Heaven Around the Corner Read online

  Their last day came and with it Lars Helgesen to take them both out to lunch—the Norge Hotel this time, and although he was equally attentive to both of them, Louisa found herself wishing that she wasn’t there. The other two had so much to say to each other, although he was careful to keep their talk light and amusing, and Claudia replied in kind, sipping her one glass of white wine as though she had little interest in it. Over coffee Louisa had the bright idea of remembering that she still needed some wool to finish her knitting, and left them together with a promise to meet later at the flat where they would have tea before driving to the dock.

  They weren’t back when she got in, so she got the tea tray ready and sat down to wait. And when they did arrive, what with saying goodbye to Eva, last-minute packing and messages, there was barely time for them to drink their rather late tea before they had to leave.

  On board, Lars went with them down the curved stairs to their cabin, a quite roomy one with a table and chairs as well as two narrow beds. There was a tiny shower room too and a good sized cupboard. Its large window looked out on to the deck alongside and Louisa found it quite perfect, although from the mutinous look on Claudia’s face she guessed that her views were not shared. Certainly there was a tremendous difference between the cabin and the comfort of the flat, but there was all they could need. She murmured something about finding out mealtimes, said goodbye to Lars and left them together. She encountered nobody as she made her way back to the main hall. There was the ticket office there and here people were queuing to get their tickets to whichever of the stops they wanted. The ship would call at a number of places, some quite large towns, some fishing villages, some a mere cluster of houses. Louisa could imagine how welcome the sight of it must be, especially during the long winter, bringing supplies and mail and discharging passengers and taking others on.

  She edged past a family group, complete with pram, small baby and a large dog, and went up another winding stair. The dining room was quite large with small tables and an air of cosiness, and a door from it led to the stern of the ship where, she discovered, the passengers who were travelling only part of the way could sit. There was a cafeteria there and a small bar where she was delighted to see that no spirits were sold, only wines, sherry and port. There were already a few people sitting about, and she went back the way she had come, out of the door again and into a lounge, running across the fore part of the ship, from side to side, with large windows on all sides. There was no one there either, so she went up another small flight of stairs and found another lounge, exactly like the one below but used, she guessed, for observing the scenery. She stood for a few minutes, watching the ship preparing to sail, craning her neck to see Bergen alongside and behind her, lights shining from the houses perched high on the skirts of the mountains behind the town. And in front of her the fjord leading to the open sea. It was a dark evening and she could see very little; probably it would be both cold and rough. She went below presently, studied the meals timetable, made her way through the increasing number of passengers back to the cabin and tapped on the door. Someone had just shouted something over the tannoy which she guessed was an order for people to go ashore, for she could feel the engines somewhere under her feet. They would be sailing at any moment now, and surely Lars would be gone.

  He had, and Claudia was sitting slumped in one of the chairs, crying. The moment she caught sight of Louisa she shouted: ‘I won’t go, I won’t! I want to stay with Lars—it’s cruel of Simon to make me just when I’m h-happy…’

  Louisa privately agreed with her. It was cruel of Mr Savage, but then from what she had seen of him he possessed very little of the milk of human kindness. She went and sat down on the edge of one of the beds close to Claudia and took one of her hands in hers. ‘Look, it’s not as bad as you think. Listen to me—you’re much better. You’ve been trying hard, haven’t you, and each day will be easier. This place, wherever we’re going, is quiet and very peaceful. You’ll sleep well without pills and start eating properly and you’ll feel so well that you won’t be bored or tired of doing nothing. And the quicker you do that, the quicker you’ll come back to Bergen. Don’t you see, if you improve as much as that, your brother can’t refuse to let you return? And Lars will be here, won’t he, waiting for you?’

  Claudia pulled her hand away pettishly. ‘Oh, what do you know about it? You’ve never been in love, you’ve no idea what it’s like. When you meet someone and you know at once…’

  ‘It must be wonderful. I’ve never been in love, as you say, and perhaps I never shall be, but it’s happened to you, hasn’t it? And you’ve got to hang on to it. You’re one of the lucky ones.’

