by Betty Neels
‘No,’ he sounded quite matter-of-fact, ‘but there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be in time, provided you work at it. Now, are you going to try again?’
She was cross-eyed with weariness by the time he had finished with her, but she had to admit that she had learnt to control her feet and had lost her poker-like stance. They skied down the slope for the last time and she stood quietly while Simon undid her skis for her and then tossed them over his shoulder with his own. They found Claudia and Lars at the house, very pleased with themselves, and when Claudia said rather pointedly that they were going to spend the afternoon round the stove, Louisa declared that she had letters to write in her room and to her surprise, Simon observed that since they were going out that evening he had some work to do after lunch.
Louisa didn’t write letters. The room was warm and comfortable enough but she was lonely. She got on to the bed presently, wrapped in the duvet and slept until Elsa came tapping on the door to tell her that tea was on the table.
But she was sorry that she had gone down, for Simon Savage had a cup in his workroom and the other two, although pleasant enough, quite obviously didn’t want her company. She was trying to think of some good reason for taking her cup upstairs with her when the door opened and Simon came in intent on a second cup. On his way back to the door he suggested that she should join him, adding, presumably for the benefit of the others, ‘You’re interested in bridges—I’ve just got the plans for the next one to be built. Bring your tea with you.’
It seemed the lesser of two evils. She followed him out of the room and when he stood aside went into the room on the other side of the hall. She hadn’t been in it before; it was smaller than the sitting room, with a small wood stove, a square table, loaded with rolls of paper, notebooks and, she presumed, the paraphernalia of bridge building, and two or three chairs. He waved her to one of them, and sat down again at the table, where he became totally immersed in a plan he unrolled, she sat sipping her tea, studying the back of his neck; she rather liked the way his dark hair grew. After a couple of minutes’ complete silence she suggested: ‘Since I’m interested in bridges shouldn’t I see the plans?’
Simon lifted his head to look at her and she thought it such a pity that he looked so remote. ‘My dear girl, I said that to get you out of the room. I’d not the least intention of showing you anything.’
She felt so hurt that it was like a physical pain inside her. She put down her cup and saucer on the table and got to her feet. ‘That was kind of you,’ she told him quietly. ‘I won’t trespass on your—hospitality any longer.’
She had whisked out of the room, giving him no chance to reply. Not that she had expected him to.
She had a nice cry after that, although she wasn’t sure why she was crying, and then had a shower and dressed slowly, ready for the evening. Claudia had told her that she was going to wear a long dress, a lovely woollen affair with a matching stole, so Louisa felt quite justified in putting on the long skirt and the quilted waistcoat. She put on more make-up than usual too and did her hair in a complicated style which she prayed would stay up for the rest of the evening.
Lars, who was staying at the hotel, had already gone there. It only remained for Simon Savage, very stylish in pin-stripes and a silk shirt under his sheepskin jacket, to escort them the very short distance to the hotel.
The dining room was almost full and they went straight to their table, and Louisa, who had been worrying about the drinks, was relieved to find that the men made no effort to go to the bar and drank the tonic and lemon Simon had ordered for them all without a muscle of their faces moving.
The dinner was delicious—thick home-made soup, fish beautifully cooked, and fruit salad, followed by a great pot of coffee. They lingered over it, while Lars, bearing the lion’s share of the talk, kept them all laughing, until the film was due to start.
The room was crowded and their entry caused a small stir among the audience, calling friendly greetings, offering them seats. In the end they settled in the middle of a row of chairs half way back from the screen, Claudia and Louisa in the middle, the men on either side of them. The film was The Sound of Music, which Louisa had seen more times than she could remember, not that that made any difference to her enjoyment. She sat, misty-eyed, her gentle mouth very slightly open, oblivious of Claudia and Lars holding hands beside her and Simon Savage, sitting well back and watching her face, with no expression on his own features at all. Anyone looking at him might have concluded that he had seen the film too and had gone into a trance until it was over.
