by Betty Neels
She sugared her porridge. ‘Well, yes, I believe I am,’ she told him placidly. ‘I don’t interfere with your bridges, Mr Savage, I don’t think that you should interfere with my nursing.’
‘Claudia doesn’t need a nurse any more.’
She raised her eyes to his. ‘You’d like me to go, Mr Savage? You have only to say so. After all, it’s you who pays my wages.’
She watched him getting control of his temper while he helped himself to cranberry jam and took some toast. He said evenly: ‘Nurse Evans, you may have carte blanche with my stepsister, but I advise you to be very careful. I’m not a man to be crossed lightly.’
‘Oh, I can see that,’ said Louisa airily, ‘but if you’ll give me a free hand with Claudia, then I promise I won’t interfere with your bridges.’
An unwilling laugh escaped him. ‘I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Louisa.’ He started gathering up the papers by his plate. ‘And you seemed so quiet, almost timid… I shan’t be in to lunch.’
She finished her breakfast in deep thought. Obviously he didn’t intend to organise any activities for them, that was something she would have to do for herself. She cleared the table and went into the kitchen and under Elsa’s kindly eye, prepared a tray for Claudia.
It was still dark outside; she prudently left the curtains drawn, switched on the bedside light and only then wakened Claudia, whose temper, never very sunny in the morning, improved a little at the sight of her breakfast tray.
‘However did you manage it?’ she asked, and yawned hugely. ‘I’m sure Simon said something about eight o’clock…’
‘Yes, he did, but we agreed that you should have breakfast in bed.’
‘Every day?’
Louisa nodded. ‘Why not? I’ve little enough to do, you know. I thought we might go out presently and take a look at that shop and perhaps have coffee at the hotel…’
‘And then what?’ demanded Claudia pettishly.
‘I’m going to find out about skiing, I’m dying to learn—do you suppose you could teach me?’
Claudia was buttering toast. ‘I suppose I could. God knows where I’ll get the energy from—it sounds a fearful bore.’
‘Perhaps we could try once or twice, and if I’m quite hopeless I’ll give it up.’
Claudia had picked up a magazine and was leafing through the pages. ‘OK,’ she said without much interest, ‘I suppose it’ll be something to do.’
Louisa was at the door. ‘I suppose Lars Helgesen skis beautifully.’ She closed the door gently behind her.
There weren’t many people about as they crunched through the snow towards the shop, but there was a fair amount of activity on the quay: a fork lifter stacking large cardboard boxes, parcels and bundles of all shapes and sizes being sorted; there were lights everywhere, of course, for it was still not light, although the sky was clear. Several men went past them on snow scooters, going out of sight where the last of the houses clustered on a bend of the fjord. The bridge lay in that direction; Louisa dearly wanted to see it, but she doubted whether Claudia would walk so far. They turned into the shop and were agreeably surprised to find that it housed almost anything they might need. What was more, the post had arrived and among the letters was one from Lars. Claudia tucked it into a pocket, her pale face pink so that she looked lovelier than ever, and Louisa vowed that nothing was going to stop her from making every effort to cure her of her addiction—‘nothing’, of course, was Simon Savage being tiresome. They spent quite a time in the shop, delighted to find that there was a small stock of English paperbacks as well as a two-day-old copy of The Times. They bought chocolate, too and Louisa, finding that they could speak English, asked the young woman behind the counter about skiing. Her questions were met with instant offers of skis, boots, a guide to show them the way and someone to instruct her. Louisa explained about Claudia teaching her, but accepted the rest of the offer for the next morning and when she offered to pay met with such a vigorous refusal to take a single krone that she didn’t say another word. ‘You are family of Mr Savage,’ she was told. ‘He is our friend and we treat you also as friends—friends do not pay.’
They went to the hotel next and were surprised again. It was a small wooden building, not much bigger than the houses round it, but inside it had a small cosy bar, an even smaller dining room and a much larger room where there was a billiard table, dartboard and a number of small tables and chairs. Louisa guessed that it was used for a great many things during the winter, for there was a small screen hung against one wall and a projector beside it, and in one corner there was a piano.
