Heaven Around the Corner

‘Bed,’ said Louisa firmly, ‘a warm bath first—do you take sleeping pills? The doctor didn’t mention them…’

‘There are some in my bag, but I don’t think I’ll need them tonight.’ Miss Savage yawned widely, showing beautiful teeth. ‘I’ll have breakfast in bed—coffee and toast, and don’t disturb me until ten o’clock.’

Later, with her patient in bed and presumably sleeping, Louisa cleared away their supper things, tidied the kitchen ready for Eva in the morning and went back to the window. It was very dark outside, but the streets were well lighted and there were plenty of people about and a good deal of traffic. The pleasant thought struck her that if Miss Savage wasn’t to be disturbed until ten o’clock each morning, she would have time to take a quick look round after her own breakfast. She could be up and dressed by eight o’clock and Eva would be in the flat then, so that if Miss Savage wanted anything there would be someone there. She didn’t know much about private nursing, but it seemed to her that this case wasn’t quite as usual; only the vaguest references had been made to off duty, for instance, and what about her free days? She should have made quite sure of those, but she had been so eager to get the job, and although it might not turn out to be exactly what she had expected at least she was out of England, beyond her stepmother’s reach, and moreover, in a country which, at first sight, looked delightful.

She went to bed and slept dreamlessly all night.

She was up and ready for Eva when she arrived, and since Miss Savage hadn’t said anything more about uniform, she had put on a pleated skirt and a thin sweater.

Eva was surprised to see her already dressed, but she wasted no time in making coffee and unwrapping the still warm rolls she had brought with her. She shared Louisa’s coffee too, sitting at the kitchen table while she told Louisa where the shops were and how to go to them. It wasn’t nine o’clock when Louisa, a quilted jacket over the sweater and a woolly cap and gloves, left the flat; there would be time to explore and perhaps she could persuade Miss Savage to go for a short walk once she was up. She crossed the little park as Eva had instructed her and turned into Ole Bull Pass and then into the main shopping street, Torgalmenning, where the shops were already open, although there weren’t many people about.

Louisa walked briskly down its length, intent on reaching the harbour Eva said she simply had to see, promising herself that the next time she would stop and look in all the shop windows. It didn’t take her long; there was the harbour, bustling with life, ferries chugging to and fro, freighters tied up in the distance. It was overlooked on two sides by rows of ancient houses, many of them wooden and all of them beautifully cared for and most of them converted into shops. She walked a little way beside the water, looking across to the mountains in the distance and then nearer to the neat colourful houses clinging to the skirts of the mountains behind the town. There was a fish market too, but she didn’t dare to stop to inspect it for more than a minute or two; quite a different matter from the fish shops at home, and she had never seen such a variety. She paused for another minute to stare across the water at a castle—she would have to find out about that, too… She had no more time; she retraced her steps, aware that there must be another way back to the flat, probably shorter—tomorrow she would discover it.

She had time to change into her uniform when she got back; there was more chance of Miss Savage doing as she was asked if she was reminded that Louisa was a nurse.

At exactly ten o’clock, Louisa tapped on the door and went in, put the tea tray down by the bed and drew the curtains. Miss Savage wakened slowly, looking very pretty but just as listless as the previous evening. She sat up slowly without answering Louisa’s cheerful good morning, merely: ‘What a hideous uniform—it doesn’t do anything for you at all, but I suppose you’d better wear it—that doctor’s coming this morning.’

‘Then you’d better stay in bed when you’ve had your breakfast,’ said Louisa cheerfully, ignoring the bit about the uniform. ‘He’ll want to examine you, I expect.’

Miss Savage yawned. ‘I don’t want any breakfast.’

‘Coffee? Rolls and butter and black cherry jam?’ invited Louisa. ‘I’ll bring it anyway.’

‘Not for ten minutes.’

It was amazing what those ten minutes did for her patient. Miss Savage was leaning back against her pillows, looking quite different, positively sparkling. What was more, she drank her coffee, ate a bit of roll and then went to have her bath without any fuss at all. Louisa made the bed and tidied the room and had Miss Savage back in it seconds before the door bell rang.

Doctor Hopland was elderly, portly and instantly likeable. His English was almost accentless and he appeared to be in no hurry. He listened to Louisa’s rather scant information about her patient, nodded his head in a thoughtful way and observed that beyond keeping an eye on Miss Savage he thought there was little he could do. ‘I have had notes of the case,’ he told Louisa. ‘Unhappily there are many such these days and you will understand that there is not a great deal to be done. Miss Savage is co-operative?’

It was hard to give an answer to that. Louisa said slowly: ‘On the whole, yes, but she does like her own way…’

‘I understand. Well, nurse, all you can do is to persuade her to eat good wholesome food and rest whenever she is tired, and as well as that get her into the fresh air. She is in bed, I take it?’

‘I thought you might like to examine her, doctor.’

