by Betty Neels
Louisa took stock of the man standing by the sofa. He was tall and spare, with dark hair and an aquiline cast of feature. Moreover, he looked furiously angry, in a towering rage in fact, so that she took a deep breath before she spoke.
‘I don’t know who you are, but you will be good enough to go at once. Miss Savage has been ill and whoever you are, you haven’t any right to upset her in this way.’ She held the door open and lifted her chin at him and met dark eyes glittering with rage.
‘The nurse?’ His voice was crisp. ‘I’m Miss Savage’s brother, and since this is strictly a family argument, I will ask you to mind your own business.’
‘Well, I won’t,’ said Louisa stoutly. ‘You may think you can bully her, but you can’t bully me.’ She opened the door a little wider. ‘Will you go?’
For answer he took the door away from her and shut it. ‘Tell me, what is my sister suffering from, Nurse? Did the doctor tell you? Did she explain when you were engaged? And the doctor here? Has he said anything to you?’
Louisa opened her mouth to speak, but Miss Savage forestalled her by uttering a series of piercing cries and then dissolving into fresh sobs. Louisa brushed past the man, wiped Miss Savage’s face for her, sat her up against the cushions and only then turned her attention to him.
‘Your sister has a blocked bile duct, she also has dyspepsia. That’s a kind of severe indigestion,’ she added in case he didn’t know, ‘I believe you wanted her to come to Norway, presumably to convalesce. We had made some progress during the last week, but I doubt if your visit has helped matters at all. Quite the contrary.’
It was annoying to see him brush her words aside as though they didn’t mean a thing. ‘You’re young. Recently trained, perhaps?’
She supposed she would have to answer him—after all, it was probably he who was paying her fees. ‘About six weeks ago.’
His laugh wasn’t nice and she flushed angrily. ‘Probably you’re a good nurse,’ he observed in a voice which gave the lie to the statement, ‘but you’re inexperienced—just what Claudia was looking for.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘No? I suggest that you put Claudia to bed—she must be exhausted after such a display of emotion. Tell Eva to give her some tea and then come back here. I want to talk to you.’
‘I don’t think there’s much point in that.’
His voice was soft. ‘Probably not, but I must point out that I employ you, even if it was my sister who engaged you.’ He went to the door and opened it and stood waiting. He had his temper under control by now, and he looked dangerous. Louisa helped Miss Savage on to her feet and walked her out of the room. She said in a voice which shook only very slightly: ‘You’re despicable, Mr Savage.’
He gave a short laugh. ‘Shall we say half an hour, Nurse?’
She didn’t answer.
CHAPTER THREE
HALF AN HOUR wasn’t nearly long enough in which to regain her cool, thought Louisa, and walked, outwardly composed and inwardly quaking, into the sitting room. Mr Savage was standing at the window, looking out and jingling the loose change in his pockets, and she brightened a little. Perhaps he had recovered from his nasty temper—but when he turned round she saw with regret that she was mistaken; his mood was as black as ever although at the moment he had it under control. She didn’t much care for the iciness of his voice when he spoke, though.
‘Ah, Nurse, I was beginning to wonder if your courage had deserted you.’
Louisa was, for the most part, a mild-tempered girl, prepared to give rather more than she took, but only up to a point. ‘I can’t quite see,’ she observed in a reasonable voice, ‘what I have to be courageous about. True, I dislike being bullied, but a loud voice and a nasty temper don’t count for much, when all’s said and done.’
She crossed the room and sat down on a small hard chair because it was easier to be dignified like that. Her companion’s eyes narrowed. ‘Clever, are you?’ he wanted to know. ‘I’ve a few questions to ask, and I want truthful answers.’
She stared back at him. ‘I can lie with the best of them,’ she assured him, ‘but never about patients.’
He laughed unpleasantly. ‘I’ll have to take your word for that. Tell me, why did my sister engage you?’
Her eyes widened. ‘Well, she wanted a nurse to accompany her here.’
‘There were other applicants?’
‘Oh, yes—she told me, but they were all older and she wanted someone younger.’
