“Oh, I understand you very well,” said Louisa, her voice a little high with suppressed feelings.

“What a very disagreeable man you are, Mr. Savage, with your orders and arrogance. I should very much dislike having you as a patient.”

His dark eyes snapped at her. “You surprise me, Louisa. I should have thought it would have been the very thing, because I would be entirely at your mercy and you could wreak revenge to your heart’s content.” His silky voice had a nasty edge to it. He opened the door. “Perhaps we’d better keep out of each other’s way?” he said.

She agreed stiffly and when she was alone again, wondered why the prospect left her with the feeling that life would be rather dull.

Romance readers around the world were sad to note the passing of Betty Neels in June 2001. Her career spanned thirty years, and she continued to write into her ninetieth year. To her millions of fans, Betty epitomized the romance writer, and yet she began writing almost by accident. She had retired from nursing, but her inquiring mind still sought stimulation. Her new career was born when she heard a lady in her local library bemoaning the lack of good romance novels. Betty’s first book, Sister Peters in Amsterdam, was published in 1969, and she eventually completed 134 books. Her novels offer a reassuring warmth that was very much a part of her own personality. She was a wonderful writer, and she will be greatly missed. Her spirit and genuine talent will live on in all her stories.

Heaven Around the Corner
Betty Neels

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER ONE

THE SEPTEMBER SUN, shining from an early morning sky, cast its impartial light on the narrow crowded streets, the smoke-grimed houses, several quite beautiful churches and the ugly bulk of the Royal Southern Hospital, giving a glow to its red bricks and a sparkle to its many narrow windows. It was a splendid example of mid-Victorian architecture, crowned with cupolas and a highly ornamental balustrade and rendered even more hideous by reason of the iron fire escapes protruding from each wing. And inside it was even uglier, for here the sun was unable to reach all its staircases and passages, so that the dark brown paintwork and distempered walls tended to cast a damper on anyone passing through them.

But the girl going down the stairs two at a time noticed none of these things. Her neat head with its crown of light brown hair was full of excited thoughts. She had passed her State finals; she was a fully trained nurse at last—the world was her oyster. She was determined on that, despite the Principal Nursing Officer’s gracious speech as she was handed the fateful envelope. There was a place for her at the Royal Southern, that lady told her; Night Staff Nurse on the surgical wing and the prospect of a Sister’s post very shortly, and there was no need for Nurse Evans to decide at once…

But Louisa Evans had already decided instantly; she was going to leave, not only the hospital, but if possible, England too, although she prudently forbore from saying so at the time. At the end of the day, when she went off duty, she was going to write her resignation and hand it in and then she would go home for her two days off and tell her stepmother. She checked her headlong flight for a second, dreading that, but it was something which had to be done, and she had made up her mind to that weeks ago when she sat her exams.

She went along a narrow corridor, up another flight of stairs, across a wide landing and through the swing doors leading to Women’s Surgical. Just for the moment the future wasn’t important, only the delicious prospect of telling Sister and the nurses on the ward that she was an SRN.

And she had no need to tell anyone. Sister, coming out of her office, took one look at Louisa’s happy face and said: ‘You’ve passed—congratulations, but of course I knew that you would.’ And after that the news spread like wildfire, with the patients, only too glad to have something to talk about, telling each other, nodding their heads and saying, with hindsight, that of course Nurse Evans had been bound to pass, she was such a good nurse. And as for Louisa, she floated up and down the ward, doing her work with her usual efficiency while a tiny bit of her mind pondered the problems of what she should do and where she should go.

A problem solved sooner than she had expected: She had been to her midday dinner—a noisy meal she shared with friends who had reached her exalted position too—and she was back on the ward, changing Mrs Griffin’s dressing, when that lady asked her what she intended doing.

Louisa, aware of how news, false as well as true, travelled with the speed of light round the hospital, said cautiously that she hadn’t quite made up her mind, and rolling the lady carefully back into a sitting position, rearranged her pillows, smoothed the counterpane and prepared to depart with her dressing tray.

‘Well, don’t go for a minute, Nurse,’ begged Mrs Griffin. ‘Listen to this: “Trained nurse urgently required for lady patient travelling to Norway in a month’s time for an indefinite stay. Good salary and expenses paid.” What do you think of that?’ She folded the Telegraph and handed it to Louisa, who read it carefully, and having an excellent memory, noted the telephone number. ‘It sounds fun,’ she observed cheerfully. ‘Someone’ll be lucky.’ She drew back the curtains and with a parting nod raced off down the ward to clear the tray and get on with the next dressing. But before she did that, she jotted down the telephone number on to the hem of her apron.

She went off duty at five o’clock, composed her letter of resignation and handed it in for delivery to the office and then went to telephone from the box in the entrance hall. There was no one about; she could see the porter on duty, sitting with his feet up, sipping tea during his brief break. All her friends were already in the Nurses’ Home, getting dressed for the party they were all going to later on that evening. She dialled the number.