When the film was finished the dancing began. The men had surged to the bar, but at the first sound of Abba on the tape, they were back, swinging their partners on to the floor. Louisa, who had watched Lars and Claudia join the cheerful dancing throng, felt a wave of relief when a young giant of a man she had seen several times on the quay advanced upon her with a friendly: ‘Yes?’ and danced her off too. Only then did she admit to her fear of being left high and dry and Simon Savage coming to find her without a partner. He would have danced with her, of course, with the frigid politeness of someone doing his duty…
The tape came to an end and she was still exchanging small talk with her partner when the music started again, and this time it was Simon Savage who danced her off. A neat dancer, she conceded, and self-assured. After a few minutes she relaxed and began to enjoy herself.
‘You are enjoying yourself?’ enquired Simon, way up above her head.
‘Very much, thank you.’
‘It compares not unfavourably with the more sophisticated night spots of London?’
She glanced up briefly. ‘I wouldn’t know—I’ve never been to one.’
He didn’t answer and she spent several fruitless moments trying to think of something light and amusing to say, but she couldn’t—and anyway, Simon was hardly eager for conversation. They danced in silence, and presently, when the tape was changed, they went on dancing, and except for a short spell with Lars and ten minutes of disco dancing with another young man who owned a fishing boat and who had passed the time of day with her on occasion, Simon continued to dance with her for the rest of the evening. He was, she felt, exceeding his duty by doing so, especially as there were several pretty girls there, but it seemed that his duty didn’t include talking. Probably he was working out a new bridge.
The evening came to an end. Everyone put on layers of warm clothing and went out into the cold, calling good-nights as they went. Louisa was glad that the distance was short to the house. The idea of facing a trip on the fjord before one got home was rather more than one would wish for at that time of night. She went indoors thankfully and went at once to her room, leaving the others downstairs. It was to be hoped that Simon would have the sense to go to his room too and give the other two a chance to say goodnight before Lars went back to the hotel. She was undressed and in bed, almost asleep, when there was a gentle knock on her door and it was opened.
‘You’re awake?’ It was more a statement than a question, uttered in Simon’s voice, surprisingly quiet. He came in, shutting the door behind him, and Louisa sat up in bed and switched on the bedside light.
‘Claudia—I heard her come up to bed…’
‘Where she is now. There’s been an accident—a gust of wind overturned one of the launches—three men on board, all saved but in poor shape. They are bringing them in now. Will you come down to the hotel as soon as you can?’
‘Give me five minutes.’ She barely waited for him to be gone before she was out of bed, tearing off her sensible long-sleeved nightie, bundling into woollies, a sweater, slacks, her jacket, her woolly cap crammed down on to her flowing hair. She crept downstairs in her wool socks and wondered briefly if it was all right to leave Claudia on her own, but there was nothing much she could do about that. She closed the outer door quietly and felt the shock of the bitter wind and cold night as she hurried to the hotel.
The door was shut, but there were lights on downstairs. She
opened it and went inside and found that the first of the men was already there, lying on one of the larger tables, covered with a blanket. Two men were bending over him, but they straightened up as she went to look and stood back a little. The man was young and suffering, she judged, from his immersion in the fjord, but his colour wasn’t too bad and his pulse was fairly strong. She got the men to help her turn him on to his side, made sure that he had a free air passage, and began to strip off his outer clothes. Someone, she was glad to see, had already taken off his boots and there were plenty of dry blankets piled near. She set the men to rub his arms and legs once his clothes were off, took his pulse again and turned round as the second man was brought in—an older man this time, and not a good colour. The four men carrying him laid him on another blanket-covered table and while she took a quick look at him, began to take off his clothes and boots too. Louisa removed false teeth, took a faint pulse and requested towels, and when they came set to to rub the man’s legs and arms, presently handing over to her helpers while she went back to look at the first man. He was decidedly better and would be better still for a warm bed and a good sleep once he was conscious. She judged him to be safe enough to leave and went back to the other man.
