The House by the Fjord

Now, with retirement looming on the not too distant horizon, Alex had made up his mind that they should move to Spain when the time came and enjoy the rest of their years in a kinder climate. Many of his fellow countrymen and women in their age group had been doing the same for some time. Anna thought that this exodus was comparable on a smaller scale to the wave of emigration of younger folk to the States in Ingrid’s time and she had her misgivings about it. Then yesterday evening Alex had produced an architect’s plan for a house he wanted to build on the Spanish coast in readiness. It had resulted in the fiercest and most distressful quarrel in their whole marriage.

‘I’ll not go!’ she declared, her hands clenched. ‘I’ll not leave my home and my country.’

He refrained from saying that Norway was only hers by adoption. ‘But you’ve always enjoyed the holidays we have spent there.’

‘Holidays are entirely different from pulling up roots forever!’

‘You did it once before.’

‘When I came from England, it had not been my intention to stay in Norway, but I met you.’

‘We can always come back for visits, just as we have returned from trips to England and Italy and elsewhere.’

She answered with a fierceness that surprised him. ‘No, this is a different matter altogether. I will not become a visitor in the land where my heart lies!’

‘You sound like Ingrid!’ he taunted in exasperation. ‘Is it the old house that is causing a barrier?’

She threw up her hands impatiently. ‘No! You know that I have bequeathed it to Julie in my will and she will always take care of it. If you move to Spain, you go alone.’ Then she added bitterly, ‘There will be plenty of widows there to console you in my absence.’

She regretted her words as soon as she had uttered them, for he had turned livid with rage, having always been faithful to her. ‘Yes, there will be! Settling in Spain is what I intend to do, and it will be up to you whether you come with me or stay here on your own.’

Tears clouded her gaze as she knelt down on a mat and began to use her trowel. It would tear Alex apart to leave her behind, but if his mind was set on it, he would go. Norwegians always held to what they believed to be right. She had once said to Alex that if Hitler had studied the Norsk character, he would not have invaded, for he would have known ahead that he could never break their resolve.

‘Mama, there you are!’

Julie had come into the garden, a local newspaper in her hand. She was home from Oslo for a few days, a tall, willowy and lovely-looking girl with honey-fair hair and blue eyes. She had already been twice to the old house from which she had gone walking in the mountains.

‘I think it is time for us to hold a slekt samling,’ she said, holding up the newspaper to show a photograph of a large family gathering. ‘There were over a hundred people at this one. They came from as far afield as Australia and South America to gather at the original family home on a farm near Trondheim. Those of the younger generations had never been there before, but were so enthusiastic about seeing where their forebears had lived. People born abroad always like to know their roots.’ Then she added, ‘It would be just the sort of family occasion that Ingrid would have loved.’

‘I can’t argue with you on that point,’ Anna agreed thoughtfully, her mind busy as she rose to her feet from her gardening. It would be a project that would require her whole attention and would alleviate the tension between Alex and her. ‘But it would take a great deal of organizing – hotel rooms to be booked, catering for a welcoming banquet and then an evening supper and entertainment too. Just think how many cakes we would need for the coffee and cakes sessions!’

‘We could manage all that!’ Julie insisted eagerly. ‘We would give everybody coloured name tags – blue, green, red or whatever – to show which of Ingrid’s children they are descended from! Then, the morning after the first grand day, we could have morning coffee and cakes at Ingrid’s house, where everybody could look around. I’m sure that would be a highlight of the whole occasion. Afterwards we could give them a farewell buffet lunch here.’

Julie’s enthusiasm was infectious and Anna gave a willing nod, already drawn to a decision. ‘The whole occasion would be a tribute to Ingrid and much deserved.’

Before Julie returned to Oslo, she and Anna sat down together to discuss all that would have to be done. Alex had willingly approved the idea. A date for the following summer was settled for the family celebration and a list made of those to be invited. Twice in the past year Anna and Alex had been visited by two different couples that were Ingrid’s descendants looking for their roots. Anna knew that by sending open invitations to them, they would gather in all other descendants known to them, for the old family unity that had been instilled into their forebears by Ingrid had come through to successive generations.