The voice at the other end asked her to wait a moment and after a few seconds another voice spoke. Louisa had had all the afternoon to rehearse what she was going to say and she was listened to without interruption. When she had finished, the voice, a woman’s, high and somehow breathless, said: ‘I have interviewed several nurses already, but none of them suit me. Come and see me tomorrow morning about eleven o’clock.’

‘I’m on duty until the early afternoon…’

‘Oh, well, the afternoon then, about three o’clock. I’m at the Connaught Hotel, and ask for Miss Savage.’

Louisa put the receiver down slowly. Miss Savage had sounded petulant; she wondered what complaint the lady suffered from, but the only way was to go and see her and find out. Even if she were offered the job, she need not accept it.

She started to stroll along the passage to the small door which opened into the Nurses’ Home. On the other hand, if she were offered the job it would be like the answer to a prayer—she had been longing to leave the hospital for some months now, not because she was unhappy there—on the contrary, she had enjoyed every minute of the three years she had spent within its walls—but because her stepmother, living not too far away, had been able to keep tabs on her for that time, knowing that she had set her heart on training as a nurse and wasn’t likely to leave the Royal Southern and was therefore unlikely to escape. But now she could do just that… She quickened her steps, intent on not being late for the party.

They had all decided to dress rather grandly for the occasion. Louisa, burrowing around in her cupboard, wasted a good deal of time deciding whether the pale blue crepe would look better than the sage green silk jersey. On second thoughts she didn’t like either of them, she had had them too long although she hadn’t worn them all that much. She chose the green and rushed off to find an empty bathroom.

Half an hour later she was dressed and ready—a rather small girl and a little too thin, with a face which wasn’t quite pretty although her eyes, large and hazel and fringed with long curling lashes, redeemed it from plainness. Her hair, long and fine and silky, she had fastened back with a silver clasp because there hadn’t been time to do anything more elaborate. Presently her friends trooped in and they all went into the hospital to the residents’ room where the housemen and some of the students had laid on a buffet supper. The room was packed already, with everyone talking at once and quite a few dancing to a barely heard tape recorder. Louisa, popular with everyone because she was ready to lend an ear to anyone who wanted it, was quickly absorbed into a group of young housemen, all of whom looked upon her as a sisterly type to whom they could confide their troubled but fleeting love affairs, for she never told them how silly they were but listened to their outpourings, giving sympathy but never advice. For a girl of twenty-two she had a wise head on her shoulders, albeit a rather shy one. Her stepmother had taken care that she had had very little chance of making friends while she was at school and when she left, until she had succeeded at last in her ambition to train as a nurse; she had been kept too busy to do more than meet the people Mrs Evans approved of, most of them elderly or at least middle-aged, so that she still retained the feeling of not quite belonging among the young people at the hospital, certainly she had shied away from any of the young men of her acquaintance who had hinted at anything more serious than a kiss, and they, once they had laughed about her among themselves, but kindly, had taken to treating her like a sister.

She joined the dancers presently and except for short pauses for food and drink, didn’t lack for partners for the rest of the evening. The party broke up around midnight and they all went their several ways, yawning their heads off and grumbling at the prospect of getting up at half past six the next morning. All the same, they made a pot of tea and crowded into Louisa’s room to drink it and discuss the party, so that it was an hour later before she went finally to bed, too tired to give a thought about the next day.

She dressed carefully for the interview in a thin wool suit with a slim skirt and a short loose jacket, it was a pretty grey and she wore a silk shirt in navy to go with it; a suitable outfit, she considered, making her look older than her years, which she considered might be a good thing.

The hotel looked grand and she went inside feeling a great deal less calm than she looked, but the reception clerk was pleasant and friendly and she was led to the lift and taken several floors up and along a thickly carpeted corridor until the porter tapped on a door and opened it for her.

Louisa had expected to be interviewed in one of the reception rooms of the hotel; presumably her patient was confined to her room. And a very handsome room it was too, splendidly furnished with wide french windows and a balcony beyond—and quite empty. She walked into the centre of the room and waited, and presently a door opened and a chambermaid beckoned her. It was an equally luxurious room, this time a bedroom, and sitting up in the wide bed was, she presumed, Miss Savage.

Miss Savage wasn’t at all what Louisa had expected her to be. She had entertained the vague idea that the lady would be elderly and frail: the woman in the bed was still young—in her thirties and pretty with it. She had golden hair cut in a fringe and hanging in a gentle curve on either side of her face, her make-up was exquisite and she was wrapped in soft pink, all frills and lace.

She stared at Louisa for what seemed a long time and then said surprisingly: ‘Well, at least you’re young.’ She nodded to a chair. ‘Sit down—you realise that we may be in Norway for some time if you come?’

Louisa said, ‘Yes,’ and added: ‘Will you tell me something of your illness? I couldn’t possibly decide until I know more about that—and you must want to know a good deal more about me.’

