Sixteen

Alex arrived at Steffan’s house in good time to catch the ferry. Anna was waiting in the porch and went lightly down the steps to slide into the car.

‘I’m excited,’ she said as they drove away, while Gudrun waved good wishes for their outing from the window. ‘But I’m full of trepidation too. Suppose Ingrid does not like me?’

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.

‘We have rings to buy,’ he said, leaning across to kiss her.

She smiled happily, knowing that this man was truly the one to fill the lonely gap in her life and whom she was destined to love until the end of her days.

In the jewellers’ shop they were given a choice of plain gold rings that also acted as wedding rings, an engagement considered as binding as a marriage, and there was no exchange of rings during the marriage ceremony. She selected the rings, which were placed in little boxes, charmingly wrapped with a bow and then handed to Anna while Alex wrote out a cheque.

They came out of the shop together and paused to look smilingly into each others’ eyes. ‘Where would you like us to exchange our gold rings?’ he asked.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she pointed to a spot in the mountains rising above the town. ‘Could we drive up there?’

He looked in the direction she was pointing. ‘To Varden? Yes, we can. But why have you chosen that spot?’

‘I haven’t been there yet and I was once told that it is the best place to view the eighty-seven mountain peaks. That makes it a very special place at all times and particularly for us today.’

‘Today is also a perfect day for viewing. Not a cloud in the sky.’

The zigzag road they travelled left a few neat houses behind on the lower slopes, and then it was little more than a rough track that took them through thick forest up and up until they reached a green sward where they parked. She sprang out of the car and went forward as at last the full panorama of the range of the Romsdal mountains was revealed to her. Everything here was so still and quiet, not even a breeze. The reflection of the great peaks was held in the mirror water of the fjord, which was only disturbed where a ferry-steamer was leaving ripples in its wake. Eighty-seven peaks! Who could begin to count them?

Alex, seeming to understand that she wanted to view alone, rested his weight against the car with his arms folded as he watched her.

Her thoughts were full of Johan. It was here that he had wanted to bring her and it was here that she had to put him away into her memory where he would always be loved. Slowly she removed her wedding ring, which had been on her finger since the day he had placed it there. She put it to her lips in a private kiss and then slipped it into her purse. Only then did she turn to Alex. He came to her at once.

‘Is it to be now?’ he asked her fondly.

She nodded. They opened their own ring boxes. Then, holding their rings firmly, they slid them on to the third finger of each other’s right hand. She was glad that this was fresh and new to her, sparing her any comparison with the past. With a shout of joy, Alex picked her up and swung her around before setting her down in a kiss that seemed to last forever.

‘You do realize what this means,’ she said as they drove down the mountain slope again. ‘I’ll be telling Steffan that I’ll be accepting the house now that I’m going to marry you.’

‘I think the matter was settled as soon as you set eyes on the place. You looked as if you were in a trance.’

‘I think I was.’

‘How soon shall we marry? Tomorrow?’

She laughed. ‘Not quite so soon. I know Gudrun will have a wonderful time helping to arrange everything. I cannot deny her that pleasure, but I should like it to be a quiet wedding. I don’t want a crowd of people.’

‘That suits me too. I’ll invite my brother. That’s the end of my wedding list.’

‘Mine is almost as short. I should just like to invite Molly and Olav, also Aunt Christina. She has been so hospitable and kind to me. She could travel with them. I know they would look after her.’ She paused thoughtfully. ‘I’ll ask Steffan to escort me to church if that should please him.’

‘I’m sure it would.’

‘I’d like us to be married in the museum church.’ She needed everything to be unique with Alex. There were too many poignant reminders of Johan’s young days in the little Tresfjord church and she did not want cherished memories of her wedding to him disturbed in any way.

‘That can be arranged,’ Alex was saying.

