The House by the Fjord (25 page)

He laughed, shaking his head. ‘Are you expecting to meet her there?'

It was a relief to her that Steffan, seeing how close she and Alex had become, had given her leave to tell him about the journal, which she had done the previous evening in preparation for this visit.

‘No,' she replied seriously, ‘but she comes through as such a powerful presence from the pages of her journal that I feel something of her aura must surely linger on in the house she loved so much. I'm so glad that Steffan has agreed that you should read it after me.'

On the south side of the fjord, Alex drove into the valley and up the slope that would take them to Ingrid's house. At some time the track had been widened and, although it was still steep, Alex was able to drive all the way up and park at the side of the house.

Getting out of the car, Anna could not take her gaze from Ingrid's home and she went forward slowly to stand facing it. Heavy shutters covered the windows and Alex went at once to unhook them and fasten them back against the walls. Immediately, the old glass of the windows sparkled where it caught the sunlight. Anna breathed a sigh of quiet anticipation, for she would soon see the interior in much the same state as when Ingrid had first entered there on her day of arrival. Even the turf roof was the same, although she knew it had been returfed since Ingrid's time. But, just as Ingrid had noted in her journal, there was an additional covering of wild flowers. She could see tiny wild pansies and my lady's slipper growing in abundance, even some wild orchids and dancing buttercups, as well as numerous harebells, some of which were dipping down in a fringe over the top windows.

Alex had unlocked the door and was standing back to let her enter first, but she reached out her hand for his and they went linked into the house, he brushing aside a festoon of cobwebs. Then she stood to look around her with a deep and quiet pleasure. There was dust, but nothing excessive, and no sign of mice. Then she looked up at the rosemaling ceiling, the painting of which had been a true labour of love, the design extending down to border the pale wood of the walls. It was beautiful. She found it easy to imagine Ingrid's joy when she saw it for the first time, most especially since she had such a great love of colour. Here in the intricate design was a canopy of rust-red, various blues in deep shades, greens, flashes of yellow and orange, as well as white swirls in fan-shapes around roses and even a little bird here and there. She thought how Ingrid must have loved the way her two sheep had been incorporated into one small section full of blossoms. Time had barely faded any of it, but the wood itself had matured the lovely shades, as if they had been part of the great logs themselves when the trees had been felled to build this mountain haven. Ingrid had mentioned once that she never allowed anyone, not even Magnus, to smoke indoors, for nothing yellowed the wood more than tobacco smoke.

A floor-to-ceiling black iron stove, ornamented with elaborately fashioned ironwork, stood in a corner, and under the window nearby was a long white scrubbed table with a bench on either side, where the children would have sat for family meals. A large chair with a carved back stood at the head of it, Ingrid having wanted Magnus's presence to still be felt at family meals and nobody since then had ever removed it. There was an ordinary chair at the opposite end, as if Ingrid took whatever chair was nearest for herself, or else someone had felt that a chair should mark her place too. Maybe Steffan had done that or even Johan.

Still looking around at everything, Anna went across to sit down on what she now thought of as Ingrid's chair. She tried to imagine the family scene at mealtimes and supposed there would always have been a high chair for the latest baby at Ingrid's right hand.

Then Anna's gaze went to a family photograph on the wall above and behind Magnus's place. Swiftly she stood up and went to it. There were the children altogether, grouped outside the house, and only Sonja, who was yet to be born, was missing, for it was the photograph including Magnus-Haakon that Ingrid had wanted always to be in the centre of family activities. He was easy to pick out, for he was the tallest with a mop of fair hair and an impish grin in contrast to his siblings, some having clamped their lips with the effort of keeping still for the photographer. One boy had turned his head and smudged his likeness.

Moving away, Anna gazed around again. It was a warmly welcoming room, although only the table and chairs remained in it, as well as a tall rosemaling cupboard that was built into the wall. She went through into the kitchen with its ancient cooking stove, the shelves and hooks no longer holding pots and pans. Opening the door that led to the cellar, she went down a few steps and could just discern in the darkness that were was some furniture stored there under dust sheets. Alex had handed her his torch, which he had brought with him from the car, but although its bright ray swept over the items in storage, she could not see in any detail what was there.