Miss Savage smiled slowly. ‘Actually I think you’ll do very well. You’re young, aren’t you, and haven’t been trained long.’

‘I’m twenty-two and I became a State Registered Nurse yesterday. I’ve not travelled at all…’

‘Nor met many people? From the country, are you?’

‘My home is in Kent.’

‘You won’t mind leaving it?’

‘No, Miss Savage.’

The woman picked up a mirror and idly examined her face. ‘I’ve got a liver complaint,’ she observed. ‘My doctor tells me that I have a blocked duct, whatever that is, I’m not bedridden but I get off days and he insists that if I go to Norway I should have a nurse with me.’ She shot a glance at Louisa. ‘My brother works there—he builds bridges—somewhere in the north, but I’ve arranged to take a flat in Bergen for a month or so.’

‘You have treatment, Miss Savage?’

‘Doctor Miles looks after me, he’ll recommend a doctor to treat me.’

‘Yes, of course. But if you can get about, will you require a full-time nurse?’

Miss Savage frowned. ‘Certainly I shall!’ She sounded petulant. ‘I often have bad nights—I suffer from insomnia; you’ll have more than enough to do.’ She put the mirror down and began to buff her nails. ‘I intend to go in a little over three weeks—you’ll be free then?’ She glanced up for a moment. ‘You’ll be paid whatever is the correct rate.’

Louisa sat quietly. It seemed a strange kind of interview, no talk of references or duties. She had the impression that Miss Savage wasn’t in the least interested in her as a person. The job was just what she had hoped for, but there was something about this girl that she didn’t like. That she was spoilt and liked her own way didn’t worry Louisa overmuch, but there was something else that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. On the other hand, if she didn’t take what seemed like a heaven-sent chance, she might have to stay in England.

‘I accept the job, Miss Savage,’ she said at length. ‘You will want references, of course, and I should like a letter from you confirming it. Perhaps you’ll let me know details of the journey and my duties later on? Will you be travelling alone or will your brother be with you?’

Miss Savage gave an angry laugh. ‘He’s far too busy, wrapped up in his bridges…’

Why did she want to go? thought Louisa silently. Surely Norway, unless one went there for winter sports, would be rather an unsuitable place in which to convalesce? And she had the impression that the brother wasn’t all that popular with his sister, but that was no concern of hers.

All the way back to the Royal Southern she wondered if she had done the right thing, and knew that when she got back there she had, for there was a letter from her stepmother, telling her that she was expected home on her next days off and threatening to telephone the Principal Nursing Officer if Louisa didn’t go. There were guests coming, said the letter, and they expected to meet her, and why hadn’t Louisa telephoned for a week? She was an ungrateful girl…

Louisa skimmed through the rest of the letter; it was merely a repetition of all the other letters from her stepmother. She would go home because if she didn’t there would be a lot of unpleasantness, but she wasn’t going to say a word about the new job. Perhaps once she was out of the country and out of reach of her stepmother, she would be left to lead her own life. She wrote a brief reply, scrambled into her uniform and went back on duty.

She told Sister before she went off duty that evening, and later on, after supper, those of her friends who had crowded into her room for a final pot of tea before bed, and her news was received with some astonishment. Louisa had always been considered a rather quiet girl, well liked and ready to join in any fun but unlikely to do anything out of the ordinary. There was a spate of excited talk and any amount of unsolicited advice before they finally went to their own beds.

There were two days to go before her days off. She used them to good advantage, arranging to get a passport and recklessly drawing out quite a big slice of her savings to buy new clothes. Common sense made her pause though before doing that. Supposing Miss Savage changed her mind, she might need the money…

But Miss Savage didn’t disappoint her; there was a letter confirming the job and a promise to advise her as to travel arrangements in due course. Louisa counted her money and promised herself one or two shopping excursions. But first she had to go home.

She caught an early morning train to Sevenoaks; she could have gone the evening before, but that would have meant another night to be spent at home, but now she would be there well before noon and if there were people coming to lunch, her stepmother wouldn’t have much time to talk to her. She got into the Ightham bus and settled down for the four-mile journey, looking with pleasure at the country they were going through. The trees were beginning to turn already and little spirals of blue smoke rose in the cottage gardens where the bonfires had been started. And the village looked lovely, too, with its square ringed by old houses. Linda paused to pass the time of day with some of the people who knew her and then walked up the narrow lane leading to her home.

The house was old and timbered and stood sideways on to the lane, surrounded by trees and large gardens. Louisa opened the little gate set in a corner of the hedge, well away from the drive, then walked across the grass and in through a side door leading to a low-ceilinged room furnished with rather old-fashioned chairs and small tables. There were bookshelves on either side of the open hearth and a rather shabby Turkey carpet on the floor. She was halfway across it when the door opened and Mrs Evans came in.

