The Storm Sister (The Seven Sisters #2) (43 page)

America . . . She chastised herself for having believed it was a pipe dream of Lars’ and for not having taken him seriously. Now here he was, with his poems about to be published there,
and the possibility of one day even following in the footsteps of Herr Ibsen himself.

For the first time, Anna stopped seeing Lars as a victim, a sad dog to be petted. Through his land being sold to her father as a dowry, as he had said in his letters, he too had a chance to
escape Heddal and follow his dream, just like her.

This, at least, was comforting.

Would she have travelled to America with him had he asked her?

‘No.’

The answer fell from her lips unbidden. She fell back on the bed and her new silk hat tipped forward over her eyes.

As Anna applied the seal to the letter, the impact of what he had said hit her. Now that Lars was only her friend and was going to America, she decided she would miss him.

Should I have married him?
she asked herself, standing up and wandering to the window to peer out on the street below.
He was so good and kind. And he will probably make his fortune
there, while I may well die an old maid . . .

Later, as Anna walked along the corridor to place the letter on the silver salver to be posted, she felt the last tenuous thread that bound her to her old life finally snap.

Rehearsals for
Peer Gynt
began three days later. The rest of the cast – many of them from the original production – were sweet and helpful to Anna, but
whereas learning a song and then singing it caused her no problems at all, being an actress turned out to be more complicated than she had thought. Sometimes she’d move to the right place on
the stage, but then forget to say her line as she did so; other times she’d remember both the former, but then fail to express the appropriate emotion on her face. Herr Josephson, the
director, was very patient with her, but Anna felt it was a bit like having to rub her tummy and pat her head whilst dancing a polka all at the same time.

After rehearsals on the fourth day, she wondered despondently if she would ever get it right. On her way out of the theatre, she gave a little cry of shock when a hand grabbed her arm as she
walked towards the stage door.

‘Frøken Landvik, I heard you were back in Christiania. How was your time in the country?’

There was Jens Halvorsen the Bad. Anna’s heart thumped at being so close to him, and although he loosened his grip on her arm, he left his hand resting there. She could feel the warmth of
it through her sleeve, and she swallowed hard. Turning towards him, she was shocked to see the change in him. His normally shining curly hair hung lank about his face and his fine clothes were
creased and filthy. He looked like he hadn’t had a good bath in weeks, and her nose confirmed it.

‘I . . . My chaperone is outside,’ she whispered. ‘Please leave me be.’

‘I will, but not until I tell you that I have missed you desperately. Surely I have proved my love and loyalty to you by now? Please, I am begging you to say you will meet me.’

‘No, I will not,’ she replied.

‘Well, there’s nothing to stop me finding you here at the theatre, is there, Frøken Landvik?’ he called to her as she hurried through the stage door and it shut with a
bang behind her.

Every day for the following week, Jens waited for Anna to leave the theatre after rehearsals.

‘Herr Halvorsen, this really is becoming most irritating,’ she’d whisper under her breath to him, as Halbert, the doorman, took up his usual seat in the front row of their
courtship.

‘Excellent! Then maybe you will relent and at least let me take you to tea.’

‘My chaperone will be happy to join us. Please inform her of your request,’ she would tell him as she swept past him, trying to suppress a smile. In reality, the daily meetings were
what she looked forward to most and she had begun to relax a little, knowing the two of them were playing a tantalising game of cat and mouse. Given the fact Lars was no longer ‘waiting for
her’ – never mind that she had also spent the long summer dreaming of Jens – despite her best efforts, Anna’s resolve began to crack.

On the following Monday after a long weekend cooped up at the apartment, Frøken Olsdatter announced that she had to cross the city on Herr Bayer’s business. She had deemed Anna
responsible enough to take the tram home alone and as Anna left the stage, she knew the moment had come to surrender.

Jens was waiting for her as usual in the corridor by the stage door.

‘When will you say yes, Frøken Landvik?’ he asked her pitifully as she walked past him. ‘I must admit, even given my endurance, your rejection is slowly wearing my
resolve away.’

‘Today?’ she said, turning to him abruptly.

‘I . . . well then . . . right.’

Anna relished his shock with satisfaction.

‘We shall go to the Engebret Café across the square,’ he said. ‘It is a minute’s walk away.’

Anna had heard about Engebret, and thought it sounded a very thrilling place indeed. ‘But what if someone sees us? They would think it inappropriate if I am unchaperoned.’

‘Hardly,’ Jens chuckled. ‘Engebret is mostly frequented by bohemians and drunken musicians who would not turn a hair if you stripped naked and danced on a table! No one will
even notice us, I promise. Come, Frøken Landvik, we’re wasting time.’

‘Very well then.’ A frisson of excitement passed through her.

They left the theatre in silence and walked across the square to the café, where Anna indicated a table in the darkest, quietest corner. Jens ordered tea for both of them.

‘Tell me, Anna, how was your summer?’

‘Far better than yours by the sight of you. You look . . . unwell.’

