‘Of course you are, it’s natural. At least you get your solo out of the way right at the start, then we just have to sweat until Felix has played the very last note of The Hero Concerto.’
‘I’ve never performed in front of an audience of this size,’ I complained. ‘And certainly not a paying one.’
‘You’ll do fine,’ he said, although as I handed him his coffee, I could sense his nervousness too. It was a big day for both of us. We felt that, between us, we had conceived a new musical entity that was about to be brought into the world. And tonight, we would be proud parents at its birth.
‘Are you going to call Felix to check he’s remembered?’ Thom asked.
‘No.’ I’d already decided that I wouldn’t. ‘This has to be up to him, and him alone.’
‘Yes,’ he sighed, ‘it does. Right, I’m off to shower. Can you be ready to leave in twenty minutes?’
‘Yes.’
‘God, I hope he shows up.’
It was then that I realised that despite any protests to the contrary, Felix’s appearance tonight meant even more to Thom than it did to me.
‘He’ll be there, I know he will.’
However, as I took my place in the orchestra for the rehearsal two hours later, and saw the empty piano stool, my confidence waned. At a quarter past ten, when Andrew Litton said we could wait no longer to begin, I nursed my mobile tensely between my hot palms.
No, I would not call him.
Willem had been called to take Felix’s place at the piano and Thom flashed a desolate look at me as Andrew Litton raised his baton to begin.
‘How could you? You shit!’ I swore under my breath, before I saw Felix running through the auditorium towards the stage, breathless and pale.
‘I doubt a person here will believe me,’ he said as he climbed the steps. ‘But my moped broke down halfway down the hill, and I had to hitch myself a lift the rest of the way. I’ve brought the kind lady who rescued me from the roadside with me to prove it. Hanne,’ he called out, ‘am I telling the truth?’
One hundred and one pairs of eyes followed Felix’s pointing finger to the back of the auditorium, where a nervous middle-aged woman stood, obviously embarrassed.
‘Hanne, tell them.’
‘Yes, his moped broke down and I gave him a lift.’
‘Thank you. There will be a ticket waiting for you at the box office for tonight’s performance.’ Felix turned to the orchestra and bowed theatrically. ‘Forgive me for holding you all up, but sometimes, things are not as they seem.’
After the rehearsal, I saw Felix leaning by the artist’s entrance smoking a cigarette and caught up with him.
‘Hi, Ally. Sorry about that. A genuine reason, for a change.’
‘Yes. Do you want to go for a drink?’
‘No thanks, darling. I’m on my best behaviour for tonight, remember?’
‘I do. It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it? Four, or even five generations of Halvorsens up there tonight.’
‘Or Griegs, as the case may be,’ he said with a shrug.
‘I . . . You know about that?’
‘Of course I do. Anna told Horst on her deathbed, and where the letters were hidden. And then he told me just before I went off to Paris to study. I’ve read all of them. Pretty steamy stuff, eh?’
I was stunned at his casual revelation. ‘You’ve never thought to say anything? To use it?’
‘Some secrets really should be kept secrets, don’t you think, my darling? And you of all people should know that it’s not where you come from genetically, but who you become. Good luck tonight.’ With that, Felix offered me a wave and disappeared out of the stage door.
At six thirty, Star texted me to say that she and Ma were here. I collected Thom from the musician’s green room and we walked along the corridor, me feeling decidedly nervous about introducing my twin brother to my sibling.
‘Ma,’ I said, quickening my footsteps as I saw her, looking effortlessly chic as always in a Chanel bouclé jacket and navy skirt.
‘Ally, it’s so wonderful to see you, chérie.’ Ma folded me in her arms and I smelt the familiar aroma of her perfume, which indicated safety and security.
‘Hello, Star, it’s so wonderful to see you too.’ I hugged her, then turned to my twin brother, who was staring slack-jawed at my sister. ‘And this is Thom, my newest sibling,’ I said as Star looked up at him and smiled shyly.
‘Hello, Thom,’ she responded and I nudged him to reply.
‘Yes, hello. It’s, um, wonderful to meet you, Star. And you, er, Ma . . . I mean, Marina.’
