The House by the Fjord (28 page)

Ingrid saw the yearning in his eyes and quickly put her arm about his shoulders. ‘We'll always be a family, and when Christofer and Erik have made their fortunes, they will come home and visit us. Maybe they will even discover that Norway is the best land in the world in which to live after all.'

She did everything possible for the two emigrants, making sure, with the aid of the bank manager, that they would not be without money in an emergency and also having them measured for new clothes at the best tailors' in the district, which would then be packed in fine new leather suitcases. They were like all Norwegian emigrants in having to sail first to Newcastle in England, as there were no ships as yet going directly to the United States from Norway, and then they would travel by train either to the port of Liverpool or Southampton where they would embark. They had chosen the southern port as then they would see more of England on the way. It was their hope that they would catch a glimpse of the great English shire horses working in the fields, having heard that they were three times the size of
fjordings
. In the midst of their excited planning, all Ingrid had asked of them was that they should write home regularly.

‘Yes, Mama! Of course we will!' Christofer answered gladly, his freckled face earnest in the strength of his promise.

‘We'll take turns,' Erik promised with equal enthusiasm, holding her by the shoulders as he looked down into her anxious face from his fine, straight-backed height. ‘Then, as soon as we have an address, you must send us all the news from here! We shall want to know all that happens.'

On the day of their departure, Ingrid and her other children stood together outside the house and waved the boys on their way. They were both so excited, and she thought how smart they looked in their new suits as they stepped jauntily down the slope, pausing to wave back again and again until they were out of sight. Only then, with a deep sigh, did Ingrid turn back indoors, her arm around Emma, who was very close to her. The other children still lingered where they stood, privately wishing for their brothers to change their minds and turn back home again.

Indoors, Ingrid noticed a leaflet that had been left on the table with a picture of the ship on which her sons would be sailing. She picked it up and looked at it again, although the boys had shown it and others to her many times. She noted the name of the ship again. It was SS
Titanic
.

Seventeen

Anna received Christina's gift of the national costume in time for Steffan's fiftieth birthday celebrations. It was a deep blue, finely embroidered on the bodice and around the hem, as was the little cap worn at the back of the head. She twirled around for him and he applauded her appearance.

‘You look very fine! But your attire is not complete without some traditional jewellery.' He took a velvet-covered box from the table beside him and handed it to her. ‘This is what my dear Rosa wore with her costume, and both she and Johan would wish for you to have it now.'

It was a very handsome gift. In the box was a magnificent gold brooch, the size of a small saucer, from which hung tiny pendants that swung and glittered. There were also gold earrings, as well as cufflinks for the white blouse worn under the blue sleeveless bodice, the whole set including a gold link belt. Gudrun helped Anna put it all on before standing back and giving a nod of smiling approval.

When Alex arrived for the party, he was wearing the scarlet jacket and cream-coloured knee breeches, with high white socks from the Bergen district where he had been born. ‘I had to compete with you, Anna,' he joked, but he was not the only man similarly clad in national costume that evening, and a number of women were in costume too, all as a compliment to their host.

Alex was a help to Anna in putting Ingrid's house in order. He added shelves and repaired some of the furniture they had salvaged from the cellar, all of it dating back to Ingrid's time. A plumber came with his apprentice to change the smallest bedroom into a bathroom, Anna welcoming the installation of modern plumbing. She had not cared for the loo in the barn any more than the one at Gardermoen with the old magazine pictures on the walls.

They were doing nothing to the
stabbur
for a while, needing to decide whether to take it back to its origins as guest quarters or to make a library of it, for Alex had a great number of books in their apartment and Anna had had some of her favourite books sent by her aunt from England, which were still in a crate.

Alex was only free at the weekends, but sometimes on a midweek summer evening they would go to the house with every intention of fulfilling some small task on her list. Then, instead, they would just sit outside in the sun-chairs they had bought and enjoy a drink together, having installed some bottles in one of Ingrid's cupboards. Anna loved the peace of the surroundings. Sometimes the only sound was that of cowbells somewhere on the mountain pastures, although these days new tractors and other agricultural machinery had taken over on several farms and could be heard in the distance like the hum of a bee.

They often spent Saturday nights at the house, for a bed in Ingrid's bedroom was now fully made up with a duvet cover in the orange colour that the
Quiet Woman
had liked so much. It was the morning after a night they had spent there when Anna had her first spell of morning sickness. She was astonished that she had become pregnant so quickly when she had hoped in vain so often during her previous marriage. Alex was as delighted as she that they were starting a family, even though it was happening sooner than planned. Steffan received the news with deep and quiet pleasure, while Gudrun was as excited as Anna had anticipated.

It was clear to Anna from the start that Alex had his heart set on the baby being a boy. He was so certain of the baby's sex that whenever they had a discussion about names it was only ever a boy's name that he put forward.

Often, Anna's thoughts would turn to Ingrid at this time. After the loss of her husband and her two sons, Ingrid had not written in her journal for a long time. It was as if something had died in her too and she had lost all interest in life. Then, when she did make a new entry, it was to record the forthcoming birth of the first of her grandchildren to be born in Norway. Her beloved daughter, Emma, who had married a local doctor, was heavily pregnant. It was clear that Ingrid was looking forward with great joy to the event and the news of it had released her from a long and agonizing mourning period into a more tranquil frame of mind. As a result, there was life in her pen again and she entered all that had happened to her other children in the meantime.