To Anna’s relief, the situation settled down between Alex and her, but although their love life had resumed, the barrier between them had not gone away. She knew from what he said to their children and others that he still planned the move to Spain. She supposed that he thought she would eventually give in, but her mind was set.

Over the next few months acceptances arrived for the slekt samling and increased in number as those abroad located cousins and other more distant relatives. The final total was two hundred and ninety-seven. Everything was falling into place. Anna had begun calling the occasion ‘Ingrid’s Day’ and everybody else followed suit. David flew home on a break from the oil rig to play his part in the final preparations.

‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked Anna when he arrived. He was as tall as his father with tousled fair hair and a well-boned face, his nose straight and his jaw strong. Girls were always phoning to see if he was at home.

‘You can do the name tags,’ she said. ‘There is a different colour for each one of Ingrid’s children, so that their descendants will know to which group they belong.’

He sat down willingly to do his allotted chore, but he had a better time later when he and his father discussed the wines to be served at the great occasion and did some tasting. Julie arrived home the next day and together she and her brother finished the last of the stack of name tags.

Then suddenly it was the eve of Ingrid’s Day. All the guests had arrived at the various hotels, and American voices were heard everywhere in the town, and also two New Zealand tones. On Saturday evening there was to be a welcome party at Molde’s largest hotel, hosted by Anna and Alex. She bought a new dress in blue silk to wear, and when she came downstairs to leave for the hotel, Alex was waiting for her in the hall.

‘Perfect!’ he said admiringly. ‘You look beautiful.’

She avoided his eyes. Nothing could be perfect or beautiful with a separation hanging over them every passing day. But somehow she smiled and they set off in the car to arrive in good time to greet their guests. Julie and David were already there, seated at a table with the name tags, a list of all the guests together with birth dates, home addresses and as much as the family tree as was known. Soon the guests came flooding in. There was tremendous excitement in the air, everybody already enjoying themselves.

Next morning, on a beautiful blue-sky day, coaches called at each hotel to collect the guests and take them to a privately owned and very large house in the mountains, which could be hired for weddings and other important occasions. There the banquet was set on long tables with flower arrangements stretching down the length of each one and the delicious food accompanied by the best of wines. Alex gave a speech of welcome and later Anna rose to her feet to give a summary of Ingrid’s life. She was like many of the other women in wearing her national costume which glowed with Rosa Harvick’s beautiful jewellery and accessories. Toasts were drunk and there followed speeches in English and Norwegian from a number of the guests. Afterwards, people mingled eagerly both in the house and garden, firstly getting to know others wearing the same colour name tag and then moving on to another branch of the family. Many had brought old photographs with them and copies were being requested and promised. There were children among the gathering and Julie had arranged for them to have organized games and races and various competitions to keep them amused outside. Judging by the cheerful noise coming from their direction, they were all enjoying themselves.

Anna, moving from guest to guest, could tell already that the occasion was a great success. The descendants who lived elsewhere in Norway had all wanted to help and Anna had told the women to make their most favourite confection for the coffee and cakes session. Without exception, these were brought in beautifully decorated circular wooden cake boxes which were heirlooms that had been handed down. One of these had the name Ingrid Harvik in its design and another bore Emma’s name.

At the close of the evening, after a buffet supper and dancing to a lively band, during which many of the old traditional dances were included, the coaches took everyone back to their hotels.

The next day dawned as warm and sunny as the previous day, and the guests, after swarming on to the ferry under David’s direction, crossed the fjord in still glorious weather to where Alex waited with coaches that were there to take them to the foot of the slope up to Ingrid’s house. Anna was already there with Julie, setting out cups and saucers and more cakes on the long table, with the lighted candles of hospitality, where so many family meals had been eaten in Ingrid’s day. In the warm breeze, Norway’s flag fluttered on the flagpole that had only recently replaced the one that Magnus had installed long ago. All but a few elderly people, who were driven up by car, walked up to the house and gave various exclamations of pleasure as it came into sight. Cameras snapped on all sides. Then the guests were all over the house and jostling good-humouredly to look at the wedding photograph of Ingrid and Magnus, which Anna had always kept in its original place on the bedroom wall. One American was desperate to see the family Bible in which Ingrid would have entered her children’s names and those of her forebears. Julie took it from a drawer to hand it to him and he settled down to study it, making notes and with his cup of coffee forgotten.