I frowned at Thom, who was being very peculiar. Thom was normally effusive in his greetings and I felt a little cross that he hadn’t been just now.
‘And we are pleased to meet you, Thom,’ Marina answered. ‘Thank you for taking care of Ally for me.’
‘We take care of each other, don’t we, sis?’ he said, still staring at Star.
Just then, a call came over the tannoy for the orchestra to gather onstage.
‘Right, we have to go, I’m afraid, but we’ll see you afterwards in the foyer,’ I said. ‘God, I’m nervous,’ I sighed as I kissed them both goodbye.
‘You will be wonderful, chérie, I know you will,’ Ma comforted me.
‘Thanks.’ With a wave, I walked back down the corridor with Thom. ‘Cat got your tongue?’ I asked him.
‘Goodness, your sister’s pretty, isn’t she?’ was all he could say as I followed him onto the stage for our pre-show pep talk with Andrew Litton.
‘I’m worried,’ I whispered to Thom as we filed back onto the stage at exactly seven twenty-seven that evening to a round of tumultuous applause. ‘He still seems sober. And he told me he plays far better drunk.’
Thom chuckled as he saw my frown of genuine anxiety. ‘I actually feel sorry for Felix. The poor man can’t win! And remember, he has the whole of the first half, plus the interval to remedy the situation. Now,’ he whispered, ‘stop worrying about him and enjoy this wonderful moment of Halvorsen – or Grieg – history. Love you, sis,’ he added with a grin as we parted to take our places in the orchestra.
I sat down in my seat amongst the woodwind section, knowing that within three minutes I would rise to play the first four bars of ‘Morning Mood’. And that, as Felix had said to me earlier, it didn’t matter who had originally conceived me. Only that I’d been given the gift of life and it was up to me to make it – and myself – the best it could be.
As the lights dimmed and a hush descended, I thought of all those who loved me, somewhere out in the darkness of the auditorium, willing me on.
And I thought of Pa Salt, who had told me I’d find my greatest strength at my weakest moment. And Theo, who had taught me what it was to truly love another person. Neither of them were physically present, but I knew they would be so proud of me as they watched over me from the stars.
And then I smiled at the thought of the new life inside me, that I was yet to know.
I put the flute to my lips and began to play for all of them.
Star
7th December 2007
The lights dimmed in the auditorium and I watched my sister rise from her seat on the stage. I could see the contours of the new life inside her clearly defined beneath the black dress. Ally closed her eyes for a moment as if in prayer. When she finally lifted the flute to her lips, a hand reached for mine and squeezed it gently. And I knew Ma was feeling the resonance too.
As the beautiful, familiar melody, which had been part of my and my sisters’ childhood at Atlantis, floated out across the hall, I felt some of the tension of the past few weeks flow out of me with the swell of the music. As I listened, I knew that Ally was playing for all those she had loved and lost, but I understood too that just as the sun comes up after a long dark night, there was new light in her life now. And as the orchestra joined her and the beautiful music reached a crescendo, celebrating the dawning of a new day, I felt the same.
Yet, in my own rebi
rth, others had suffered, and that was the part I had yet to rationalise. I’d only understood recently that there were many different kinds of love.
At the interval, Ma and I went to the bar, and Peter and Celia Falys-Kings, who introduced themselves as Theo’s parents, joined us for a glass of champagne. As I watched the way Peter’s arm rested protectively on Celia’s waist, they looked like a young couple in love.
‘Santé,’ said Ma, as she chinked her glass against mine. ‘Isn’t this the most wonderful evening?’
‘Yes, it is,’ I replied.
‘Ally played so beautifully. I wish your other sisters could have been here to see her. And your father, of course.’
I watched Ma’s brow furrow in sudden concern and wondered what secrets she kept. And how heavily they weighed on her. As did mine.
‘CeCe couldn’t make it then?’ she asked me tentatively.
‘No.’
‘Have you seen her recently?’
‘I’m not at the apartment very often these days, Ma.’
She didn’t press me further on the subject. She knew not to.