At this time of writing, Nils is at sea as a lieutenant in the Royal Norwegian Navy. I have a hatred of oceans, which anyone would understand, but he was always keen on sailing, even more than the other children. I take comfort from knowing that at least on a navy ship there will always be plenty of lifeboats unlike that other unfortunate ship that I remember with great sadness. Anders, who was once the family's top fisherman, is also in the service of his country, having joined the Army, and he has recently become a royal guard in a very smart dark blue uniform worn with a bowler-shaped hat that has a splendid plume
.

It was always a disappointment to Magnus that none of his children had inherited his artistic talent, but I cheered him by saying that sometimes these gifts reappear in grandchildren, and he hoped that would happen. Sonja was the most talented of his offspring with her art work, but he had been too critical in his judgement of her efforts to give her the right encouragement
.

‘Papa does not like anything I do,' she sobbed, coming from his studio
.

That seems a long time ago now, but it was the right move to make and now she plays in an orchestra of repute in Trondheim. She comes home to see me whenever she can. Although she is quite plain in her looks, she has a lovely serenity in her expression and never more so than when she is playing her violin
.

My dear Emma calls in most days, arriving in a smart blue-painted trap drawn by a
fjording
named Rasmus. Normally she likes to walk from where she and her doctor husband live, but it has become too much for her to take the slope on foot as she gets nearer her time
.

Olav, who has always enjoyed farm work, has recently married Marie's daughter, Jenny, and since the girl will eventually inherit her father's family farm, he can look to a settled future
.

‘I've always loved Jenny,' he had said when they first stood hand in hand before me, not realizing how long I had been aware of it
.

I gave them my blessing and watched them running off down the slope, laughing and kissing as they went. It is comforting to know they will always be in the valley now that I have other children so far away. Kurt is another of my dear children who turned his eyes to America. His early thoughts about emigration became firmly set in that direction after news came of the loss of his twin brothers. It was as if he wished to take up their dream and bring it to fruition, healing the grief of his bereavement at the same time. Now he is living in a little town called Seattle on the west coast. He started in salmon fishing and now has a small canning factory that is about to be enlarged on a grand scale, such is the demand for Harvik salmon. Now and again he sends me some cans of his salmon in a parcel. It is good, but it cannot compare with the more delicate flavour and finer texture of our Norwegian salmon
.

I still take my rod down to the river in late summer when the salmon come up to spawn. One of my good neighbours in the valley smokes my catch for me in his smokehouse. As I always get a good number of salmon before the season ends, it means I have plenty of this delicacy to enjoy on my own or with guests. Sometimes I make
gravidlaks
out of the fresh salmon –
‘gravid'
is the Norwegian word for the wooden dish in which the fish marinates in alcohol and
‘laks'
is the Norsk word for salmon. I explain this only because recently two English travellers here in Norway for the salmon fishing were puzzling Andreas, the shopkeeper, with questions about
‘gravidlaks'
when I came into the shop. I managed to get understanding into their thick heads and also corrected their terrible pronunciation of the word, which I thought was an insult to my country's culinary masterpiece
.

According to what I have been told by Kurt in his letters and from what I have read elsewhere, Seattle has become quite a Norwegian-American settlement, as in addition to being by the ocean, it has mountains around it that remind Norwegians of their homeland. I do not have to record my anguish waiting for a first letter from Kurt after his departure, for I do not trust any ship after what happened to the one that had purported to be unsinkable, all of which adds to my concern for Nils on those horrible waves. Kurt, knowing how anxious I would be after he left, had a postcard ready written that he put into a mailbox as soon as he stepped ashore in New York after interrogation on Ellis Island. I hear from him regularly. He has married a young woman named Helga of Swedish descent and they recently had a son whom they have baptized with the name of Irving
.

Then, as if that great country had not cruelly taken enough away from me, my lovely Sonja married a Norwegian-American clergyman, named Stein Thursen, who was visiting his own relations and delivering messages from those in his parish who came from this area. Sonja was at home at the time and it was love at first sight. I saw it happening right before my eyes. She writes regularly to me and seems to be happily settled in Minnesota with the good man she married, and they have two daughters, Ingrid – named after me – and Christine, and there is another baby on the way. I have received studio photographs of all my children and grandchildren, which are framed in a group arrangement on the wall of the living room. I look at them every day, but it is not enough. I have a great yearning to see my American grandchildren for myself, but they are living such an impossibly great distance from me that it can never be
.

Meanwhile, I have had a suitor! A very attractive man! I had plenty after I lost Magnus and sent them all away, but this was one of the art dealers who still come hoping to persuade me to part with the last of Magnus's paintings, which I will never do, for all are earmarked for the family after I am gone. These dealers, with their smooth talk and greedy eyes, cannot begin to understand why I reject out of hand the large amounts of money that they offer. They try to entice me to sell with talk of a grand house in Oslo with furs and jewels and the chance to travel in luxury to foreign places. They are too foolish to see I have all the riches I want here in my home, with the love of my children and the joy of good friends, as well the beautiful vistas I have from every window. They know the number of paintings I have in my possession from a list of Magnus's works somewhere and they sometimes look as if they are ready to tear down the walls to get hold of them. This particular dealer, whose name is Henrik Heggedal, is a good-looking man with a pleasing smile, and he had a very different approach
.

After our first meeting, during which I had rejected his enormous offer for a particular ‘Quiet Woman' painting, he came with flowers and chocolates, paid me lavish compliments and then took his leave again without any reference to Magnus's work. As I had expected, he expressed the hope that he might call again as if I were the attraction instead of a work of art
.