by Betty Neels
She managed to convey something of her feelings to the captain when he came into the dining room and he nodded his great bearded head.
‘We do not mind the loneliness,’ he told her, ‘and we are happy to live simply. We have electricity, warm homes, plenty of books and all the sport you could wish for.’ He twinkled at her. ‘It is a long way from London, Miss Evans.’
‘Thank heaven for that,’ said Louisa decidedly. ‘I could live here, I think—it’s possible.’
They reached Tromso the next day, stopping at Harstad and Finnsnes during the morning. They could have gone ashore at Harstad, but Claudia was morose and disinclined to do anything, so that Louisa packed for them both, contenting herself with a quick peep at both places as they docked. As they steamed through the narrow waters leading to the city, she noticed that the country had changed. There were mountains crowding in on all sides, but the country had got friendly and there were farms here and there, surrounded by birch trees, and everything powdered with snow. There was nothing to be seen of Tromso yet, there were too many bends in the waterway, but there were houses scattered along the shores of the islands on either side of them. Holiday homes, she guessed, and wondered how one got to them—by boat, presumably, although presently she could see a road close to the fjord’s edge running between the houses, but on the other side, although there were houses, some built high into the sides of the mountains, there was no road at all. And presently Tromso came in sight, built on an island in the middle of the fjord. Louisa could see the bridge now, linking it with the mainland, larger and longer than the slender pillar bridge linking Finnsnes and its neighbouring island, but just as impressive. It was a pity that she disliked Simon Savage so heartily, otherwise she could have found out a great deal more about them.
She went below reluctantly. Claudia was sleeping again; she woke her gently, listened calmly to her mounting grumbles, coaxed her into her outdoor clothes and observed: ‘You’ll be able to telephone Lars this evening.’
It acted like magic. Claudia’s scowl turned to self-satisfied smiles and Louisa was able to go and find a steward to deal with their luggage and then go back for Claudia. Mr Savage had said that they would be met at Tromso, but that was all. Louisa debated the choice of staying in one of the saloons until they were found, or going ashore and waiting on the quay—there was bound to be a waiting room there. On the whole, she thought it best for them to go to the saloon and wait. The reception area by the office was full of passengers waiting to disembark. Most of them had boarded the ship at Bodo and Harstad. The quay was thronged with people, presumably waiting for friends or relations or travelling still farther north, and there was a steady hum of voices and a good deal of toing and froing. It was difficult to imagine that they were surrounded by bare mountains and glaciers, snowbound roads and vast forests. Louisa felt excited and happy, and wished that Claudia could feel the same. She took her arm and pushed her gently into a corner and said: ‘Once most of these people have gone, we’ll go up to the saloon, it’ll be quiet there.’
But there was no need. Someone tapped her on the shoulder and she turned round to find Simon Savage, looking somehow much younger and cheerful. An illusion, of course, for all he did was to nod at her in a casual fashion before asking his stepsister if she was ready to leave the ship. If he uttered one word of welcome, Louisa didn’t hear it. She said clearly, ‘Our luggage is by the office. We had a very good journey, thank you, but your sister is tired.’ She glanced at Claudia, who hadn’t uttered a word. ‘She should rest as soon as possible.’
Just for a moment he looked at her with narrowed eyes and then surprisingly he laughed. ‘Bring Claudia, I’ll get the luggage,’ he said, and turned away.
Horrible man! thought Louisa, watching him shoulder his way through the crowd. He was wearing a sheepskin coat and knitted cap in bright colours. Probably it was that which made him look different, or perhaps she had hoped he would be… She put an arm round Claudia’s shoulders.
‘Come on,’ she said cheerfully, ‘let’s find some tea.’
