The Storm Sister (The Seven Sisters #2) (66 page)

Pip was almost more nervous when he arrived at the Konsert-palæet than he had been when he’d auditioned for a place at the Conservatory. Perhaps, he thought wryly,
it was because this time his performance had consequences in the real world, whereas back then he’d been a carefree youth with no responsibilities except to himself. He made himself known to
the woman in the ticket booth, who led him down a corridor and into a spacious practice room, containing a piano and stacks of music stands. He was soon joined by a tall, broad-shouldered man with
merry eyes and thick dark-blond hair, who introduced himself as Harald Heide.

‘Your father has certainly praised your talents on more than one occasion, Herr Halvorsen. He’s clearly delighted to have you back home in Norway,’ he said, shaking Pip warmly
by the hand. ‘I understand that you play both the piano and the violin?’

‘That’s correct, sir, although piano was my main instrument when I studied in Leipzig. I hope to become a composer one day.’

‘Come then, we will begin.’ Herr Heide gestured to Pip that he should take a seat at the piano, while he himself sat down on a narrow bench that stood against one wall of the room.
‘Whenever you’re ready, Herr Halvorsen.’

Pip’s hands trembled slightly as he raised them over the keyboard, but as he launched into the slow series of bell-like tolls that opened the first movement of Rachmaninoff’s
Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor
, his nerves left him. The stormy passion of the music filled him as he closed his eyes, mentally hearing the accompanying parts of the string and woodwind
sections as his fingers danced through the rapid progression of arpeggios that followed. He was halfway through the lyrical slow section in E flat major when Herr Heide stopped him.

‘I think I have heard enough. That was really quite marvellous. If you play the violin even half as well, I can see no reason not to offer you work, Herr Halvorsen. Now, let us go to my
office and we will talk further.’

Pip returned home an hour later, walking on air, and immediately broke the news to Karine and his family that he was now officially employed by the Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra.

‘I will only be a “swing”, covering piano and violin when the regulars are unavailable or unwell, but Herr Heide tells me the current pianist is old now and often unable to
perform. He may retire soon.’

‘Franz Wolf is like a creaking gate and has arthritis in his fingers. You will have many chances to play. Well done, my boy!’ Horst slapped him on the back. ‘We will play
together just as Jens, my father, and I used to.’

‘Did you also tell him that you are a composer?’ Karine pressed him.

‘Yes, but Rome wasn’t built in a day, and for now I am just grateful I can support you as a husband should once we are married.’

‘And perhaps one day I can join you in the orchestra too,’ Karine said with a pout. ‘I don’t think I’m going to make a very good
Hausfrau
.’

Pip translated what Karine had said to his mother and she smiled. ‘Don’t worry. Whilst you and your father are making music, I will teach Karine all she needs to know about looking
after a home.’

‘Two Halvorsens once more in an orchestra, a son about to be married and, I’m sure, many grandchildren to love in the future.’ Horst’s eyes twinkled with happiness.

Pip saw Karine raise her dark eyebrows at him. She had often said she was not the maternal type and was far too selfish to have babies. He didn’t take her seriously; it was her way to try
to shock by saying the unthinkable. And he loved her for it.

Karine and Pip were married the day before Christmas Eve. A fresh fall of snow lay in a pristine blanket over the city, and the twinkling lights that bedecked the streets of
central Bergen added a fairy-tale atmosphere to the proceedings as the two of them rode in a horse-drawn carriage to the Grand Hotel Terminus. After the reception party that Horst had insisted on
paying for, the newly-weds finally said goodnight to their guests and made their way upstairs. As they entered their hotel room, which had been given to them as a wedding present by Elle and Bo,
they fell into each other’s arms with a hunger that only six months of abstinence could produce. As they kissed, Pip released the buttons of Karine’s cream lace gown, and as it slid
from her shoulders and arms, his fingertips followed its path downwards, trailing across her elegant collarbones before moving to brush her dusky pink nipples. She moaned and grabbed a handful of
his hair, releasing his mouth from hers, and guided his head towards her breast. She gasped in pleasure as his lips closed around her nipple and she simultaneously pushed the dress down over her
hips so that it finally fell to the floor. Then Pip lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed, his breathing rapid and shallow, driven mad by desire. As he stood beside the bed and clumsily
began to divest himself of his clothes, Karine knelt up on the mattress and stopped him.

‘No – it is my turn now,’ she said huskily. She deftly unbuttoned first his shirt, then his trousers. A few seconds later she drew him down on top of her and they lost
themselves in each other.

Afterwards they lay together sated, listening to the clock in the old town square as it struck midnight.

‘That was definitely worth converting for,’ Karine announced, propping herself up on her elbow and smiling into Pip’s eyes as she stroked his face with the back of her fingers.
‘And if I hadn’t said it before, I say it now, as your wife of a few hours – and I want you never to forget it: I love you,
chérie
, and I cannot remember ever
being happier than I am tonight.’