  Claudia turned round slowly to look at her. ‘We haven’t much in common,’ she said, and laughed a little, ‘but for a nurse you’re not a bad sort.’

  Her face crumpled again. ‘Do you really think we’ll come back soon? And that Lars likes me as much as he says he does?’

  ‘Yes to both questions.’

  Claudia was looking at her face in the little jewelled mirror she carried in her handbag. She said defiantly: ‘I told him—I told him I was an alcoholic and he just smiled and said that I didn’t need to be any more because he was there. Do you suppose I could be cured, Louisa?’

  Louisa paused in her unpacking of an overnight bag. ‘Yes, I’m quite sure you can. You see, you’ve got a good reason now, haven’t you, and before you never had that, did you?’

  Claudia flung the mirror down on the bed. ‘All the same, I shall go mad in this beastly little place we’re going to, and if I do it’ll be Simon’s fault.’

  ‘Do you suppose Lars will come and see you?’ asked Louisa, and was rewarded by a return of good humour.

  ‘He promised, but he doesn’t know when.’ Claudia got up and peered out into the dark outside. ‘Have we started?’

  ‘Yes, a few minutes ago. Dinner is at eight o’clock. Would you like a glass of wine before then?’

  ‘Whisky.’

  ‘No, wine. You can’t buy spirits on board ship, anyway, it’s against the law.’

  ‘Oh, well, wine, I suppose.’ Claudia looked round her disdainfully. ‘I’ve never been in such a poky little place in my life before, and I’ve got to share it with you. I can’t bear the idea…’

  Louisa choked back what she would like to have said. ‘It’s only for four days—and we shall only sleep here, after all.’ She felt the ship dipping its nose into the beginnings of the North Sea, heaving alarmingly. ‘And if it’s rough you may be glad to have someone here.’

  There were barely a dozen passengers in the dining room and the steward led them to a window table where two people were already sitting, and when Louisa said, ‘Good evening,’ because Claudia was looking annoyed at having to share, she was answered to her relief, in the same language—they were an elderly pair and now that she had time to look at them, American.

  They leaned over the table to shake hands. ‘Mr and Mrs Foster Kuntz,’ they said, beaming, ‘and I do believe we’re the only English speaking passengers.’

  Louisa shook hands and Claudia did the same, ungraciously, and since she had nothing to say, Louisa said: ‘Miss Savage is visiting her brother near Tromso. She hasn’t been well, and I’m travelling with her.’

  ‘Tromso?’ queried Mrs Kuntz. ‘That’s right in the north. We’re going to Trondheim to see our daughter—she’s married.’

  ‘To a Norwegian?’ asked Louisa hastily, because Claudia was ignoring everyone.

  Mrs Kuntz laughed in a jolly way. ‘No, he’s from the USA, same as us. Got a good job too. We’re from Texas—San Antonio, cattle and petroleum; Foster here has done very well from them. We thought we’d have a nice long vacation in Europe and visit Cissie before we go home.’

  Louisa said, ‘What fun for you both,’ and picked up her spoon to start on the soup the steward had set before her. ‘Have you enjoyed your trip?’

  Mrs Kuntz’s answer kept the conversation going in a rather one-sided fas
hion through the cod steaks and the pudding, so that it wasn’t too noticeable that Claudia didn’t speak at all. They left the dining room together and Mrs Kuntz whispered: ‘Your poor friend—I reckon she must have been good and sick—she hasn’t said a word.’

  Louisa seized her chance. ‘Yes, she has been ill and she’s still convalescing. You mustn’t mind if she doesn’t enter into conversation, she finds it exhausting, and I hope you won’t mind if we have our coffee quietly in a corner, because I think she’s pretty well exhausted. We’ll have an early night; there’s nothing much to see anyway, is there?’

  Mrs Kuntz laid a kind hand on her arm. ‘Sure, my dear, we understand. We’ll see you at breakfast.’

  Claudia had gone to sit at the opposite end of the saloon, as far away from everyone else as she could manage. As Louisa sat down beside her, she muttered: ‘I won’t go—it’s ghastly, those dreadful people—I’m going to get off at the first stop.’ And then: ‘I’ll kill Simon!’

