The Storm Sister Page 11

  The shock of hearing the familiar, resonant tones of the voice that had comforted me from childhood forced me to interrupt the conversation.

  ‘Hello?!’ I said, hurriedly reaching over and turning the CD player down to make absolutely sure it was him.

  But the voice at the other end had become a monotonous bleeping, and I knew he had gone.

  I sat, gulping in breaths, then stood up, went into the hall and shouted for Ma. My cries also brought Claudia running from the kitchen. By now, I was sobbing hysterically and as Ma appeared at the top of the stairs, I went towards her.

  ‘Ally, chérie, what on earth is the matter?’

  ‘I . . . I just heard him, Ma! I heard him!’

  ‘Who, chérie?’

  ‘Pa Salt! He was speaking on the line when I picked up the study phone to dial a number. Oh my God! He’s not dead, he isn’t dead!’

  ‘Ally.’ I saw Ma shoot Claudia a sharp glance as she put an arm around me and led me into the drawing room. ‘Please, chérie, try and calm down.’

  ‘How can I?! I knew instinctively that he wasn’t dead, Ma, which means he’s somewhere still alive. And someone in this house was talking to him . . .’ I looked at her accusingly.

  ‘Ally, really, I understand what you think you heard, but there is a simple explanation for it.’

  ‘And what on earth could that be?’

  ‘The telephone rang a few minutes ago. I heard it but was too far away to pick it up, so it clicked into voicemail. What I’m sure you heard was your father’s voicemail message.’

  ‘But I was sitting right in front of the handset and I didn’t hear the telephone ring before I picked it up!’

  ‘But you were playing music very loudly, Ally. I could certainly hear it all the way upstairs in my room. Perhaps the ring was drowned out.’

  ‘You’re sure that you weren’t on the telephone to him? Or maybe Claudia was?’ I asked her desperately.

  ‘Ally, however much you need me to tell you something different, I’m afraid that I can’t. Do you want to use your mobile and dial the house number? If you leave it for four rings, you’ll hear your father’s voice message. Try it, please,’ she entreated me.

  I shrugged, now feeling embarrassed that I had accused Ma and Claudia of lying to me.

  ‘No, of course I believe you,’ I said. ‘I just . . . wanted it to be him. To think that this whole terrible situation had all been a mistake.’

  ‘It’s what we all wish, Ally, but your father’s gone, and nothing any of us can do will bring him back.’

  ‘Yes, I know. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t apologise, chérie. If there’s anything I can do . . .’

  ‘No,’ I said as I stood up. ‘I’ll go and make my phone call.’

  Marina smiled at me with sympathy in her eyes as I walked back into Pa Salt’s study, where I sat down once more at the desk and studied the phone. Picking up the receiver, I dialled Theo’s number and his mobile phone went to voicemail. Wanting to speak to the real thing and not a machine, I replaced the receiver abruptly without leaving a message.

  Then I remembered that I still needed to look for the book that Pa Salt had wanted me to read. Standing up and scanning the titles of the ‘H’ section in the bookshelves, I found it within a few seconds and pulled it off the shelf.

  Grieg, Solveig og Jeg

  En biografi av Anna og Jens Halvorsen

  Jens Halvorsen

  Not understanding any more than that this was some form of biography, I took it back to the desk and sat down.

  The book was obviously old, the pages inside it yellowing and frail. I saw the date of publication was 1907 – exactly one hundred years ago. Being a musician, I immediately knew to what Mr Halvorsen was almost certainly referring. Solveig was the sad heroine in Ibsen’s poem and featured in the world-famous music written to accompany the stage play by the composer Edvard Grieg. Turning a further page, I saw there was also a foreword in which I recognised the words ‘Grieg’ and ‘Peer Gynt’. But sadly, that was all I could read, as the rest of the words were in what I presumed was Norwegian – the native language of both Grieg and Ibsen – and therefore indecipherable.

