The House by the Fjord (23 page)

‘That's true enough. You're not a hex,' he added with amusement, sliding a hand to and fro under her buttocks. ‘You are a beautiful young woman with a body that deserves to be painted.' Then he propped himself on his elbows to smile down into her face. ‘So what happens now?'

‘You may make love to me again.'

He needed no prompting and held her in his arms as if he could never let her go. They dozed afterwards, for the sun was high and they lay in satisfied bliss together.

She was the first to move, sitting up and becoming practical as she tidied her hair and put her clothes to rights. ‘You shall come back to the valley with me now and we'll be married without delay. I have a good, weatherproof house on the mountain slopes and you can paint all day and every day. How often do you sell a painting?'

‘Quite often. I have an agent that sells my pictures here and abroad. I'm not just a drifter. I have a studio in Bergen and accommodation there.'

She looked at him in horror. ‘I couldn't live in a city! We should have to come to some arrangement. You can live most of the time with me and visit Bergen when necessary.'

‘I suppose that is possible.' He was regarding her with amusement, totally fascinated by her and accepting in his heart that he had met his nemesis, for this fey creature would never let him go. He had had plenty of women in his time, but never one like her. Even if she was not a hex, she had him under her spell and there was no escaping the fact.

Afterwards, he thought he must have been in a trance to pack up his belongings at her orders and go with her as he did. They took a far less arduous route back to the valley than the one she had taken, for her map was much out of date. When they came to the signpost that she had followed to Geiranger, he hired a
fjording
for her to ride the last lap home, for she had a sore heel where her worn-out shoe had rubbed it and he could see she was in pain. So his thoughtfulness enabled her to return on horseback to the valley with pride and in triumph, as if she were a Viking queen with her captive walking beside her.

Word of her return spread quickly and Marie was the only one that was not wholly surprised to hear that the artist was with her.

Fifteen

Anna had read a great deal more of the journal by the time Alex came to take her to Molde. She was quite dazed to realize that the painting that had been Johan's, and was now hers in the bedroom at Steffan's house, was surely the most important of all Magnus Harvik's work since it depicted the meeting between two very remarkable people.

Alex had won his case and she had read details about the trial in
Aftenposten
. She congratulated him when he arrived to spend an evening with her before they set off for Molde the following morning. She had cooked dinner and they had a quiet evening with music from the radio making a background to their conversation. He was interested in everything and they had lively discussions as well as laughing a lot, for he had a dry sense of humour that appealed to her. She was very aware of being intensely attracted to him physically, not only for his good looks but by the athletic strength of him in the breadth of his shoulders and the overall maleness of him.

As they sat talking together, his arm around her, his conversation took a serious turn, ‘I do love you, Anna,' he said softly, his arms tightening about her as he bent his head to brush his lips in a kiss on her throat. ‘I know there will never be anyone else for me.'

She knew he wanted to make love to her and she wished she could respond and speak of her own feelings for him, but she did not want their first intimate moments to happen here. She had never managed to clear from her mind her experience with Karl. When she made love with Alex – and she knew it to be inevitable some time soon – it would have to be in a different location altogether. She straightened her spine away from him and he sensed her present rejection.

He spoke reassuringly. ‘I understand.'

She knew he had drawn the wrong conclusion, thinking it was still Johan holding her back. Yet she was coming to terms with her memories. Johan would always occupy part of her heart and nothing could ever dislodge him. Yet she was learning to love Alex too. She thought of Ingrid, abandoning herself with such joy, and she wished she could be similarly unrestrained, but that was not possible under this roof.

He glanced at his watch. ‘It's getting late and you have to be up early tomorrow morning. I'll be here at six o'clock to pick you up. The weather forecast promises a fine day.'

At the door he kissed her long and hard. She watched him go off down the stairs and wished she could have called him back, but it was all too soon, even though he had come to mean a great deal in her life.