‘Ah, and inexperienced.’
She let that pass. ‘Why?’
‘I’m asking the questions, Nurse. What’s your name?’
‘Evans—Louisa Evans.’
‘Well, Nurse Evans, presumably you saw my sister’s doctor?’
‘Naturally, and he gave me my instructions and informed me as to the nature of Miss Savage’s illness.’
He gave her a sharp look, eyebrows lifted in faint surprise. ‘So you know all there is to know about her?’
She surveyed him coolly. So he thought her incapable of doing her job just because she was young and not greatly experienced, did he? She drew a breath and recited the details of her patient’s condition, adding kindly, ‘If you don’t understand the medical terms I’ll explain…’
He turned a fulminating look upon her. ‘It would be unwise of you to be frivolous, Nurse Evans. I shouldn’t try if I were you.’
‘I’m not. You’re not a doctor, are you?’
‘I’m a civil engineer, I build bridges. The reason I asked you that question may not be apparent to you at the moment.’
‘It’s not.’ She got to her feet. ‘At least, I daresay you think I’m not old or wise enough to look after your sister. I hope you feel better about it now. She’s making a little progress, or was… I don’t know why you had to upset her, Mr Savage, and I don’t want to be impertinent, but your visit hasn’t helped much, has it?’ Her tongue tripped on, speaking the thoughts she had no intention of uttering. ‘I can’t for the life of me think why she had to come to Norway. She must have a home somewhere in England; I don’t believe she lives in a London hotel; she told me that she came because you made her…but there’s no reason for that, surely? You work miles away, don’t you?’
He had come to stand close to her, his face expressionless, but all the same Louisa had an urge to retreat behind the nearest chair, sternly suppressed. She had the extraordinary feeling that he was on the point of telling her something and at the last minute changed his mind. When he did speak it was to say: ‘I wanted her to be nearer to me so that I could visit her easily. I should perhaps explain that we’re not the best of friends, Nurse Evans. Claudia is my stepsister, she’s only a little younger than I, and we met for the first time when my father married her mother, who had been a widow for some years. We are, in fact, not related—all the same, as we bear the same name I feel some responsibility towards her.’ He looked down at her and actually smiled—a thin smile. ‘She’s been seen by a doctor since you arrived here? I did arrange…’
Louisa said impatiently: ‘Yes, the doctor came. I have his phone number and he’ll call again in a week’s time.’
‘He gave you no further instructions?’ Mr Savage’s deep voice sounded curt.
‘No, none at all. He told me to carry on as before and to call him if I was worried about anything.’
He moved away from her at last and went to stand at the window again, half turned away from her. ‘There seems little point in staying,’ he said at length, and turned to look at her, frowning. ‘I’m not sure if I’m doing the right thing…’
‘Well, you are,’ said Louisa firmly. ‘You upset Miss Savage and I can’t think why you came if you don’t get on together—you could have telephoned.’
‘My dear good girl, we’re talking at cross purposes.’ He started for the door. ‘I shall telephone from time to time and I shall expect a report from you.’ He paused, took a notebook from his pocket, scribbled a number in it and tore out
the page. ‘You can reach me at this number if you should need to.’ He saw her face and gave a crack of laughter. ‘Something you don’t intend to do; you think I’m a tyrant and a bully…’
‘As a matter of fact, I do,’ said Louisa in a matter-of-fact voice. All the same, the room seemed empty and rather lonely when he had gone.
A small sound made her turn her head; Miss Savage was standing in the doorway. ‘He’s gone?’ She gave a sly smile. ‘I’m not really like that, you know, Louisa—making such a fuss—I wanted him to go away, you see.’ She twisted her hands together and added in a wheedling voice: ‘You’re not cross, are you? Was he very rude to you?’
For some reason Louisa found herself saying no when she should really have said yes. She said mildly: ‘I think your brother only came to see if you were settled in—I’m sure he has your interest at heart; he wanted to know just how you were…’
Miss Savage gave a giggle. ‘I bet he did! Did he ask about my friends? The ones who came over with us?’