‘There you are!’ Her voice was sharp and held no welcome. ‘You should have come last night—Frank was here. And why on earth did you come in this way? You know this room isn’t used.’ She looked around her with a dissatisfied air. ‘So shabby and old-fashioned.’

Louisa put down her overnight bag. ‘It was Mother’s sitting room,’ she said flatly, ‘and Father loved it.’

Mrs Evans shrugged thin, elegant shoulders. ‘Did you pass your exams?’ and when Louisa nodded: ‘Thank heaven for that, now perhaps you’ll see some sense and settle down. I must say Frank’s been patient.’

‘I’ve no intention of marrying Frank, and I’m rather tired of saying so.’

‘Then you’re a fool. He’s got everything—money, that splendid house in the village, that gorgeous car and a villa in Spain. What more could a girl want? Especially when she’s not pretty. You’re not likely to get another chance like that.’ She gave Louisa a quick look. ‘You’ve not fallen in love with one of those young doctors, I hope?’

‘No. Why are you so anxious for me to marry Frank Little?’

Her stepmother’s answer was a little too careless. ‘He’s devoted to you and he’ll be generous.’

Louisa studied her stepmother; still quite young, pretty and very elegant; extravagant, too. She had been left everything in the will, but Louisa suspected that she had spent most of it during the last three years and had deliberately cultivated Frank Little, hoping for an amenable son-in-law who would pay her bills—and an equally amenable stepdaughter who would marry him.

Well, I won’t, thought Louisa. If only her stepmother had been fifteen or ten years younger she could have married him herself. The fact of her father’s marriage to a woman so much younger than himself still hurt Louisa. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she had loved him. She still wondered at his marrying her; this scheming, clever woman who had twisted him round her little finger and had never forgiven Louisa for not allowing herself to be twisted too. She could think of nothing to say and picked up her bag.

‘There are several people coming to lunch,’ said Mrs Evans. ‘You’d better go and tidy yourself.’ She turned and went out of the room ahead of Louisa and crossed the hall to the drawing room, and Louisa went upstairs to her room. While she did her face and tidied her hair she thought about leaving England; she would miss her home, but that was all. She would have to come once more before she went because her stepmother would demand it and if she refused she might wonder why. The temptation to tell her was very great, but Mrs Evans was clever enough to prevent her going. She knew so many people, influential people who could perhaps put a spoke in Louisa’s wheel. A car coming up the drive and rather noisy voices greeting each other interrupted her thoughts. She gave her unremarkable person a final inspection in the pier glass, and went downstairs.

The drawing room seemed to have a lot of people in it, but only because they were all talking at once a shade too loudly. Louisa shook hands all round, took the sherry she was offered and made small talk. She knew the five people who had arrived, but only slightly; they were friends of her stepmother’s who had never come to the house while her father was alive, but now they were regular visitors. There was one more to come, of course—Frank Little.

He came in presently, a man in his late thirties, rather short and plump, with an air of self-importance which sat ill on his round face with its weak chin. He stood in the doorway for a moment, giving everyone there a chance to greet him, and then went straight to Louisa.

‘Your dear mother assured me that you would be here,’ he stated without a greeting. ‘I know how difficult it is for you to get away.’ He took her hand and pressed it. ‘I can only hope it’s because you knew that I would be here that you came.’

Louisa took her hand away. It was a pity he was so pompous; otherwise she might have felt sorry for him. ‘I didn’t have to make any special effort to come home,’ she told him politely, ‘and I didn’t know you’d be here.’

Which wasn’t quite true; he was always there when she went home. She moved a little way from him. ‘What will you drink?’

He sat next to her at lunch, monopolising the conversation in his over-hearty voice, making no secret of the fact that he considered her to be his property.

And he was at dinner too, ill-tempered now because she had escaped that afternoon and gone for a walk—her favourite walk, to Ivy Hatch where the manor house of Ightham Moat stood. She had got back too late for tea and her stepmother had been coldly angry.

And the next day was as bad, worse in fact, for Frank had waylaid her on her way back from the village and rather blusteringly asked her to marry him, and that for the fourth time in a year.

She refused gently because although she didn’t like him she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Only when he added angrily: ‘Your mother considers me to be the perfect husband for you,’ did she turn on her heel and start walking away from him. As she went she said over her shoulder: ‘She is not my mother, Frank, and I intend to choose my own husband when I want to and not before.’

He caught up with her. ‘I’m coming up to see you this evening—I’m invited for dinner and there’ll be no one else there.’

So after tea she went to her room, packed her bag, told her stepmother that she was leaving on the next bus and went out of the house. Mrs Evans had been too surprised to do or say anything. Louisa, leaping into the bus as it was about to leave, waved cheerfully to Frank, about to cross the village square.

She arrived back at the Royal Southern quite unrepentant, prudently asked one of her friends to say that she wasn’t in the home if the telephone went and it was her stepmother, and retired to soak in a hot bath until bedtime.

