The Storm Sister (The Seven Sisters #2) (36 page)

‘Rehearsals will begin in August for the September opening. I hope you have no plans to leave for the country at that time?’ Herr Josephson asked her.

‘Rest assured, Anna will be here,’ replied Herr Bayer for her. ‘Now, we come to the question of money. We must agree Frøken Landvik’s fee for taking such a
prominent role.’

Ten minutes later, they were back in the carriage and Herr Bayer suggested they go to the Grand Hotel for high tea and to celebrate Anna’s further triumph.

‘And on top of all the other advantages, there is every chance that Herr Grieg will come in the autumn to see you perform. Just think of that, my dear young lady! If he takes a shine to
you, there may be the chance for travel overseas to other theatres or concert halls . . .’

Anna’s thoughts floated away as she imagined Jens Halvorsen down in the orchestra pit, looking up at her as she spoke Solveig’s words of love.

‘So, I will write to your dear parents telling them of our wonderful news and begging them to allow me and Christiania to enjoy the pleasure of your company for a few
more months whilst you perform in
Peer Gynt
. You will return home to attend your brother’s wedding in July and be back here for August,’ said Herr Bayer over dinner that
evening. ‘I too will be leaving Christiania as usual to stay in my family’s summer house on Drøbak with my sister and my poor ailing mama.’

‘So there will be no time for me to travel to the mountains?’ Anna could hear the petulance in her voice, but she wanted to see with her own eyes if Rosa was still alive.

‘Anna, there will be many more summers singing the cows home, but never again one preparing to take the leading role in a production of
Peer Gynt
at the Christiania Theatre. I
shall also return, of course, when you begin rehearsals.’

‘I’m sure that Frøken Olsdatter can take care of me if you are unable to return. I wouldn’t like to impose my needs on you,’ Anna answered politely.

‘Don’t even think of it, my dear young lady. These days, it seems your needs
are
mine.’

Anna found it a relief to retire to her room that evening. Herr Bayer’s natural ebullience was, she knew, an endearing positive quality, but to live with it day in and day out became
somewhat wearing. At least Lars was quiet, she thought, as she knelt to say her prayers, knowing she would see him very soon and forcing herself to recall his good qualities. But even as she spoke
to Jesus about Lars, her thoughts flew from him to Jens Halvorsen.

‘Please Lord, forgive my heart, for I do believe I have fallen in love with the wrong man. Help me love the one I am supposed to. And also,’ she added before she stood up, trying to
find something to say that was unselfish, ‘can Rosa just be alive for one more summer?’

As Anna left for Heddal a week later, Jens carried a bundle of his most precious possessions into the centre of Christiania. He felt drained and exhausted from the nightmare of
the past few hours.

In the dining room over breakfast that morning, Jens had sat as straight and proud as he could, his bread and preserves untouched in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he had spoken what he
needed to say out loud.

‘I have done my best to live up to your expectations, Far, but my future simply does not lie in the brewery business. I wish to become a full-time musician and one day, I hope, a composer.
I am sorry, but I cannot change who I am.’

Jonas continued salting his eggs and then took a mouthful before he replied.

‘So be it. You have made your decision. As I told you when this was first discussed, there will be no further funds and nothing for you in my will. From this moment on, you are no longer
my son. I simply cannot bear to witness what you are throwing away and how you are betraying me. Therefore, as we agreed, I expect you to have left the house by the time I return from the office
this evening.’

Even though Jens had been bracing himself for his father’s response, it still came as a shock. He looked across the table to his mother’s horrified face.

‘But Jonas,
kjære
, it is your son’s twenty-first birthday in a few days’ time, and as you know, we have arranged a dinner for him. Surely you can allow him a few
days’ grace to celebrate with his parents and friends?’

‘I hardly feel that any of us will be celebrating, given the circumstances. And if you believe I will soften my resolve in time, then you are sadly mistaken.’ Jonas folded his
newspaper twice as he always did. ‘Now, I must leave for the brewery. Good day to you both.’

The worst part of the entire episode was watching his mother break down in tears the moment the front door slammed shut behind his father. He comforted her as best he could.

‘I have let Far down. Perhaps I should change my mind and—’

‘No, no . . . You
must
follow your passion. I only wish that I had when I was your age. Forgive me, Jens,
kjære
, but perhaps I was living in a fool’s
paradise. I believed that, when it came to it, your father would change his mind.’

‘Well, I didn’t, and therefore I was prepared for it. So, I must now do as he wishes and leave the house. Forgive me, Mor, I need to pack.’

‘Perhaps I was wrong to encourage you.’ Margarete wrung her hands. ‘And to work against his plans for you when I should have accepted that he would win.’

‘But he hasn’t won, Mor. I do this of my own free will. And I can only say how grateful I am to you for giving me the gift of music. My future would be more miserable without
it.’

An hour later, Jens arrived downstairs in the entrance hall, with two suitcases stuffed full of all the possessions he could carry.

His mother’s tear-stained face met him at the drawing room door.

‘Oh, my son,’ she wept on his shoulder. ‘Maybe in time, your father will regret what he has done today and ask you to come home.’

‘I think we both know that he will not.’

‘Where will you go?’

‘I have friends in the orchestra, and I’m sure one of them will put a roof over my head temporarily. I’m more concerned about you, Mor. I feel I shouldn’t leave you alone
with him.’

