The House by the Fjord (3 page)

After lunch they moved outside to sit on the veranda, which faced a lawn at the back of the house and was surrounded by trees. When coffee was served, there were crisp little home-made biscuits, known as
sand-kaker
, served in a silver bowl. Anna thought them well named, for they reminded her of the fluted moulds in which she had made sand cakes on the beach during the annual childhood holidays at Margate with her aunt, who never chose to stay anywhere else.

‘I had a wonderful visit to London with Nils, my late husband, before the war,' Christina said reminiscently. ‘Tell me, Anna, how much of it survived the terrible Blitz. Molly is not familiar with the city, but I believe you are.'

‘Yes, Johan and I were often in London whenever he had leave. There were still plenty of places of entertainment and theatres to go to and we had many happy times there.'

‘Is the Café de Paris still standing?' Christina enquired eagerly. ‘Nils and I had several wonderful evenings dancing under those grand chandeliers to the music of “Snakehips” Johnson and his band.'

‘Sadly, no,' Anna replied. ‘It was full of people enjoying themselves and defying the Blitz when it received a direct hit from a bomb with the most tragic consequences.' She saw a look of sadness pass across the woman's face. Then, in an encouraging tone, she added, ‘But all of London will be rebuilt eventually and then people will dance there again. Where else did you go?'

‘Oh, we did a lot of sightseeing. I have kept all the guidebooks. I think I liked visiting Westminster Abbey most of all. There was so much of interest.' At that moment they heard a car draw up and its door slammed. ‘That must be your visitor, Anna! Bring him indoors to the other room where you can talk privately.'

Anna went round the side of the house to reach the path and waited to greet him. He was not middle-aged or even older, which somehow she had expected, but was tall, lean and broad-shouldered, a physically attractive man with an athletic look about him, and she judged his age to be about thirty. He had classic and rather fierce Nordic good looks in a straight nose, strong cheekbones and a determined jaw. She was acutely aware of his very blue eyes seeming to pierce into her as he advanced towards her along the path. He had thick and well-groomed, wheat-coloured hair with a healthy sheen to it in the brightness of the sun. As for his mouth, it was wide and well shaped and presently set in a very firm and serious line. With a private smile, she thought it would be easy to picture him in a Viking helmet, with weapons and a round shield, instead of the light-grey suit he was wearing and the briefcase he had in his hand. When he reached her, he took her hand and bowed over it as he introduced himself, his English clear with a strong Norse accent.

‘I'm Alexander Ringstad,' he said, his attitude very formal. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Vartdal. Welcome to Norway. Please accept my sincere condolences on your bereavement. I know that your late husband was a very courageous man.'

‘Did you know him?' she asked eagerly, hoping to gather yet more snippets of Johan's early life to add to Christina's reminiscences.

‘Unfortunately not, but I know he was decorated for his bravery by our King.' He seemed to realize that he had disappointed her by not being acquainted with her late husband and promptly explained the reason why. ‘Although your father-in-law has had a long association with the firm of lawyers that I represent, it is only recently that I obtained a partnership with them and so I'm relatively new to that part of Norway. Previously I was in Bergen, my home town.'

‘I cannot imagine why my father-in-law wanted you to come and see me.' She was still inwardly agitated by Molly's mention of money, for her independence was all-important to her. ‘My affairs are wholly in order.'

‘I'm sure they are and there is nothing to be worried about,' he replied reassuringly. ‘In fact, I have something to tell you that will be to your advantage in a very unusual way.'

She led the way indoors and they sat down on comfortable chairs opposite each other, a coffee table between them. He promptly opened his briefcase to draw out a sheaf of documents, which he placed towards her on the coffee table.

‘Do you read Norwegian?' he asked.

‘Not very well. I know that a legal document, such as this sheaf of papers seems to be, would be past my understanding.'

‘I thought that might be the case,' he said, ‘which is why I had the same document drawn up in English for you. However, I'll explain everything to you. There is an old house on a lower slope of the Romsdal mountains that lies on the opposite side of the fjord from the Vartdal family home in the town of Molde. It has not been lived in for many years. Neither had it been visited recently until at my client's request I went there last week to inspect the property and check that it was still intact. Not that there would have been any local vandalism, because that simply never happens.'

‘That's very commendable,' she said with a note of surprise.

‘Country people respect one another's property, especially when the same families have lived on their farms for many generations and they all know one another so well, which is the case in all the agricultural valleys. They bring their children up in the same way. The house had been broken into by the Germans during the Nazi occupation when they were searching for a resistance fighter who was on the run from them. They failed to find him there, although later they boasted that he been shot and killed somewhere in the area. The soldiers did some damage to the house, leaving broken windows and a few smashed doors, but Harry Jensen – your father-in-law's nephew – managed to get permission from the local German commandant to personally carry out the repairs. These days he specializes in restoring buildings of historic interest. I found the old house still boarded up and partly hidden by bushes that should be cleared away and a couple of young trees that need to be felled. When that work is done, the house will once again have a wonderful view of the fjord and the valley from almost every window.'

‘Why are you telling me all this?' she queried. ‘Does my father-in-law want me to see this house?'

‘More than that! He wants ownership of it to be yours! It has been handed down to the youngest daughter in the family since 1840 and your marriage to his son makes you the next in line. There has never been a will entailing the property as there should have been and the family has just kept to the old tradition. The last owner, who was childless and lived away, has died without settling who the next owner should be. It has fallen to your father-in-law to settle the matter, and unless you are willing to accept the house, it will go to a distant relative in the United States. That is not what Steffan Vartdal wants to happen to the house for reasons that have not been disclosed to me. All I do know is that it has some special family significance. Did your husband ever mention it to you?'