CHAPTER SIX
THERE WAS hard-packed snow on the quayside, and Louisa felt Claudia flinch as they stepped off the gangway behind Simon Savage and a short, dark, burly man carrying two of their suitcases, but they didn’t have far to go. There was a Range Rover parked close to the ship and they were bidden to get in while their luggage was piled in beside them. Louisa barely had time to look around her and take a last look at the ship before they had left the quay behind, driving down a road which curved under a bridge and turned sharply through warehouses, to turn again and enter the town over a wide bridge. The long evening had started, although it was not yet four o’clock, and the shops were brilliantly lighted in what was obviously one of the main streets, its broad pavements lined with bare trees. It ended in an open square surrounded by shops and along one of its sides, a large, solid-looking hotel. Mr Savage parked the car, said over his shoulder: ‘This is where you will spend the night,’ and got out.
It was more than she had expected, thought Louisa as she joined him on the pavement and waited while he held a hand out to his stepsister, in fact it looked delightful. The thought of a comfortable bedroom, a hot bath and a good dinner brought a sparkle to her eye. Even Simon’s growling, ‘And you’d better make the most of it,’ couldn’t spoil her pleasure.
It was just as splendid inside: warm, the foyer close-carpeted and furnished with comfortable chairs and little tables and a pleasant, smiling clerk who welcomed them with friendly warmth. He seemed to know Mr Savage already, for they were whisked away to their rooms with no delay at all; cosy rooms next to each other and with a communicating door and each with its own bathroom. Claudia, who had barely spoken since they had been met, looked around her with a critical eye. ‘You wouldn’t think they’d be able to manage anything like this in such a godforsaken place,’ she observed bitterly. ‘You don’t suppose people actually stay here, do you? I mean for holidays…’
‘I believe it’s popular in the summer, loads of Norwegians come up here from the south—there’s a road all the way, you know.’
‘No, I didn’t know, and I don’t want to.’
‘I’ll unpack your overnight bag. Mr Savage said something about tea. You’d like some, wouldn’t you? Or shall I ask for it to be sent up?’
Claudia had regained some of her old languid manner. ‘My dear Louisa, after weeks of nothing but you and my own company, I wouldn’t miss a chance to have a look at whatever bright lights there are.’
She turned away to the dressing table and Louisa went back to her own room, where she tidied up her hair, did her face and unpacked her own bag. She got out the green wool skirt and the quilted jacket too and shook out a cream silk blouse to go with them. Presumably they would dine later with or without Simon Savage. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to be there or not.
They went down presently and found him sitting at one of the small tables, the tea tray before him. He got up as they reached him, hoped that they had found their rooms comfortable in a colourless voice and begged someone to pour tea.
‘Oh, you do it, Louisa,’ said Claudia, ‘I’m too exhausted. That fearful voyage! I absolutely refuse to go back by ship.’
Her stepbrother looked up briefly from the Times he was reading. ‘There are plenty of flights—or the road—when the time comes.’
Claudia drew a hissing breath, but before she could speak, Louisa prudently handed her a cup of tea. She did the same for Simon, then poured her own and sat sipping it until he put his paper down and passed the plate of cakes. He caught her eye as he did so and gave a short laugh.
‘You remind me forcibly of my old nanny,’ he observed, ‘urging me to remember my manners.’
‘I haven’t said a word, Mr Savage.’
‘No, but your eyes did. I can recommend the little round ones with the chocolate icing.’
‘And now we’re here, perhaps you’ll tell us what happens next.’ Claudia’s voice was shar
p.
‘We leave tomorrow morning. You can have an hour if you need to do any shopping.’
‘I should like to stay here, in this hotel.’
He didn’t answer this but observed, ‘You’re looking better, Claudia, better than you’ve looked for several weeks. The sea journey did you good—you’re half way there, you know. Why not finish it properly this time?’
‘I hate you!’
He remained unperturbed. ‘Yes, I know, but that’s got nothing to do with it.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Lars will still be in his office if you want to telephone him.’ He waved a hand towards the telephone booth by the reception desk. ‘Have you the number?’
She got up without answering and hurried across the foyer, and he handed his cup to Louisa for more tea. ‘I must admit you have achieved a good deal in this last week or so, Nurse. Is Claudia drinking at all?’