  With a sigh of disappointment, I leafed through the pages and found some black-and-white plates depicting a tiny woman in theatrical costume, dressed as a country peasant. Below the plate, it read, ‘Anna Landvik som Solveig, September 1876’. I studied the photographs intently, and realised that whoever Anna Landvik was, she’d been very young when the photograph had been taken. Underneath the heavy stage make-up, the girl looked barely older than a child. I leafed through the other plates and saw her as she grew older, and then did a double take as I stared at the familiar features of Edvard Grieg himself. Anna Landvik was standing by a grand piano and Grieg was behind it, applauding her.

  There were other plates too, of a handsome young man – the biographer of the book – sitting formally in a photograph next to Anna Landvik, who was holding a young child in her arms. Frustrated by the fact that the book could reveal little more to me due to the language barrier, I felt my curiosity pique. I needed to get it translated, and thought that Maia, being a translator herself, would probably know of someone who could help.

  Given my musicality, the thought that my ancestors might have had a connection with one of the great composers – and one who was a particular favourite of mine and Pa’s – was deeply moving. Was this why he had loved the Peer Gynt Suite so much? Maybe he’d played it to me because he knew of my connection to it.

  Once again, I mourned his passing and the questions that would always remain unanswered.

  ‘Chérie, are you all right?’

  Stirred out of my thoughts, I looked up to see Ma standing in the doorway. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You were reading?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, putting a protective hand over the book.

  ‘Well, lunch is ready on the terrace.’

  ‘Thank you, Ma.’

  Over a goat’s cheese salad and a glass of chilled white wine, I again apologised to Ma for my hysterical outburst earlier.

  ‘Really, there’s no need,’ comforted Ma. ‘So, we both know about Maia, but you have said very little about yourself. Tell me, how you are, Ally? I feel there is something good that has happened. You too look different.’

  ‘Actually . . . the thing is, Ma, I’ve met someone as well.’

  ‘I thought you had,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘Which is why I didn’t receive everyone’s voice messages. I was with him when Pa died and I’d switched my phone off,’ I blurted out suddenly, needing to get the truth off my chest. ‘I’m so, so sorry. I feel so guilty, Ma.’

  ‘Well, you shouldn’t. Who was to know what would happen?’

  ‘The truth is,’ I sighed, ‘I feel I’m on an emotional rollercoaster – I don’t think I’ve ever been happier or sadder, all at the same time. It’s very strange. I feel guilty about being happy.’

  ‘I doubt very much that your father would want you to feel like that, chérie. So, who is this man who has stolen your heart?’

  I then told her everything. And even just speaking Theo’s name made me feel better.

  ‘Is he “the one”, Ally? I’ve certainly never heard you talk of any man like this before.’

  ‘I think he might be, yes. In fact, he’s . . . well, he’s proposed.’

  ‘Goodness!’ Ma looked at me in surprise. ‘And have you accepted?’

  ‘I have, yes, although we won’t get married for ages, I’m sure. But he gave me this.’ I tugged the silver chain from beneath my collar and showed her the evil eye pendant. ‘I know it’s ridiculously fast, but it just feels so right. For both of us. And you know me, Ma, I’ve never been one to get carried away romantically, so this has all come as a bit of a shock.’

  ‘I do know you, Ally, and that’s why I realise that this must be serious.’

  ‘He reminds me of Pa, as a matter of fact. I wish he could have met Theo,’ I
sighed, taking a mouthful of the salad. ‘Changing the subject, do you think Pa genuinely wanted us all to go and find out where we came from?’

  ‘I think he wished to provide you with the necessary information, in case you ever wanted to. Of course, it is up to you to decide.’

  ‘Well, it certainly seems to have helped Maia. While she was finding out about her past, she found her future at the same time.’

  ‘Yes, she did,’ said Ma.

  ‘But I think I may have already found mine, without needing to delve into my history. Perhaps I’ll investigate one day, but not now. I just want to try to enjoy the present and see where it leads.’

  ‘And so you should. I hope that you’ll bring Theo here soon so that I can meet him.’

  ‘I will, Ma,’ I said as I smiled at the thought of such an occasion. ‘I promise.’