She thought carefully. ‘Not specifically. He talked a lot about the weekend exodus before the Nazi occupation from towns and villages to cabins in the mountains or for sailing in the fjords and, of course, in winter for the skiing. He did once say there was a family property that he wanted to restore, but never said anything more about it.' She let her hands rise and fall expressively. ‘Perhaps he would have done one day if time had not run out for us.'

He was still watching her very closely, his blue gaze unwavering. ‘Now that you know it was your late husband's wish to restore this property, would you be willing to consider the project? There's a fund available that has not been touched for many years.' He tapped the papers lying on the table. ‘This is the document you would be required to sign. It would be your agreement to accept the property and to ensure that it would pass to the next female in line. Hopefully – without any wish to distress you in speaking of a possible event in the future – it could be your own daughter.'

She caught her breath sharply; another dimension of her grief was that she would never have Johan's children, and the pain caused by his words cut through her. ‘I can't consider that possibility.' She straightened in her chair. ‘If it lay in my power and if circumstances were different, I would gladly fulfil my husband's wish to restore the property, but at the present time I can't make any commitments.'

‘You would have professional help and advice.'

She paused before answering him in a firm tone. ‘I have come here on holiday with no plans to stay permanently. This is my first day on Norwegian soil. How can I begin to consider such a proposition?'

He nodded immediately in understanding. He had advised his client that it would most surely be far too soon for any decision to be made by the new arrival, but the old man had been anxious to have the matter settled. He slid the papers back into his briefcase, except for one lot clipped together, which he pushed across the table towards her.

‘Here's the copy of the agreement in English, which I will leave for you to read through at your leisure. When shall you be meeting your father-in-law?'

‘I have been invited for Christmas,' she replied.

He frowned thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps after I make my report to him he will wish to see you sooner. If you should decide to view the house, I would willingly take you there.'

‘Thank you for your offer,' she said.

They both rose to their feet and he shook her hand again in farewell. ‘It has been a pleasure meeting you, Mrs Vartdal. I hope you will decide to stay in Norway.' Then his serious expression changed as he gave a sudden wide grin that unexpectedly made his eyes dance. ‘I can recommend it.'

‘Time will tell,' she replied, smiling herself as she responded to his sudden, more informal attitude.

She went with him to the door and stood there as he went away down the path. At his car he gave her a wave before he slid in behind the wheel. As he drove away, she turned back into the house to find that Christina and Molly had come in from the garden and were clearly bursting with curiosity to hear what had been discussed.

‘Do tell us!' Christina exclaimed, clasping her hands together in excitement. ‘Have you been left a fortune?'

Anna laughed and shook her head. ‘It's quite a mystery.'

When she had told them what had been discussed, they were both all for her claiming the property, but she merely inclined her head without replying. It would be pointless to take on the responsibility for the house if she should be far away in England and unable to keep a personal eye on it. Yet, if it should be the house in the mountains that Johan had wanted to restore – and there seemed little doubt about it – then it would be something she could do for him, but not if it proved to be just a casual thought on his part. She would know more when she eventually met her father-in-law, although Christmas, as Molly had said, was still a long time ahead.

Two

The train journey to Jessheim took just under an hour, following what was mostly a gently undulating landscape with farms on both sides and areas of thick forest here and there. Once, to Anna's excitement, she spotted an elk trotting along not far from the track.

‘There's plenty of them around,' Molly said, being well used to sightings. ‘But, as you will know, there are no reindeer this far south.' Her eyes twinkled. ‘Do you remember how during the war some of the Norwegians used to tell tall tales about polar bears roaming the streets of Oslo and gullible people believed them?'

‘I'm afraid they did,' Anna said in amusement.

‘But it's not surprising that people swallowed their tales,' Molly continued, ‘because it was only rich people that came to Norway before the war or went anywhere else abroad on holiday. I remember at school how envious I was of girls whose parents could afford for them to go on trips to France. The rich visitors here came for the salmon fishing in summer and deer hunting in the autumn. Olav says he can remember them arriving in their tweeds with their loud posh voices, and pony-carts or open cars were always lined up to take them to their destinations or on sightseeing trips.'

‘So much has happened since then. Perhaps when more affluent times return again, those rich sportsmen will come back.'

‘I expect they will,' Molly agreed. With amusement in her voice, she continued to speculate. ‘Then there'll be all those relatives coming to see how the war brides are faring and view their new grandchildren. It could mean a whole flood of different tourists!'

‘Maybe I'll be one of them, coming to see your children.'

Molly frowned with a change of mood at Anna's light-hearted remark. ‘I would want you on the spot whenever I should give birth, because there will be nobody from my family to be with me. Olav would go to pieces if he saw me in labour. He gets frantic if he thinks there is anything wrong with me. It was bad enough last winter when I fell badly on skis?'

‘How have you progressed with skiing?'

‘Quite well until I had that fall, but I love it. If you stay for the winter, you can have all the skiing you could possibly want – and have a whole mountain slope to yourself for it.'

‘I must admit that I would like to learn.'

Molly nodded with satisfaction. She usually managed to get her own way in most things, and keeping Anna in Norway was her new resolve.

At Jessheim station, Olav Svensen, tall, copper-haired and good-looking in his uniform with two ribbon decorations under his pilot wings, greeted Anna exuberantly. ‘Welcome, Anna! It's great to see you again! For weeks Molly has talked of nothing else but your coming to stay.' He picked up her two suitcases. ‘I parked over there.' He nodded in the direction of a jeep with the white star of the Allied forces still on its sides. ‘I couldn't bring my sports car, because there would not have been room for the three of us and your luggage.'