The Storm Sister

by Lucinda Riley

‘Thank you.’

  Anna lay in the bathtub with a flannel over her face trying to still her heartbeat, which had not stopped banging since she’d set eyes on Jens Halvorsen earlier today. Just the very sight of him had caused an extreme physical reaction in her knees, her throat and her heart. ‘Lord, please give me strength and courage tonight,’ she prayed as she dried herself. ‘And forgive me if I wish that he could have a bilious attack about now and be too sick to come back and play.’

  After she had dressed and her hair had been arranged by Frøken Olsdatter, Anna walked along the corridor to the drawing room. Thirty gilt and red-velvet chairs had been arranged in semi-circular rows facing the piano in the bay window of the room. Jens Halvorsen and the cellist were already chatting to Herr Bayer, whose face lit up as he saw her.

  ‘You look quite perfect, my dear young lady,’ he said approvingly, handing her a glass of wine. ‘Now, let us all toast to this evening before the hubbub begins.’

  As she took a sip, she could feel Jens’ eyes rest briefly upon her décolletage; whether he was staring at the sparkling jewels or the expanse of bare white flesh beneath them, she didn’t know, but she felt herself blushing.

  ‘To you, Anna,’ Herr Bayer toasted her.

  ‘Yes, to Frøken Landvik,’ said Jens, raising his glass to her.

  ‘Now, you will go and sit in the kitchen with Frøken Olsdatter until I come for you.’

  ‘Yes, Herr Bayer.’

  ‘Good luck, my love,’ Jens whispered under his breath as Anna walked to the door and left the room.

  Whether it was the wine, or Jens Halvorsen the Bad accompanying her so empathetically on his fiddle that night, when the last note rang out in the hushed room, even Anna knew she had given of her best.

  After an enthusiastic round of applause, the guests, who included Johan Hennum, crowded around her, congratulating her and suggesting public performances at the Freemasons’ Hall and the Assembly Rooms. Herr Bayer stood beside her, beaming down at her proprietorially, as Jens hovered in the background. When Herr Bayer eventually left her side, Jens took his chance to speak to her.

  ‘Frøken Landvik, permit me to add my congratulations on your performance tonight.’

  ‘Thank you, Herr Halvorsen.’

  ‘And please, Anna, I beg you,’ he added in an undertone, ‘I have been a man in torment since I last saw you. I cannot stop thinking about you, dreaming of you . . . don’t you see that fate has conspired again to bring us together?’

  The sound of her Christian name on his tongue was so intimate that Anna gazed blankly over his shoulder, knowing that if she met his eyes, she would be lost. For his words mirrored her own feelings exactly.

  ‘Please may we meet? Anywhere, anytime . . . I—’

  ‘Herr Halvorsen,’ Anna said, finding her voice, ‘I am returning home to Heddal very shortly for my brother’s wedding.’

  ‘Then permit me to see you when you return to Christiania. Anna, I . . .’ Then, as he saw Herr Bayer approaching them, Jens bowed formally to her. ‘This evening has been a pleasure, Frøken Landvik.’ He lifted his eyes to hers and she saw a brief flicker of desperation in them.

  ‘Wasn’t she wonderful?’ Herr Bayer slapped Jens on the shoulder. ‘Those smooth rises into the middle and upper range and her magnificent vibrato . . . It is the best I’ve heard her perform!’

  ‘Indeed, Frøken Landvik sang beautifully tonight. And now, I must take my leave,’ said Jens. He looked at Herr Bayer expectantly.

  ‘Of course, of course. Excuse me, my dear Anna, but I must settle my account with our young fiddle player.’

  When she eventually retired to her room an hour later, Anna felt light-headed and giddy. Perhaps it was the euphoria of the evening’s performance, or maybe the second glass of wine she’d unwisely accepted, but as Frøken Olsdatter helped her undress, she knew deep down it was because of Jens Halvorsen. It was intoxicating to think that he was still enamoured with her. As, she admitted reluctantly, she was with him . . .