The ward was busy and she spent almost all her free time shopping, so that she was too tired by the end of the day to have second thoughts about her new job. And at the end of the week she received a letter from Miss Savage confirming it, asking her to call once more so that final details might be sorted out and giving her the day and time of their flight.

And this time when Louisa got to the hotel, it was to find her future patient reclining on a chaiselongue and rather more chatty than previously. ‘Uniform,’ she observed, after a brief greeting. ‘You don’t need to travel in one, of course, but you’d better have some with you. Dark blue, I think, and a cap, of course. Go to Harrods and charge it to my account.’

‘Will you want me to wear them all the time?’

‘Heavens, no—you’ll get your free time like anyone else. Besides, I shall be going out quite a bit and I shan’t want you around.’

Louisa blinked. ‘I think I should like to see your doctor before we go.’

Miss Savage shrugged. ‘If you must. He’s a busy man—you’d better telephone him. I’ll give you his number.’ She yawned. ‘Take a taxi and come here for me—a friend will drive us to Heathrow. Be here by ten o’clock.’ She frowned. ‘I can’t think of anything else. I shall call you by your christian name—what is it? You did tell me, but I’ve forgotten.’

‘Louisa, Miss Savage.’

‘Old-fashioned, but so are you. OK, that’s settled, then. I’ll see you here in ten days’ time.’

Louisa got to her feet. She had been going to ask about clothes; after all, Norway would be colder than London, or so she supposed, but somehow Miss Savage didn’t seem to be the right person to ask. Louisa said goodbye in her composed manner and went back on duty. After her patients on the ward, with their diagnoses clearly written down and an exact treatment besides, she found Miss Savage baffling. Her doctor would remedy that, however.

But here she was disappointed. Miss Savage’s treatment was to be negligible—rest, fresh air, early nights, good food. ‘Miss Savage is on Vitamin B, of course, and I shall supply her with nicotinic acid as well. I’ve already referred her case to a Norwegian colleague who will give you any information you may wish to know. You, of course, realise that she suffers from dyspepsia and a variety of symptoms which will be treated as they arise.’

Louisa listened to the impersonal voice and when it had finished, asked: ‘Exercise, sir?’

‘Let our patient decide that, Nurse. I’m sure you understand that she’ll have days when she’s full of energy—just make sure that she doesn’t tax her strength.’

‘And notes of the case?’ persisted Louisa.

‘They’ll be sent to her doctor in Bergen.’

She put down the receiver. Miss Savage was a private patient, which might account for the rather guarded statements she had just listened to. Certainly, from her somewhat limited experience of similar cases on the wards, the treatment was very much the same, and unlike the patients in hospital, the patient would probably have more say in the matter of exercise and food. As far as Louisa could see, she was going along to keep an eye on Miss Savage, and not much else. But at least it would get her away from Frank.

The thought was so delightful that she embarked on a shopping spree which left her considerably poorer but possessed of several outfits which, while not absolutely in the forefront of fashion, did a great deal for her ego. She went home once more and because it was the last time for a long while, endured her stepmother’s ill-humour and Frank’s overbearing manner. There was less than a week to go now and she was getting excited. It was a good thing that the ward was busy so that she had little time to think about anything much except her work, and her off duty was spent in careful packing and a great number of parties given as farewell gestures by her friends.

She wrote to her stepmother the evening before she left and posted it just before she got into the taxi, with such of her friends as could be missed from their wards crowding round wishing her luck. Once the hospital was out of sight she sat back, momentarily utterly appalled at what she was doing, but only for a brief minute or so. She was already savouring the heady taste of freedom.

She was punctual to the minute, but Miss Savage wasn’t. Louisa, gathering together the bottles and lotions and stowing them tidily in an elegant beauty box, hoped they wouldn’t miss the plane. But a telephone call from reception galvanised her patient into sudden energy and within minutes there was a knock on the door and three people came in—a young woman, as elegant as Miss Savage, and two men. They rushed to embrace Miss Savage, talking loudly and laughing a great deal, ignoring Louisa and then sweeping the entire party, complete with bellboys, luggage and an enormous bouquet of flowers, downstairs. Louisa felt that she had lost touch, at least for the moment. Once they were on the plane she would get Miss Savage to rest—a light meal perhaps and a nap…

No one spoke to her and they all piled into an enormous Cadillac and roared off towards Heathrow. She sat in the back of the car, with the young woman beside her and one of the men. Miss Savage sat beside the driver, and for someone with a liver complaint who was supposed to take life easy, behaved in a wild and excitable manner, but Louisa realised that it would be useless to remonstrate with her. She was bubbling over with energy, and the man who was driving was encouraging her.

At Heathrow they got out, and to Louisa’s horror, they all booked in for the flight. One of the men must have noticed the look on her face, because he patted her on the shoulder. ‘Not to worry, Nurse—we’re only taking Claudia to Bergen. Once she’s there, she’s all yours.’