‘No.’ Louisa wasn’t sure if she liked Miss Savage in this mood.
‘Oh, good. I didn’t tell him and I didn’t have time to ask you not to mention them. He doesn’t like them.’
Understandably so, thought Louisa; she didn’t like them herself.
‘Well, he won’t be coming again for ages,’ said Miss Savage in a satisfied voice. ‘They’ve just started another bridge somewhere at the back of beyond and once the snow comes travelling around isn’t all that easy.’
Louisa thought otherwise. There were domestic flights all over the country; she had collected handfuls of leaflets from a travel agency because she had an inquisitive mind that liked to know about such things. Besides, the friendly woman at the newspaper kiosk had told her that there was a daily steamer that sailed the entire length of the country, right to the Russian border, and back again, calling at dozens of isolated villages. Louisa didn’t think that the snow made much difference to the Norwegians—after all, they’d lived there for hundreds of years and by now would know how to deal with their weather. It did put her in mind of something else, though. ‘Will we be staying here all winter?’
‘Fed up already?’ demanded Miss Savage apprehensively. ‘I’ll make him pay you more… Don’t go, Louisa.’
Louisa smiled at her patient. ‘I don’t intend to, and I’m not in the least fed up. I think it’s marvellous here. The reason I asked was because I’ll have to buy some thicker clothes; it’s almost November and I thought I’d get one of those quilted coats and some lined boots.’
‘Oh, is that all?’ Miss Savage had picked up a copy of Harpers and was turning the pages. ‘Why don’t you get a fur coat? You’ll get your wages in just a couple of weeks—Simon said something about it, but I wasn’t listening. I expect you know when it’s due to be paid? You have to go to the Bergen Bank and ask for Mr… He wrote the name down somewhere.’ She turned the magazine over: ‘Here it is, written on the back—Helgesen.’ She added mockingly. ‘Simon seemed to think you needed someone to keep an eye on your money, I suppose. The tight-fisted so-and-so!’ Her voice became full of self-pity. ‘He’s got more money than is good for him and he gives me barely enough to live on.’
Probably he was mean, thought Louisa; he certainly was unpleasant enough to add meanness to his faults, but after all, Miss Savage lived in great comfort and if a mink coat and hand-made Italian shoes were anything to go by, not to mention the luxurious flat in which they lived at present, then her ideas of meanness and Miss Savage’s weren’t on the same plane.
‘My room’s in rather a mess.’ Miss Savage looked up briefly from her magazine. ‘Be a good girl and tidy it for me, will you? I’m exhausted.’
Louisa went. Miss Savage was bone idle, but she had been ill. Louisa knew from experience that getting over an illness was as bad in some ways as actually being in the throes of one. The room looked as though it had endured an earthquake. Miss Savage had wreaked her rage on the soft furnishings to an alarming degree; the bed had its pillows flung in all directions as well as the duvet; there wasn’t a cushion in its rightful place and not only had a bottle of perfume been smashed to bits but a jar of one of the expensive creams Miss Savage used had been flung on to the carpet, making a very nasty mess.
Louisa set the room to rights and spent a long time clearing up bits of glass and lumps of face cream. By the time she got back to the sitting room, Miss Savage was asleep, the magazine fallen to the ground. Louisa stood looking at her and thought how very pretty she was, even with her mouth open. She frowned a little, because the prettiness seemed somehow blurred round the edges and was beginning to sag a little, but that was probably because Miss Savage had cried so long and so hard. She would let her sleep for another hour while she went to see what Eva had got for their supper, and presently when she wakened her patient, she was relieved to find that she seemed to have recovered completely from the afternoon’s upset. Indeed, Miss Savage spent most of the meal planning their next few days. Rather to Louisa’s surprise she suggested that they might visit the Museum of Arts and Crafts—already several of the museums had closed for the winter—and if they enjoyed it, they could visit the rest during the weeks ahead. ‘Because there’s nothing much else,’ she declared. ‘Piano recitals, if you like such things, and the cinema—I’ll need some new clothes too.’ She yawned. ‘It’s going to be deadly here,’ and at Louisa’s enquiring look: ‘Oh, I can’t go back to London, Simon will stop my allowance if I do.’ Her voice became plaintive. ‘I depend on it utterly.’