‘We'll look at all these things next time we come here,' she said before they went back up the steps to the kitchen. Then she looked into the side room where Ingrid had kept her spinning wheel and the loom, but it was empty. No doubt those two items had been taken away by her children. There was also a complete lack of ornaments and any kind of knick-knack, which suggested that the same had happened to those items. It would also explain why there were no paintings by Magnus on the walls.

All the time, Alex had been watching her, noting the serene pleasure in her face. When she began climbing the stairs, he followed her, not wanting to miss any of her reactions to this old house. On the upper floor, all three of the smaller bedrooms were devoid of any furniture. Another room, little more than a cupboard, had a hip-bath in it. Then she entered Ingrid's room. It was empty and Anna wondered what had happened to the great bed with its carved headboard that Ingrid had described vividly in her journal. On the wall was the wedding photograph. Anna went at once to study it.

There was Ingrid in her lace-trimmed wedding gown, seated on a high-backed chair with Magnus standing beside her in well-cut clothes, and there was a backcloth of classical pillars behind them. Ingrid was exactly how she appeared in the painting on Steffan's hall wall, beautiful with an impish look in her wide eyes, which tilted slightly at the corners. She looked triumphant and she had every reason to be, for the man she had captured was exceedingly handsome with a virile look about him. What was more, judging by her journal, he had proved to be a passionate husband and a devoted father.

‘Just look at this handsome couple!' Anna said to Alex, who had come to stand by her side and put an arm about her waist as he studied the photograph with her. ‘Ingrid and Magnus. I feel I have known them all my life. I think they have left happiness in this house for all to share.'

‘How would that be for us?' he questioned softly.

She turned within the circle of his arm and their gaze met as she considered her answer carefully, for she recognized the fact that she had reached the point of no return.

‘I believe that we could enjoy life together and I know that I have come to love you, Alex. I never want us to be apart ever again.'

He was very serious. ‘Then you will marry me, Anna?'

She nodded, inwardly amazed by the ocean of love for him that had engulfed her. It must most surely be Ingrid who had brought her face to face with the truth. ‘Yes! I believe I began to love you months ago, but so much blocked the way for me.'

He kissed her long and passionately, crushing her to him and almost lifting her off her feet. She knew such intense happiness that she responded as eagerly, locking her arms about his neck.

When they came downstairs, Alex locked up and they wandered hand in hand around the house to see the layout of what had once been a herb garden, with nearby flower-beds and a vegetable patch all vastly overgrown. Blackcurrant and redcurrant bushes had spread their growth enormously and were in great need of pruning. There was also a cherry tree and an apple tree. Anna could picture Ingrid's boys climbing these trees for the fruit. She did not look for Magnus's studio, for Steffan had told her that Liv, Ingrid's daughter, had had it demolished after her mother's demise. Nobody knew why, although he thought it came from some long-held resentment against Magnus for dying too soon and never being there for her.

It was as Anna and Alex were turning towards the
stabbur
that they heard a car coming up the track. Then it drove into sight.

‘It is Harry,' Anna said in quiet exasperation that he should intrude at this special time.

Harry drew up and sprang out, looking flushed and agitated. ‘I told that old fool uncle of mine that I would bring you here on your first visit, Anna,' he exclaimed in irritable tones. ‘I returned early from my Swedish trip to be on hand as your guide.'

Anna regarded him coldly. ‘I'm grateful that my father-in-law let me come here today without any delays and it was kind of Alex to bring me.' Then to appease him, since she wanted to prevent any backlash of his temper against Steffan, she added, ‘I have yet to view the barn and the
stabbur
. You can be my guide there.'

He failed to catch the coolness in her voice, although his tone modified. ‘Yes, of course. Do you have the key? Good.' He took the ring of keys from her, selecting one as they turned for the
stabbur
.