Then it was time to go to the churchyard. There everyone clustered around the two graves that lay side by side. A senior American, a descendent of Kurt of the salmon factory, spoke of the importance of family ties and then laid a wreath of flowers on Magnus’s grave. He was followed by Sonja’s great-granddaughter, who stood by Ingrid’s grave and told how she had grown up longing to see the old house that was always part of her bedtime stories as a child, handed down through her mother and grandmother. Then she laid a wreath of roses on Ingrid’s grave. Spontaneously, everybody applauded.

After a buffet lunch in Anna and Alex’s garden, where each white-clothed table had been decorated with sprigs of orange rowan berries, everyone departed, all with talk of keeping in touch and hoping to meet again one day. When the last guest had gone, waving out of sight, David turned to his mother with a wide grin and gave her a hug.

‘Congratulations, Mama! Everything was perfect! Even the weather!’

Alex put his arm around Anna’s waist as he walked her into the house. There she sat down thankfully into a cushioned chair and kicked off her new shoes, which had proved to be more elegant than comfortable. Outside, the caterers had removed the last of their equipment and folded away the chairs and tables into a van, which had now driven away. Nothing remained to show that nearly three hundred people had been milling about there, except for the trodden-down grass of the lawn.

Alex pulled up a chair opposite her and took her hands into his, looking at her with love. ‘I learned something important this weekend.’

‘What was that?’ she asked.

‘Every one of those guests said how their forebears had at heart never lost their homesickness, no matter that they had been loyal to their new land. I believe I would be the same if I moved to Spain and then for some reason was unable to return home again.’

She looked at him, full of understanding. It was the deep-rooted love of country and mountains that seemed to run through the veins of every Norseman she had ever met or read about. ‘I would have gone with you in the end,’ she admitted.

He nodded. ‘I could never have left you anyway.’

Slowly they grinned at each other. Then he drew her to her feet and they kissed each other as if they were young lovers again.

After such a gathering of Ingrid’s kin, Anna decided that the time had come at last to hide away Ingrid’s original journal as had been requested in one of the early pages, but first of all she herself wrote out a full account of the family reunion and then folded it and tucked it into the journal.

Alex went with her to the old house the following evening to assist her in the task of concealing it. In the house, Anna sat to read aloud the last page once more.

‘“My days are running out. Last week I am sure that I saw Magnus waiting for me by the silver birch tree. I have also heard his footstep on the stairs, and now and again there is a whiff of turpentine, such as always hung about him when he had been painting. When the time is right, he will take my hand and we shall be together for evermore.”’

Anna put the journal into a flat silver box that she had bought specially for it. Then she added the letter that Johan’s mother had written long ago. It had been several years before she had felt the time had come to read the words of a much-loved woman, whose son she had married in those wartime days. It had been such a wonderful letter, full of encouragement while expressing love for Johan and wishing him a good homecoming from the war. Anna thought the letter should be preserved and included in the silver box, and she placed it in a protective envelope and sealed it.

Alex was standing by the rosemaling cupboard that two or three centuries ago had been built into the wall. There was a tiny aperture at its side and Anna stooped to insert the box, which slid through easily. There was a little thud as it came to rest. Then Alex inserted a piece of matching wood that closed the aperture securely with no danger of it shifting. It was also impossible to discern.

He returned his carpentry tools to where he kept them, while Anna waited by the door in the evening sunshine. As he reached her, he put an arm about her waist and kissed her.

They set off down the slope. It was probably only a songbird in the trees, but Anna thought she heard a whisper of farewell.