They set off just before six o'clock the next morning. It was a perfect day, and the countryside everywhere was fresh and sweet and green with orchards in full bloom, everything being a little later here than it had been for Anna in the south of England. Over ten days before, she had let Steffan and Gudrun know that she was returning and had received the promise that a warm welcome would await her. It gave her the feeling of being part of a family at last, something she had always wanted so much as a child. As they drove along, she told Alex how she felt and he listened with understanding and compassion. Although his parents had gone, they had given him and Ivar, his brother, a happy childhood with a united family background. At present Ivar, an architect, was working in northern Norway where the Germans had burned down whole towns and villages, but Alex was looking forward to introducing Anna to him.

Anna had brought a picnic with her as she always did for these journeys, for as yet public places to eat were still far apart in the countryside, although there were plenty of picnic areas with wooden tables and benches, almost always set by a picturesque view. Today Alex stopped the car by a spot from which they could look down into a lush valley. It was on a grassy promontory that was almost circular in shape.

‘Do you think we are sitting on the flat top of a troll's head?' she asked on a laugh as she set the food out on the picnic table. ‘He has his back against the cliff below us.'

‘Most certainly,' Alex replied in the same vein, his grin wide, and he looked over the edge. ‘Yes, I can see his feet. He has chosen this spot to sit with his knees drawn up to admire the view. But he will not object to us being here. Trolls like to be friendly when they get the chance.'

She laughed again, her eyes dancing. ‘Then let's hope he does not decide to move before we have finished our picnic or else everything on this table will fly all over the place and us as well!'

She loved the Norse legends and had said one day to Alex that there were times when she had seen the faces of trolls in the mountains, for the crags and hollows and sharp precipices often gave the look of grotesque faces. He agreed that it was most surely how the legend had first come into being. Yet, although the trolls were always spoken of with a grin or an amused twinkle in the eye, she had never heard a Norwegian deny that they existed and that sense of fun pleased her.

Their picnic was peaceful. Nobody else came to share their quiet spot, and almost reluctantly she packed up again when they were ready to leave.

When they reached Molde, she could see that much progress had been made since her last visit. Then, as promised, Gudrun greeted her with warm words of welcome when they arrived at the Vartdal home. ‘How good to have you back again! I know Steffan has been counting the days ever since we received your letter.'

‘Where is he?' she asked, slipping off her coat. Alex had taken her suitcase upstairs and then departed, giving her a wave as he went out of the house and back to the car.

‘Steffan is still in the garden, making the most of this lovely evening.'

Anna went through to him. He was dozing in a basket chair, one hand resting on the head of his cane. He had not heard her arrive and she was aware for the first time that a deep fondness for him had formed in her, making her glad that she was bringing him good news. She spoke his name and his eyes opened instantly. She saw such pleasure come into his face that she was deeply touched.

‘What is it to be?' he questioned instantly without any preamble.

‘I'm here to view the house,' she said.

‘It was what I had hoped you would say! I'm very glad!'

‘Ingrid in her own way can be very persuasive. She is so exuberant that she has made me want to know her better by seeing where she lived. Is any of her furniture still there?'

‘Just a few items.' He gestured for her to take the basket chair beside him, and she brought it nearer him as she sat down. ‘As soon as we knew you were coming, Gudrun wanted to take her domestic help with her and scrub the whole place clean for you, chasing away all the spiders that have probably taken up residence there. But I stopped her. I said I thought it best that you see it much as Ingrid saw it the first time.'

‘It was kind of Gudrun to think of cleaning it for me, but you were right. I want to see it the first time from Ingrid's viewpoint.'

‘Do not expect it all to be just as Ingrid described, because I happen to know that after her death her children naturally shared out the items that they wanted from their childhood home.'

‘I have to admit that I haven't quite finished reading the journal yet.'

He looked surprised. ‘You're taking your time over it.'

‘I did not want to rush a single word. By taking the journal slowly, I've been giving myself time to think over all that Ingrid has written and in that way I believe I have really come to know her.'

