The Storm Sister (The Seven Sisters #2) (26 page)

Anna reread the letter painstakingly. It was the last of perhaps twelve drafts penned over the past five days, the rest of which she’d started, then discarded. She was
aware that some of the words she’d used she had spelt as she spoke them and feared that they were incorrect. However, she reasoned, Lars would prefer an imperfect missive to none at all. She
was bursting to tell her family about the transformation her life was currently undergoing. Having carefully folded the letter, she stood up and caught her reflection in the looking glass. She
studied her face for a moment.

Am I still me?
she asked it. Receiving no reply, she made her way to the bathroom.

Later that evening, climbing into bed, she listened to the voices and laughter drifting along the corridor. Herr Bayer was entertaining some guests, so tonight there had been no dinner with him
at the polished dining table, rather a tray presented to her by Frøken Olsdatter, whose Christian name she now knew to be Lise.

‘My dear young lady, allow me to explain,’ Herr Bayer had said earlier, after he’d announced that she would not be present at dinner. ‘You are making great progress, very
fast. In fact, far faster than any other music student I have had the honour to mentor. But if I introduced you to my guests, they would surely entreat you to sing for them, after all I’ve
told them of your potential. And we cannot show you off until you are fully formed, at which point we will bring you out of hiding in a blaze of glory.’

Even though Anna was getting used to Herr Bayer’s elaborate use of language, she pondered what ‘fully formed’ actually meant. Was she to grow another hand? That would certainly
help in her piano lessons. Or perhaps some extra toes, which would help her less than adequate posture. This flaw had been pointed out to her today by a theatre director, who had arrived at the
apartment that afternoon. He’d told her that he was employed by Herr Bayer to teach her about something he called ‘stage presence’, for when she appeared at a theatre. Which
seemed to have a lot to do with holding her head high and clenching her toes together inside her boots to make sure that when she reached the desired position, she stood stock-still.

‘Then you wait, until they finish applauding. A small bow, like so’ – the man had demonstrated by dipping his chin to his chest with his left arm taken across to his right
shoulder – ‘to show appreciation for their applause, and then you begin.’

For the following hour, the man had asked her to walk in and out of the drawing room, practising the same moves over and over again. It had been extremely tedious and very dispiriting, given
that up to now, even if she could not cook or sew, she had at least felt she could walk proficiently.

Anna turned on her side in the enormous bed, feeling the downy softness of the pillow beneath her cheek, and wondered if she could ever become what Herr Bayer wished her to be.

As she’d told Lars in her letter, she thought she’d been brought here for her singing talent. And yet Herr Bayer had not asked her to sing a single song since she’d arrived.
She understood that there were many things she had to learn and she could not have a more kind or patient mentor. Yet Anna sometimes felt as though she was losing her old self, ill-educated and
unworldly as that was. She already felt stranded between two worlds: a girl who less than a week ago had never seen gaslight or an inside privy, yet had become used to a servant waiting on her,
drinking red wine with supper and fish . . .

‘Oh Lord!’ she groaned out loud at the thought of the endless fish.

Perhaps Herr Bayer thought she was so stupid that she didn’t have a clue about his intentions. But she had realised very quickly that not only had he brought her to Christiania to train
her voice, but also to turn her into a lady who could be presented as such. She was being taught tricks, just like the animals at the fair that sometimes passed through Heddal. She thought about
that first night Herr Bayer had arrived at her family’s hillside cabin, when he’d spent a long time extolling the glories of Norway’s regional culture. So she couldn’t quite
understand why he felt it so necessary to change her.

‘I am not an experiment,’ she whispered to herself firmly as finally she drifted off to sleep.

One frosty October morning, Anna arrived as usual in the drawing room for her lesson with Herr Bayer.

‘My dear Anna, did you sleep well?’

‘Very well indeed, thank you, Herr Bayer.’

‘Good, good. Well, I am pleased to say that today, I feel you are ready for us to move on. So, we will begin to sing, yes?’

‘Yes, Herr Bayer,’ she replied guiltily, all too aware of her negative thoughts a few nights ago.

‘Are you feeling well, Anna? You look quite pale.’

‘I am well.’

‘Good. Then we will waste no more time. I wish you to sing “
Per Spelmann
” to me as you did the first evening we met. I will follow you on the piano.’

Anna was still so bemused at this unexpected turn of events that she stood and stared at Herr Bayer silently.

‘You are not ready?’

‘I’m sorry. Yes, I am.’

‘Good. Then you will sing.’

For the following forty-five minutes, Anna repeated the song she had known from the cradle endless times. At various points, Herr Bayer would stop her and tell her to use a little more of what
he called ‘
vibrato
’ on a specific note, or to hold a certain pause for longer, or to count the beats . . . She did her best to follow his instruction, but having first learnt
it fourteen years ago and sung it the same way ever since, it was very hard indeed.

At eleven o’clock promptly, the front doorbell rang. She heard the sound of low voices in the corridor and Frøken Olsdatter entered the drawing room followed by a
distinguished-looking dark-haired gentleman with a hawk-like nose and a receding hairline. Herr Bayer stood up from the piano and went to greet him.

‘Herr Hennum, I am grateful for your time. This is Frøken Anna Landvik, the girl I have told you about.’

The gentleman turned to her and bowed. ‘Frøken Landvik, Herr Bayer has sung himself in praise of your voice.’