  Stalsberg Våningshuset

  Tindevegan

  Heddal

  30th June 1876

  Kjære Anna,

  I write with sad news. My father passed away on Tuesday last. Thankfully, it was peaceful. And perhaps for the best, for, as you know, he suffered much pain. The funeral will have taken place before you receive this letter, but I felt I must inform you of it.

  Your father says to tell you that the barley crop looks well and his worst fears were unfounded. Anna, when you return for your brother’s wedding, we will have much to discuss for the future. Despite the sad news, I am happy I will set eyes on you again soon.

  Until then,

  Kjærlig hilsen,

  Lars

  Having read the letter, Anna lay back on her pillows feeling as though she was no better a person than Jens Halvorsen the Bad. Every moment since she’d seen him again at the soirée, she’d thought of nothing else. And even when Herr Bayer had told her delightedly of the further recitals that he’d arranged for her, she could not rouse herself to display the expected excitement.

  He had asked last night for her presence in the drawing room today at eleven. Duly dressed, she walked disconsolately along the corridor. Entering the room, she could see her mentor was already in a state of high excitement.

  ‘Anna! Do come in and hear our wonderful news. This morning, I met with Johan Hennum and Ludvig Josephson. You may remember that Herr Hennum attended your soirée and he told me that due to the popularity of Peer Gynt, they wish to include the play in their autumn season. They have suggested that you reprise your role as Solveig.’

  Anna looked at him with a mixture of astonishment and despair. ‘You mean stand on the side of the stage again and sing the songs whilst Madame Hansson pretends my voice is hers?’

  ‘Anna, really! Do you even think that I would suggest that as a possibility? No, my dear young lady, they wish you to play the role in its entirety. Madame Hansson is currently unavailable, and having just been revealed as the talented owner of the ghost voice in Christiania’s musical circles, they are keen to have you perform. To make the situation even better, Herr Grieg has announced he will finally come to Christiania to see the production. Both Johan and Ludvig feel your rendition of his songs cannot be improved upon. So, they wish you to attend an audition this coming Thursday, where they will decide if you have sufficient talent as an actress. Do you recollect any of the lines Solveig speaks in the play?’

  ‘Yes, Herr Bayer. On many occasions I have mouthed them alongside Madame Hansson,’ Anna replied, a small tingle of excitement creeping up her spine. Could it really be that they would want her as the star? And would Jens Halvorsen the Not So Bad Any Longer be playing in the orchestra . . . ?

  ‘Excellent! Then today, we will forget your scales and the new aria I had planned for you to learn, and I will read all the other parts from Peer Gynt whilst you run through Solveig’s lines.’ He picked up a copy of the play from his desk and opened it. ‘Please feel free to sit down. As you know, it is a long piece, but we will do the best we can. Ready?’ he asked her.

  ‘Yes, Herr Bayer,’ said Anna as she recalled the words as best she could.

  ‘Well, well!’ Herr Bayer said an hour later as he looked at her in admiration. ‘It seems that we not only have a voice, but a talent for portraying a character too.’ He took her hand in his and kissed it. ‘My dear young lady, may I say that you continue to astound me.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Have no fear for the audition, Anna. Perform exactly as you have today and the part is yours. Now, come, we will take luncheon together.’

  On Thursday afternoon at two promptly, Anna met Herr Josephson on the stage at the theatre, and they sat down together to read through the script. She heard a slight tremor in her voice during the first few lines, but as she continued to read, she grew more confident. She read through both the scene where Solveig first meets Peer at a wedding, and then the final scene, when he returns to her a
fter his travels around the world and Solveig forgives him.

  ‘Excellent, Frøken Landvik!’ Herr Josephson said with approval, as Anna looked up at him. ‘I really don’t feel I need to hear any more. I must admit I was not in favour of this idea when Herr Hennum suggested it to me, but you acquitted yourself very well indeed for a first read-through. We will have work to do to improve the strength of your voice and the expression in it, but I think I can agree that you should take the role of Solveig in the forthcoming season.’

  ‘Anna! Isn’t that wonderful news?’ Herr Bayer, who had been sitting in the auditorium watching and listening intently, made his way up onto the stage.

  ‘Rehearsals will begin in August for the September opening. I hope you have no plans to leave for the country at that time?’ Herr Josephson asked her.

