The Storm Sister (The Seven Sisters #2) (60 page)

‘Right. Well, firstly, I’d just like to say that your past sounds every bit as dramatic as mine,’ I added with a grin, which I was relieved to see Thom returned. ‘Do you
ever see your father?’

‘Occasionally in town, but not socially, no.’

‘So he lives locally?’

‘Oh yes, up in the hills with his whisky bottles and an endless trail of women beating a path to his front door. Now he really is a “Peer Gynt”, who never saw the error of his
ways.’ Thom shrugged sadly.

‘Then I’m a bit confused . . .You’ve talked about your great-grandparents, but there seems to be a generation missing. What happened to your grandparents? Felix’s mum and
dad?’

‘That’s the story I mentioned to you last night. I never actually met either of them. They both died before I was born.’

‘I’m sorry, Thom.’ I was amazed to find tears springing to my eyes.

‘Oh God, Ally, don’t cry. Really, I’m fine and getting on with my life. You’ve faced far worse recently.’

‘I know you are, Thom. Sorry, the story moved me, that’s all,’ I said, not understanding quite why it did.

‘As you can imagine, it’s not the kind of thing I discuss often. In fact, I’m amazed I’ve been able to tell you so honestly.’

‘And I’m grateful to you for sharing it, Thom, really. Just one more question. Have you ever listened to your father’s side of the story?’

Thom looked at me oddly. ‘How could there be another side?’

‘Oh, you know . . .’

‘Apart from him being a useless, selfish bastard who left my mum in the lurch and pregnant, you mean?’

‘Yes,’ I breathed, realising I was on shaky ground. I backtracked hastily. ‘From what you’ve said, you’re probably right, there isn’t any more to it than
that.’

‘That’s not to say I don’t feel sorry for Felix sometimes,’ he conceded. ‘He’s made an utter mess of his life and wasted his fabulous talent. Thankfully, I
inherited a modicum of it and for that I’ll always be grateful.’

I saw Thom check his watch and took it as a cue to leave. ‘I must be going. I’ve taken up enough of your time as it is.’

‘No, Ally, please don’t go yet. Actually, I was just thinking how hungry I was. It’s around breakfast time in New York. Fancy some pancakes? They’re about the one thing I
can make without a recipe book.’

‘Thom, really, tell me if you want to kick me out.’

‘I will, and I don’t. But you can come and be
sous-chef
in the kitchen. Okay?’

‘Okay.’

As we made the pancakes, Thom began to question me more about my life.

‘From what you said earlier, it sounds like your adoptive father was very special.’

‘He was, yes.’

‘And all those sisters of yours . . . you can’t ever have lacked for company. Being an only child sometimes got very lonely. I was desperate for siblings when I was growing
up.’

‘The one thing I never suffered from was loneliness. There was always someone to play with, something to do. And I certainly learnt to share.’

‘Whereas I had everything to myself and resented the fact that I was my mother’s Crown Prince,’ he said, flipping the pancakes onto the plates. ‘I always felt a pressure
from her to live up to her expectations. I was all she had.’

‘Me and my sisters were only encouraged to be ourselves,’ I said as we sat down at the kitchen table to eat. ‘Did you feel guilty that your mother had suffered so much to bring
you into the world?’

‘I did. And to be brutal, when she went into her bouts of depression and told me it was all my fault that her life had gone off the tracks, I wanted to shout at her that I had never asked
to be born, and that it was
her
choice.’

‘Well, we are a pair, aren’t we?’

He looked up at me, fork poised. ‘Yes, Ally, we really are. Actually, it is nice to have someone who can understand my unusual family circumstances.’

‘Me too.’ I looked across the table and smiled at him. He grinned back and I felt the strongest sense of déjà vu.

‘It’s odd,’ mused Thom a few seconds later, ‘I feel like I’ve known you forever.’

‘I know what you mean,’ I agreed.

Later, Thom drove me back down into the city to my hotel.

‘Are you free tomorrow morning?’ he asked me.

‘I have nothing planned.’

‘Great. Then I’ll collect you and we’ll take a little boat ride around the harbour. And I’ll tell you what happened to Pip and Karine, my grandparents. As I’ve
said, it’s a difficult and painful chapter in Halvorsen history. ’

‘Well, would you mind if we did it on dry land? My sea legs have completely disappeared since Theo died.’

‘I understand. Why don’t you come up to me at Froskehuset again? I’ll pick you up at eleven. Goodnight, Ally.’