‘And now you will hear it!’ Herr Bayer returned to the piano. ‘Anna, sing as you sang to me that first night up in the hills.’

Anna looked at him, confused. If he wanted her to sing as she had originally, then why had he spent an hour trying to teach her differently? But it was too late to ask him, for he was already
playing the opening bars, so she simply began to sing and gave her voice its freedom.

When she’d finished, she looked at Herr Bayer expectantly, not knowing whether she had sung well or indifferently. She’d remembered bits of what he’d told her, but not all of
it, and everything felt muddled in her head.

‘What do you think, Johan?’ asked Herr Bayer standing up from the piano.

‘Anna is exactly as you have described. And therefore perfect. Obviously raw, but then perhaps that is as it should be.’

‘I was not expecting this to arise so soon. As I mentioned, Anna arrived in Christiania less than a month ago and I have only just begun to train her voice,’ Herr Bayer
responded.

As Anna listened to the two men discussing her and her abilities, she certainly felt as ‘raw’ as an uncooked piece of pork about to be thrown into her mother’s pot.

‘I am yet to receive the final score, but as soon as I do, I will bring it to you and then we will have Anna come to the theatre and sing for Herr Josephson. Now, I must take my leave.
Frøken Landvik.’ Johan Hennum bowed to her again. ‘It was my pleasure to hear you sing, and doubtless I and many others will be given the opportunity again in the very near
future. Good day to you both.’

Herr Hennum swept from the door, his cloak billowing behind him as he did so.

‘Well done, Anna!’ Herr Bayer came towards her, took her face in his hands and gave her a kiss on both cheeks.

‘Please, sir, can you tell me who that man is?’

‘It is of no matter now. All that does matter is that we have much work to do to prepare you.’

‘Prepare me for what?’

But Herr Bayer was not listening to her; he was glancing at the clock. ‘I am due to give a lecture in half an hour and must leave at once. Frøken Olsdatter,’ he shouted,
‘bring me my cloak immediately!’ Walking past her to the door, he smiled once more. ‘Rest now, Anna, and when I return we will begin to work.’

Even though over the next two weeks Anna tried to find out who Herr Hennum was and what it was they were working towards, Herr Bayer was maddeningly unforthcoming. What she
didn’t understand was why he suddenly wished her to sing through every folk song she’d ever learnt, rather than, as he’d mentioned to her parents, teaching her to sing the operas.
What use is that kind of music here in the city?
she thought miserably as she walked to the window one lunch-time when Herr Bayer had left the apartment to attend a meeting. She traced the
pattern of the raindrops on the outside of the window and suddenly felt an urge to be outdoors. In the past month, she had hardly set foot outside the apartment, apart from going to church on a
Sunday, and was beginning to feel like a caged animal. Perhaps Herr Bayer simply forgot that she had grown up and lived her entire life in open spaces. She yearned for some fresh air, the open
pasture of her parents’ farm, space to walk and to run free . . .

‘Here, I am nothing more than an animal to be trained,’ she stated to the empty room just before Frøken Olsdatter came in to tell her that luncheon was ready. Anna followed
her into the kitchen.

‘What is it,
kjære?
You look like a herring that’s just been caught on a hook,’ Frøken Olsdatter commented as they both sat down and Anna sipped her fish
broth.

‘Nothing,’ said Anna, not wishing the housekeeper to question her current mood. She would only think her spoilt and difficult. After all, her place in their household was far
superior in terms of position and comfort. Yet still, she felt Frøken Olsdatter’s keen, intelligent eyes upon her.

‘Tomorrow, Anna, I must go to the market in the square to shop for meat and vegetables. Would you like to accompany me?’

‘Oh yes! There is nothing I would like more,’ she replied, touched that the woman had sensed exactly what was wrong.

‘Then I shall take you, and perhaps we could spare the time to go for a stroll around the park beforehand. Herr Bayer is at the university tomorrow between the hours of nine and twelve,
and then he will be out for lunch, so we have plenty of time. It will be our little secret, yes?’

‘Yes.’ Anna nodded in relief. ‘Thank you.’

After that, the trips to the market were conducted twice weekly. Apart from Sundays when she went to church, these were the days she looked forward to most.

At the end of November, Anna realised that she had been in Christiania for over two months. On the makeshift calendar she had drawn for herself, she was marking off the days until she could
return home to Heddal for Christmas. However, there had at least been snow in Christiania, which had cheered her somewhat. The women who walked in the park across the street now wore fur cloaks and
hats and held their hands in fur muffs, which Anna decided were a very stupid fashion because if one wanted to itch one’s nose, one might get frostbite of the fingers whilst one did so.

Inside the apartment, little had altered in her daily routine, although Herr Bayer had handed her a copy of Herr Ibsen’s
Peer Gynt
last week and told her to read it.

‘Oh, but I already have,’ she’d been delighted to answer.

‘Then that is all to the good. It will help you as you read it again.’

The first night, she had put the book to one side, thinking what a waste of time it was to do as Herr Bayer had asked when she already knew what happened at the end. But the next morning, he
questioned her closely on the first five pages of the poem and, hardly able to remember anything, she had lied weakly and said that last night she’d had a bad headache and had gone to sleep
early. So she read it again, and in fact was pleased with herself as she realised how much her reading skills had improved since the summer. There were now few words she could not decipher, and if
any posed a problem, Herr Bayer was more than happy to assist her. But quite what this poem could possibly have to do with her future here in Christiania, Anna had absolutely no idea.