  After several days of Claudia’s home-cooking, regular sleep and the glorious July weather, I felt refreshed and calm. I’d taken the Laser out onto the lake every afternoon and enjoyed leisurely sailing sessions. And as the sun beat down, I’d lain on the boat letting my feelings for Theo suffuse me. I felt closer both to him and to Pa when I was out on the water. Slowly, I realised I was coming to terms with losing Pa and beginning to accept it. And although I’d told Marina I wasn’t going to investigate my past for now, I’d already emailed Maia to ask if she knew a Norwegian translator. She’d said she didn’t, but would make some enquiries. A couple of days later, she had emailed me back with the contact details for a Magdalena Jensen. I’d called and spoken to Magdalena, and she’d said she would be happy to begin translating the book for me. After taking photocopies of the cover and of the photographs just in case the book got lost, I’d carefully packaged it up and sent it to her by FedEx.

  As I packed my rucksack in readiness to travel over to the Isle of Wight, just off the coast of England, to begin training, a tingle of trepidation ran up my spine at what was to come. The Fastnet Race was a serious undertaking and Theo would be in command of a hand-picked and highly experienced crew of twenty. I myself had never attempted anything so challenging. I would need to be on my mettle and prepared to watch and learn. In retrospect, it was a huge honour that Theo had even asked me.

  ‘Ready to go?’ said Ma as I appeared in the hall with my rucksack and my flute, which Theo had asked me to bring along again. He seemed to genuinely love hearing me play.

  ‘I am.’

  She drew me to her and embraced me, and I felt enveloped in all the comfort and security she represented.

  ‘You will take care in the race, won’t you, chérie?’ she asked as we left the house to walk down to the jetty.

  ‘Please don’t worry, Ma. I have the best captain there is, I promise. Theo will keep me safe.’

  ‘Then just make sure you listen to him, won’t you, Ally? I know how strong-minded you can be.’

  ‘Of course I will,’ I said with a wry smile, thinking how well she knew me.

  ‘Keep in touch, Ally,’ she called, watching me steer the launch out from the jetty as Christian threw the lines and himself aboard.

  ‘I will, Ma.’

  And as the launch accelerated along the lake, I felt that I was truly sailing towards my future.

  10

  ‘Hello, Ally.’

  I stared at Theo in surprise, while the melting pot of humanity that was London Heathrow airport surged past me. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘And what kind of a question is that? Anyone would think you weren’t pleased to see me,’ he grumbled playfully, before pulling me into his arms in the centre of the arrivals channel and kissing me.

  ‘Of course I’m pleased!’ I giggled as we came up for air, thinking how he always managed to confound my expectations. ‘I thought you were busy on the Tigress. Come on,’ I added, disentangling myself from him, ‘we’re causing a human traffic jam here.’

  He led me out of the terminal to the taxi rank. ‘Hop in,’ he said as he issued the driver with instructions.

  ‘Surely we’re not taking a taxi all the way down to the ferry for the Isle of Wight?’ I queried as we set off. ‘It’s miles away.’

  ‘No, of course we’re not, Ally. But given that once we get there, we’ll be training full on, I thought it might be a nice idea for us to have a night together before I become “Skipper” again and you’re just “Al”.’ With that, he wrapped me against him. ‘Missed you, sweetheart,’ he whispered.

  ‘Me too,’ I said, seeing the taxi driver smirking at us in his rear-view mirror.

  To my utter surprise and delight, the taxi pulled up in front of Claridge’s hotel, where Theo checked us in to a room. We proceeded to spend a glorious afternoon and evening making up for lost time. Before I switched off the light that night, I looked at him sleeping beside me, drinking him in. And knew I belonged wherever he was.

  ‘Right, before we get on the train to Southampton, we have to pay a duty call,’ Theo said as we ate breakfast in bed the next morning.

  ‘Do we? To whom?’

  ‘My mother. I’m sure I’ve told you she lives here in London and she’s dying to meet you. So I’m afraid you’ll have to get that perfect backside of yours out of bed while I take a shower.’

  I got up and rifled through my belongings, fretting about the fact that I was – to all intents and purposes – about to meet my future mother-in-law. I didn’t have anything smarter than the jeans, sweatshirts and trainers I’d packed for the rare evenings when I wasn’t on the boat and dressed from head to toe in Gore-Tex – the weatherproof but deeply unsexy sister of Lycra.