  ‘Rest assured, Anna will be here,’ replied Herr Bayer for her. ‘Now, we come to the question of money. We must agree Frøken Landvik’s fee for taking such a prominent role.’

  Ten minutes later, they were back in the carriage and Herr Bayer suggested they go to the Grand Hotel for high tea and to celebrate Anna’s further triumph.

  ‘And on top of all the other advantages, there is every chance that Herr Grieg will come in the autumn to see you perform. Just think of that, my dear young lady! If he takes a shine to you, there may be the chance for travel overseas to other theatres or concert halls . . .’

  Anna’s thoughts floated away as she imagined Jens Halvorsen down in the orchestra pit, looking up at her as she spoke Solveig’s words of love.

  ‘So, I will write to your dear parents telling them of our wonderful news and begging them to allow me and Christiania to enjoy the pleasure of your company for a few more months whilst you perform in Peer Gynt. You will return home to attend your brother’s wedding in July and be back here for August,’ said Herr Bayer over dinner that evening. ‘I too will be leaving Christiania as usual to stay in my family’s summer house on Drøbak with my sister and my poor ailing mama.’

  ‘So there will be no time for me to travel to the mountains?’ Anna could hear the petulance in her voice, but she wanted to see with her own eyes if Rosa was still alive.

  ‘Anna, there will be many more summers singing the cows home, but never again one preparing to take the leading role in a production of Peer Gynt at the Christiania Theatre. I shall also return, of course, when you begin rehearsals.’

  ‘I’m sure that Frøken Olsdatter can take care of me if you are unable to return. I wouldn’t like to impose my needs on you,’ Anna answered politely.

  ‘Don’t even think of it, my dear young lady. These days, it seems your needs are mine.’

  Anna found it a relief to retire to her room that evening. Herr Bayer’s natural ebullience was, she knew, an endearing positive quality, but to live with it day in and day out became somewhat wearing. At least Lars was quiet, she thought, as she knelt to say her prayers, knowing she would see him very soon and forcing herself to recall his good qualities. But even as she spoke to Jesus about Lars, her thoughts flew from him to Jens Halvorsen.

  ‘Please Lord, forgive my heart, for I do believe I have fallen in love with the wrong man. Help me love the one I am supposed to. And also,’ she added before she stood up, trying to find something to say that was unselfish, ‘can Rosa just be alive for one more summer?’

  21

  As Anna left for Heddal a week later, Jens carried a bundle of his most precious possessions into the centre of Christiania. He felt drained and exhausted from the nightmare of the past few hours.

  In the dining room over breakfast that morning, Jens had sat as straight and proud as he could, his bread and preserves untouched in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he had spoken what he needed to say out loud.

  ‘I have done my best to live up to your expectations, Far, but my future simply does not lie in the brewery business. I wish to become a full-time musician and one day, I hope, a composer. I am sorry, but I cannot change who I am.’

  Jonas continued salting his eggs and then took a mouthful before he replied.

  ‘So be it. You have made your decision. As I told you when this was first discussed, there will be no further funds and nothing for you in my will. From this moment on, you are no longer my son. I simply cannot bear to witness what you are throwing away and how you are betraying me. Therefore, as we agreed, I expect you to have left the house by the time I return from the office this evening.’

  Even though Jens had been bracing himself for his father’s response, it still came as a shock. He looked across the table to his mother’s horrified face.

  ‘But Jonas, kjære, it is your son’s twenty-first birthday in a few days’ time, and as you know, we have arranged a dinner for him. Surely you can allow him a few days’ grace to celebrate with his parents and friends?’

  ‘I hardly feel that any of us will be celebrating, given the circumstances. And if you believe I will soften my resolve in time, then you are sadly mistaken.’ Jonas folded his newspaper twice as he always did. ‘Now, I must leave for the brewery. Good day to you both.’

  The worst part of the entire episode was watching his mother break down in tears the moment the front door slammed shut behind his father. He comforted her as best he could.

