CHAPTER 1
“It’s come, Mum - the letter.
I’ve got the job.” Kirsty burst into the kitchen,
waving an envelope triumphantly. She tossed her unruly auburn
curls out of her eyes and threw her arms around her mother.
“Calm yourself, Kirsty, and tell me
what has happened,” said Mrs James. “What job
is this?”
“The one in Norway, of course, and it’s all thanks
to you, Mum.” She hugged her mother enthusiastically,
her green eyes sparkling with excitement.
“It was not me who write for this job, Kirsty. Why do
you thank me?”
“Because you taught me your language, Mum. I only got
the job because I’m bilingual. If you hadn’t taught
me to speak Norwegian instead of English, I wouldn’t
have got the job.”
“And what does this letter say?” asked her mother
practically, sitting on a kitchen chair. “Come, sit
down and tell me slowly.”
“It’s only a short letter. Miss Gröndahl
wants me to go over there on a month’s trial. She’ll
pay my travelling expenses. She asks me to phone her to arrange
the details.” Kirsty collapsed into a chair. “I
can’t believe it. I’d become so depressed about
finding a job - I never imagined I’d find something
as exciting as this.”
“Did you say it is in Oslo?” asked Mrs James,
running her fingers through her ash blonde hair.
“Just outside - a village called Slemdal. Do you know
it?”
“No, but I don’t know Oslo well. I only went there
a few times when I was in my teens. It’s a long way
from Stavanger. But Babbis is at Oslo University, isn’t
she?”
“Yes, I thought about that. I haven’t seen her
for two years, but we were always good friends. It will be
nice to have some family nearby, and maybe she’ll introduce
me to some of her college friends.” She laughed again.
“I can hardly wait to get there.”
During the next few days, Kirsty began to
regret wishing her time away. There was so much to do in so
short a time. It was not her first trip to Norway - far from
it. She had been spending holidays in Stavanger with her mother’s
family ever since she could remember, but this time was different.
This time she was going to work and live in Norway, for as
long as Anna Gröndahl was willing to employ her. Before,
she had visited relatives, but this time she would be going
to strangers. Of course, her cousin, Babbis, would not be
far away, so she would not be entirely alone in her new environment.
The offer of a job was a great relief to
Kirsty. She had read English and history at Oxford, and had
not expected to find it so difficult to find work. Not that
she had formed any really clear idea of what she wanted to
do with her life. She had always had a secret longing to be
an artist, or even a book illustrator. At one time she had
considered going to Art College rather than university, but
her teachers had persuaded her to take the more academic option.
She had worked hard at Oxford, wanting to excel. The result
had been a double first, but there was a down side too. Unlike
many other students, Kirsty had concentrated on her studies
to such a degree that she had not taken advantage of the social
side university life.
She had always been a little shy, and rather
wary of the opposite sex. During her years at Oxford, she
had made friends, both male and female, but had never become
romantically involved with anyone. She had overcome much of
her earlier shyness, but had never met anyone she felt she
could really love. And Kirsty was an incurable romantic, so
she needed to be in love before she could commit herself to
any man.
At least this offer of a job had temporarily
solved the dilemma of what she should do next. It might lead
to something else eventually, and it certainly sounded interesting.
In addition to that, was the thought that she would be able
to see more of her favourite cousin, Babbis.
Before leaving England, Kirsty tried to
see as many of her friends as possible. Although she was only
on a month’s trial, she had high hopes of keeping the
job and did not know when she would return home again. Most
of her friends were envious and Kirsty had to smile as they
discussed the tall, blond, rugged men she was bound to meet.
Her experience had taught her there were few Vikings left
in Norway. In fact, most of the Norwegian men she had met
had been on the small side and rather insignificant. Perhaps
that was why her mother had married an Englishman.
Her parents - that was her one regret about
leaving England. She would miss them both. Their devotion
to her and to one another had made her childhood the happiest
imaginable. She had learned the cultures of their two countries
and felt a complete sense of belonging in both places. So
far, England had educated her and claimed most of her years,
so now she was about to give her other country a chance.
