They arrived in a room containing a few battered chairs and a dusty table, covered in the detritus of a few days’ worth of food and drink.
‘There’s a pallet somewhere which I can offer you to sleep on. Not what you’re used to, I’m sure, but better than nothing. Now, my friend, some aquavit to celebrate your independence?’ Simen picked up a bottle and a cloudy glass from the table. Sniffing the glass, he shook out a few remaining drops onto the floor.
‘Thank you.’
Jens accepted the dirty glass. If this was to be his new life, he must embrace it wholeheartedly. He got very drunk that night, and woke up with a dreadful hangover, his bones aching from sleeping on the hard pallet. And realised that there would be no Dora arriving with coffee to soothe him. Remembering in panic the package of money from his mother, Jens reached for his jacket to feel the pocket where he had stuffed it as he’d left the house. Finding it still safe, he opened it and saw the ring and that the amount of cash was indeed enough to provide him with a year’s tuition in Leipzig. Or a comfortable bed in a hotel for the next few nights . . .
No. Jens checked himself. He had promised his mother and he would not let her down by squandering the money.
Anna boarded the train that would take her on the first stage of her journey home. It was dark when she arrived at Drammen station, and as she got down from the carriage, she saw her father waiting for her on the platform.
‘Far! Oh, Far! I’m so happy to see you.’ And much to Anders’ surprise, she threw her arms around him in an uncharacteristic public display of emotion.
‘There, there, Anna. I’m sure you must be weary after your journey. Come, let us make our way to our lodging house. Tonight you can sleep to your heart’s content, then tomorrow we will travel home to Heddal.’
The next morning, refreshed after her night’s sleep, Anna climbed up onto the cart and Anders tapped the horse to walk on. ‘In the daylight, you seem different somehow. I think you have grown into a woman, daughter. You are beautiful.’
‘Really, Far, I’m sure I’m not.’
‘Everyone is looking forward to your arrival. Your mother is preparing a special evening meal for you tonight and Lars will be joining us. We received Herr Bayer’s letter telling us of your success at the Christiania Theatre. He tells us that Solveig is no less than the leading role.’
‘Yes, it is. But do you mind if I stay on in Christiania for longer, Far?’
‘It would hardly be fair to complain after all Herr Bayer has done for you,’ replied Anders placidly. ‘He says you will become famous for it, that your voice is already the talk of the city. We are proud of you.’
‘I think he exaggerates, Far,’ Anna said with a blush.
‘I doubt he does. Of course, Anna, you must speak with Lars. He is unhappy that your betrothal and marriage are once again delayed, but we hope he cares for you enough to understand.’
At the mention of Lars, Anna felt her stomach contract. Determined not to allow this to spoil her first day home, she did her best to push such thoughts to the back of her mind.
As they rode out of Drammen and into the open countryside, the day was bright and Anna closed her eyes, realising all she could hear was the clip-clopping of the pony’s hooves and the birds singing in the trees. She breathed in the fresh, pure air like a caged animal suddenly released into the wild and decided that she might never return to Christiania again.
Anders told her that Rosa the cow had made it through another winter, which renewed Anna’s faith that her prayers had been answered. Then he talked of the plans for Knut’s wedding and of the frenzy of baking and cooking her mother was currently engaged in.
‘Sigrid is a sweet girl and I think she will make a good wife for Knut,’ Anders commented. ‘Most importantly, your mother likes her too, which is helpful, as the happy couple will be living under our roof. Once you and Lars are wed, you will move to his farmhouse and we will think about building another homestead next year.’
When they arrived at the farm in the late afternoon, everyone came out to greet her. Even the old cat, Gerdy, ran out as fast as she could on her three legs, and Viva the dog followed boisterously after her, leaping up at Anna in joy.
Her mother gave her a long hug. ‘I have been waiting all day to see you. How was your journey? Good Lord, you look thin! Your hair has grown too long and I’d say it needs a good trim . . .’
Anna listened to her mother chatter incessantly as they made their way to the farmhouse. The comforting smell of wood smoke, her mother’s talcum powder and damp dog assailed her nostrils as she was led through to the kitchen.