‘Certainly. Shall we do that now?’

Miss Savage submitted very nicely to Doctor Hopland’s services, in fact she was so meek that Louisa was astonished, but not nearly as astonished as she was an hour later, when Miss Savage, whom she had left reading a book in bed, came into the sitting room and declared that she was going out to see something of Bergen.

So they spent an hour or two looking at the shops and Miss Savage bought several expensive trifles and an armful of books which Louisa was given to carry. ‘And how about a bottle of sherry in case anyone calls?’ asked Miss Savage gaily. ‘And don’t frown like that, Louisa, I know I mustn’t drink it. I wonder where we buy it?’

They couldn’t see a drink shop and, on reflection, Louisa couldn’t remember having passed one, so she went into the bookshop they had just left and asked one of the assistants.

‘The nearest one is on the other side of Torget, quite a walk away, and there are quite a lot of restrictions—you can only buy drinks at certain hours.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘They’re closed now and don’t open until this evening.’

Miss Savage’s voice was high and peevish. ‘I never heard such nonsense—you must get it then, I suppose.’

‘Is it so urgent?’ asked Louisa. ‘I mean, do you know anyone here who’s likely to come to see you?’

They were walking back to the flat. ‘That’s beside the point and no business of yours,’ said Miss Savage nastily. The charming mood of the morning had quite gone, as Louisa expected, and she had a difficult afternoon and an even worse evening, with her patient lolling on the sofa, refusing meals and playing the tape recorder far too loudly. It was a relief when she was told to go and buy the sherry.

She didn’t hurry. It was good to get away from the flat; besides, she was hungry, for she hadn’t been given the time to eat her own meal at midday and when tea came, Miss Savage had demanded this and that so that by the time it had been poured out, it was tepid. So now Louisa whipped into a snack bar, had a coffee and a large satisfying bun, and feeling much better, walked on down to the harbour, along Torget, with its mediaeval houses lining the pavement, and then turned up the side street whose name she had carefully written down, and found the off-licence.

It seemed a great fuss for one bottle of sherry, she decided as she walked briskly back again. It was cold now, but the shops, although closed, were still lighted and there was still a lot of traffic. She went indoors reluctantly; Eva would be gone by now and if Miss Savage was still so peevish she saw little hope of enjoying a pleasant supper.

Miss Savage was sitting at the window, watching TV and so amiable that Louisa almost dropped the bottle in surprise. What was more, her patient made no difficulties about supper. She sat down to the table and even though she ate almost nothing of it, pushed the beautifully cooked cod round the plate, chatting with the utmost good nature while Louisa thankfully ate. She went to bed presently, leaving Louisa to clear the table and then sit writing letters until she went to bed herself.

On the whole, not a bad day, thought Louisa as she laid her head on the pillow and in no time at all, slept dreamlessly.

And that first day seemed to set the pattern of all their days for the next week. Miss Savage was unpredictable, of course, but Louisa had got used to that by now; she could cope with the near-hysterical condition her patient would work herself into within minutes. She even got her to eat at least a little of each meal and, for a time each day, go for a walk. It was a pity that Miss Savage had no interest in museums and no desire to take the funicular to the top of the mountain behind the town and walk around and admire the view which Eva assured them was spectacular. Louisa promised herself that when she had some free time to herself, she would do just that. There was a restaurant there too, so that she might even possibly have her lunch there. And though the tourist trips had ceased, there were regular small steamers going to Stavanger and Haugesund and several of the fjords not too far distant. Presumably they ran all through the winter. Coming back one evening from posting letters, Louisa decided that with her first pay packet she would invest in a thicker quilted jacket; a sheepskin one would have been nice, but she didn’t think she would have enough money for that. She was certainly going to buy a couple of thick knitted sweaters with their matching caps and gloves; she had already bought wool and needles and embarked on a long scarf, and judging by the cold crisp air, she would be glad of it soon enough.

It surprised her rather that Doctor Hopland hadn’t called to see his patient again. True, he had told her to telephone if she was worried at all, and she supposed that there was little that he could do. She carefully checked her patient’s temperature and pulse each day, saw that she took her pills and did her best to see that she led a quiet pleasant life, but she felt uneasily that she wasn’t earning her salary. On the other hand, if Miss Savage should take a turn for the worse, at least she would be there to nip it in the bud and get the doctor at once.

She found such a possibility absurd when she got back to the flat. Miss Savage was sitting in the big chair by the window, playing Patience with such an air of contentment that it was hard to imagine she had anything wrong with her at all. She was charming for the rest of the evening too and astonished Louisa by saying that she should have most of the next day to herself. ‘Go out about eleven o’clock, once I’m up,’ she suggested, ‘and don’t come back until it begins to get dark—about four o’clock. I shall be fine—I feel so much better, and Eva can get my lunch before she goes, and you know I like to take a nap in the afternoon.’