‘Goodnight, Thom.’

I waved him off from the front of the hotel, then went up to my room. I stood by the window, looking out over the water, marvelling at the hours that Thom and I had spent talking about anything
–
everything
– and how it had felt effortless and natural. I showered, then got into bed, knowing that whatever came of my investigations into the past, I was at least making
new friends along the way.

And with that thought, I went straight to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, the calmness I’d felt last night deserted me as I ran to the bathroom to vomit. Staggering back to the bed, I lay there with tears in my
eyes, not understanding why I felt so awful. I’d always taken my health for granted, hardly suffering a single childhood illness and always being the stalwart one who helped Ma when a
particularly virulent bug passed from sister to sister.

Today, I felt absolutely dreadful and pondered whether that initial bout of sickness I’d suffered on Naxos had actually been due to some form of bug in my stomach that still hadn’t
shifted, as I definitely hadn’t felt right since. And it was getting worse . . . Surely, I thought helplessly, it was simply the tension of the past few weeks catching up with me? I needed to
eat – my sugar levels were probably low – so I ordered a large continental breakfast and was determined to plough through it.
That’s how you treat seasickness, Ally
, I
told myself as I sat with the tray on my knee in bed and valiantly battled to eat as much as I could.

Twenty minutes later, I flushed my entire breakfast away. As I dressed shakily, knowing that Thom would be arriving in half an hour, I decided I’d ask him for the name of a good doctor as
I was quite obviously ill. Just as I was thinking this, my mobile rang.

‘Hello?’

‘Ally?’

‘Tiggy, how are you?’

‘I’m . . . okay. Where are you?’

‘Still in Norway.’

There was a pause before she said, ‘Oh.’

‘What is it, Tiggy?’

‘Nothing . . . nothing at all. I just wondered if you were back at Atlantis yet.’

‘No, sorry. Is everything all right?’

‘Yes, it’s fine, absolutely fine. I was just calling to see how you were.’

‘I’m okay, and finding out lots of things about the clues Pa left me.’

‘Good. Well, let me know when you’re back from Norway and maybe we can meet up,’ she said, with a false brightness to her voice. ‘I love you, Ally.’

‘I love you too.’

Taking the lift downstairs, I puzzled at how odd Tiggy had sounded. I was used to her serenity, her ability to always make everyone around her feel better by dispensing her own brand of esoteric
hope. Just now, she hadn’t sounded like that at all. I promised myself I would email her later.

‘Hello.’ Thom came towards me as I got out of the lift.

‘Hi,’ I said, smiling as I tried to gather my composure.

‘Are you all right, Ally? You look . . . pale.’

‘Yes, well, no, actually,’ I said as we walked towards the hotel exit. ‘I’m not feeling too well. To be honest, I haven’t been for a few days. It’s nothing
serious, I’m sure, just a stomach bug, but I wanted to ask you if you knew of a doctor I could see.’

‘Of course I do. Shall I take you there now?’

‘God no, I’m not that bad, just not feeling . . . myself,’ I said as he helped me into his battered Renault.

‘You really do look awful, Ally,’ he said as he picked up his mobile. ‘Why don’t I book you an appointment for later on today?’

‘Okay, thanks. Sorry,’ I murmured as he dialled a number on his mobile and spoke to the person at the other end of the line in Norwegian.

‘Right, you’re booked in for four thirty. So’ – he gazed at my pale features and smiled – ‘I suggest that I take you straight to Froskehuset to tuck you under
a cosy eiderdown on the sofa. Then you can decide whether you would prefer to hear the story of my grandparents or for me to play my violin for you.’

‘Couldn’t we do both?’ I smiled weakly back, wondering how on earth he could know that on this chilly autumnal day, with my queasy stomach, the thought of an eiderdown, a story
and some music was exactly what I needed.

Half an hour later, snuggled up on the sofa, with the added bonus of the enormous iron stove being lit, I asked Thom to play the violin for me.

‘Why don’t you start with your absolutely favourite ever piece on the violin?’

‘Okay.’ He gave a mock sigh. ‘Although looking at the state of you today, I don’t want you to think it’s relevant in any way.’

‘I won’t,’ I promised, slightly puzzled by his comment.

‘Okay then.’

Thom put his violin lovingly under his chin, tuned it up for a few seconds, and then the haunting strains of one of my own favourite pieces of music began to flow from his bow. I laughed out
loud, understanding what he’d meant.