‘Put Anna’s valise in her room,’ Berit called to Knut, as she put the kettle on the range to make coffee. ‘I hope you won’t mind, Anna, but we have moved you into Knut’s bedroom. It was too small to hold the double bed that Knut and Sigrid will be sharing after they are wed. Your father has taken away the bunks, and I think it is cosy with just one single. You will meet your new sister tomorrow when she comes for dinner. Oh, Anna, I am sure you will love her. She is so kind and her needlework is exquisite. She can also cook, which will be a great help to me, as my rheumatism has plagued me constantly this winter.’
For the following hour, Anna listened to her mother waxing lyrical about Sigrid. A little cross that she had been unceremoniously turfed out of her bedroom without so much as a ‘by your leave’, she did her best not to feel displaced by this apparent beacon of domestic perfection. After she had drunk her coffee, Anna took her leave to go and unpack before dinner.
Entering her new room, she saw that all her possessions had been stacked in the baskets her mother normally used to take the chickens to market. Sitting down on her brother’s hard mattress, she wondered what had happened to her own childhood bed and decided that the way things seemed to be here, her father had probably chopped it up and used it as firewood for the stove. Feeling thoroughly disgruntled, Anna began to unpack her valise.
She unfolded the cushion cover she had spent hours embroidering as a wedding gift, since hearing of Knut’s betrothal to Sigrid. As she’d sat night after night, pricking her fingers or pulling out the threads of a wrong stitch, she had despaired at her lack of skill. She flattened it out on the bed and stared at the frayed holes in the hessian fabric where she’d had to make stitch changes. Even if her cushion was consigned to the dog basket by her paragon of a new sister-in-law, Anna knew that at least every stitch had been sewn with love.
With her head held high, she left her room to join the family for her ‘welcome home’ dinner.
Lars arrived just as she was helping her mother serve the food. Holding a tureen of potatoes, Anna glanced at him as he walked into the kitchen and greeted Knut and her parents. Immediately, and irritatingly, Anna couldn’t stop herself from comparing him to Jens Halvorsen the Bad. Physically, they were opposites, and whereas Jens was always the centre of attention, Lars only wanted to shy away from it.
‘Anna, for goodness’ sake, put those potatoes down, and say hello to Lars,’ her mother chided her.
Anna set the dish of potatoes on the table and wiped her hands on her apron as she moved towards him.
‘Hello, Anna,’ he said softly. ‘How are you?’
‘I am well, thank you.’
‘Was your journey here comfortable?’
‘Very, thank you.’ She could feel his embarrassment rising as he stared at her, struggling over what he should say next.
‘You look . . . healthy,’ he managed.
‘Really?’ Berit butted in. ‘I think she looks far too skinny. It’s all that fish they eat in the city. No fat on it.’
‘Anna’s always been slight – it’s the way God intended her to be.’ Lars gave her a small smile of support.
‘I am sorry about your father’s passing.’
‘Thank you for your sympathy.’
‘Shall we sit down, Berit? It’s been a long journey there and back and your husband is hungry,’ said Anders.
As th
ey ate, Anna answered endless questions about her life in Christiania. Then the conversation turned to Knut’s wedding and the attendant arrangements.
‘You must be exhausted from your travelling, Anna,’ said Lars.
‘I am tired, yes,’ she agreed.
‘Then off to bed with you,’ said Berit. ‘There will be so much to do in the next few days, and no time for sleeping.’
Anna stood up. ‘Goodnight, then.’
Lars’ eyes never left her as she crossed the kitchen to go to her room. Halfway through getting undressed, she suddenly remembered that there was no bathroom in her parents’ farmhouse. She put her clothes back on and went outside to use the facilities. Finally lying down, Anna struggled to get comfortable. The horsehair pillow felt like rock compared to the soft goose down she slept on at Herr Bayer’s apartment, the bed felt narrow and the mattress lumpy. She mused on how much she had begun to take for granted without realising it. In Christiania, she had no domestic tasks to perform and a servant to wait on her hand and foot.