She gave a sigh of satisfaction. ‘Let us promise ourselves that we will try always to overcome whatever hurdles we meet just as smoothly as we’ve arranged everything for our marriage.’ Then she laughed. ‘Maybe that is too much to expect. You have a stubborn streak and I can be very obstinate.’

He grinned and took his hand from the wheel to put it over hers. ‘Now you tell me!’ he joked. ‘But we will do our best.’

She was never to forget the pleasure that suffused Steffan’s eyes when she broke the news to him and put out her hand to display her ring.

‘Today I have made two of the most important decisions in my life,’ she said. ‘Alex and I are to be married and I accept the house most gratefully. It is a very special house in one of the most beautiful settings in the world, and I promise you that I will always take care of it and ensure that it will go to the right person after me.’ Her next words echoed what Alex had said when first meeting her on the day of her arrival in Norway. ‘Perhaps to my own daughter.’

Steffan took both of her hands in his, nodding his satisfaction and momentarily beyond speech. After a few minutes he did manage to congratulate Alex and wish Anna joy, but his quiet acceptance of their great news was in contrast to Gudrun’s exuberant reception of it.

‘It was what Steffan and I hoped would happen!’ she declared, throwing up her hands in delight.

Later, when Anna was on her own with Gudrun, discussing the weddings arrangements, she said with a tremor in her voice, ‘It was not an easy decision.’

Gudrun nodded in understanding. ‘Just remember that Johan did not have a selfish bone in his body. He would rejoice that you have found happiness again.’

‘I’ll never, never forget him.’

‘I know you never will and so does Steffan.’

‘There is something I must ask you. Why is Harry so determined to find fault with the house. He has tried to put me against it whenever he has had the chance. The same happened when we saw him there today.’

Gudrun did not hesitate in her reply. ‘He has always wanted it for himself. That’s the reason! It is a perfect holiday home for the mountains. Many people have cabins from which to ski in winter and climb and walk in summer, but none can compare with the house that you have now.’

Anna was staring at her in surprise. ‘How can Harry ever have hoped to have it? Ingrid’s house has to be passed on to a woman!’

‘He would have managed that by marrying. He has had a lot of girlfriends and there is one he seems to prefer to all the rest. She lives not far away in Kristiansund. He brought her here once, but Steffan did not like her superior airs. If you feel that Harry is trying to destroy your pleasure in your newly acquired property, you should remember that after the loss of Johan it was natural that Harry should expect to be Steffan’s heir. Harry had not counted on your appearing on the scene, especially when you did not come to Norway when the other war brides began arriving. He thought you were never going to show up. I must admit that although you had written to Steffan, I had begun to have doubts that we should ever meet you.’

‘Yet in spite of what you say, Harry has always been very pleasant to me.’

‘Yes, of course, but privately he will be bitterly disappointed by your decision to accept the house.’

‘Have I taken a property that should be more rightfully his if he married?’

Gudrun shook her head. ‘Not at all,’ she answered vehemently. ‘Never suppose that! As Johan’s widow all that would have been his inheritance has becomes yours. In fact, Harry has been falling out of favour with Steffan for some time. In my opinion, it began when Harry lost the ring.’

‘What ring was that?’

Gudrun frowned. ‘Of course, you do not know anything about it. It was during the occupation. Steffan gave him an unusual gold ring that had belonged to Magnus Harvik. It was very old and fashioned with a Viking cipher. It had been given to the artist by Ingrid. It was hard for Steffan to part with it, but he had wanted to reward Harry for his many kindnesses. Naturally, he had thought that Harry would value it highly.’ Gudrun gave a sigh. ‘Perhaps he did, but he was careless with it. Then one day he came to confess to Steffan that he had lost it.’

‘However did that happen?’ Anna asked, dismayed.

‘He said it had been slightly on the large size for him and declared that it must have slipped off his finger, but Steffan suspected that he had sold it. Anything made of gold was in high demand during the occupation, and Harry always seemed to be in need of money. Steffan has been generous to him many times. But let’s not talk of that any more. We have a happier subject to discuss.’ Gudrun steered the conversation back to the wedding day, and Harry was not mentioned again.