Her conversation with Anna Gröndahl
on the telephone had swept away any doubts she might have
had about her future employer. The woman’s voice had
been warm and friendly and her English was surprisingly good.
They had chatted in both languages whilst arranging Kirsty’s
itinerary. Miss Gröndahl had agreed it would be a good
idea to sail to Stavanger, so that Kirsty could spend a night
with her grandmother before catching the train to Oslo.
As the train thundered through the suburbs
of Oslo, Kirsty’s heart began to beat faster. Everything
seemed to have happened so swiftly. One day she had been an
ex-student, searching for a job in graphic design or advertising
and the next she had been offered a position as a translator
of romantic novels for one of Norway’s best-known writers.
This was not what her years at Art College had trained her
for, but it was a far more exciting occupation than any other
she had envisaged. Besides, it might lead to other things
- book jacket design or illustrating perhaps. Anna Gröndahl
was sure to have lots of contacts in the publishing business.
Kirsty stood up and collected all her cases
ready to leave the train. Her new employer had promised to
meet her at the station, which must be close now. How would
she recognise Anna Gröndahl? There would probably be
lots of middle-aged women meeting passengers. Kirsty shrugged.
She was sure the other woman would have made some arrangements.
Sure enough, almost as soon as she stepped off the train she
heard her name called over the Tannoy.
“Will Miss Kirsten James please call
at the information desk?”
Smiling to herself, Kirsty summoned a porter to carry her
cases and made her way towards the desk. As she approached,
a tall slim woman with short grey hair smiled tentatively.
“Are you Kirsten James, by any chance?”
“Yes, I am. You must be Miss Gröndahl.” She
instinctively liked her new employer, and felt her heartbeat
slowing to its normal pace.
“Do call me Anna, and I’ll call you Kirsten if
I may.”
“Of course, but make it Kirsty - that’s what all
my friends call me.”
“Good, I hope we’ll be friends. Now let’s
find the car.” Anna Gröndahl led the way towards
the car park, followed by Kirsty and the porter. They had
soon packed all the luggage into the back of a sleek estate
car. “I expect you’re starving,” said Anna,
as she drove efficiently through the city.
Kirsty nodded. “I had a snack on the train, but I was
too excited to eat much.” She smiled at her companion.
“You know how it is starting a new job and meeting new
people.”
“Yes, I remember.” Anna smiled. “I hope
you’re a little more relaxed now we’ve met. I’d
like us to be friends, as we’ll be living under the
same root. To be quite honest, I was hoping to find a companion
as well as someone to translate my manuscripts. My nephew
lives with me, but he’s rarely at home these days. When
he’s not working late, he’s playing late. Have
you been to Oslo before?”
“No,” replied Kirsty. “But I’ve always
planned to come here. I shall enjoy exploring the city. My
cousin’s at university here.”
“Good. She will be able to introduce you to some young
people. Or is this cousin male?”
“Oh no, she’s called Babbis. But I don’t
think she’ll be back at the university for several weeks
yet. At present she’s staying with friends in Bergen.”
Kirsty smiled at her companion. “I do hope I’ll
be able to carry on working for you. I’ve always wanted
to spend more than just a few weeks holiday in Norway, so
this was an ideal opportunity for me.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll be with me for a
long time. Your Norwegian is perfect and I know you have qualifications
in English. The fact that you could type as well was a bonus.
To be honest, the main reason for the month’s trial
was more of a social than a business requirement. If we had
disliked one another on sight, it would have been a relief
to both of us to know we were only committed for a month.
She glanced at Kirsty and smiled again. “Somehow, I
think we are going to be good friends.”
“I’ve read several of your books,” Kirsty
told her. “I think I shall enjoy translating them. Actually
I was wondering why you’re not doing the translations
yourself. Your English is excellent.” They had been
talking in a strange mixture of the two languages during the
journey.
“I don’t think in English for one thing, but the
main reason is that I never have enough time for writing,
let alone translating.”
Kirsty nodded. “Are we almost there?” She was
eager to see the house, which would be her home for at least
the next month.