There was no one else there. They ordered coffee and the proprietor brought it himself and then sat down with them, proving to be a fount of information, imparted in English, which while not fluent, was easily understandable. The post came twice a week, they were told, books and magazines could be ordered at the shop and came at the same time. It was possible to go to Tromso whenever they wished provided the weather wasn’t bad. There was a film show every Saturday evening in that very room and dancing afterwards. And when Louisa observed that there weren’t all that number of people to come to it, he laughed cheerfully and told her that the people who lived along the shores of the fjord came in for the evening.
‘We are very happy here,’ he told her. ‘We have the mountains and the fjord and in the summer visitors come and camp along the shore and we are very busy. Besides, there is the bridge. The men who work on it sleep and eat here and go home at the weekends. My hotel is full.’
‘Won’t it be rather quiet when they go?’ asked Louisa.
He looked surprised. ‘Oh, no—it will be Christmas.’
They parted, the best of friends, presently, and walked back to the house to find that Elsa had their lunch waiting—soup and bread and a number of little dishes filled with varieties of fish and cheese and pickles. Claudia declared that she was tired, although she had soup and coffee before making herself comfortable on the outsize couch before the stove. Louisa waited for her to ask for a drink, but she didn’t, and by the time Louisa had cleared the table she was asleep.
Elsa would be in the house until the evening and was perfectly willing to keep an eye on Claudia. Louisa put on her outdoor things again and went back through the snow, past the last of the houses to where the rough road ended, but there was some sort of path once she had reached the curve of the fjord and she followed it carefully in the twilight which she realised was all there was in place of the daylight. The water looked cold and dark, whipped up into waves by a cutting wind, and she faltered for a moment. Suppose night descended and she couldn’t see the path to go back by? And then she told herself that she was silly; the snow scooters had gone that way; it was well used and surely they would be returning soon? She pressed on to the next curve and was rewarded by a sight of the bridge, brilliantly lighted at each end, and she could see and hear men working. She was in two minds whether to go on, but a few flakes of snow sent her sharply back the way she had come, very aware of the looming mountains and the gathering darkness. She had reached the first house when a snow scooter skidded to a halt beside her and Simon Savage got off. He greeted her coldly; ‘I shouldn’t advise you to go off on your own until you’re sure of the way. Only a fool would do that at this time of the year. It’s easy enough to get lost.’
‘I wanted to see the bridge, and I wasn’t being reckless, Mr Savage. I saw some men go this way before lunchtime, and I guessed there would be a path.’
He grunted. ‘And Claudia?’ It was snowing quite fast now; he looked enormously tall and bulky.
‘We had a very pleasant morning. There was a letter from Lars Helgesen. We went to the shop and then to the hotel for coffee.’ She added defiantly: ‘And I asked about skiing.’
‘Admirable Louisa! I’m sure you’ll deal with skis as competently as you do with everything and everyone else. You have someone to teach you?’
‘Claudia.’
He gave a great shout of laughter.
‘Of course!’
‘And there’s no need to laugh like that, it will be something to occupy her. Besides, that nice girl in the shop says her brother will go with us. She arranged it all so quickly…’
Simon stood still and looked down at her. ‘Of course she did,’ he said blandly. ‘I’d already told her that you might enquire. Her brother is wholly to be trusted, he may even give you a few tips when Claudia gets bored with teaching you.’
They had reached the house and he parked the scooter in the lean-to and opened the door for her. Louisa took off her things and hung them in the hall, got out of her boots and went upstairs in her stockinged feet, not sure if she was pleased or vexed that he should have bothered to arrange everything for them.
