Promise of Happiness. Бетти Нилс

before the leisurely process of getting ready for bed.

      The next day was fine and warm, the sea was calm and very blue and the shores of Norway, towering on either side of the Trondheimsfjord, looked magnificent. Becky, released from the patient’s company for an hour, hung over the rail, not missing a thing; the tiny villages in the narrow valleys, the farms perched impossibly on narrow ledges half way up the mountains with apparently no way of reaching them, the camping sites on the edge of the water and the cosy wooden houses. It was only when Trondheim came into sight, still some way off on a bend of the fjord, that she went reluctantly back to the Baroness. She had packed earlier, there was little left to do other than eat their lunch and collect the last few odds and ends, but there would be ample time for that; the Baroness had elected to wait until the passengers who were going on the shore excursions had left the ship; they would have to go ashore by tender, and Becky knew enough of her patient by now to guess that that lady avoided curious glances as much as possible.

      The passengers were taken ashore with despatch and wouldn’t return until five o’clock. Becky, sent on deck to take a breath of air while her patient enjoyed a last-minute chat with the ship’s doctor, the purser and the first officer, watched the last tender returning from the shore. Trondheim looked well worth a visit and she longed to get a closer look. It was nice to think that she would have two or three weeks in which to explore it thoroughly. There was a lot to see; the cathedral, the old warehouses, the royal palace, the Folk Museum…she pitied the passengers who had just gone ashore and who would have to view all these delights in the space of a few hours. One of the young officers who had come to the Baroness’s cabin joined her at the rail. ‘You get off here, don’t you?’ he asked in a friendly voice. He glanced at her trim uniform. ‘Will you get time to look around Trondheim?—it’s a lovely old place.’

      ‘Oh, I’m sure I shall—I don’t have to work hard, you know. The Baroness is kindness itself and I get free time each day just like anyone else.’ She smiled at him. ‘I loved being on board this ship.’

      He smiled back at her; he was a nice young man with a pretty girl at home waiting to marry him and he felt vague pity for this small plain creature, who didn’t look plain at all when she smiled. He said now: ‘Well, I hope you enjoy your stay in Norway. Do you go back to Holland with the Baroness?’

      ‘Yes, just for a little while, then I’ll get a job there.’

      He looked at her curiously. ‘Don’t you want to go back to England?’

      She was saved from answering him by the stewardess coming in search of her to tell her that the Baroness was ready to go ashore now. Getting that lady into the tender was a delicate operation involving careful lifting while Becky hovered over the plastered leg, in a panic that the tender would give a lurch and it would receive a thump which would undo all the good it had been doing. But nothing happened, the Baroness was seated at last, the leg carefully propped up before her and Becky beside her, their luggage was stowed on board, and they made the short trip to the shore. Here the same procedure had to be carried out, although it wasn’t quite as bad because there were no stairs to negotiate. Becky nipped on to the wooden pier and had the wheelchair ready by the time the Baroness was borne ashore. Escorted by a petty officer, they made their way off the pier to the land proper.

      There were a lot of people about and a couple of officials who made short work of examining their papers before waving them on to where a Saab Turbo was waiting. The lady sitting in the car got out when she saw them coming, not waiting for her companion, and ran to meet them. She was a small woman, a little older than the Baroness and very like her in looks. The two ladies embraced, both talking at once, and only broke off when the elderly gentleman who had been in the car reached them. The Baroness embraced him too and embarked on another conversation to stop in the middle of a sentence and say in English: ‘I am so excited, you must forgive me, I had forgotten my dear Becky. She has looked after me so very well and she is going to stay with me until I return home.’ She turned to Becky standing quietly a few paces away. ‘Becky, come and meet my sister and brother-in-law. Mijnheer and Mevrouw van Denne—he is Consul here and will know exactly the right places for you to see while you are here. And now if I could be put in the car…?’

      An oldish man joined them and was introduced as Jaap the chauffeur, between them Becky and he lifted the Baroness into the back seat where she was joined by the Consul and his wife while Becky, having seen the chair and the luggage safely stowed in the boot, got in beside Jaap.

      She tried to see everything as they went through the city, of course, but she would have needed eyes all round her head. But she glimpsed two department stores and a street of pleasant shops with other streets leading from it and she had the palace pointed out to her, an imposing building built entirely of wood, then they were in a wide street with the cathedral at its far end. But they didn’t get as far as that; half way down Jaap turned into a tree-lined avenue with large houses, before one of which he slowed to turn again into a short drive and stop before its solid front door. They had arrived. Becky drew a deep breath to calm herself. It would never do to get too excited; she was a nurse and must preserve a calm front, but her eyes shone with delight and her pale face held a nice colour for once. The Baroness, watching her with some amusement, decided that she wasn’t only a nice girl, she was—just now and again—quite a pretty one, too.

      CHAPTER THREE

      THE HOUSE WAS surprisingly light inside and furnished with large, comfortable furniture. The whole party crossed the hall and went into a lofty sitting room with a splendid view of the cathedral in the distance, and the Baroness, still talking, was transferred from her wheelchair to a high-backed winged chair while coffee and little cakes were served by a cheerful young woman whom the Baroness’s sister introduced as Luce. She added, smiling at Becky, ‘And you do not mind if we call you Becky?’ Her English was as good as her sister’s.

      ‘Please do,’ said Becky, and was interrupted by her patient with: ‘And tomorrow morning, my dear, you shall go to the shops as soon as you have helped me, and buy yourself some pretty clothes. It is a good idea to wear uniform, I know, but now you will get some free time each day and then you will want to go out and enjoy yourself.’

      Her three companions turned to look at her kindly, but she could also see doubt in their elderly faces. If she had been pretty, she thought wryly, she would probably have a simply super time, as it was she would have to content herself with a round of museums and places of interest. She gave herself a mental shake, appalled at her self-pity; good fortune was smiling on her at last, and she had no need to be sorry for herself. She agreed with enthusiasm tempered with a reminder that exercises for the day hadn’t yet been done and since the family doctor was going to call that evening, it might be as well if they were done and over before he arrived—a remark which was the signal to convey the Baroness to her room on the ground floor. It was a charming apartment and extremely comfortable with a bathroom leading from it and on the other side of that, a smaller but just as comfortable room for Becky. The exercises over, she settled her patient back into a chair by the window and prepared to unpack, a task which was frequently interrupted by her companion who was watching the traffic in the distance and declared that she could see the coachloads of passengers off the ship on their way to the cathedral. ‘You must go there,’ she declared. ‘It is quite beautiful— I should like to see it again myself.’