“It’s not far now. Do you drive, by the way?”
“No, I’m afraid not. I’ve been meaning to
learn for ages.”
She looked out of the window and was surprised
to see how quickly the scenery had changed. Only ten minutes
drive from the centre of Oslo, the city streets had dwindled
into winding country lanes, quiet and lined with evergreens.
Once again Kirsty felt her affinity with this land of forests
and mountains. It was such a lovely country, where cities
were towns and towns were villages. Delightful wooden houses
appeared here and there, with walls and roofs in delicate
pastel shades. At one point they crossed a track after waiting
for the trikk to pass. This old-fashioned electric train delighted
Kirsty, who remarked that there was nothing quite like it
in England.
“I think such vehicles suit our terrain better,”
said Anna. “You wouldn’t recognise the place in
winter.”
“I can imagine it from the winter holidays I’ve
spent on the west coast,” said Kirsty. “We used
to go to Geiranger to stay with cousins of my mother. It was
good skiing country.” That was another thing to which
she was looking forward - the winter skiing. Kirsty loved
the sport but had never found as much opportunity to enjoy
it as she would have wished. If she were able to carry on
working for Anna Gröndahl through the winter, there would
be plenty of chance to practise her winter sports.
“I must take you up to Holmenkollen,” said Anna,
as she swung the car into a short drive. “Not that you’ll
want to try the ski jump, but there’s a tremendous view
from the top and a ski museum underneath. Anyway, here we
are - home at last. You’ll be pleased to know we eat
early.”
“That’s another of my memories of Norway - the
packed lunch and early dinner. I’ve always thought your
day is far better organised than the English day. When I was
at school, I envied my Norwegian cousins. It seemed much more
sensible to have a short lunch break for sandwiches and to
go home early.” She smiled at Anna as she climbed out
of the car.
Anna smiled back. “We shall have a
similar working arrangement. We start early, finish early
and have lunch at our desks.” She opened the back of
the estate car. “Of course, there was a time when my
working routine was very erratic. Eventually I realised that
the main requirements of a successful writer are self-discipline
and a regular routine. Contrary to popular opinion, we cannot
afford to wait for inspiration.”
Kirsty laughed as she carried her cases
to the door. “Well, at least I know I won’t have
to work until the early hours of the morning.” She followed
Anna into the house, noticing the many similarities between
this house and those of her grandparents and other Norwegian
relatives. Bright mats and rugs decorated the wooden floor,
while numerous contemporary paintings adorned the wooden walls.
They entered a large warm kitchen, which led into a dining
area. Although the room had the atmosphere of a farmhouse
kitchen, all the fittings were modern and streamlined. Kirsty
spotted a door at the back, which she guessed would lead to
the inevitable cold store.
“Coffee?” asked Anna, and Kirsty nodded. “I’ll
show you round the house afterwards. There’s a casserole
in the oven. I thought that would be the easiest way to ensure
dinner was on time.”
“Do you do your own cooking?”
“Oh yes. I have a cleaner who comes in each morning
and she makes the lunch before she leaves, but I enjoy doing
my own cooking. I find it relaxing after a day at the typewriter.”
She poured boiling water slowly through a filter and the aroma
of fresh coffee filled the room.
“You mentioned a nephew. Does he work in Oslo?”
“Lars works all over the place. He is in advertising
and travels abroad quite often. He’s at some conference
in Paris at present, but he will be home in a few days.”
She put some cups, cream and sugar onto a tray and led the
way into a large, light lounge. “Lars came to live with
me as a small boy. His parents were killed in a skiing accident
in the mountains.”
“That must have been terrible,” said Kirsty sympathetically.
“It was. I’ll never forget the waiting. I think
that was the worst part. My brother and his wife were on holiday
when there was a small avalanche up in the Gudbransdal Mountains.
It was a couple of weeks before their bodies were discovered.
Somehow, one always continues to hope until there is positive
proof on death.” She paused and a look of sadness crossed
her face. “Lars was staying with me at the time. He
was only five.”