Anna wrote to her aunt, saying that she was to marry and extending a direct invitation, but it was frostily declined. In contrast, Molly in Gardermoen accepted with enthusiasm. She and Olav arrived on the eve of the wedding, bringing Aunt Christina with them, and also accompanied by Pat and Rolf. Both couples had left their children with Helen, who was going to look after them. The war brides had clubbed together in a joint gift of an elegant coffee set, for at last some beautiful things were appearing in the shops. Molly had also packed up Anna’s belongings at her Gardermoen rooms, having offered to do it, and these were handed over in Anna’s own suitcases.

‘Everybody sends love and they are all so pleased for you,’ Molly said happily. ‘Alex is extremely dishy and you deserve the best.’ Then a serious look passed between them as she added, ‘You had the best of men last time and he would be glad for you.’

Anna nodded wordlessly and then turned to Aunt Christina, whom she had hugged fondly on arrival and who was now awaiting her turn to speak to the bride-to-be. She was delighted to be a wedding guest and the gift she brought with her was to be a total surprise. She handed Anna an envelope. ‘Inside is a picture of my gift,’ she said. ‘You will have to wait a little while to receive it, but you will soon understand why.’

Anna opened the envelope and inside was a picture postcard of a young woman in the national costume of Romsdal, just like the girl on the painted plaque that she had bought on her first shopping trip in Oslo. ‘Does this mean . . . ?’ she began uncertainly.

‘It does indeed,’ Christina endorsed. ‘Since you are marrying here and are becoming a Norwegian citizen, you have every right to wear the national costume of this region, and it is my pleasure to give it to you.’

Anna gasped and hugged her joyfully. ‘It’s the most wonderful gift!’ It was something she had hoped to have in the future, but these costumes were expensive, being made of home-woven cloth and hand-embroidered, which amounted to many hours of work.

‘You are to have the costume made locally and, thanks to your father-in-law, everything has been arranged,’ Christina said with satisfaction. The cost of her generous gift was unimportant to her, for she only felt thankful that she was able to give a lasting gift to the girl that had given her beloved nephew some true happiness in his short life.

After refreshment, the three arrivals went off to check in at the Alexandra Hotel where rooms had been booked for them. Next morning they would take a taxi to the museum church for the marriage ceremony.

Word of the marriage had spread and many people turned up to see the bride. Alex was well-liked in the community, being active in town affairs, and Anna had already made friends in the town. The gift that gave Anna the greatest pleasure was a painting by Magnus that Steffan had been keeping out of Anna’s sight until she should accept the house. It showed Ingrid and Magnus together. He was seated on the steps of the stabbur as he watched her, brightly dressed in her orange skirt and a yellow blouse, absorbed in picking blackcurrants from the bush by their house.

After Anna had thanked him, her whole face showing her pleasure in the gift, she said, ‘I feel that I have become very close to Ingrid through her journal.’

‘That’s a good beginning to becoming the owner of her house,’ Steffan said approvingly. ‘There will be some papers you will have to sign, but Alex will take care of that for us.’

Alex’s brother, Ivar, had also arrived the day before the wedding. He was as tall as Alex, good-looking and friendly. He and Anna liked each other on sight.

‘I wish both of you every happiness,’ he said warmly. His gift was a crystal decanter and glasses.

Gudrun had made sure that the ancient church was full of flowers on the wedding day and the air was scented by the blooms. Anna wore a new cream silk dress with a wide-brimmed ‘halo’ hat, as the style was called, for it set off the wearer’s face, and she carried a small bouquet of mountain flowers. Steffan escorted her up the aisle, and when Alex turned his head and smiled at her, she knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that he was why fate had eventually brought her to stay in these northern climes.