Surprisingly tea was a pleasant little meal, and afterwards Louisa got out a pack of cards and taught Claudia how to play Racing Demon while her stepbrother crossed the hall and shut the door firmly behind him. They met again at supper—lamb chops this time followed by cranberry tart and a great pot of coffee—and Simon was so obviously making an effort to entertain them with light conversation that Louisa took pity on him and helped him out as much as she could. Claudia did no such thing, however, either ignoring him or uttering gibes. Louisa could see him holding back his temper with a restraint which did him credit and prayed earnestly that he might not explode with rage before the meal was over. He didn’t: as soon as he could decently do so, he wished them goodnight and went back to his work.
When she went down to breakfast the next morning he wished her good morning with his usual austerity, but added at once: ‘You were quite right; breakfast with Claudia at the table would be disaster. It’s a pity that we dislike each other so heartily. Perhaps you were right and I shouldn’t have brought her here.’ He gave her a grim little smile. ‘Aren’t you going to say I told you so?’
Louisa sat down composedly, helped herself to porridge and sprinkled sugar with a lavish hand. ‘No, I’m not, because I’m sure you were right to do so. It’s kill or cure, isn’t it?’ She frowned. ‘I wish I knew more about it—alcoholism, I mean, but she is trying, you know. Is Lars coming to visit her?’
‘Yes, but I don’t know when. Probably next weekend—he’ll fly up to Tromso. I haven’t told her.’
She nodded. ‘That’s three days away. Perhaps we could go skiing today?’
‘Why not? It’s clear weather. I’ll tell them to have everything ready for you at the shop, and arrange for Arne to go with you both.’ He got up. ‘You’ll excuse me?’ He was gone.
The morning was a huge success. Claudia, once her skis were strapped on, became quite animated, and she and Arne got Louisa between them bullying and encouraging her in turn, while she tripped up, fell over, crossed her skis and did everything wrong, but at the end of an hour or more she found herself actually in some sort of control of the things and began to enjoy herself. They went back to lunch, glowing with exercise. Claudia very pleased with herself because Arne had complimented her on her grace and speed, and Louisa even more pleased because she had almost got the hang of balancing, and best of all, Claudia had actually enjoyed herself; not once had she complained of boredom or evinced a desire to lie down with a book. She ate her meal with a better appetite and although she declared after it that nothing would make her stir out of doors again that day, she did so in a goodnatured fashion, merely requesting Louisa to make her comfortable on the couch, fetch her a book and a rug, and then go away and leave her in peace.
Fortunately for her own comfort, Louisa had no wish to stay indoors. She wrapped herself up once more and started to walk towards the other end of the road. Not very far, because there were only a handful of houses beyond the one they lived in, but once past these, she found herself walking along the edge of the fjord, going rather gingerly towards the spot where the shore thrust a thin finger into the fjord’s water. There was a hut there and she went to peer inside it. Bare now but probably used in the summer, she supposed, and decided to retrace her footsteps to the quay which was after all the heart and soul of the little place. She was standing at its far end, peering down into one of the fishing boats when Simon Savage came to stand beside her. ‘You enjoyed your skiing?’ he asked, not bothering to greet her.
It surprised her very much that she was glad to see him. ‘Very much indeed, and so did Claudia. We thought we’d go again tomorrow.’
‘Why not?’ He wasn’t looking at her, was not indeed the least bit interested. She said rather tartly: ‘It’s getting cold, I’m going back to the house.’
She hadn’t expected him to go with her; they left the quay, went past the shop and when they reached the hotel, a few yards farther on, he stopped. ‘Coffee,’ he said, and took her arm. ‘I know it’s tea time, but a cup won’t hurt you.’
There were several men in the hotel, sitting at tables, drinking coffee and reading their papers, and Louisa suffered a pang of chagrin as he pulled out a chair at one of these, nodded to her to sit down, said something to the two men already sitting there, and then sat down himself. ‘Herre Amundsen, Herre Knudsen,’ he introduced them, and then in English: ‘Miss Louisa Evans, my stepsister’s nurse.’