“So he must seem almost like your own child now.”
“He does. We have always been very close. That helped
Lars at the time. He was too young to fully understand what
had happened, and I had to take the place of both parents.”
Anna smiled. “He’s turned out pretty well in spite
of everything. I’m sure you’ll like one another;
I hope so.”
They finished their coffee and commenced a tour of the house.
Anna’s study was next to the lounge; it was a light,
airy room containing two desks with electronic typewriters
and a number of filing cabinets and bookcases. Kirsty noticed
with interest that there was a small computer on top of one
of the cabinets.
“I use that to store and catalogue my research. As you
know many of my novels take place in other countries, so I
have to be very sure of my facts. With the computer, I can
locate information more swiftly than I could, using a more
conventional filing system. It also saves space.”
Kirsty nodded. “I’ve heard of lots of British
writers who are using computers to actually write their books,
these days.”
“I’ve thought of that, but to use the machine
to that extent really means purchasing more sophisticated
equipment with greater storage capacity. At present I’m
more at home with my typewriter; I don’t fancy working
in front of a screen all day.” She closed the study
door behind them, and showed Kirsty a cloakroom, leading to
a lavatory and washroom. “Of course, there is a bathroom
upstairs and a sauna and shower in the basement. There are
also wash basins in each bedroom. I had those installed when
Lars and I began fighting for the bathroom each morning.”
“I know the feeling,” laughed Kirsty. “My
father was always complaining he couldn’t get into the
bathroom for women.”
Upstairs there were four spacious bedrooms,
and they carried the cases into the one that should be Kirsty’s.
The window looked out from the back of the house towards the
forest, which began at the bottom of the long garden. Dark
green conifers feathered upwards into a bright blue sky, and
Kirsty thought she glimpsed some water through the foliage.
That did not surprise her, as she knew Norway as the land
of lakes and fjords, where there sometimes seemed to be more
water than land.
“I’ll leave you to unpack and wash, while I prepare
the rest of the meal.” Anna glanced at her watch. “It
should be ready in about three quarters of an hour.”
It did not take Kirsty long to unpack her
belongings and put her clothing away in the wardrobe and chest
of drawers. She washed, then decided to change into a cool,
cotton dress. By the time she had brushed her hair and applied
a little makeup, it was time to go downstairs.
Anna was taking a casserole from the oven
as Kirsty walked into the kitchen. She smiled and indicated
that the girl should take her place at the table. Kirsty sniffed
appreciatively as the aroma of the cooking drifted across
the room, realising how hungry she was after her long journey.
She was surprised to find she felt totally relaxed in her
new environment, and all her earlier doubts had gradually
disappeared. Anna seemed such a delightful person that Kirsty
no longer had any apprehensions about her future in Norway.
She only hoped she would find Lars as pleasant as his aunt.
After all, they would be living under the same roof so a friendly
relationship was vital to the harmony of the household.
The casserole was delicious and Kirsty complimented
Anna on her cooking. Apple cake and cream, then cheese and
biscuits followed it. As they rose from the table, Kirsty
remembered to thank her hostess in the traditional Norwegian
way.
“Tusen takk for maten,” she
said, smiling, as she followed Anna into the lounge.
Anna smiled. “I see your Norwegian manners are just
as they should be.” My mother insisted,” said
Kirsty. “She always says the English are much sloppier
about such things, and I suppose she’s right. We always
say thank you if we go to someone for a meal, and often compliment
the hostess on the meal. But the English way of doing things
is far more free and easy.” She smiled to herself. It
was the little things that were different in the two countries,
but not the people themselves. Even the language had many
similarities to English, probably as a result or the long
past Viking invasions of England.
“I thought I’d show you round Oslo tomorrow,”
said Anna. “There isn’t so much urgency about
the work at present, and it will be useful for you to know
your way round. We can drive in early and have some lunch
in town.”
“That sounds lovely, but I thought it was virtually
impossible to buy lunch in Norway.”