‘Wine or sherry, mid-morning, and a glass with her dinner in the evening.’
He nodded. ‘She’s in love with Lars Helgesen, isn’t she?’
‘Yes.’
Simon passed her the cakes and then helped himself. ‘Splendid, we must keep that alive at all costs, it might prove the incentive she has never had.’
Louisa eyed him uncertainly. ‘Yes, but supposing he doesn’t…would he marry her?’
His look mocked her. ‘My dear Louisa, if a man loves a woman—really loves her—he’ll marry her. Even a termagant like my dear stepsister.’
He really was beastly; perhaps he was a misogynist.
Claudia came back then, looking considerably happier, but presently she said to no one in particular: ‘I don’t want to come down to dinner—I’ll have something in my room.’ She gave her stepbrother a quick look, defying him to argue with her, but all he said was: ‘A good idea—I’ll get a menu sent up presently.’ He looked across at Louisa. ‘You will dine with me, Louisa? Shall we say half past seven?’
Claudia had got up and she got up too. ‘Thank you, Mr Savage.’ She gave him a cool nod and followed Claudia to the stairs.
An hour later she was dressing. Claudia, tucked up in bed, with magazines, books and the most recent papers strewn around her, had chosen her meal and was painting her nails, a long and meticulous business. Louisa, bathed and with her hair newly washed, put on the long skirt, the blouse and the little quilted jacket. They made a nice change after days of wearing slacks and woollies and probably she wouldn’t have the chance to wear them again for weeks. She did her face carefully, wishing she was strikingly beautiful, witty and self-assured enough to take the shine out of Mr Savage. If she had had more time she might have given herself an elaborate hairdo, but she doubted very much if he would notice anyway, and what did it matter? They both disliked each other so heartily; she had been surprised that he had suggested dinner together. She went to take a last look at Claudia and found a waiter arranging a prawn cocktail, lamb cutlets and a variety of vegetables, and a delicious-looking pudding on the bedtable. There was a glass of wine there too. Louisa, going downstairs, reminded herself to warn Simon Savage…
He was waiting for her in the foyer, very elegant in a dark suit, looking longer and leaner than usual. He also looked ill-tempered, and she sighed. She was hungry for her dinner, but it would be spoilt if he was going to sit in stony silence.
It seemed that he was on his best behaviour, for he offered a drink in a quite friendly voice, and when she ventured to mention the possibility of Claudia ordering something to drink without their knowledge, actually thanked her for saying so. ‘Though you have no need to worry,’ he assured her carelessly, ‘I’ve taken the necessary precautions.’
And she had to be content with that. She sipped her sherry and looked around her. There were quite a number of people now, all well dressed, which somehow seemed strange when she remembered the miles of barren snowy mountains and the cold, stormy sea they had travelled through. She said: ‘I didn’t expect this—I mean, all this luxury so far away…’
‘There’s an excellent air service, the coastal express calls every day except Christmas Day, and there’s a first class highway running from Oslo to Nord Kapp.’
‘No trains?’
He raised amused eyebrows. ‘Through or over the mountains, Louisa?’ and when he saw her flush, he added more kindly: ‘The nearest railway is from Narvik into Sweden, the main line comes as far north as Bodo.’
At least they had found something to talk about. ‘I saw any number of bridges—pillar bridges, as we came.’
‘Beautiful, aren’t they? Quite a number of islands are no longer isolated, although there are still ferries running in all directions and several local airlines.’ He actually smiled at her. ‘If you’ve finished your drink shall we have dinner?’
They had a table by the long window, overlooking the street and the square beyond. There was plenty of traffic still and any number of people. And because the street lights were so bright and numerous, the snow-covered pavements had a charming Christmassy look. Which reminded Louisa to ask: ‘Shall we be here for Christmas?’
Simon glanced up from the menu he was studying. ‘It depends on several things. Be sure I’ll give you plenty of warning. Are you anxious to be in England for Christmas?’
She said: ‘Oh, no!’ in such a tone of alarm that he asked: ‘You like Norway? Have you no family?’