Anna, she chastised herself, I do believe you are becoming spoilt. And with that thought, she promptly fell asleep.
The week leading up to the wedding passed in a blur of cooking, cleaning, fetching and carrying as everyone busied themselves with last-minute preparations.
Despite wishing to dislike her brother’s bride on principle for all the domestic things she could do so well, Anna found Sigrid to be all her mother had said she was. She was certainly not a beauty, but had a calm nature that counterbalanced Berit’s hysteria as the big day drew ever closer. Sigrid, for her part, was in awe of Anna for living such a grand life in Christiania, treating her with great respect and bowing to her opinions without a murmur.
Anna’s elder brother, Nils, arrived a day before the wedding, his wife and two children in tow. Anna hadn’t seen them in more than a year and was delighted to become acquainted with her small nephews.
Amidst the joy of having the whole family reunited, however, one thing was playing on her mind: it seemed everyone assumed that when she returned from Christiania after the run of Peer Gynt, she would be moving to the run-down Trulssen homestead as Lars’ wife. And sharing not only a room, but a bed with him.
The very idea made Anna feel quite ill and added to her sleeplessness at night.
On the morning of the wedding, Anna helped Sigrid into her bridal attire. This consisted of a deep red skirt and a white lawn blouse overlaid by a black bolero decorated with heavy pieces of gold-coloured metal. She studied the exquisite embroidery on the cream apron that fastened over the front of the skirt.
‘The roses are so intricately stitched. I could never do that, Sigrid. You are so clever.’
‘Anna, you simply don’t have time with your busy life in the city. My trousseau took me many months of winter evenings to sew,’ Sigrid replied. ‘And besides, I can’t sing as you do. You will sing at the wedding feast tonight, won’t you?’
‘If you wish me to, yes. And perhaps it’s best we say that is my wedding present to you and Knut. I have sewn you something, but it is quite terrible,’ she admitted.
‘No matter, sister, I know it will have been fashioned out of love and that is all that matters. Now, can you hand me the crown and help me secure it?’
Anna took the heavy gold-plated wedding crown from its box. Held by the church for the past eighty years, every bride from the village had been married wearing it. She placed it on top of Sigrid’s blonde hair. ‘There, now you are truly a bride,’ she said, as Sigrid stared at herself in the looking glass.
Berit popped her head around the door. ‘Time to go, kjære. And may I say you look quite beautiful.’
Sigrid put her hand on Anna’s. ‘Thank you for your help, sister. It will be your turn next when you marry Lars.’
As she followed Sigrid to the waiting cart, strewn with fresh flowers from the meadows, Anna shuddered involuntarily at the thought.
At the church, she watched her brother as he stood in front of the altar with Sigrid and Pastor Erslev. It was strange to think that Knut was now the head of a family, and would soon have his own redheaded children. She stole a glance at Lars, who was listening intently and, for once, was not looking at her.
After the ceremony, over a hundred people followed the bride and groom’s cart back to the Landvik house. For weeks, Berit had been sending prayers up to the Lord to provide clear skies, as there was not enough room for everyone inside the farmhouse. Her prayers had been answered and the wooden tables laid out in the adjacent meadow were soon laden with food, much of it contributed by the guests themselves. Dishes of salted and spiced pork, tender beef roasted slowly on a spit and, of course, herring, kept stomachs filled and helped to soak up the home-made beer and aquavit which flowed freely throughout the celebrations.
Much later, as dusk began to fall, lanterns were lit and hung on wooden posts to create a makeshift square and the dancing began. The musicians launched into the upbeat tune of the hallingkast, and everyone cheered and cleared a circle in the centre. A young woman walked into the middle and held a hat up high on a stick in front of her and began challenging the men to come out and kick it off. Anna’s brothers nudged each other and were the first in the circle to dance and jump around the girl, encouraged by the whooping and cheering crowd.
Breathless with laughter, Anna turned around to see Lars sitting morosely at a table by himself.