  ‘Rather pointless,’ Louisa said calmly. ‘We’d be stuck high and dry miles from anywhere and not nearly enough money to get home.’

  ‘I’ll telephone Lars.’

  Louisa poured their coffee. ‘I think Lars loves you very much, and I thought you loved him—I thought you were doing this for him.’

  ‘You mind your own business!’ snapped Claudia.

  ‘Well, I do usually,’ agreed Louisa matter-of-factly, ‘but it seems a shame that you should give in so easily. And Lars wouldn’t believe it of you.’

  ‘You know a lot about him, don’t you?’ Claudia turned a furious suspicious face towards her.

  ‘No, but I think he’s a very honest and kind man who wouldn’t give his friendship or his affection lightly.’

  ‘My God, you sound pompous!’ declared Claudia.

  ‘Yes, I know, but you did ask me, didn’t you? And I do want to help you to get…well again.’

  Claudia gave a small sneering laugh. ‘Then you’ll be out of a job.’

  Louisa said soberly, ‘Yes, so I shall.’ She hadn’t thought about that: somehow the hospital, her stepmother and Frank had all faded gently into the past and she couldn’t imagine going back to it.

  Despite a disturbed night because Claudia was unable to sleep, Louisa was up early. It was still dark when she wakened Claudia and then put on her thick jacket and went outside on deck. It was cold, but the sky was clear and she could see lights ahead—Maloy, a fishing centre, its harbour crowded with boats, its modern wooden houses already dimly seen under the bright lights of the dock. As they drew nearer she could see too that their bright red roofs were powdered with snow, as were the fishing boats. The ship docked and she watched, oblivious of the cold, while the mail was slung in its great net on to the dock, and was loaded with more mail. They were taking passengers aboard too, quite a number, bound for farther up the coast. She would have stayed watching the busy scene until they sailed, but the breakfast gong sent her back to the cabin to see how Claudia was faring.

  She was dressed and almost ready, and in a foul temper. She barely spoke to Louisa, nodded to the Kuntzes at the table and sat crumbling toast and drinking coffee while Louisa had her porridge, egg, cranberry jam and toast, carrying on a friendly conversation with their companions at the same time.

  ‘I absolutely refuse to go on deck,’ declared Claudia when they were back in their cabin. ‘I’m worn out and bored, and what am I supposed to do all day on this ghastly ship?’

  Louisa produced a couple of paperbacks, a pack of cards and the latest copy of Vogue which she had hidden away in the luggage. ‘We’ll go to the saloon on the top deck,’ she declared, ‘and of course you don’t have to go out if you don’t want to—there’ll be plenty to look at through the windows.’

  ‘Mountains and sea. I hope to God there’s a comfortable chair…’

  Claudia refused to face a window; Louisa settled her in a large, well upholstered easy chair in a corner, laid the books on a table beside her and went to take a look from the long window overlooking the bows.

  Maloy was already behind them, but she caught sight of a narrow ribbon bridge behind the village. ‘Did Mr Savage build any of the bridges along this coast?’ she asked.

  Claudia shrugged, already deep in Vogue. ‘Oh, he had something to do with several of them, I believe. I’ve never been interested.’

  The ship was sailing between the coast and protecting skerries, but presently it was the open sea—the Norwegian Sea—and the ship, incredibly sturdy despite its smallness, pitched and rolled its way round the headland of Stad, past the Runde bird-rock, just visible to the west, and presently into the calm of Alesund.

  ‘We’re stopping here for a couple of hours,’ observed Louisa cunningly. ‘Shall we go ashore and get some coffee and take a quick look at the shops? Lunch isn’t till one o’clock—there’s more than an hour…’

  Claudia was looking pale, although she hadn’t complained at the rough trip. She said now: ‘Louisa, I must have a drink.’

  ‘OK. You won’t be able to get whisky, but there’ll be sherry or wine. I’ll get our coats.’