A hand brushed my shoulder and I jumped. I’ve always been very sensitive to touch. Peter broke the pregnant pause, although I was used to those. ‘Hi, everyone.’ He turned to Ma. ‘So, you’re the “mom” who cared for Ally during her childhood?’
‘Yes,’ she replied.
‘You did a wonderful job,’ he said.
‘That’s down to her, not me,’ Ma replied modestly. ‘All of my girls make me very proud.’
‘And you’re one of Ally’s famous sisters?’ Peter turned his gimlet eyes on me.
‘Yes.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Star.’
‘And which number are you?’
‘Three.’
‘Interesting.’ He looked at me again. ‘I was number three as well. Never listened to and never heard. Yes?’
I didn’t reply.
‘Bet a lot goes on inside that head of yours, right?’ he continued. ‘It sure did in mine.’
Even if he was right, I wouldn’t tell him. So I shrugged silently instead.
‘Ally is a very special human being. We both learnt a lot from her,’ said Celia, giving me a warm smile as she changed the subject. I could tell she thought my silences meant I was struggling with Peter, but I wasn’t. It was other people who found them difficult.
‘Yes, indeed. And now we’re to be grandparents. What a gift your sister has given us, Star,’ said Peter. ‘And this time, I’m going to be there for the little one. Life is just too damned short, isn’t it?’
The two-minute bell rang, and everyone around me drained their glasses, however full they were. We all filed back into the auditorium to take our seats. Ally had already filled me in by email on her discoveries in Norway. I studied Felix Halvorsen closely as he walked onto the stage, and decided that the genetic link to him had had little impact on Ally’s physical characteristics. I also noticed his rolling gait as he walked towards the piano and wondered if he was drunk. I sent up a small prayer that he wasn’t. I knew from what Ally had said earlier how much this evening meant to her and her newfound brother, Thom. I’d liked him immediately when I’d met him earlier.
As Felix lifted his fingers to the keys and then paused, I felt every member of the audience holding their breath with me. The tension was only broken as his fingers descended onto them and the opening bars of The Hero Concerto were played in public for the first time. According to the programme, just over sixty-eight years after they had been written. For the following half an hour, each one of us was treated to a performance of rarity and beauty, created by a perfect alchemy between composer and interpreter: father and son.
And as my heart took flight and soared upwards with the beautiful music, I saw a glimpse of the future. ‘Music is love in search of a voice.’ I quoted Tolstoy under my breath. Now, I had to find my voice. And also the courage to speak out with it.
The applause was deservedly tumultuous, the audience on their feet, stamping and cheering. Felix took bow after bow, beckoning his son and his daughter out of the orchestra to join him, then quietening the audience and dedicating his performance to his late father, and his children.
In this gesture, I saw living proof that it was possible to move on. And to make a change that others would eventually accept, however difficult.
As the audience began to rise from their seats, Ma touched my shoulder, saying something to me.
I nodded at her blankly, not taking in her words, and murmured that I’d see her in the foyer. And then I sat there. Alone. Thinking. As I did so, I was vaguely aware of the rest of the audience walking up the aisle past me. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a familiar figure.
As my heart began to pound, my body stood up of its own volition and I ran through the empty auditorium to the crowd milling around the back exits. I searched desperately for another glimpse, begging that unmistakable profile to reappear to me amongst the milieu.
Pushing my way through the foyer, my legs carried me out into the freezing December air. I stood in the street, hoping for another sighting just to make sure, but I knew the figure had disappeared.
Acknowledgements
I was only five when my father arrived back from his travels in Norway, bringing with him a long-playing record of Grieg’s Peer Gynt Suite. It really did become the background music to my own childhood, as he eulogised about the beauty of the country, especially the magnificent fjords. He told me that if I ever got the chance in the future, I had to go and see it for myself. Ironically, Norway was the first country that invited me to visit on a book tour. I remember sitting on the plane, my eyes brimming with tears, as I flew to what he had called the top of the world. I felt – just like Ally – that I too was following my late father’s words. I have visited Norway numerous times since my initial journey there and, like my father before me, I fell in love. So there was little question of where the second book in the Seven Sisters series would be set.