“Not any longer,” laughed Anna. “It’s
true that we don’t go in for the English luncheon, but
there are several sandwich bars in Oslo, and, of course, such
places as McDonalds. We have to cater for the tourists, you
know.”
“I suppose I’ll have to go into Oslo now and then
in connection with my work,” suggested Kirsty.
“That’s my excuse for showing you round. You’ll
need to know how to find the publishers and the library, for
a start, and I’m sure I’ll find plenty more calls
for you whenever you go into town. But we won’t be too
serious about it tomorrow. I shall enjoy a day out for a change.
I’ve been quite busy so far this summer, and have just
finished a book. We can celebrate that.”
The next morning was fine, and clear, and Kirsty woke early
after a deep, undisturbed sleep. She showered and dressed,
then went down to the kitchen. Anna was already putting large
plates of cheese, salami, and crispbreads onto the already
laden table.
“Good Morning. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, thanks. Like a log,” replied Kirsty, shifting
the aroma of fresh coffee appreciatively. “And I’m
starving as usual.”
Anna laughed. “Good, So am I. I always manage to eat
a good breakfast.” She paused then asked, “You
do like the Norwegian breakfast, I hope?”
“Oh yes. I can’t face eggs and bacon in the morning.
We always have this type of breakfast at home.” She
smiled as she looked at the food. “Although the cheese
is usually different. We just can’t get this type of
goat’s milk cheese at home.”
Before they felt the house, Anna gave Kirsty a street map
of Oslo. “That’s just to help you find your way
around. I’ll show you where to catch the trikk as we’re
driving in.”
Anna spent the first part of the morning
explaining where her publisher, agent and the various reference
libraries were located, and then they visited the Munch Museum
and looked at the paintings and etchings or the well-known
Norwegian artist. Next, they went to the Rådhus or City
Hall and Kirsty was very impressed by the beautiful wall paintings
and murals in the building. She had noticed the twin towers
as they had driven through Oslo the previous day and she remembered
a postcard from Babbis showing the harbour with the Rådhus
reflected in the water.
The building was symbolic of much of the
city - comparatively new yet aesthetically pleasing. Leafy
squares and fountains, wide straight streets and spacious
buildings gave the impression of a place which had been cleverly
designed rather than something which had sprawled haphazardly
from a small nucleus. Along one particularly wide street and
up a slight hill was the palace. Soldiers stood on guard as
part of a tradition, but their manner was far more relaxed
than that of their counterparts in London. Kirsty knew that
the guards at Buckingham Palace were hardly allowed to blink,
yet the young men guarding Norway’s king were prepared
to exchange greetings and smiles with the visitors.
Lunch, as Anna had promised, was an open sandwich or smørbrød
in a small café. Most of these sandwiches contained
various types of seafood in mayonnaise and were served with
salad. The bread had a different, closer texture than that
normally available in England. A selection of pastries was
produced for dessert, followed by coffee with cream. Anna
paid for the meal but Kirsty commented that the prices were
rather high in comparison to similar places at home.
“I believe so,” admitted her hostess. “But
you’ll find middag, the larger cooked meal, quite reasonable.”
After lunch, they went on to see the Kontiki exhibition. “Have
you read the book?” asked Anna.
“Oh yes,” said Kirsty enthusiastically. “I
love Thor Heyerdahl’s books. I’ve read several,
including the one about the Ra. Did you have the television
series about Tigris here in Norway?”
“Naturally! Heyerdahl is almost a folk hero these days.
I agree that his books are very readable and I admire his
spirit of adventure.”
“I suppose it’s the old Viking spirit,”
laughed Kirsty.
“Oh, there are still one or two of them around.”
“I know - I’ve read some of your books.”
They both laughed as they wandered round the exhibition, looking
at the raft which had braved the fury of the ocean and at
the numerous photographs and mementoes of the various expeditions.
“I have another Viking for you later,” said Anne,
with a twinkle in her eye, as they left the Kontiki exhibition.
“But first you must meet the originals.” Their
next call was to the Viking Ship Museum where there were several
beautifully preserved examples of ancient warships. The carved
prows were proud and challenging, yet the ships looked remarkably
flimsy and small. It was not difficult to imagine the bold
adventurers sailing to their raids of distant shores. Kirsty
had only to close her eyes and she could see the whole scene.