  I walked into the bathroom to hunt through my washbag for my token mascara and lipstick, but realised I must have left them at Atlantis. ‘I don’t even have any make-up with me,’ I wailed to Theo through the shower door.

  ‘Ally, I love you unadorned,’ he said as he emerged from the steamy cubicle. ‘You know how I loathe women who wear a lot of make-up. Now, can you hurry up and get into the shower? We need to leave pronto.’

  Forty minutes later, after driving through a maze of streets that Theo told me were in an area of London called Chelsea, the taxi drew up outside a pretty white townhouse. Three marble steps led to the front door, on either side of which stood stone pots overflowing with sweet-smelling gardenias.

  ‘Here we are,’ he said as he bounded up the steps, took a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. ‘Mum?’ he called as we entered the hallway and I followed him along a narrow corridor into an airy kitchen, dominated by a rustic oak table and a huge Welsh dresser crammed with brightly-coloured pottery.

  ‘Out here, darling!’ chimed a female voice through the open French windows.

  We walked out onto a stone terrace, where a slim woman with dark blonde hair pulled back into a short ponytail was pruning roses in the small but abundantly stocked walled garden.

  ‘Mum was brought up in the English countryside and tries to recreate it in the centre of London,’ Theo murmured fondly as the woman looked up and acknowledged us both with a delighted smile.

  ‘Hello, darling. Hello, Ally.’

  As she walked towards me, the same intense gaze of her son fell upon me from her cornflower-blue eyes. I thought she was extraordinarily pretty, with the doll-like features and pale skin of the typical English rose.

  ‘I’ve heard so much about you, I feel I know you already,’ she said as she kissed me warmly on both cheeks.

  ‘Hi, Mum,’ Theo said as he hugged her. ‘You’re looking well.’

  ‘Am I? I was counting the grey hairs in the mirror only this morning.’ She gave a mock sigh. ‘Sadly, age comes to us all. Now, what can I get you both to drink?’

  ‘Coffee?’ asked Theo as he looked at me enquiringly.

  ‘Perfect,’ I agreed. ‘By the way, what’s your mother’s name?’ I whispered to Theo as we followed her back into the house. ‘I don’t think I’m quite at the stage where I can address her as “Mum”.’

  ‘God, sorry! Her name is Celia.’ Theo
reached for my hand and squeezed it. ‘Okay?’

  ‘Yes, absolutely.’

  Over coffee, Celia asked me about myself and then when I told her about Pa Salt’s death, she comforted me with warmth and sympathy. ‘I don’t think any child recovers fully from the loss of a parent, especially a daughter who loses her father. I know I was devastated when I lost mine. The most you can hope for is acceptance. And it’s still very early days for you, Ally. I hope my son isn’t working you too hard,’ she added, eyeing Theo.

  ‘He really isn’t, Celia. And to be honest, hanging around moping makes everything much worse. I find it’s better to keep busy.’

  ‘Well, I’ll certainly be very glad when this Fastnet Race is over. And maybe when you have children of your own, you’ll understand that my heart’s in my mouth for the entirety of every race Theo enters.’

  ‘Honestly, Mum. I’ve competed in it twice before and I know what I’m doing,’ Theo protested.

  ‘And he really is a magnificent skipper, Celia. His crew would do anything for him,’ I added.

  ‘I’m sure, and of course I’m extremely proud of him, but I do sometimes wish he’d chosen to be an accountant or a stockbroker, or at least something that wasn’t quite so fraught with danger.’

  ‘Come on, Mum, you’re not normally so anxious. As we’ve discussed over and over again, I could get run over by a bus tomorrow. And besides, it’s you who taught me to sail in the first place.’ He nudged her affectionately.

  ‘Forgive me, I’ll shut up. As I said earlier, it must be old age setting in and all the maudlin thoughts that go with it. Talking of which, have you seen or heard from your father recently?’ Celia asked him and I heard the slight edge to her voice.

  Theo paused for a second before replying. ‘Yes. He sent me an email saying he was at his house in the Caribbean.’

  ‘Alone?’ Celia raised an elegantly arched eyebrow.

  ‘No idea. And neither do I care,’ said Theo firmly, immediately changing the subject by asking his mother if she was going abroad during August.