‘The house isn't much, is it?' he was saying conversationally. ‘Nothing of any value in it.'

‘It is just how I expected it to be,' she replied casually.

‘Good. I did not want you to have high hopes of the place and then be disappointed.'

Alex had moved across to his car. ‘I'll wait for you here, Anna.'

Harry turned with a dismissive wave to him. ‘There's no need for you to hang about. I'll take Anna home.'

Anna spoke up quickly. ‘No, I'll go with Alex. Gudrun has invited him back with me for
middag
.'

‘Oh, in that case . . .' Harry's voice trailed off. Then he turned back to her with a retrieved smile. ‘We'll do the barn first.'

Again, all was exactly as Ingrid had described. There were the broken remains of the sheep-pen to show where Klara and Ida had spent their winter days, and the stall where once Hans-Petter had been stabled. Anna wondered if she had been alone at that moment, would she have sensed Ingrid looking over her shoulder and maybe have heard her cooing to Klara and Ida long since gone?

‘The first thing to do is to demolish this old stable before it falls down,' Harry said, waving his hands about dismissively. ‘It's a real eyesore and unsafe.'

Anna smiled to herself. Did she hear Ingrid hiss disapproval in her ear? No matter what Harry said, she was determined that everything should be restored to just how it was in Ingrid's day.

The outside stairs up to the
stabbur
were bow-shaped by wear over many years, the handrail smoothed by many hands. To oblige Harry, she looked into the storeroom, which had nothing in it, and then they went outside again to go up the outer staircase to the upper room. This was also completely empty. Anna recalled how Ingrid had described the room at her first viewing, declaring it was like a setting from the
Arabian Nights
. Anna looked around for some sign of its former grandeur. There was nothing. All she could see that was probably left from that time were a few wooden curtain rings on a rod above one of the windows. Harry, bored by waiting for her to finish looking around, made a play of testing the floorboards, although to Anna they looked sound enough for the next hundred years. She saw him give a nod of satisfaction that showed he had drawn the same conclusion.

Then abruptly she shivered as if a cold hand had brushed by her. It was a strong feeling and yet there was nothing here to mar the pleasing appearance of the room, with its mellow walls and the pale ceiling that hid the rafters supporting the roof.

Harry broke into her thoughts. ‘What are you going to do to this place? Make it a guest room again? If you need any work doing, I'll gladly take it on. Although I say it myself, I am considered an expert in the restoration of historic and other buildings.'

‘So Steffan has told me. As for the future role of this
stabbur
, I haven't decided.'

She would have turned to leave, but he barred her way. ‘I have something I must ask you, Anna,' he said, his expression intensely serious. ‘When the house is yours, all papers signed, would you rent or sell it to me before you make any changes or alterations? Steffan need never know. He is an old man in poor health. He cannot last much longer and you never wanted this house, I know. I would be glad to take it off your hands.'

She stared at him for a few moments in angry disbelief that he should imagine she could be so devious. ‘I would never accept this house under false pretences! I shall give my decision to Steffan this evening.'

He shrugged carelessly. ‘I thought I was doing you a good turn.'

‘You were much mistaken!'

She left the room and led the way back down the stairs to where Alex was waiting for her. Harry locked up the
stabbur
again and returned the keys to her. Goodbyes were exchanged and Anna felt enormous relief to be free of him as they drove away. It was as if a sinister cloud had fallen over the day when he had appeared. She had also experienced a brief moment of unease when she was alone with Harry that she could not define. Maybe it was just her growing dislike of him that was bothering her. She decided that whatever it was would soon become clear to her if it was of any importance.

On the ferry, Alex bought coffee and waffles from the little counter, and they sat a table by a window, not looking at the passing waters of the fjord, only at each other. They did not talk very much, but were content. When they had arrived off the ferry at Molde, Alex drove on through the town until he drew up outside a jewellers' shop. He looked at Anna with a smile.