Promise of Happiness. Бетти Нилс

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      The rest of the day passed pleasantly enough with the Baroness remarkably amenable when called upon to do her exercises. The moment they got on shore at Trondheim, Becky had been told to instruct her in the use of crutches, something she wasn’t looking forward to over-much. The Baroness could be a trifle pettish if called upon to do something she didn’t fancy doing, and yet Becky already liked her; she had probably spent a spoilt life with a doting husband and now a doting son, having everything she wanted within reason, but she could be kind too and thoughtful of others, and, Becky reminded herself, she had a wonderful job; well paid, by no means exhausting and offering her the chance of seeing something of the world.

      There were almost two days before they would arrive at Trondheim, and Becky found that they went too quickly. A good deal of time was spent on deck, the Baroness in her wheelchair, Becky sitting beside her while they carried on a gentle flow of small talk. There was plenty to talk about; the distant coastline of Sweden and then Norway, their fellow passengers, the day’s events on board; there was so much to do and even though neither of them took part in any of them, it was fun to discuss them. The Captain was giving a cocktail party that evening, but the Baroness had declared that nothing would persuade her to go to it in a wheelchair; they would dine quietly in her stateroom as usual, and Becky didn’t mind; she had nothing to wear and the idea of appearing at such a glittering gathering in a nurse’s uniform didn’t appeal to her in the least. All the same, it would have been fun to have seen some of the dresses…

      The Baroness liked to dress for the evening. Becky, helping her into a black chiffon gown and laying a lacy shawl over her knees, wished just for a moment that they had been going to the party, it seemed such a waste…

      It wasn’t a waste. Instead of the sherry which the steward brought to the stateroom, he carried a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, and following hard on his heels was the Captain himself, accompanied by several of his officers, and they were followed by more stewards bearing trays of delicious bits and pieces, presumably to help the champagne down. Becky, with a young officer on either side of her, intent on keeping her glass filled and carrying on the kind of conversation she had almost forgotten existed, found life, for the first time in two years, was fun.

      When the gentlemen had gone the Baroness sat back in her chair and eyed Becky. ‘You must buy yourself some pretty clothes,’ she observed. ‘You won’t always be on duty, you know—I know there was no time in Newcastle to do more than get the few essentials, but once we are in Trondheim you shall go shopping. Tiele gave you enough money, I hope?’

      Becky thought with still amazed astonishment of the notes in her purse. ‘More than enough,’ she explained. ‘A week’s salary in advance and money to buy my uniforms and—and things.’

      ‘A week’s salary? What is that? Let me see, sixty pounds, did we not say? What is sixty pounds?’ It was lucky that she didn’t expect an answer, for Becky was quite prepared to tell her that for her, at least, it was a small fortune. ‘When we get to Trondheim you will have your second week’s wages—not very much, but I daresay you will be able to find something to wear.’

      Becky thought privately that she would have no difficulty at all, although she had no intention of spending all that money. It was of course tempting to do so, but she had the future to think of; she supposed her present job would last a month or a little longer and even though she managed to get another job at once, there would be rent to pay if she were lucky enough to find somewhere to live, and food for herself and the animals until she drew her pay. All the same she allowed herself the luxury of planning a modest outfit or two. They would arrive at Trondheim the next day and a little thrill of excitement ran through her, just for the moment she forgot the future and the unpleasant past; Norway, as yet invisible over the horizon, was before her and after that Holland. Perhaps later she would be homesick for England, but now she felt secure and content, with almost the width of the North Sea between her and her stepmother and Basil.

      She fell to planning the little home she would make for herself and Bertie and Pooch and was only disturbed in this pleasant occupation by the Baroness, who had been reading and now put down her book and suggested a game of dominoes 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 СКАЧАТЬ