‘What do you think of her?'

‘I think Johan's description of her was extremely apt. A formidable character and yet able to love generously.'

He nodded. ‘Indeed she was! How do you judge Magnus?'

‘I think he was exactly right for her. Whether he was always faithful to her when he was away from her on his painting trips, I do not know.'

‘I like to give him the benefit of doubt.'

‘So do I. Did Ingrid and Magnus have a wedding photograph taken?'

‘Yes. It hangs in her house where it belongs. Her children would have had copies.'

Anna felt she could hardly wait to see it, but she also had another matter on her mind. ‘There is something I want so much to ask you. Why are you so against the American relative claiming Ingrid's house?'

He smiled, shaking his head. ‘I have nothing against her personally. She is a very pleasant woman – indeed, she visited me with her husband and sister-in-law before the war – but I could tell that having viewed her roots she would not be interested in returning for any purpose linked to the house. After all, she had been born in the United States and she enthused about all that was new there. Her husband had Italian roots and so there would be no call on him to encourage her links with Norway. In any case, she's now too unwell to travel any distance and has no daughters to whom she could pass on such an inheritance.'

‘How soon may I see the house now that I am here?'

‘I would say tomorrow, but Harry is on another business trip to Sweden at the present time. He can take you next week when he is home again.'

She did not want Harry anywhere near her when she visited the house. She felt he had downgraded it too often to be in harmony with her links to it. Although he had had the journal printed for Steffan and had therefore read its contents, it was clear that Ingrid herself had made little or no impression on him.

‘That's very obliging of Harry,' she said as tactfully as possible, ‘but there is no need for him to give up time for me. Alex has offered to take me.'

‘But Harry has been insistent about wanting to be your guide. He asked me to give my word that nobody else should escort you.'

‘Did you? Give your word?' she questioned swiftly.

Steffan frowned. ‘I cannot recall exactly how I answered him, but I believe I said that I could safely accept his offer on your behalf.'

‘I'm afraid that was a misjudgement. In fact, I've become too impatient to await his return. I'd like to go tomorrow morning.' Her voice was firm, showing that her mind was made up and she would not be deterred.

‘I recognize your tone,' he answered drily. ‘It is one that Gudrun uses on occasions, as did my dear wife, and so I'll not try to persuade you otherwise, especially since you will be fulfilling my long-held wish for you to visit the house.'

‘Then I should like to phone Alex and fix a time for meeting.' She had discussed a visit to the house with him on the journey. He had given her an outline of his work for the next few days and so she knew he could get away from his office after ten o'clock the next morning.

‘Then make the phone call now,' Steffan said, pleased that the house was to be viewed so soon, it not being important to him as to whether it was Harry or Alex who took her there. He was so impatient to know what her ultimate decision would be.

The phone call settled that Alex would be with her as soon after ten as he could make it. She went early to bed that night, both Steffan and Gudrun believing that she was tired from the journey. But that was not the reason. She wanted to read more of the journal before the next day, when at last she would enter Ingrid's home.

Before leaving Gardermoen she had read Ingrid's description of the wedding and the feasting, all of which had been blessed by wonderful weather. Magnus's bedding of Ingrid on their wedding night was the only entry over which she had drawn a veil.

Our first night as a married couple was so joyously passionate and intimate that I cannot share those ecstatic memories even with these pages or with my pen. Yet what is not written will stay in my heart and mind forever. It is enough to say that ever since that night I have felt as if I am floating in happiness, my feet scarcely touching the ground. Today Magnus is starting a portrait of me before he puts his painting brushes to anything else. I wanted to wear my best silk dress, but he insists that I put on the blouse that I was wearing when I went running down the path to him at Geiranger and even the same skirt, although that will not be shown. He has framed the painting he was working on that day of our meeting and it is hanging in our living room. I am only an orange blob of paint, which does not please me. I wanted him to paint in more of me, but he says that would change the whole balance of his picture
.