‘Nor can I,’ he whispered, taking her hand from his cheek and pressing it to his lips. ‘Here’s to always.’

‘Always.’

1938

As the snow and rain fell incessantly on Bergen during January, February and March, and the brief hours of daylight fell swiftly into darkness, Pip spent several hours each day
at rehearsals with the Bergen Philharmonic. At first he was only called on to perform in the evening concerts once a week at most, but as poor Franz, the old pianist, began to take more time off
due to his worsening arthritis, Pip gradually became a regular fixture in the orchestra.

Meanwhile, his spare time was consumed with composing his first concerto. He showed no one the results of his efforts. Not even Karine. When it was finished, he would dedicate it to her. In the
afternoons after rehearsals, Pip would often stay on in the concert hall. There, surrounded by the ghostly atmosphere of an auditorium without an orchestra or audience, he would work on his
composition at the piano in the pit.

For her part, Karine was kept busy by Astrid, who she had come to love dearly. Her Norwegian slowly began to improve and she did her best to learn the art of homemaking under her
mother-in-law’s good-natured guidance.

As often as Elle’s work would allow, Karine would meet her friend in the tiny apartment above the chart maker’s shop on the harbour front and the two of them would discuss their
hopes and plans for the future.

‘I can’t help feeling jealous that you have your own home,’ Karine confessed over coffee one morning. ‘Pip and I are now married, yet we still live under his
parents’ roof and sleep in his childhood bedroom. It is not the most seductive location for romance. We must always take care to be quiet, but I long for the freedom to make love with
abandon.’

Elle was used to her best friend’s bold statements. ‘Your time will come, I am sure,’ she smiled. ‘You are lucky to have the support of Pip’s parents. For us, it is
still difficult. Bo’s elbow is far better than it was, but it has not yet recovered sufficiently to allow him to audition for the orchestra here, or anywhere else for that matter. He is
devastated that he cannot pursue his passion at present. As I am, too, for that matter.’

Karine knew exactly how that felt – having been confined to a domestic environment since arriving in Bergen, her own musical ability had been limited to the casual evening performances at
Froskehuset. But she also acknowledged that her problems paled into insignificance compared to the challenges that faced Elle and Bo.

‘I’m sorry, Elle, I’m being selfish.’

‘My sister, you are not. Music is our lifeblood and it is hard to live without it. At least something good has come of Bo’s inability to play. He enjoys his work with the chart maker
and has thrown himself into learning about methods of navigation. For the time being, he is content, and so am I.’

‘Then I am glad,’ said Karine. ‘And happy we are still living in the same town and can see each other as often as we want. I don’t know what I’d do without
you.’

‘Or I without you.’

In early May, Pip announced to Karine that he had saved enough money to be able to rent a tiny house on Teatergaten, in the heart of the town, only a stone’s throw away
from the theatre and the concert hall.

When he told her, Karine burst into tears. ‘It is very good timing,
chérie
. Because apart from anything else, I should tell you that I am . . .
mon Dieu!
I am
pregnant.’

‘But that’s the most wonderful news!’ Pip exclaimed, rushing to his wife’s side and enveloping her in an ecstatic embrace. ‘Try not to look so horrified,’ he
teased, as he tipped her quivering chin up so that he could meet her gaze. ‘You, with all your naturalistic beliefs, should be the first to admit that a child is simply the result of two
beating hearts in love.’

‘I know all that, but I am sick as a dog every morning. And what if I don’t like the child? What if I turn out to be a terrible mother to it? What if—’

‘Hush now. You are simply frightened. As all new mothers-to-be are.’

‘No! The women I know have always revelled in their pregnant state. They have sat there like broody mares patting their burgeoning stomachs and enjoying the attention. And all
I
see is an alien inside me, taking away my flat stomach and sucking dry my energy!’

With that, Karine collapsed against him in a further fit of noisy sobbing.

Pip suppressed a smile, took a deep breath and did all he could to console her.

Later that evening, they told Horst and Astrid they were to be grandparents. And that he and Karine would be moving into a home of their own.

A general round of congratulations ensued, although Horst did not hand Karine a glass when the bottle of aquavit was produced.

‘You see?’ she complained as she climbed into bed next to him. ‘All my pleasures are now in the past.’

Pip chuckled as he pulled her into his arms and his hand reached under her nightgown to caress the tiny bump. It was, he thought, like the first sighting of a half-moon in a starry sky. He and
she had made it together. And it was a miracle.

‘It is only another six months, Karine. And I promise that on the night of the birth, I will bring an entire bottle of aquavit to your bedside and you can drink the lot.’

In early June, they moved into their new house on Teatergaten. Although tiny, it was pretty as a picture with its duck-egg-blue clapboard exterior and a wooden terrace leading
from the kitchen. Over the summer, while Pip was at work, Karine, with Astrid and Elle’s help, worked hard to decorate the interior and placed pots of petunias and lavender on the terrace. In
spite of their meagre budget, it gradually became a haven of homely tranquillity.