They were youngish men and probably glad to see a new face, because they talked eagerly about their work at the bridge, their homes in Tromso and their wives and families. They would be moving on soon, they told her, another week or so and the bridge would be opened. And how did she like Norway? they wanted to know. Louisa told them, delighted to find such friendliness. She drank her coffee, and when Simon ordered her another cup she drank that too, hardly noticing, listening to tales of winter storms, avalanches, the midnight sun, reindeer, the Laplanders…all the things she had wanted to know about. If Simon Savage had been more forthcoming she would have asked him days ago; but he had never encouraged her to ask questions, let alone talk… He sat back now, content to listen, it seemed, replying only briefly when addressed. Presently he said: ‘We’d better go. Wait here while I book a table for Saturday evening.’
‘Does it really get so crowded?’ asked Louisa, watching him talking to the landlord.
‘Very busy—many people come to eat and watch the film and afterwards they dance. A splendid evening.’
Louisa thought that it might not be all that splendid. Lars and Claudia would want to talk to each other, she and her stepbrother would probably not be on speaking terms, and she would be forced to drop inane remarks over the high wall of Simon Savage’s indifference—but there would be a film afterwards and she hoped devoutly that the men would outnumber the girls so that she would get a chance to dance. Simon was a write-off as far as dancing was concerned.
She thanked him for the coffee as they walked the short distance back and he muttered something to her in reply, and beyond a few necessary words during tea and later at their supper, he had nothing further to say to her.
The next few days passed surprisingly smoothly. They skied every morning, and now that she had got over her first fright, Louisa was loving it. Claudia was more or less docile, even grudgingly admitting that she wasn’t as bored as she had expected to be; certainly she was looking better and years younger and since there wasn’t a great deal of daylight, she had less time to spend in front of the mirror in the mornings and after lunch she was too healthily tired to do more than read by the stove. True, there had been one sticky moment when she had demanded to go to Tromso that weekend, and since Simon hadn’t told her that Lars was coming, merely telling her curtly that it wasn’t possible, he provoked a burst of temper and tears which took Louisa an hour or more to calm. Indeed, she had intervened and told him severely to go away. He had stared at her for a long moment before he turned on his heel, and she had the quite ridiculous feeling that he was silently laughing.
Lars arrived on Saturday morning while Louisa was cautiously skiing down a gentle slope at the foot of the mountains. Claudia had remained at the top with Arne and it was she who saw Lars first, coming down the slope in fine style to meet him. Louisa, not
wishing to be an unwelcome third party, began her patient sideways plodding up the slope again and was halfway there when Simon Savage, coming apparently from nowhere, joined her.
‘Keep your skis together and then move your right foot up,’ he advised her. She paused to look at him. He did look rather handsome, she had to admit, and not as forbidding as usual. ‘Where did you come from?’ she wanted to know.
‘I fetched Lars from the airport. While he was changing I came across the mountains…’ He waved a vague arm at the forbidding heights all around them, and she said: ‘But there’s nowhere to go.’
‘Yes, there is, if you know the way. I’ll show you one day.’
They had reached the top and Simon said something to Arne, who grinned and sped away back to the shop far below.
‘Now,’ said Simon, ‘let me see what you can do.’
An opportunity to show her prowess; the slope was white and inviting and not quite so frightening any more. Claudia and Lars had disappeared: she would show her companion just how good she was. She launched herself with what she hoped was effortless grace.
Her skis crossed almost at once and she ended up upside down in the snow, quite unable to get up. Simon pulled her to her feet, dusted her down and turned her the right way. ‘Now, start again, and forget about impressing me.’
She shot him a very peevish glance and then, surprising herself, burst out laughing. ‘Serves me right, doesn’t it?’ she asked, and launched herself cautiously. And this time she managed very well and even managed to stop at the bottom without falling over again to turn round in time to see Simon Savage sailing down after all with a careless expertise which swamped her with envy.
She had no chance to tell him how good he was. ‘Do it again,’ he commanded, ‘and this time keep your feet together and don’t be so stiff—you can bend in the middle, I hope?’
Louisa had a great desire to burst into tears; she had done quite well and he hadn’t even bothered to tell her so, only snapped at her about her feet. She muttered crossly: ‘Oh, we’re not all as perfect as you are.’