‘Well, thank you for phrasing it so politely.’ Jens gave a chuckle at her bluntness. ‘I am not sick, simply poor these days and in need of a good bath and a change of clothes.
Simen, who also plays in the orchestra, says I’ve become a true musician. He has been very kind to me by providing a roof over my head when I was forced to leave my home.’

‘Goodness! Why?’

‘My father disapproved of my musical aspirations. He wished me to follow in his footsteps and run his brewery like my ancestors before me.’

Anna stared at him with new admiration. Surely, she thought, it must have required a great strength of character to put aside his family and homely comforts for the sake of his art?

‘Anyway,’ Jens continued, ‘now that the season is beginning at the theatre and I am finally earning money, I’m moving to more suitable accommodation. Otto, the oboe
player, told me yesterday that he will rent me a room in his apartment. His wife died recently, and as she was quite wealthy, I’m hoping to find myself in more salubrious surroundings. The
apartment is only a five-minute walk from yours, Anna. We will almost be neighbours. You can come and take tea with me there.’

‘I’m happy to hear that you’ll be more comfortable,’ she said shyly.

‘And as I find myself down in the gutter, your star rises apace! Perhaps you will become the rich benefactress every musician needs,’ he teased her as their tea arrived. ‘Look
at you in your fine clothes, and your smart Paris hat. Quite the picture of a wealthy young lady these days.’

‘It may be that my star falls as swiftly as it seems to have risen. I think I am a terrible actress, and will probably lose my job very soon,’ Anna confessed suddenly, glad to say it
to someone.

‘And I am equally sure that is not true. When the orchestra gathered for its first call yesterday, I heard Herr Josephson telling Hennum that you were “coming along
nicely”.’

‘You don’t understand, Herr Halvorsen. I’ve never worried about standing in front of an audience and singing, but saying words and playing a character is a very different
thing. I think I may even have stage fright,’ Anna said, fiddling distractedly with the handle of her tea cup. ‘I cannot begin to imagine how I will ever find the courage to step out in
front of an audience on the first night.’

‘Anna . . . May I call you Anna and you call me Jens? I feel we must be well enough acquainted by now to allow this.’

‘I suppose you may, yes. When we are in private, at least.’

‘Thank you. Well, to continue, Anna, I’m sure you will look so beautiful and sing so enchantingly that no one will notice what you say.’

‘That is kind . . . Jens, but I cannot sleep at night. I do not wish to let anybody down.’

‘And I am sure you will not. Now tell me, how is your suitor back home?’

‘He is bound for America. Without me,’ she said carefully, averting her eyes. ‘We are no longer promised to each other.’

‘My condolences, but I confess that you have made me a happy man. I have thought of you constantly since we last met. You are the only thing that has kept me going through this difficult
summer. And I find myself completely in love with you.’

Anna stared at him for a few moments before answering. ‘How can this be? You hardly know me. We have never had longer than a few minutes of conversation. Surely you must love a person for
their character? And to do that, you must know them well.’

‘I know far more about you than you think. For example, I can see you are modest from the way you blushed when the audience rose to applaud you after your triumph at the soirée. I
know you have few airs about your appearance by the lack of paint on your face. I also understand that you are virtuous and loyal, with high morals, which has made my task of wooing you that much
harder. And this also brings me to believe that you are as stubborn as a mule once you have decided something. For in my experience, it is a rare woman who wouldn’t at least take a quick look
at a suitor’s letters before throwing them onto the fire – even if she
did
feel his ardent pursuit of her was inappropriate.’

Anna did her best not to show her amazement at his perception. ‘Well,’ she said, swallowing hard, ‘there are many things you
don’t
know. Such as the fact my
mother despairs of my domestic abilities. I am a terrible cook and cannot sew. My father says I can only care for animals, not humans.’

‘Then we shall live on love and buy a cat,’ Jens responded with a grin.

‘Forgive me, but I really must catch my tram and return home,’ Anna said, rising and taking coins from her purse to place them on the table. ‘Please let me pay for the tea.
Goodbye . . . Jens.’

‘Anna.’ He caught her hand as she turned to leave. ‘When will I see you again?’

‘As you know very well, I am at the theatre every day between ten and four.’

‘Then I’ll be there at four tomorrow,’ he called to her as he watched her hurry to the door. When she’d left, Jens looked down at the coins on the table and saw that it
was enough to pay for the tea and to buy him a bowl of soup and a glass of aquavit.

Once safely on the tram, Anna closed her eyes and smiled dreamily. Being with Jens Halvorsen alone had been quite wonderful. Whether it was his new circumstances, or simply his perseverance in
pursuing her, he no longer seemed like the proud, strutting cockerel she had once thought him.

‘Oh Lord,’ she prayed that night, ‘please forgive me if I say I believe that Jens Halvorsen the Bad is no longer quite so bad. That he has been tested and has changed his ways.
I have done my best not to yield to temptation as you know, but . . .’ – Anna bit her lip – ‘I think I might now. Amen.’