Louisa looked doubtful. ‘Suppose someone calls or telephones during the afternoon—there’ll be no one there except you.’

Miss Savage shrugged her shoulders. ‘I shan’t bother to answer—they can call again, can’t they?’

Louisa went to bed quite prepared to find that in the morning her patient would have changed her mind. But she hadn’t. Indeed, she got up earlier than usual after her breakfast and urged Louisa to go out as soon as they had had their coffee. ‘And mind you don’t come back until four o’clock,’ she called gaily.

Louisa, walking smartly through the town towards the cable railway, reviewed the various instructions she had given Eva, worried for a few minutes about Miss Savage being by herself and then forgot it all in the sheer joy of being out and free to go where she liked for hours on end.

The funicular first, she had decided, and a walk once she reached the mountain top, then lunch and an afternoon browsing among the shops. There was a large department store she longed to inspect, but Miss Savage hadn’t considered it worth a visit. And she would have tea at Reimers Tea Rooms, which Eva had told her was the fashionable place for afternoon tea or morning coffee. There was a great deal more to see, of course, she would have to leave Bergenhus Castle until the next time, as well as the Aquarium and Grieg’s house by the Nordasvann lake, not to mention the museums. She hurried up the short hill which took her to the foot of the funicular, bought her ticket and settled herself in the car with a sigh of pure pleasure.

It was wonderful. She had never experienced anything like it—she had a good head for heights and craned her neck in all directions as the car crawled up the face of the mountain, and at the top she was rewarded by a view of the fjords and mountains to take her breath and when she had got it back again she walked. There were paths everywhere, and everywhere mountains and lakes and scenery to make her eyes widen with delight, and when at last she was tired, she lunched in the restaurant—soup and an omelette and coffee—and then went back down the mountain in the cable car.

It was early afternoon by now, but the flat wasn’t more than ten minutes’ walk away from Torgalmenning. Louisa walked slowly, looking in shop windows at the silver jewellery, porcelain and beautifully carved wood, took another longer look at the winter clothes set out so attractively in the boutiques and came finally to Sundt, the department store, where she spent half an hour browsing from counter to counter, working out prices rather laboriously, deciding what she would buy later. It was almost time to go back to the flat; she would have time for a cup of tea first, though. She found the tea room without trouble and sat down at one of the little tables. It was already crowded with smartly dressed women, and Louisa, once she had overcome the few small difficulties in ordering a tray of tea and one of the enormous cream cakes on display, settled down to enjoy herself. She even had an English newspaper, although as she read it England seemed very far away.

She got up to go reluctantly, but content with her day; even the thought that Miss Savage might be in one of her bad moods didn’t spoil her feeling of well-being. In fact she was quite looking forward to telling her about her outing. This happy state of mind lasted until she opened the door of the flat and started up the stairs. There were voices, loud angry voices, and then Miss Savage’s all too familiar sobbing. Louisa took the rest of the stairs two at a time, opened the inner door quietly and made for the half open sitting room door. Miss Savage was lying on the sofa, making a great deal of noise. She had been crying for some time if her puffy pink eyelids were anything to go by and from time to time she let out a small gasping shriek. She saw Louisa at once and cried in a voice thick with tears: ‘Louisa—thank God you’ve come!’

Louisa took stock of the man standing by the sofa. He was tall and spare, with dark hair and an aquiline cast of feature. Moreover, he looked furiously angry, in a towering rage in fact, so that she took a deep breath before she spoke.

‘I don’t know who you are, but you will be good enough to go at once. Miss Savage has been ill and whoever you are, you haven’t any right to upset her in this way.’ She held the door open and lifted her chin at him and met dark eyes glittering with rage.

‘The nurse?’ His voice was crisp. ‘I’m Miss Savage’s brother, and since this is strictly a family argument, I will ask you to mind your own business.’

‘Well, I won’t,’ said Louisa stoutly. ‘You may think you can bully her, but you can’t bully me.’ She opened the door a little wider. ‘Will you go?’

For answer he took the door away from her and shut it. ‘Tell me, what is my sister suffering from, Nurse? Did the doctor tell you? Did she explain when you were engaged? And the doctor here? Has he said anything to you?’

Louisa opened her mouth to speak, but Miss Savage forestalled her by uttering a series of piercing cries and then dissolving into fresh sobs. Louisa brushed past the man, wiped Miss Savage’s face for her, sat her up against the cushions and only then turned her attention to him.

‘Your sister has a blocked bile duct, she also has dyspepsia. That’s a kind of severe indigestion,’ she added in case he didn’t know, ‘I believe you wanted her to come to Norway, presumably to convalesce. We had made some progress during the last week, but I doubt if your visit has helped matters at all. Quite the contrary.’

It was annoying to see him brush her words aside as though they didn’t mean a thing. ‘You’re young. Recently trained, perhaps?’

She supposed she would have to answer him—after all, it was probably he who was paying her fees. ‘About six weeks ago.’