They went to a hotel in Geiranger for their honeymoon and the windows of their room gave a view of the great fjord. Yet it was not the incomparable view that held their attention, for they saw only each other. As soon as he had locked the door, they moved into each other’s arms. A few minutes later his nakedness met hers as passion possessed them. Without conceit, she knew that she had a beautiful body, and when he drew back to explore still more of her, she felt the rays of the sun through the windows fall warmly across her like a welcome back to love. When at last he entered her, she cried out in joy as their mutual ecstasy engulfed them. Afterwards they dozed in blissful exhaustion until they woke to make love again, and gradually the night with its deceptive daylight slipped away.

Before the wedding, Steffan had agreed to Anna’s request that when she had reached the last page of the journal, then Alex should read it too. Already Alex was keenly interested in all Anna had to tell him about Ingrid. One morning on their honeymoon they tried to find the place where Magnus had been sitting at his easel when Ingrid had burst into his life, but there were so many great rocks and so many possible places that they just made a guess at one.

Anna had moved her belongings into Alex’s apartment the day before the wedding and, after they returned from their honeymoon, she went to see Steffan and Gudrun while Alex caught up with work in his office. They welcomed her back and naturally their conversation soon turned to Ingrid’s house. Steffan had some furniture of the period under covers in his stabbur and whatever was stored in Ingrid’s cellar could be brought up and repaired if necessary. During Anna’s absence, Gudrun had taken two women to scrub and wash and clean every inch of the house. She had also put some crockery and cutlery into cupboards and drawers, as well as hanging three saucepans and a frying pan on pegs in the kitchen.

‘I hope that I have not overdone getting basic things ready for you,’ she said uncertainly, not sure whether Anna would consider what she had done as interference.

‘Of course not,’ Anna assured her, relieved to know the hard work of cleaning the house had been done. ‘I’m most grateful. I had realized that there would be a great deal of work ahead of me to make Ingrid’s house into a home again.’ She had been surprised and pleased to be told that the fund available for restoring the house had originated with Ingrid, who had left a sum for the continued care of it, and would more than cover whatever needed to be done.

Anna was getting near the end of Ingrid’s journal. As her family had increased, the entries in it had become spaced out, mostly recording matters concerned with the children such as first steps, first teeth, illnesses and school successes. Magnus had become renowned both in his own country and abroad. Ingrid never accompanied him when his presence was wanted elsewhere, partly because she would not leave the children in the care of others and there were too many now to hand them over to Marie, who had an increasing family of her own. Yet the main reason why Ingrid would not leave home was that she could not endure the thought of being anywhere other than her beloved haven.

She wrote with pleasure that Magnus had bought a sailing boat large enough to take the children and some of their friends.

Sometimes we fish from it, she wrote, Young Anders is the true fisherman. Whenever he puts his line down the fish seem to be jostling one another to take his bait. ‘Another one, Mama!’ he will shout. Often we sail to a little island in the middle of the fjord where I set out a picnic and the children all love it.

Then Ingrid reverted to her description of the little island: The grassy mound there is said locally to be the site of a Viking king’s burial, although it has never been excavated. Strangely, I did find an ancient gold ring in the grass one day and a jeweller friend confirmed it was very old and probably dated from that time. I gave it to Magnus and he would wear it sometimes, but he never cared much for it. He likes best the one inset with a diamond, which I gave him on our first wedding anniversary, and it has never has left his finger. I often wear the diamond and ruby brooch that he gave me at the same time. We had made love all night as if we were only just wed.

Ingrid then went on to write about Magnus’s departures. ‘Be faithful to me!’ she admonished him every time. ‘Because if you are not, I shall know and kill you when you return.’

He had always laughed. ‘I would not dare to disobey the only woman in the world for me!’

Meawhile, Liv was gainfully employed as a dressmaker’ assistant in Molde and she wrote to Ingrid to update her on her new life.