‘I like Norway very much,’ she told him, and added: ‘I’d like soup, please, and then the cod.’
‘Trailing a red herring, Louisa, or should I say cod?’ and when she didn’t answer: ‘You have a family?’
He gave their order to the waiter and sat back waiting for her to answer, his dark face faintly bored.
‘A stepmother, no one else. Well, aunts and uncles, but they live a good way away…’
‘Where?’
‘Wiltshire and Cumbria.’
Their soup came and she picked up her spoon, glad of something to do. She didn’t think she liked this urbane manner any more than his usual curt behaviour, and she wasn’t going to answer any more questions.
‘You don’t care for your stepmother?’
She looked at him across the elegant little table with its lighted candles. ‘No.’ She supped the last of her soup. ‘I’m not going to answer any more questions.’
He raised quizzical eyebrows. ‘My dear girl, I’m making polite conversation.’
‘You’re cross-examining me. Is your bridge almost finished?’
‘Yes, the main work was done before the winter set in; there’s not much left to do now, and that mostly under cover.’
‘May we see it?’ asked Louisa.
‘By all means, but I doubt if Claudia will want to do that.’ He spoke sourly and gave her such a disagreeable look that she rushed on to the next question.
‘Are you going to build any more?’
‘Now who’s being cross-examined? Yes, I have a contract for three more bridges, one farther north, the other two in the Lofotens.’
‘We stopped there at a very small village—it began with an S…’
‘Stamsund. You liked it?’
‘It was dark, but I would like to have gone ashore… Lots of bright lights and—and cosy, if you know what I mean.’
The waiter came with their cod and when he had gone again: ‘You surprise me, Louisa, or are you putting on an act for my benefit?’
She paused, fork half way to her mouth. ‘An act? Why ever should I bother to do that with you?’
His bellow of laughter sent heads turning in their direction. ‘Aren’t I worth it?’
‘No,’ said Louisa roundly, and applied herself to her dinner. She was a little surprised to find that although she disliked him still she wasn’t…scared wasn’t the word—intimidated any more.
The cod was beautifully cooked with a delicious sauce and lots of vegetables. She ate it all up with a healthy appetite and followed it by a soufflé, light as air, while Simon ate biscuits and cheese. They had drunk a white wine with their meal, which was perha
ps why she found herself telling her companion about Frank. She hadn’t meant to, but somehow his questions had led back to her life in England again—the hospitals where she worked, the villages where she lived and quite naturally from there, Frank. It was only when she glanced at him and caught his dark eyes fixed on her so intently that she pulled herself up short.
‘I’d better go and see if Claudia is all right,’ she said.
‘We’ll have coffee first.’
She went back to the lounge with him and drank her coffee and talked about the weather, disliking him very much because she suspected that he was laughing at her. She escaped as soon as she could, thanked him for her dinner and asked what time they were to be ready in the morning.
‘Eleven o’clock—and I mean eleven o’clock. Unless Claudia particularly wants to do any shopping, I suggest that she has breakfast in bed. We’ll breakfast at half past eight precisely.’ He looked down his nose at her. ‘You’re not one of those silly women who don’t eat breakfast, I hope?’
Louisa said pertly: ‘Perhaps I should have it in my room, then you won’t have the bother of talking to me, Mr Savage.’
‘I seldom talk at breakfast, Louisa. It will give me the opportunity of giving you any last-minute instructions should it be necessary.’
She gave him a steely glance, wishing she could think of something dignified and really squashing, but she couldn’t—though her ‘good-night’ was icy.
Claudia was lying against her pillows, a box of chocolates open beside her, books scattered in all directions. She looked up as Louisa went in and said: ‘Oh, hullo—there you are. Has Simon let you off the hook? I’ve had a lovely evening,’ and she stretched her arms. ‘Such lovely comfort, and the nicest chambermaid—I got her to fetch me some more books and some sweets. I suppose you’re going to tell me to go to sleep now.’