Thom paused in his playing and grinned. ‘Told you.’

‘Really,
The Dying Swan
is one of my favourite pieces too.’

‘Good.’

With that, he began again, and as I lay there, cosy and comfortable, being serenaded by a naturally gifted virtuoso player, I felt honoured to have a private recital. The last poignant note died
away and I put my hands together and clapped. ‘That was gorgeous.’

‘Thank you. So now, what would you like next?’

‘Whatever you enjoy playing best.’

‘Okay then. Here goes.’

For the next forty minutes, I listened to Thom playing a marvellous selection of his favourite pieces, including the first movement from Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto in D Major and the
Devil’s Trill
sonata by Tartini, and saw the way he disappeared into another world, a world I’d seen every true musician enter when they played. And I wondered again how I
could have lived without music and musicians in my life for the past ten years. I’d once known that feeling too. I must have dozed off at some point, feeling so relaxed and safe and warm that
I simply floated away. Until I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder.

‘Sorry, so sorry,’ I said, flicking my eyes open to find Thom looking down at me in concern.

‘I could be seriously offended by the fact that the one member of my audience drifted off to sleep, but I won’t take it personally.’

‘You mustn’t, Thom, really. I promise you, it’s a compliment, in an ironic sort of way. Can I use your bathroom?’ I asked him, slowly getting out from under the
quilt.

‘Yes, it’s just along the corridor to the left.’

‘Thanks.’

When I returned, relieved I felt a little better than I had this morning, I found Thom in the kitchen with something bubbling on the stove.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

‘Making lunch. It’s past one o’clock. I let you sleep for over two hours.’

‘Oh my God! No wonder you’re insulted. I’m so sorry.’

‘Really, Ally, from what you’ve told me, you’ve been through a lot recently.’

‘Yes, I have,’ I agreed, not ashamed to admit it in front of him. ‘I miss Theo so much.’

‘I’m sure you do. I know this sounds bizarre, but in one way I envy you.’

‘How?’

‘In the sense that I’m yet to feel that for a woman. I’ve had relationships, yes, but none of them have led anywhere. I’m yet to find “the one” that everyone
talks about.’

‘You will, Thom, I’m sure.’

‘Maybe, but I’ll be honest, I’m losing faith as I get older. It all seems too much of an effort, Ally.’

‘Thom, someone will appear just as Theo did for me, and you’ll just know. Now, what it is you’re cooking?’

‘The only other thing I can’t mess up – it’s pasta. À la Thom.’

‘Well, I don’t know what you put in it, but I’m sure my “special pasta” is far better than yours,’ I teased him. ‘It’s my signature
dish.’

‘Really? I doubt it can beat mine. People flock in from the hills of Bergen simply to taste it,’ he said as he drained the pasta, then poured a sauce over it and stirred.
‘Kindly sit down.’

I ate tentatively, not relishing the thought of another visit to the bathroom, but found that actually, Thom’s dish – a tasty mixture of cheese, herbs and ham – was going down
very well indeed.

‘So,’ he said as he gazed at my empty bowl. ‘Good?’

‘Excellent. Your special pasta has revived me. I’m now ready to hear your great-great-grandfather’s concerto. That is, if you’re willing to play it for me?’

‘Of course. Although you must remember the piano isn’t my first instrument, so I won’t do it justice.’

We went back into the sitting room and I settled myself back on the sofa again, upright this time, as Thom collected the music from a shelf.

‘Is that the original piano score?’

‘Yes,’ he said, arranging it on the music rest. ‘Okay, bear with me as I struggle through it, won’t you?’

As Thom began to play, I closed my eyes and concentrated on the music. There was no doubt there were overtones of Grieg, but also something unique, with a gorgeous, hypnotic theme running
through it, reminiscent of Rachmaninoff and perhaps a touch of Stravinsky. Thom finished with a flourish and turned to me.

‘What do you think?’

‘I’m humming it in my head already. It’s mesmerising, Thom, really.’

‘I think so too, and so do David Stewart and Andrew Litton. Tomorrow, I’m going to concentrate on trying to find someone to get on with the orchestrations. I’m not sure now if
anyone else can do them in time, but it’s worth a shot. Honestly, I don’t know how our forebears did it. It’s hard enough these days with all our computerised modern aids, but to
manually write each note for each instrument onto sheet music for an entire orchestra must have been a mammoth undertaking. No wonder the great composers took so long to score their symphonies and
concertos. I take my hat off to Jens and his ilk, I really do.’