‘Well, once you’re quite well again,’ began Louisa, feeling her way, ‘could you get a job? You know all about clothes and some of those boutiques must be super to work in.’
She was rewarded with a look of horror which was quite genuine. ‘Me? Work? My dear Louisa, you must be out of your tiny mind! I couldn’t possibly—I mean, it’s all right for someone like yourself, presumably you expected to have to earn your living; even after you get married your sort usually do a job, don’t you? I should die!’ And just in case Louisa didn’t see her point, she added pettishly: ‘I’m still far from well.’
There was no point in arguing. Louisa went away to warm the soup Eva had left and inspect the contents of the casserole in the oven. She still didn’t like Miss Savage, but she was sorry for her too; she was missing such a lot of fun. Who would want London anyway? As far as Louisa was concerned anyone could have it, just so long as they left her Bergen to explore. And there was plenty to do: the theatre, cinemas, some wonderful shops and cafés, and, she hoped, the chance to ski; she had asked about that and been told that there were ski slopes not far away where she could be taught…once she could get Miss Savage to agree to her having a free day at least once a week. She set supper on the table and made soothing conversation with her patient and presently helped her to bed, since she had become lachrymose again.
But by the morning she was once more her normal self, eating little, it was true, and disinclined to get up, but once she was dressed, Louisa persuaded her to put on her mink coat and its matching cap and go into the town with her. It was a bright day but cold, and they went first to Riemers for their coffee before spending an hour wandering about the shops. The visit to the museum had been forgotten, of course, but Louisa was glad that Miss Savage was at least out of doors, taking an interest in things, and just for once not grumbling; indeed, over lunch she insisted that Louisa should have the afternoon off. ‘Because it’s getting cold and you’d better get that coat you were talking about. I hope you have enough money, because I’ve got none,’ she finished carelessly.
So after settling her on the sofa with a pile of paperbacks and a light rug, Louisa went off on her own. She knew what she was going to buy. She had seen just what she wanted in Sundt’s department store and she went straight there; a quilted jacket with a fleecy lining and a hood. She chose a green one with a brown lining and teamed it up with thick brown slacks and leather boots, then added a thick wool sweater to wear with it and m
atching mitts and cap. They all added up to a quite formidable sum, but she hadn’t spent more than a handful of kroner since they had arrived and pay day wasn’t far off. Feeling pleased with herself, she walked the short distance to Riemers and had tea, then started for the flat. It was almost dark by now and the sky had darkened; there had been snow for some weeks in the north of the country, a friendly waitress had told her, and any day now it would snow in Bergen. Louisa sped through the brightly lighted streets, dreaming of skiing and wishing she could get away for long enough to visit some of the nearby islands by the local steamers.
As she neared the flat she saw that its windows blazed with lights and a slight unease jellied into horrible certainty as she opened the door. Miss Savage had visitors; Louisa could hear their loud voices and louder laughter as she went up the stairs. She didn’t need to open the door to know who they were.
The three of them turned to look at her as she went in across a room hazy with cigarette smoke. They all held glasses in their hands too, although Miss Savage, sitting on the arm of a chair, had nothing in hers.
Louisa was greeted with shouts of welcome and when they died down Miss Savage called: ‘Aren’t I good, Louisa? No drinks, but you see how useful that bottle of sherry is being.’ She giggled and they all laughed with her except Louisa, who, aware that she was being stuffy, nonetheless was unable to laugh. It was curious that the first thought that entered her head had been concerning Mr Savage; he would be furious if he knew that these rather wild friends of his stepsister’s had arrived; without even asking she knew that he would never approve of them. When the hubbub had died down a little she said hullo in a pleasant cool little voice, refused a glass of sherry and waited to see what would happen next.