And a good thing too, thought Louisa, watching the gin and tonics Miss Savage was downing once they were in flight. They were travelling first class and the plane was barely half full, which was perhaps a good thing considering the noise she and her friends were making. They had gone quietly enough through Customs. They had arrived with only a few minutes to spare and there had been no time for chat, but once on board they had relaxed. They might have been in their own homes, so little did they notice their surroundings. To Louisa, tired and apprehensive, the flight seemed endless. She heaved a sigh of relief when the plane began its descent and through a gap in the clouds she saw the wooded islands and the sea below, and then a glimpse of distant snow-capped mountains. Just for a moment she forgot her patient and her problems, and thrilled with excitement. Here was a new world, and only time would reveal all its possibilities.

CHAPTER TWO

BERGEN AIRPORT was small compared with Heathrow. It took only minutes for them to clear Customs, summon two taxis and start the drive to Bergen. Louisa, sitting in the second car with the elder of the two men, hardly noticed him, there was such a lot to see. The country was wooded and very beautiful and the road wound between trees already glowing with autumn colour. She had been surprised to see on a signpost that Bergen was twelve miles away to the north; somehow she had expected to plunge straight into the town’s suburbs. Presently they came to a village and then another, and then after twenty minutes or so, the outskirts of Bergen. Louisa was a little disappointed, for the busy road they were now on seemed very like any other busy road anywhere in England, but only for a moment. Suddenly they were in the centre of the town, skirting a small square park surrounded by busy streets. Her companion waved a vague hand at the window. ‘Nice little tea room there,’ he volunteered, ‘very handy for the shops—Claudia’s got a flat near the theatre.’

Which, while interesting, meant nothing to Louisa.

They turned off a shopping street presently and came upon another small park set in the centre of a square of tall houses, and at its head, the theatre. The taxis stopped half way along one side and they all got out. Miss Savage’s flat was on the first floor of a solid house in the middle of a terrace of similar houses, a handsome apartment, well furnished in the modern Scandinavian style, with its own front door in the lobby on the ground floor. A pleasant-looking young woman had opened the door to them and shown them up the short flight of stairs and disappeared down a passage, to reappear presently with a tea tray. Louisa, bidden to pour tea for everyone, did so, and then at Miss Savage’s casual: ‘Have a cup yourself, Louisa, then perhaps you’d unpack? There’s a maid somewhere, see if you can find her,’ went to do as she was bid.

The flat was larger than she had supposed. She had opened doors on to three bedrooms, a bathroom and a cupboard before she came to the kitchen. There was another girl here, young and pretty and, thank heaven, speaking English.

‘Eva,’ she said as they shook hands. ‘I come each day from eight o’clock until seven o’clock in the evening. In the afternoon I go for two hours to my home.’ She smiled widely. ‘You would like coffee?’

Louisa hadn’t enjoyed the tea very much. ‘I’d love a cup, but I was going to unpack.’

‘Then first I show you your rooms and then the coffee. You are the nurse, I think?’

‘That’s right.’ Louisa followed her back down the passage; first her own room, light and airy, well furnished too, with a shower room leading from it, and then her patient’s, much larger, with a bathroom attached and a balcony looking out over the square. Louisa, fortified by the coffee and five minutes’ chat with Eva, went back there presently and started to unpack. It took quite a time, for Miss Savage had brought a large wardrobe with her; for an invalid she appeared to expect a good deal of social life. Louisa arranged the last scent bottle on the dressing table, arranged the quilted dressing gown invitingly on the bed, and went in search of her patient.

The tea party was still in full swing, only now a tray of drinks had taken the place of the tea and Miss Savage’s pale face was flushed. Before Louisa could say anything, one of the men called out: ‘All right, nurse, we’re just off—got a plane to catch. Look after our Claudia, won’t you?’ He winked broadly: ‘Keep her on the straight and narrow!’

Their goodbyes took another five minutes and when they had gone the room was quiet again. Quiet until Miss Savage burst into tears, storming up and down the room, muttering to herself, even waving her arms around. All the same, she managed to look as pretty as ever, like a little girl who couldn’t get her own way. Louisa’s kind heart melted at the sight of her; with a little difficulty she urged her patient to sit down and then sat beside her. ‘You’re tired,’ she said in her quiet, sensible voice. ‘It’s been a long day, and it’s not over yet. Suppose you have a nap for an hour and Eva and I will get a meal ready for you. You haven’t eaten much, have you?’

‘I want to go home,’ mumbled Miss Savage, and buried her head against Louisa’s shoulder.

‘Then why don’t you? We can pack up in no time at all and after you’ve had a good night’s rest we can get a flight back…’

‘Fool!’ declared Miss Savage. ‘Do you really suppose I wanted to come? To leave my friends and all the fun…’

Louisa, who hadn’t taken offence at being called a fool, quite understanding that her companion was suffering strong feelings about something or other, had asked merely: ‘Then why did you come, Miss Savage?’