  The few passengers were already crossing the quayside and making for the town, a stone’s throw away. It had been snowing and the wind was icy, but both girls were warmly clad, and once in the narrow busy streets, it was warmer. Louisa found an hotel within minutes and sat Claudia down at a window table in the bar, sipping her coffee while her companion drank her sherry, and then ordering more coffee for them both. Claudia was better after that and Louisa walked her briskly up the main street, looking in its shops, buying an English newspaper and one or two more books before going back to the ship. And there once more she was delighted to see that Claudia looked decidedly better and even made an effort to eat some lunch. What was more, she answered, briefly, it was true, when the Kuntzes spoke to her. The ship sailed while they were drinking their coffee and Louisa watched the little town slide away into the distance. There was a mountain behind the houses; one could drive up to its top by taxi and get a splendid view—something she would have loved to do…

  It was dark when they reached Kristinasund, and even darker when they docked briefly at Molde, although the sight of the twinkling lights which seemed to cover the mountains behind the town was worth a few cold minutes on deck.

  Claudia slept better that night, although it was still rough, and she got up with fairly good grace in plenty of time for breakfast. They were sailing up the fjord to Trondheim where there was going to be a three-hour stop, and this time they were among the first to go ashore. There were taxis on the quayside. Louisa ushered Claudia into one of them, said hopefully: ‘The shops, please,’ and got in too.

  It was a short drive, but Claudia hated walking, although she was happy enough to linger from one shop to the next, while Louisa, longing to visit the Nidaros Cathedral, which Eva had told her on no account to miss, wandered along beside her. Clothes could be bought anywhere in the world, she thought irritably, so why couldn’t Claudia be interested in anything else? They had coffee presently, spent some time in a bookshop and then found another taxi to take them back. A successful morning, decided Louisa, and only two more days to go.

  She tucked Claudia up in her bed after lunch and waited until she was asleep before putting on her jacket and going on deck again. The weather was still clear, but there was a grey film on the horizon which she guessed was bad weather of some sort. And it was getting dark again, although there was still a little daylight left as they entered the Stokksund Channel. The captain had told her at lunch to look out for that—a twisting narrow stretch of water where the ships had to sound their sirens before each turn. Only the thought of a cup of tea sent her back to the cabin to rouse Claudia and go up to the dining room for the simple generous meal.

  There were fewer passengers now. The Kuntzes had gone and several others had disembarked at Trondheim and those who had got on in their place were Norwegians. They were in the open sea again and it was rough. Claudia lay down o
n one of the settees in the saloon and promptly went to sleep, and Louisa got out her knitting. She was enjoying it and she felt reasonably happy about Claudia; with luck she would be able to hand her over to her brother in a much better state of health. Beyond that she didn’t intend to worry about anything.

  The weather worsened as they worked their way steadily up the coast. By morning there was only the dim outlines of mountains and rugged coast to be seen. It had been too dark on the previous evening to catch a glimpse of the land around, and too dark in the early morning to see the iron globe on top of the rock marking the Arctic Circle, although the ship had sounded her siren as she passed, but the clouds lifted briefly after breakfast, just long enough for her to see the Svartisen Glacier, far away in the distance, remote and terrifyingly high.

  They stopped at Bodo during the morning and this time Louisa persuaded Claudia to go with her to see the Cathedral, modern and not very large, but beautiful in its way, and then as a sop to Claudia’s impatient company, took her to a hotel where she could have her glass of sherry and then coffee. There were some interesting shops too; Claudia bought herself some silver jewellery—dangling earrings and a thick bracelet, and went back, reasonably good-tempered, to the ship.

  There was more open sea in the afternoon and just before the light faded completely Louisa, on deck once more, was rewarded with the sight of the Lofoten Wall on the horizon. It looked a mass of barren rock where no one could possibly live, and yet, two hours later, they had docked by a small quay, and tucked into the formidable mountains towering above them was an equally small village, ablaze with lights, boasting a hotel and several shops. Louisa was enchanted and longed to talk to someone about it. It was incredible to her that people could live out their lives amidst such bleakness and, moreover, make such homelike surroundings for themselves.