No one had said very much, doing as she asked them without query, and now the landlord appeared, his wife behind him, carrying a tray loaded with mugs and coffee pots and the potent spirit Aqua Vitae, and hard on their heels came the third patient, carried carefully by another four men, Simon Savage being one of them. He looked across the room as they laid the man, little more than a boy, on a table and said briefly: ‘I think he has a broken leg.’
As indeed he had, a nasty compound fracture of the tibia and probably more than that. Louisa set about covering the ugly jagged wound, thankful that he was unconscious still, and then with Simon Savage’s help gently straightened the leg and splinted it. There might not be a doctor in the small community, but at least they had an excellent first aid equipment. The boy had had a blow on the head as well, there was a discoloration over one eye, but his pulse was good and his pupils were reacting. She finished her work with calm unhurry and said: ‘They’ll need to go into hospital. The first one is not too bad, but he’ll have to have a check-up.’
‘Lars and some of the men are getting a launch ready now,’ Simon told her. ‘We’ll take them up to Tromso. You’ll come with us.’
Orders, orders! thought Louisa. He could have said please, it would have made a trying situation a little less trying. She said, ‘Very well,’ and then, ‘Claudia is alone.’
‘Lars is going up there for the rest of the night. Are we ready to go?’
‘Who are “we”?’ She was taking pulses again, doing a careful last-minute check.
‘You, me, Arne and Knut, the boy you were dancing with.’
Louisa took the coffee the landlord was offering her and took a heartening sip. She wasn’t sure, but she thought that he had put Aqua Vitae into it, a good idea if they were to face the cold again. Simon Savage was gulping his down too and then Arne and Knut came in, swallowed their drinks, listened to Simon’s instructions, and went away again. One by one the three men were carried down to the quay, into the launch and made comfortable. Louisa was barely aboard when Simon shouted for a man to cast off, and took the wheel. There was a hard wind blowing within a very few minutes, and Louisa quite understood how the boat the three men had been in had overturned; she only hoped the launch was made of sterner stuff. They lurched and slithered, and if she had had the time she would have indulged in seasickness, but what with keeping the three men on the benches, taking pulses, and when the first man regained consciousness, reassuring him, she had not a moment to spare.
The journey seemed unending and she wondered how the men on deck were faring. Now and then she heard them shouting to each other above the wind, but their voices were cheerful. The boy with the broken leg came to for a moment and she had a job to quieten him before he drowsed off again. His cries brought Simon Savage into the cabin, together with a blast of icy air. ‘All right?’ he wanted to know. ‘We’re coming in now. There should be an ambulance waiting—I phoned ahead.’
It took a little while to manoeuvre the three men off the launch and on to the quay, where two ambulances were parked. Louisa, told by Simon to get into the second one, did so, looking round anxiously to see what everyone else was doing—surely they weren’t going to leave her here?
‘Don’t worry,’ said Simon laconically. ‘Arne and Knut will wait here in the launch for us.’ He shut the doors on her and a moment later they moved off.
She was very tired by now and cold to her bones. The hospital, when they reached it, was a blur of bright lights and briskly moving figures. Modern, she thought, escorting the boy into the casualty department, and well equipped. If she hadn’t been so worn out she would have been glad to have looked around her. As it was she was told kindly to sit down and waved to one of the benches and someone brought her a cup of coffee. Everyone had disappeared by now. She closed her eyes and dozed, to be roused presently by Simon Savage. ‘We’re going back,’ he told her. ‘One of the ambulances will give us a lift to the launch.’
She nodded. ‘The men—will they be all right?’
‘Yes. You did a good job, Louisa—thanks.’