‘He made me, of course. I have to live, don’t I, and if he stops my allowance what am I to do?’

‘Who’s he?’ enquired Louisa gently. ‘You don’t have to tell me, only it might make it easier if you did—perhaps we can think of something.’

‘My beastly brother. I detest him—he’s mean and high-handed and he made me come here so that he can make sure that I don’t spend too much money—and don’t have my friends.’

‘Very unreasonable,’ commented Louisa. ‘And what about me? I cost money, don’t I?’

‘Oh, he pays for you—it was one of the conditions…’ Miss Savage paused and rearranged her words. ‘The doctor said I had to have someone to look after me…’

‘I should think so indeed!’ declared Louisa indignantly. She still didn’t like Miss Savage overmuch, but probably her way of life was the result of having a despot of a brother who bullied her. ‘Does your brother know you came here today?’

Miss Savage nodded. ‘Yes—but you needn’t worry, he won’t come here. He’s miles away—the last I heard of him he was north of Tromso, that’s on the way to the North Pole—well, it’s a long way beyond the Arctic Circle.’

Louisa produced a handkerchief and wiped Miss Savage’s face for her. ‘I can’t quite see why you had to come to Norway. If your brother wanted you to lead a quieter life, couldn’t you have gone to live for a time in the country in England? It would have been much cheaper.’

She couldn’t see her patient’s face so she didn’t see the cunning look upon it. Miss Savage sounded quite convincing when she said: ‘But my friends would still come and see me!’

‘You’ll make friends here,’ declared Louisa. ‘I thought the town looked delightful, didn’t you? In a few days, when you’ve rested, we’ll explore. There are bound to be English people living here.’

Miss Savage sat up. She said: ‘You’re much nicer than I thought you were. I daresay we’ll have quite a good time here. You will help me, won’t you? I mean, if I make friends and go out sometimes?’

Louisa answered her cautiously: ‘Yes, of course, but you have to rest, you know, but I don’t see why we shouldn’t work out some sort of a routine so that you can enjoy yourself. No late nights, at least until the doctor says so, and take your pills without fail and eat properly and rest—that’s important.’

‘It all sounds utterly dreary,’ Miss Savage smiled charmingly at her, ‘but I’ll be good, really I will.’

Suiting the action to the word, she went to her room, took off her dress and allowed Louisa to tuck her up under the duvet.

Louisa unpacked, consulted with Eva about their evening meal and then, for lack of anything else to do for the moment, went to sit by the sitting room window. There were people in the street below, hurrying home from work, she supposed, taking a short cut across the little park and disappearing round the corner of the theatre at the far end. The sky was clear, but there was a brisk little wind blowing the leaves around and she wondered what it would be like when autumn gave way to winter. From what she had seen of the town she was sure she was going to like it. She hoped she had brought enough warm clothing with her: Miss Savage’s luggage had contained thick woollies and a couple of anoraks and fur-lined boots, and there was a mink coat which one of the men had carried for her… Her thoughts were interrupted by the telephone and she went to answer it quickly before it disturbed her patient. A man’s voice, slow and deep, asking something or other.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand you…’

‘You are the nurse?’

‘I’m Miss Savage’s nurse, yes.’

‘I should like to speak to her. Her brother.’

‘She’s resting—we only arrived an hour or so ago. Perhaps you’ll ring tomorrow.’ Louisa’s voice was cool, but not nearly as cold as the man on the other end of the line.

‘I shall ring when it is convenient to me,’ he said, and hung up on her, leaving her annoyed and quite sure that he was just about the nastiest type she had ever encountered. Why, even Frank seemed better!

She told Miss Savage later, when that lady, remarkably revived by her nap, joined her in the sitting room.

‘And that’s the last I’ll hear from him—obviously he’s no intention of coming to see me.’ She sounded delighted. ‘If he rings again, Louisa, you’re to say that I’m shopping or asleep or something. I’m hungry, have you arranged something or shall I go out?’

‘Eva has cooked a meal for us; it’s all ready being kept hot. Eva goes in a few minutes.’

‘What a bore! Oh, well, you’ll have to do the chores.’

It hardly seemed the time to point out that she was a nurse, not a maid; Louisa prudently held her tongue and went to tell Eva that she could dish up.

Miss Savage’s vivacity lasted for the whole of the meal, although her appetite, after a few mouthfuls of the excellently cooked cod, disappeared entirely—indeed, presently she got up from the table, leaving Louisa, who was famished, to hurry through her meal, which seemed a shame, for the pudding was good, too, and the coffee following it excellent. At least Miss Savage accepted coffee, lying back on the big sofa facing the window, looking suddenly as though she’d been on her feet for days and hadn’t slept a wink.

‘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.’