It is work she enjoys, having always loved new clothes, and she made some of her own garments when she was still quite young. Thankfully, she has done nothing so far to upset the friend of mine with whom she is living. She has to obey the very strict rules that I laid down, for I am aware how foolish and flighty she can be. Although I love her, as I have loved all my children, perhaps my particular indulgence towards her has stemmed – although I should not even think it – from never quite liking her. It was a jubilant letter that Liv had written this time, all because a little while ago she had met Martin Vartdal, son of the late shipping magnate, who built that grand mansion just outside Molde not long before he died. Martin is now head of the company, owning a large mercantile fleet that sails all over the world. I cannot begin to estimate how rich he might be. Liv brought Martin home to meet me and I could see he was besotted with her. He is a fine-looking young man, very charming and with the kind of superb manners that I always tried to instil – not very successfully – into my boys. It will suit Liv very well to marry into money, for she has always spent on fripperies and from an early age was forever prancing about in front of mirrors and admiring herself.

‘I just want to look pretty,’ she had said. ‘It is all very well for you to criticize others, because you have always been beautiful and never had any need to make yourself look better.’

I saw that she meant what she said – I can read her like a book and can always tell if she is being false.

Ingrid was outraged when Liv became discontented with her comfortable life and, more alarmingly, with her husband. Ingrid recorded a meeting with her daughter when the matter was discussed.

‘Martin is so dull,’ Liv grumbled to me on one of her rare visits home. ‘There’s no fun in him. All he thinks about is work, work, and more work.’

I gave a sigh and paused in beating a cake mixture. I still have a baking day, as I always like to have a selection of cakes and biscuits to serve with coffee when people call in, which happens frequently. I always serve it in the traditional way, with a best cloth on the table and a lighted candle of welcome whatever the time of day.

‘I know what ails you,’ I said. ‘Now that you can have anything you want in the way of jewellery and finery, you have become bored. I’ve always known that under your silly ways you have a brain as bright as a button. Now is the time to use it. You have said that you like going to the company’s offices to see where the vessels are plotted on the map and what cargo they are carrying and so forth. You told me also of your idea that one of the company’s vessels should be togged up to take foreigners on cruises up the fjords, just as the German Kaiser does every summer with guests on his yacht.’

‘Yes!’ Liv snorted indignantly. ‘And what happened to my good idea? Martin was not interested.’

‘That is because he lacks the drive and ambition that made his father a rich man. Make him listen. Get yourself a seat in the boardroom. You may face difficulties getting there, but you always have managed to get whatever you have wanted in one way or another.’

Liv had been watching me and listening attentively. ‘Yes, I have,’ she agreed reflectively. ‘You are a wise woman, Mama.’

‘Yes, I am,’ I agreed. ‘Now you go home and – for once in your life – do as I have told you.’

It took six months, but by that time Liv was fully established in the company. Although her idea of a cruise ship has never been taken up she has become influential in other ways, particularly in the welfare of the crews and their families.

A later entry described a much happier meeting.

Liv and Martin came to visit and she told me she was expecting her first child. She wanted me to be with her when the baby was born. So when the time came, I held her hand and rubbed her back. Then finally her son arrived with some difficulty, but he is healthy and strong and has been baptized with the name of Steffan . . .

Anna closed the journal with a smile. So Liv was Steffan’s mother.

She asked him about Liv the next time she was at his house and they were on their own. ‘Did she have time for you when she was so deeply involved in company business?’

‘I did not see much of her when I was young, except that we always had family meals together. My father was the greatest influence in my life, teaching me to ski and climb and generally encouraging me in all sports. He was a splendid tennis player himself, a sport not much played in Norway at that time, and so he often went abroad to take part in contests.’ He paused. ‘It was through those trips abroad that my mother almost lost him to another woman. I don’t think adults realize how quickly a child senses trouble – the charged atmosphere, the angry looks exchanged, the door quickly closed to keep an argument from being overheard.’ He shrugged. ‘It was all there in my childhood.’

‘But their marriage held together?’