The Storm Sister is based on real historical events and iconic Norwegian figures such as Edvard Grieg and Henrik Ibsen, although my portrayal of these characters’ personalities in the book is down to my imagination, rather than actual fact. The book has required very extensive research, and I have had enormous help from many wonderful people. Some of those I met on my research trip appear as themselves in the book and I thank them for allowing me to use their real names in the story.
My friends at Cappelen Damm, my fantastic publishing house, were instrumental in introducing me to the people I needed to speak to. So the first (and biggest) thank you goes to Knut Gørvell, Jorid Mathiassen, Pip Hallen and Marianne Nielsen.
In Oslo: Erik Edvardsen at the Ibsen Museum, who showed me the original photographs from the production of Peer Gynt and told me about Solveig’s ‘ghost voice’, whose real identity is still unknown to this day. This gave me the key to the ‘past’ story. The whole historical perspective of Norwegian life in the 1870s came from Lars Roede at the Oslo Museum. The detailed understanding of traditional dress, names, transport links and customs of Norway in the 1870s, from Else Rosenqvist and Kari-Anne Pedersen at the Norsk Folkemuseum in Oslo. Also, Bjørg Larsen Rygh at Cappelen Damm (whose dissertation on drains and plumbing in Christiania in 1876 went above and beyond the call of duty!). Hilde Stoklasa, from the Oslo Cruise Network, and a special thank-you to the staff at the Grand Hotel in Oslo, who fed and watered me at all times of the day and night as I wrote the first draft.
In Bergen: I am indebted to John Rullestad, who introduced me to Erling Dahl, the ex-director of the Edvard Grieg Museum at Troldhaugen in Bergen. Erling is the world’s foremost biographer of Grieg, and winner of the Grieg Prize. He and Sigurd Sandmo, the current director of the Grieg Museum, not only gave me extensive access to Grieg’s home (I was actually allowed to sit at Grieg’s grand piano!) but also gave me a deep insight into Grieg’s life and personality. Erling also introduced me to Hen
ning Målsnes at The Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra, who explained the way an orchestra is managed on a day-to-day level, as well as the Orchestra’s wartime history. Also Mette Omvik, who gave me some great detail on Den Nationale Scene theatre in Bergen.
Erling also enabled me to meet the renowned Norwegian composer Knut Vaage, who explained to me the process of orchestral composition with an historical perspective. My thanks also go to the staff at the Hotel Havnekontoret in Bergen, who looked after me during my stay there.
In Leipzig: Many thanks to Barbara Wiermann at the University of Music and Theatre, and to my lovely friend Caroline Schatke from Edition Peters in Leipzig, whose father, Horst, brought us together under the most coincidental and poignant of circumstances.
I am not very nautical by nature so on all matters maritime I was helped extensively by David Beverley, and in Greece by Jovana Nikic and Kostas Gkekas from Sail in Greek Waters. For their assistance with my research for the Fastnet Race, I’d like to thank the staff at both the Royal London Yacht Club and the Royal Ocean Racing Club in Cowes. Also, Lisa and Manfred Rietzler, who took me out on their Sunseeker for the day and showed me what it could do.
I would also like to thank my fantastic PA, Olivia, and my hard-working editorial and research team of Susan Moss and Ella Micheler. All of whom have had to work very flexible hours as we juggle with not only the Seven Sisters series, but also the rewriting and editing of my backlist books.
My thirty international publishers from around the world – particularly Catherine Richards and Jeremy Trevathan at Pan Macmillan UK, Claudia Negele and Georg Reuchlein at Random House Germany, and Peter Borland and Judith Curr at Atria in the USA. They have all been so supportive and have embraced the challenges – and excitement – of a seven-book series.
My incredible family, who are so very patient as I currently spend my life permanently attached to a manuscript and a pen. Without Stephen (who also doubles as my agent), Harry, Bella, Leonora and Kit, this writing journey would mean very little. My mother Janet, my sister Georgia, and Jacquelyn Heslop, and a very special mention to ‘Flo’, my faithful writing companion, who we lost in February and still miss dreadfully. Also, Rita Kalagate, João de Deus and all my incredible friends at the Casa de Dom Inácio, in Abadiânia, Brazil.
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