His laugh wasn’t nice and she flushed angrily. ‘Probably you’re a good nurse,’ he observed in a voice which gave the lie to the statement, ‘but you’re inexperienced—just what Claudia was looking for.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘No? I suggest that you put Claudia to bed—she must be exhausted after such a display of emotion. Tell Eva to give her some tea and then come back here. I want to talk to you.’

‘I don’t think there’s much point in that.’

His voice was soft. ‘Probably not, but I must point out that I employ you, even if it was my sister who engaged you.’ He went to the door and opened it and stood waiting. He had his temper under control by now, and he looked dangerous. Louisa helped Miss Savage on to her feet and walked her out of the room. She said in a voice which shook only very slightly: ‘You’re despicable, Mr Savage.’

He gave a short laugh. ‘Shall we say half an hour, Nurse?’

She didn’t answer.

CHAPTER THREE

HALF AN HOUR wasn’t nearly long enough in which to regain her cool, thought Louisa, and walked, outwardly composed and inwardly quaking, into the sitting room. Mr Savage was standing at the window, looking out and jingling the loose change in his pockets, and she brightened a little. Perhaps he had recovered from his nasty temper—but when he turned round she saw with regret that she was mistaken; his mood was as black as ever although at the moment he had it under control. She didn’t much care for the iciness of his voice when he spoke, though.

‘Ah, Nurse, I was beginning to wonder if your courage had deserted you.’

Louisa was, for the most part, a mild-tempered girl, prepared to give rather more than she took, but only up to a point. ‘I can’t quite see,’ she observed in a reasonable voice, ‘what I have to be courageous about. True, I dislike being bullied, but a loud voice and a nasty temper don’t count for much, when all’s said and done.’

She crossed the room and sat down on a small hard chair because it was easier to be dignified like that. Her companion’s eyes narrowed. ‘Clever, are you?’ he wanted to know. ‘I’ve a few questions to ask, and I want truthful answers.’

She stared back at him. ‘I can lie with the best of them,’ she assured him, ‘but never about patients.’

He laughed unpleasantly. ‘I’ll have to take your word for that. Tell me, why did my sister engage you?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Well, she wanted a nurse to accompany her here.’

‘There were other applicants?’

‘Oh, yes—she told me, but they were all older and she wanted someone younger.’

‘Ah, and inexperienced.’

She let that pass. ‘Why?’

‘I’m asking the questions, Nurse. What’s your name?’

‘Evans—Louisa Evans.’

‘Well, Nurse Evans, presumably you saw my sister’s doctor?’

‘Naturally, and he gave me my instructions and informed me as to the nature of Miss Savage’s illness.’

He gave her a sharp look, eyebrows lifted in faint surprise. ‘So you know all there is to know about her?’

She surveyed him coolly. So he thought her incapable of doing her job just because she was young and not greatly experienced, did he? She drew a breath and recited the details of her patient’s condition, adding kindly, ‘If you don’t understand the medical terms I’ll explain…’

He turned a fulminating look upon her. ‘It would be unwise of you to be frivolous, Nurse Evans. I shouldn’t try if I were you.’

‘I’m not. You’re not a doctor, are you?’

‘I’m a civil engineer, I build bridges. The reason I asked you that question may not be apparent to you at the moment.’

‘It’s not.’ She got to her feet. ‘At least, I daresay you think I’m not old or wise enough to look after your sister. I hope you feel better about it now. She’s making a little progress, or was… I don’t know why you had to upset her, Mr Savage, and I don’t want to be impertinent, but your visit hasn’t helped much, has it?’ Her tongue tripped on, speaking the thoughts she had no intention of uttering. ‘I can’t for the life of me think why she had to come to Norway. She must have a home somewhere in England; I don’t believe she lives in a London hotel; she told me that she came because you made her…but there’s no reason for that, surely? You work miles away, don’t you?’

He had come to stand close to her, his face expressionless, but all the same Louisa had an urge to retreat behind the nearest chair, sternly suppressed. She had the extraordinary feeling that he was on the point of telling her something and at the last minute changed his mind. When he did speak it was to say: ‘I wanted her to be nearer to me so that I could visit her easily. I should perhaps explain that we’re not the best of friends, Nurse Evans. Claudia is my stepsister, she’s only a little younger than I, and we met for the first time when my father married her mother, who had been a widow for some years. We are, in fact, not related—all the same, as we bear the same name I feel some responsibility towards her.’ He looked down at her and actually smiled—a thin smile. ‘She’s been seen by a doctor since you arrived here? I did arrange…’

Louisa said impatiently: ‘Yes, the doctor came. I have his phone number and he’ll call again in a week’s time.’

‘He gave you no further instructions?’ Mr Savage’s deep voice sounded curt.

‘No, none at all. He told me to carry on as before and to call him if I was worried about anything.’

He moved away from her at last and went to stand at the window again, half turned away from her. ‘There seems little point in staying,’ he said at length, and turned to look at her, frowning. ‘I’m not sure if I’m doing the right thing…’

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