‘Anna, will you do as you promised and sing for us?’ Sigrid appeared by her side.
‘Yes’ – a panting Knut joined her in her plea – ‘you must.’
‘Sing “Solveig’s Song”!’ shouted someone from the crowd.
There was a chorus of approval at this suggestion. Anna walked into the centre of the dance square, composed herself and began to sing. As she did so, her thoughts returned unbidden to Christiania, to the young musician who had been so entranced by her voice that he’d continued to pursue her . . .
‘And we shall meet again, love, and never parted be. And never parted be . . .’
There were tears in her eyes as the last note died away. Her audience was silent, then someone started to clap and the rest of the party followed until the whole meadow rang with cheers.
‘Sing something else, Anna!’
‘Yes! One of our songs.’
For the next half an hour, accompanied by her father on the fiddle, she had no further time to dwell on her own feelings as she went through the repertoire of folk songs that all the audience knew by heart. Then it was time for the bride and groom to depart for the night. With much good-natured jeering and wolf-whistling, Knut and Sigrid disappeared inside the house and the party began to disperse.
As she helped with the clearing up, Anna felt drained and unsettled. She moved like an automaton, ferrying plates and dishes to the barrel full of water that had been drawn from the well earlier for the purpose.
‘You look tired, Anna.’
Feeling a hand touch her lightly on her shoulder, she turned and saw Lars standing behind her. ‘I am perfectly well,’ she said, managing a weak smile.
‘Did you enjoy the wedding?’
‘Yes, everything was beautiful. Sigrid and Knut will be very happy together.’
As she turned back to concentrate on her task, she felt his hand slide off her shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him with his head bent down, his hands in his pockets.
‘Anna, I’ve missed you,’ he said so quietly, she barely heard him. ‘Do you . . . Have you missed me at all?’
She froze, the soapy plate sliding through her fingers. ‘Of course, I’ve missed everyone here, but I’ve been so busy in Christiania.’
‘With all your new friends, I suppose,’ he said flatly.
‘Yes, such as Frøken Olsdatter and the children at the theatre,’ she answered quickly, continuing to wash the plate but secretly wishing he would go.
Lars hovered uncertainly for a few seconds and she could feel his eyes upon her. ‘It has been a lo
ng day for everyone,’ he said finally. ‘I must take my leave . . . But first, Anna, I must ask you a question as I know you must return to Christiania tomorrow. And I wish you to answer it honestly. For both our sakes.’
Anna could hear the serious undercurrent in his voice. Her stomach flipped over. ‘Of course, Lars.’
‘Do you . . . do you still wish to marry me? Given what has changed and will continue to change for you, I swear I will understand if you do not.’
‘I . . .’ she bent her head over the plates, screwed her eyes closed and wished this moment could go away. ‘I think so.’
‘And yet I think you do not. Anna, please, it is better for both of us to know where we stand. I can only wait longer for you if there is hope. I cannot help but feel you have been uncomfortable about our proposed union from the start.’
‘But what about Mor and Far and the land you have sold to them?’
Lars let out a heavy sigh. ‘Anna, you have just told me everything I needed to know. I will take my leave now, but I will write to tell you how we must organise things. You need say nothing to your parents. I will take care of it all.’ He reached down and drew one of her hands out of the water. Raising it to his lips, he kissed it. ‘Goodbye, Anna, and God bless you.’
She watched him walk away into the darkness, realising that her betrothal to Lars Trulssen seemed to have ended before it had even begun.
Ally
August 2007
22
It was past lunchtime when I looked up from my laptop screen and the striped wallpaper beyond danced blurrily before slowly coming back into focus. Even though I had absolutely no idea how I fitted into a story that had taken place over one hundred and thirty years ago, what I’d read so far had fascinated me. At the Conservatoire in Geneva, I’d learnt about the lives of many composers and studied their masterpieces, but this book brought the era so vividly to life. And I was fascinated by the fact that Jens Halvorsen had been the flautist who had played those first iconic four bars at the premiere of one of my favourite pieces of music.
The Storm Sister Page 26