  ‘I have let Far down. Perhaps I should change my mind and—’

  ‘No, no . . . You must follow your passion. I only wish that I had when I was your age. Forgive me, Jens, kjære, but perhaps I was living in a fool’s paradise. I believed that, when it came to it, your father would change his mind.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t, and therefore I was prepared for it. So, I must now do as he wishes and leave the house. Forgive me, Mor, I need to pack.’

  ‘Perhaps I was wrong to encourage you.’ Margarete wrung her hands. ‘And to work against his plans for you when I should have accepted that he would win.’

  ‘But he hasn’t won, Mor. I do this of my own free will. And I can only say how grateful I am to you for giving me the gift of music. My future would be more miserable without it.’

  An hour later, Jens arrived downstairs in the entrance hall, with two suitcases stuffed full of all the possessions he could carry.

  His mother’s tear-stained face met him at the drawing room door.

  ‘Oh, my son,’ she wept on his shoulder. ‘Maybe in time, your father will regret what he has done today and ask you to come home.’

  ‘I think we both know that he will not.’

  ‘Where will you go?’

  ‘I have friends in the orchestra, and I’m sure one of them will put a roof over my head temporarily. I’m more concerned about you, Mor. I feel I shouldn’t leave you alone with him.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me, kjære. Just promise me you will write and let me know where you will be?’

  ‘Of course,’ he agreed.

  Then his mother thrust a small package into his hands.

  ‘I sold the diamond necklace and earrings your father gave me for my fortieth birthday, just in case he carried out his threat. The proceeds are in here. I’ve also enclosed my mother’s gold wedding band which you can sell too if necessary.’

  ‘Mor—’

  ‘Hush now, they were mine and if he asks where they have gone, I will tell him the truth. It is enough to pay for a year’s tuition and bed and board in Leipzig. Jens, swear to me you will not squander this money as you have done so often in the past.’

  ‘Mor.’ Jens found himself choked with emotion. ‘I promise I will not.’ And before he broke down completely, he folded her in his arms and tenderly kissed her goodbye.

  ‘One day, I hope I can sit in the Christiania Theatre and watch you conduct the music you have written,’ she said with a sad smile.

  ‘That is a promise, Mor, and I will do whatever it takes to fulfil it.’

  Then he left his home for the last time, feeling dazed but exhilarated by his decision and realising that, despite reassuring his mother, he hadn’t really made a plan of where he
would go if the worst did happen. Well, it had, and Jens headed straight to Engebret, hoping he might see a musician there he knew who could give him a bed for the night. Simen had kindly obliged, written down his address and said he’d see him there later on.

  After a few beers to knock the edges off the enormity of what he’d just done, Jens found himself walking towards a part of the city he’d never been to before. And feeling highly conspicuous in his finely tailored clothes. His arms were aching from carrying his two heavy cases, and he made his way as quickly as possible, avoiding eye contact with all passers-by.

  He had never been this far outside the city boundary and, unlike in the centre of Christiania, wooden houses had obviously not yet been banned as a fire risk. The buildings grew more dilapidated the further on he walked. Eventually, he stopped in front of an old timber-framed house and double-checked the address Simen had given him at Engebret. Knocking on the door, he heard a grunting and the sound of someone spitting within. The door opened and there was Simen, half-drunk as usual, smiling at him.

  ‘Come in, come in, my boy, and welcome to my humble abode. It isn’t much, but it’s home.’ Entering the house, the stuffy little front room smelt of rotting food and the tobacco that Simen smoked in his pipe. Jens saw that every inch of space was filled with musical instruments. Two cellos, a viola, a piano, numerous fiddles . . .

  ‘Thank you for this, Simen. I am very grateful to you for taking me in.’

  Simen waved aside his gratitude. ‘Please, it is nothing. Any young man who gives up everything for his love of music deserves as much help as I can give him. I am proud of you, Jens, truly. Now follow me upstairs and we’ll get you settled.’

  ‘Quite a collection you have here,’ said Jens as he picked his way carefully through the clutter of instruments and climbed up a set of narrow wooden stairs.

  ‘I simply can’t resist buying them. One of the cellos is almost a hundred years old,’ Simen explained, while the stairs creaked in protest as Jens heaved his cases up them.