandmother about how it had happened. She didn’t want Besta to know what they were calling her pappa.

Ingrid made fists with her hands and tried to hit him. That only made him laugh. He shook her so hard she could barely breathe.

While he was holding her with one hand, he put the other in his pocket and pulled out a piece of charcoal. He looked at her, then drew something on her forehead with hard, angry strokes. Then he threw the charcoal away. Ingrid could hear it shatter when it hit the ground.

‘What did you do?’ she yelled. She tried to pull away again.

The collar of her dress tore, and she fell to the ground again. From the corner of her eye, she spotted other children gathering against the fence, cheering him on. Laughing and screaming at them.

‘Nazi bastard! Nazi bastard!’

Ingrid looked around for a way out, but there was another car coming, and she couldn’t run into the road. She didn’t know what to do. There was no place to run or hide.

Runar stood over her, feet apart, hands raised and a pained expression on his face. For a second she thought he was going to kick her. She tried to crawl backwards, away from him, but he followed her.

Ingrid swallowed. He wasn’t going to let her go this time. He would keep on beating her. Something inside her shifted. It felt as if she was burning.

‘I’m not a Nazi!’ she yelled, and managed to get up on her feet. ‘You’re the bastard!’

‘My father says your mamma is a Nazi slut, and that makes you a Nazi bastard! Everyone knows that!’ he shouted at the top of his lungs.

Ingrid lost it when he berated her mamma. She hurled herself forward and hit him with both hands in the chest, so hard he lost his breath and almost fell over.

‘My mamma is not a Nazi slut! Take that back, you … you ugly shit,’ she said, remembering a bad word her grandmother used. ‘And your father is a big, fat liar and a bastard!’

Her tiny fists hammered at him, but he was a year older, and heavier and taller. Runar tried to hit her back, but by now she was so furious her hands kept hammering at him. The best he could do was to protect his face.

‘What’s going on here?’ One of the teachers came out from the schoolyard and pulled Runar away from Ingrid. ‘Stop that!’

While the teacher was holding Runar by the ear, forcing the boy to stand on his toes, she turned to the gawping children on the other side of the fence. ‘Anyone standing here in the next minute will have detention for the rest of the month.’

In a flurry, the children scampered off and disappeared.

Ingrid barely noticed. She held her fists high, ready to defend herself from Runar again.

‘She started it,’ Runar muttered, not looking at her.

‘Liar!’ Ingrid yelled, trying to get to him.

The teacher pulled Runar further back. Ignoring Ingrid, she looked at the boy. ‘Did you do that to her face?’

Ingrid remembered the charcoal and touched her forehead. When she looked at her hand, her fingertips were smudged.

She scowled at Runar. ‘What did you do?’

The teacher still ignored her. ‘You know better, Runar. That’s detention for you for a week for fighting.’

‘But my father …’ Runar said, his lower lip quivering.

‘Yes, I know your father, but there’s no excuse for fighting. Especially not with a girl younger than you. One week,’ the teacher said, grim faced and clearly angry.

She finally looked at Ingrid.

‘And you. This is the second time you’re fighting. I don’t understand why you’re not like the other little girls. Run along home to your grandmother now,’ she said.

Ingrid caught her breath. She looked at her, determined to have her say. She pointed a shaking finger at Runar. ‘My mamma is not a Nazi slut, and my Pappa lives in England,’ she said. ‘You’re a liar!’

The teacher looked at her, her eyes cold, and Ingrid knew. Her teacher believed the lies, same as Runar and everyone else.

‘Run along, I said. Now, before I change my mind and give you detention too.’

Ingrid wished she could say more, wished she could make them understand. Instead she scowled and turned away.

Safe on the other side of traffic, she suddenly couldn’t take it anymore. She turned and looked at them. ‘My Pappa is a hero. He sailed for Norway the whole war, fighting the Nazis, and you all know it. You’re the bastards,’ she yelled at the top of her lungs.

The teacher ignored her, and brought Runar back to the schoolyard.

Ingrid turned her back on the school. Her anger had given way to tears. She was crying so hard she could barely breathe. She rubbed her nose with the sleeve of her dress.

The dress was torn and dirty with coal dust. Besta will be so mad, Ingrid thought. This was her best dress, the last one Mamma made before she went away. She couldn’t bear to show the state of it to Besta. Not again.

She ran as fast as she could to get away from that horrible school. I hate them, she thought. I hate them all.

She didn’t stop until she came to her house. The house she had shared with her mother, not where she now lived with Besta. It was empty, of course, all the doors and windows locked. Her mother had left in June, when the war ended, and she hadn’t come back yet. Mamma will come, Ingrid thought. She knew it was true, because her mamma always told her she would come back for her. Always.

Ingrid still had her mother’s house key. It felt important.

She slipped into the house, closing the door behind...