He bundled her into the ambulance, beside the driver, and got in beside her, then hauled her out again and helped her on to the launch. ‘Inside,’ he said, and she sat down thankfully on one of the benches and would have gone to sleep again if Knut hadn’t come in with more coffee, laced with Aqua Vitae, and stood over her while she drank it. She went to sleep within minutes, which was a good thing, as they were heading into a gale force wind which sent the launch heaving and shuddering and would have terrified her if she had been awake. As it was she had to be shaken when they finally got back.
‘Are we there already?’ she asked querulously, and tried to go to sleep again, and when she got another shake, ‘I must have gone to sleep.’
‘You’re swimming in spirits,’ said Simon. ‘We came back in a gale and it seemed best to knock you out.’ He hoisted her to her feet. ‘Can you manage to walk?’
The cold air revived her and she managed very well, with his arm around her, and at the door she asked: ‘What’s the time? I seem to have lost track…’
He opened the door and pushed her gently inside. ‘It’s almost five o’clock. Are you hungry?’
She discovered that she was and nodded.
‘Go upstairs and get ready for bed and then come down to the kitchen.’
Louisa nodded again and stumbled upstairs and into her room. The sight of her bed almost sent her into it, still dressed as she was, but she had no doubt at all that if she didn’t present herself downstairs within a reasonable time, Simon would be wanting to know why not. She undressed and went back to the kitchen, wrapped in the thick dressing gown she had bought for warmth rather than glamour. Certainly there wasn’t a vestige of glamour about her. White-faced, her hair in rats’ tails, her eyes heavy with sleep, she wandered into the warm little room and found the table laid with plates and mugs and knives and forks. Simon, that most unlikely of cooks, had fried eggs in a pan, made a pot of tea, and cut slices off a brown loaf.
They sat opposite each other hardly speaking, and when they had finished they cleared the table, left everything tidy and went out into the little hall. ‘Where will you sleep?’ asked Louisa, suddenly remembering that Lars was there.
‘It won’t be the first time I’ve slept in a chair.’ Indeed, now that she looked closely at him, he looked tired to death.
She said in a motherly voice: ‘Oh, poor you! I’ll get some blankets and a pillow…’
Simon shook his head. ‘Go to bed.’ He smiled down at her, a wide, tender smile that made her blink, and then bent his head to kiss her—quick and hard and not at all like the other kiss he had given her. If she hadn’t been three parts asleep she would have been filled with astonishment. As it was, she fell into
bed aware of a complete contentment, although about what, she had no idea.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT WAS Elsa who wakened Louisa later in the morning with a cup of tea and the news that Mr Savage had gone to Tromso to see how the three men were faring, and Miss Savage and Herre Helgesen had gone skiing.
Louisa showered and dressed and went downstairs, had a cup of coffee and a slice of toast in the kitchen and set about laying the table for lunch. Everyone would be back soon; it was almost one o’clock. But one o’clock came and passed and she went into the kitchen to confer with Elsa, who shook her head and said that she really didn’t know. Miss Savage had taken a packet of sandwiches with her, but she had said nothing about not coming back at the usual time, and as for Mr Savage, he had said nothing at all, merely walked out of the house—it was Herre Helgesen who had told her where he had gone. Luckily it was a meal which would come to no harm. She looked enquiringly at Louisa because she always went home after she had seen to the midday meal and it was already over her normal time.
Louisa assured her that she could cope quite easily with the dishing up when the others came home and begged her to take extra time off as she had been so inconvenienced, so Elsa got into her outdoor things, wished her a pleasant Sunday afternoon, and hurried off, leaving Louisa to potter in the kitchen for a while and then go back to sit by the stove, but by now it was almost two o’clock and she was famished, so she went into the kitchen again, helped herself to a plate of Elsa’s delicious casserole and ate it at the kitchen table and then, because she was still hungry, she cut a hunk of cheese and ate that before washing her plate and setting the tea tray. Somebody must come back soon, the light was already fading fast into black night. She set the kettle to boil on the wood stove in the sitting room and sat down again to read, but presently she let the book fall and allowed her thoughts to roam.