‘Don’t worry about me,
kjære
. Just promise me you will write and let me know where you will be?’

‘Of course,’ he agreed.

Then his mother thrust a small package into his hands.

‘I sold the diamond necklace and earrings your father gave me for my fortieth birthday, just in case he carried out his threat. The proceeds are in here. I’ve also enclosed my
mother’s gold wedding band which you can sell too if necessary.’

‘Mor—’

‘Hush now, they were mine and if he asks where they have gone, I will tell him the truth. It is enough to pay for a year’s tuition and bed and board in Leipzig. Jens, swear to me you
will not squander this money as you have done so often in the past.’

‘Mor.’ Jens found himself choked with emotion. ‘I promise I will not.’ And before he broke down completely, he folded her in his arms and tenderly kissed her goodbye.

‘One day, I hope I can sit in the Christiania Theatre and watch you conduct the music you have written,’ she said with a sad smile.

‘That is a promise, Mor, and I will do whatever it takes to fulfil it.’

Then he left his home for the last time, feeling dazed but exhilarated by his decision and realising that, despite reassuring his mother, he hadn’t really made a plan of where he would go
if the worst
did
happen. Well, it
had
, and Jens headed straight to Engebret, hoping he might see a musician there he knew who could give him a bed for the night. Simen had kindly
obliged, written down his address and said he’d see him there later on.

After a few beers to knock the edges off the enormity of what he’d just done, Jens found himself walking towards a part of the city he’d never been to before. And feeling highly
conspicuous in his finely tailored clothes. His arms were aching from carrying his two heavy cases, and he made his way as quickly as possible, avoiding eye contact with all passers-by.

He had never been this far outside the city boundary and, unlike in the centre of Christiania, wooden houses had obviously not yet been banned as a fire risk. The buildings grew more dilapidated
the further on he walked. Eventually, he stopped in front of an old timber-framed house and double-checked the address Simen had given him at Engebret. Knocking on the door, he heard a grunting and
the sound of someone spitting within. The door opened and there was Simen, half-drunk as usual, smiling at him.

‘Come in, come in, my boy, and welcome to my humble abode. It isn’t much, but it’s home.’ Entering the house, the stuffy little front room smelt of rotting food and the
tobacco that Simen smoked in his pipe. Jens saw that every inch of space was filled with musical instruments. Two cellos, a viola, a piano, numerous fiddles . . .

‘Thank you for this, Simen. I am very grateful to you for taking me in.’

Simen waved aside his gratitude. ‘Please, it is nothing. Any young man who gives up everything for his love of music deserves as much help as I can give him. I am proud of you, Jens,
truly. Now follow me upstairs and we’ll get you settled.’

‘Quite a collection you have here,’ said Jens as he picked his way carefully through the clutter of instruments and climbed up a set of narrow wooden stairs.

‘I simply can’t resist buying them. One of the cellos is almost a hundred years old,’ Simen explained, while the stairs creaked in protest as Jens heaved his cases up them.

They arrived in a room containing a few battered chairs and a dusty table, covered in the detritus of a few days’ worth of food and drink.

‘There’s a pallet somewhere which I can offer you to sleep on. Not what you’re used to, I’m sure, but better than nothing. Now, my friend, some aquavit to celebrate your
independence?’ Simen picked up a bottle and a cloudy glass from the table. Sniffing the glass, he shook out a few remaining drops onto the floor.

‘Thank you.’

Jens accepted the dirty glass. If this was to be his new life, he must embrace it wholeheartedly. He got very drunk that night, and woke up with a dreadful hangover, his bones aching from
sleeping on the hard pallet. And realised that there would be no Dora arriving with coffee to soothe him. Remembering in panic the package of money from his mother, Jens reached for his jacket to
feel the pocket where he had stuffed it as he’d left the house. Finding it still safe, he opened it and saw the ring and that the amount of cash was indeed enough to provide him with a
year’s tuition in Leipzig. Or a comfortable bed in a hotel for the next few nights . . .

No.
Jens checked himself. He had promised his mother and he would not let her down by squandering the money.

Anna boarded the train that would take her on the first stage of her journey home. It was dark when she arrived at Drammen station, and as she got down from the carriage, she
saw her father waiting for her on the platform.

‘Far! Oh, Far! I’m so happy to see you.’ And much to Anders’ surprise, she threw her arms around him in an uncharacteristic public display of emotion.

‘There, there, Anna. I’m sure you must be weary after your journey. Come, let us make our way to our lodging house. Tonight you can sleep to your heart’s content, then tomorrow
we will travel home to Heddal.’

The next morning, refreshed after her night’s sleep, Anna climbed up onto the cart and Anders tapped the horse to walk on. ‘In the daylight, you seem different somehow. I think you
have grown into a woman, daughter. You are beautiful.’

‘Really, Far, I’m sure I’m not.’

‘Everyone is looking forward to your arrival. Your mother is preparing a special evening meal for you tonight and Lars will be joining us. We received Herr Bayer’s letter telling us
of your success at the Christiania Theatre. He tells us that Solveig is no less than the leading role.’

‘Yes, it is. But do you mind if I stay on in Christiania for longer, Far?’

‘It would hardly be fair to complain after all Herr Bayer has done for you,’ replied Anders placidly. ‘He says you will become famous for it, that your voice is already the
talk of the city. We are proud of you.’