‘Yes. It was probably because my mother never wanted to lose anything that was hers and so, to her, divorce was out of the question. They settled down again after a while when I was about fourteen and I think my grandmother had a lot to do with it. I heard her say once that one affair was not worth breaking up a marriage. We know from Ingrid’s journal that she herself had had her moments of anxiety when my handsome grandfather was being fêted far away from her.’

‘But, in their case, love prevailed.’

Steffan gave a smiling nod. ‘It did indeed.’

When Anna returned to the journal she saw that Ingrid’s next entry was some time later and recorded a momentous day for the country in 1904, for which Magnus had had a flagpole erected by the house, as had most other people in the valley, and the national flag flew everywhere throughout the land.

This week has seen a great day for Norway. After we had thrown off Swedish rule nearly a hundred years ago, we have had our own Norwegian government, but no figurehead. So a young Danish Prince, named Haakon, and his wife, Maud, who is an English princess, were recently invited to be our King and Queen and they accepted. They stepped ashore a few days ago, our new King holding high his young son in his arms, and he announced in a strong voice, ‘All for Norway!’ In those three words he dedicated his life and his service to his new country. I think we shall be pleased with him . . .

Anna, reading this paragraph, smiled. Ingrid’s foresight had been correct. He had become the bedrock of the resistance, a courageous man who had defied the Germans from the first day with his defiant ‘No!’ to their demand for surrender.

Ingrid continued to record her doubts about Magnus in her journal, only too aware that his looks had matured handsomely and how attractive he would still be to women. But he was also still her ardent lover, and she knew in her heart that no matter what happened he would always come back to her. Then the terrible day came when he was brought home to her in a pine casket. It had been a traffic accident in Bergen. His carriage had collided with another and he had been thrown into the street, hitting his head against a post. At the sight of the casket, Ingrid had uttered a terrible cry as if her heart had burst. Then, for the sake of the children, she regained control of herself and went about all she had to do while consoling them as best she could.

At the funeral, even though local people had become used to her often eccentric ways, she made everyone stare by not being in deep mourning black with a veil to cover her stricken face as when she had lost her first-born, Magnus-Haakon. Instead, she startled them all by wearing one of her most vividly hued gowns and had trimmed her bright yellow hat with real flowers. Her daughters in party dresses also had blossoms on their hats and her sons had their own choice of flowers in their buttonholes.

‘We are dressing up for Papa,’ she had said to them. ‘Black was a colour he never liked, not even on his palette, and so we must be as colourful as we can.’

After the service he was buried in the little churchyard next to Magnus-Haakon. It was exactly thirty-two years since she had married him in that same church. She did not shed a tear, remaining calm and dignified, and afterwards poured the coffee herself for all the many mourners who gathered in the village hall for the smorrebrod and cakes that had been prepared. Yet that night, in the everlasting summer daylight, she went alone up into the mountains where no one could hear her and howled her grief from where she had flung herself down on the grass under a tree.

She thought often afterwards that Magnus had gone from her at a time when she had never needed his support more. It was not just to comfort Sonja, who would hammer her fists on the studio door, unable to believe that her father was not going to reappear. The crisis had arisen because the twins, Christofer and Erik, had finished their education at eighteen and were restless, reluctant to take up training for the future. They had heard travellers’ tales about how wonderful it was in America and how fortunes could be made overnight there. Ingrid shook her head wearily at this renewed wave of enthusiasm for emigrating that was sweeping the land. Both of the boys had shown every sign that they would do well here in their own country, but a sense of adventure was high in them. Ingrid was baffled as to why it should seem so marvellous to them. Yet she could not forbid them their dream. They were grown men, even though they were still children in her eyes and always would be.

‘I wish I could come with you,’ Kurt said enviously to them. He had always trailed along with the twins in their adventures and he felt bereft now that they were going away. How could fishing and sailing and climbing and skiing be fun anymore without his two older brothers, even though they would not take him with them whenever they went out to meet girls?

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.