“You promised me another Viking. Is he a living one?”
asked Kirsty mischievously.
“Unfortunately not, but I’ll try to produce a
living one for you some time.” There was more than a
hint of laughter in Anna’s voice. “The one I promised
today is Amundsen, the explorer. His ship Fram is here.”
A building had been erected around the ship
that had sailed farthest North and farthest South. The vessel
was now finally beached and would never again leave dry land.
Kirsty found that thought a little sad as she read the tales
of men who had tried and often failed to conquer the elements,
and who had sometimes died in the attempt, as had Scott, the
explorer’s main competitor. Still, she had to admit
Anna was right. Amundsen had certainly been another Viking,
so perhaps that race was still alive somewhere in Norway.
Later they visited the folk museum at Bygdøy,
where they sat outside and drank lemonade before returning
to Slemdal. It had been an exhausting day and Kirsty promised
herself a return visit to some of the places when she had
more time to look around. Anna seemed to be filled with energy
and ideas for other trips.
“I must take you to Frogner Park one
day to see the Vigeland sculptures. I’m sure you would
love that place. And I said I’d take you to Holmenkollen.
We could go on to the hilltop restaurant at Frognerseter afterwards.”
She glanced at Kirsty and laughed. “I’m sorry.
I want to show you everything in a day, but it can’t
be done.”
“Don’t worry, I intend to see everything eventually,”
replied Kirsty. “Thank you for showing me so much. At
least I feel I know a little more about Oslo now.” She
looked at Anna and her eyes sparkled. “Do you realise
I must have seen more of Oslo today, than I’d seen of
London before I went to University. Of course, when I was
at Oxford, I managed to go to London quite often; it wasn’t
too far away. But I almost visited Oslo first. As it happened,
on that occasion, we decided to go north to Lapland instead.
But it’s still strange.”
“It’s not really so strange. When I was young,
we lived in Lillehammer and rarely came down to Oslo, yet
we visited Sweden regularly.” Anna swept her arm around
indicating the old wooden houses in the folk museum. “We
have a larger folk museum than this one in Lillehammer.”
“Perhaps I’ll see it sometime. I really like this
idea.” Kirsty could not remember having seen any folk
museums on the west coast, and was very impressed with the
idea of preserving the old buildings in village form around
the tiny stave church. Each small cottage was furnished with
handmade furniture and utensils, and all the attendants wore
Norwegian national dress. “It’s like stepping
back in time. I love the beds in the wall and the cradles
hanging from the ceiling. I must buy a few postcards to keep.”
Anna glanced at her watch. “And then we must go home.
I’m afraid there’s nothing in the oven today”
She smiled at Kirsty. “And I expect you’re starving
again.”
“Oh, I am,” she replied, laughing. “But
I think I can wait. I’ll help you to get the meal ready.”
The drive back to Slemdal seemed shorter than on the previous
day, and the road was a little more familiar to Kirsty. She
had enjoyed the day out as it had given her an opportunity
to get to know Anna better before they started working together.
As they swung into the drive of the house, Kirsty saw a metallic
grey Mercedes sports car parked outside the garage.
“Oh, Lars is back earlier than expected. No doubt he’ll
be hungry too!” Anna pulled up beside the Mercedes and
they both stepped out of the car. As they approached the house,
the door opened and a figure appeared, almost filling the
doorframe.
Kirsty gasped and stared at the man in front
of her. She had told her friends there were no Vikings left
in Norway, but now she saw she had been mistaken. The shaggy
blond and bearded head, startling blue eyes, broad shoulders
and immense height were all from some old picture book about
the Vikings who invaded Britain. Even the rather fierce look
on his face was totally in character.
“Beautiful isn’t he?” said Anna casually.
“You’d be surprised if you knew how many books
I’ve put him into.” The ice was broken and Kirsty
laughed as Lars embraced his aunt then turned to be introduced.
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