by Betty Neels
She glanced at him, her eyes very large and soft. She would have liked to have said something suitable in reply, but her throat had closed over. To her horror she felt tears pricking her eyelids and she pushed back her chair and got up. ‘Simon,’ she whispered without realising that she had said it. ‘Simon…’ She swallowed the lump in her throat and said in a breathy little voice: ‘I’m not hungry. I must finish my packing.’
She went to her room and sat on her bed, and presently Elsa appeared without a word and put a tray of coffee down on the dressing table and went away again. Louisa drank all the coffee, tidied up her face, put on her outdoor things and went to say goodbye to Claudia.
‘Going?’ Claudia was only half awake and not best pleased at being disturbed. ‘Oh, well, goodbye—we’re not likely to see each other again, are we?’ She added grudgingly: ‘Of course if you should ever come to Bergen you must come and see us.’ She rolled over and closed her eyes, and Louisa went and fetched her bag and went downstairs. The launch was leaving at eight o’clock and there was only five minutes left.
Elsa was in her outdoor clothes too and when Louisa started to say goodbye she said: ‘I’m coming to see you off, Louisa,’ and they walked down to the quay together with never a sight of Simon. Louisa gave Elsa a hug, shook hands once again with the little crowd who had come to see her off, and was helped into the launch—and there was Simon, longer and leaner than ever, standing on the deck talking to Arne. He nodded when he saw her and the people on the quay shouted and waved as the launch slowly crept away from them, out into the fjord. She stood waving until they were distant spots under the bright lights of the little quay and then went into the cabin. She hadn’t expected Simon to be there—indeed, she hadn’t been thinking rationally at all, for she still had no ticket. She hadn’t opened the envelope either. Presently she would do so, and ask about her ticket too, but just for a moment she wanted to sit still and pull herself together. It would never do to let him see that her heart was breaking. He came into the cabin presently, taking up most of the space, and she asked him in a composed voice if she might have her ticket.
‘All in good time,’ he told her. ‘Are you warm enough?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ Then she asked, ‘Are you going to Tromso, too?’ and blushed at the silliness of the question, but she was answered without a flicker of amusement:
‘Well, yes, I am.’ And then: ‘Don’t come on deck, it’s very cold.’ He went again as silently as he had come.
The journey seemed so short, but only because she wanted it to last for ever. She could see the lights of Tromso as they sped round the last bend; in another five minutes they would be there. She had no idea where the airport was and she didn’t much care. She supposed there would be a taxi for her. She wouldn’t want to wait around, saying goodbye would be bad enough however quick it was.
Simon came back into the cabin, bringing a gust of icy air with him. ‘Ready?’ he asked, and picked up her bag.
They had berthed when she went outside and there was a Land Rover parked on the quay. She shook hands with Arne and the boy with him and stepped on to the hard-packed snow, to be joined almost at once by Simon.
‘We’re going in the Land Rover,’ he told her, and when she stared up at him questioningly: ‘I’m flying to Bergen—in fact I’m flying to Heathrow with you.’ He put her bag down and pulled her close. ‘I didn’t dare tell you,’ and at her look of astonishment: ‘You see, when we met I thought, “There’s a brown mouse of a girl with a sharp tongue,” and then before I knew what was happening I was in love with you. Oh, I did my best to ignore it, and I thought that if I ignored you too I’d be safely back in my bachelor state in no time—only it didn’t work out like that. You were under my skin, in my bones, my very heartbeat. And I’d gone out of my way to make you dislike me so that it would be easier for me to get over you. Only I haven’t done that, my darling.’ He stared down at her, unsmiling, even a little grim. ‘I’ve discovered that I can’t face life without you, indeed I doubt if I could build another bridge. You had a wretched life with Claudia—if only you could bear to take me on instead…’A snowflake fell on to her nose and he paused and brushed it off very gently. ‘My dearest little Louisa, if only you’d marry me!’
It was bitingly cold and a few snowflakes followed the first one, but Louisa hadn’t noticed. She wasn’t aware of the men on the launch watching them, or the driver of the Land Rover, for that matter. She had never felt so happy or so warm in her life before.
‘Oh, dear Simon, of course I will! I love you, too; I never want to leave you.’
He kissed her then, long and hard and with so much warmth that she wondered in a dreamlike way how she could ever have considered him austere and cold. He was most satisfyingly not either of those things. She kissed him back and then leaned back a little in his arms. ‘It’s a funny place to have a proposal,’ she added shakily.
He smiled at her. ‘I suppose it is.’ He looked round and caught Arne’s interested eye and shouted something to him which sent him and the boy as well as the driver hurrying over to them to pump their arms and utter congratulations before they finally got into the Land Rover.
Louisa sat with her hand in Simon’s and at the airport she went through reception and Customs and boarded the plane without taking any note at all of her surroundings. She tucked her hand in his again as they were airborne, drank the coffee that was brought round, ate the sandwich she was given like an obedient child, and then went to sleep, her head on his shoulder. And at Bergen there was only a brief wait before they were on the flight to Heathrow. She ate lunch this time, far too excited and happy to have much appetite. They didn’t talk much, only as they started the descent to the airport she asked: ‘Where are we going?’
‘Home,’ said Simon, ‘to Wiltshire. Shall we be married there and go back to Norway for our honeymoon?’
‘Oh, yes, please!’ She was still too excited to bother about the details—besides, Simon was there to see to everything. She heaved a sigh of pure happiness and went to sleep again.
There was a car waiting for them when they let Heathrow—a Daimler Sovereign. As Louisa settled into the seat beside Simon she asked: ‘How did it get here—this car? Is it yours?’
He nodded. ‘When I go abroad I garage it close by and they bring it here for me—it’s convenient.’ He dropped a kiss on her cheek. ‘Not long now, love. About two hours’ drive.’
They drove down the M3, through a rain-sodden landscape, strangely green after the snow and the mountains, and then took the road to Warminster, but before they reached it Simon turned off the road, down a country lane which wandered up and down the gentle hills until it reached a very small village. It had a church in its centre and a cluster of houses and cottages round it and standing well back, taking up all of one side of the square, a splendid Queen Anne house with large square windows and a beautiful front door with a fanlight over it and a white-painted porch. Simon drove through the open gate at the side of the narrow front garden and stopped the car.
‘Home,’ he said, undid her safety belt and leaned across to open the door for her and then got out himself. By the time they had reached the door it was open with a plump smiling woman on the porch, beaming a welcome at them.
‘Mrs Turner, my housekeeper.’ He corrected himself: ‘Our housekeeper. Mrs Turner, this is my future wife, Miss Louisa Evans.’ He waited while they shook hands and then swept Louisa across the hall and into a small room, lined with bookshelves, its great desk covered with maps and papers. He took Louisa in his arms and pulled the cap off her head.
‘This is where I start my bridges,’ he said very quietly, ‘and this is where our heaven starts, my darling.’
Louisa put up her face to be kissed. ‘I thought it would be just round the corner, and it was,’ she told him. She would have explained further, but there seemed no point. To be kissed was far more satisfactory.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-3930-2
HEAVEN AROUND THE COR
NER
Copyright © 1981 by Betty Neels.
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