‘A splendid idea,’ agreed the doctor, so promptly that she suspected that he would be glad to see the back of her. He turned to Tom. ‘I’ve a Saab outside—rented it for my stay—why not borrow it? The road runs alongside the fjord and is pretty good going. There’s a bridge at Sortland and you can cross over to Hinney Island and visit Harstad; it’s quite a sizeable place and a military headquarters.’ He added, glancing at Amelia, ‘A street of shops, too.’
The faintly mocking glance he gave her from under his lids instantly made her change her mind. ‘Perhaps another day,’ she said coolly, to be overruled by Tom’s:
‘That’s jolly decent of you, if the weather changes we might not get another chance, and I’ll be going back in three days’ time.’
Amelia poured herself some more coffee which she didn’t want, but it was something to do while she argued. ‘Yes, but what about you, Father?’
Her parent was of no help at all. ‘Oh, we’ll manage very well, my dear—you and Tom go off and enjoy yourselves together.’
‘Yes, but you can’t manage the boat alone,’ she persisted.
‘Who said I was going to? We’ll use mine and share a picnic lunch. If the weather holds we shan’t come back before four o’clock, so don’t hurry on our account.’
The day had not been a qualified success. Amelia, soaking herself in a hot bath that evening, mulled it over at leisure and tried to decide where it had gone wrong. They had started off well enough—indeed, the drive to Sortland had been pleasant. The road, just as the doctor had told them, had followed the fjord the whole way and Sortland, when they reached it, was charming. They had coffee there, walked around the village, and then decided to go on to Harstad, so they drove over the bridge to the neighbouring island, Hinney, and took the only road, at first following the fjord and then going inland and taking a ferry once again. It proved to be a longer journey than they had expected and when they got to Harstad it was raining. They lunched at the Viking Nordic and then walked along the main street, looking at the shops, and Amelia, determined to take back some token of their trip, spent far too long in a rather splendid bookshop where she bought a couple of paperbacks, some writing paper and a pen she didn’t really need. Tom bought nothing at all, waiting patiently while she pottered round the shelves, and it was almost three o’clock when he suggested mildly that they should think about getting back to Stokmarknes.
And none too soon. The rain had settled down to a steady drizzle and the sky was an unrelieved grey, merging with the mountains, their snowy tops completely hidden by cloud. ‘We’ll have tea in Sortland,’ suggested Tom as they started back, but by the time they had reached it, it was dark, Tom was quietly apprehensive and Amelia becoming shorttempered. The day had been a waste. They hadn’t talked about themselves at all; her secret hopes that with time on their hands they could have got their future settled were coming to nothing. Tom was in no mood to talk about weddings—indeed, he had never been less romantic, advising her somewhat tersely to keep a sharp eye on the road, which, now that it was dark, wasn’t nearly as easy as it had been that morning.
They arrived back at the hotel at six o’clock, relieved to be there but unable to be lighthearted about it and meeting the doctor in the foyer didn’t help matters. He was sitting comfortably reading a Dutch newspaper, a drink at his elbow, but he got up as they went in, enquired kindly if they had enjoyed their day, expressed regret at the weather and invited them to have a drink. Tom, after a glance at Amelia, accepted, but she refused, declaring she wanted a cup of tea before she did anything else.
The doctor obligingly pressed the bell for her. ‘No tea?’ he asked with what she decided was quite false sympathy. ‘There’s a good hotel in Sortland.’
‘We left Harstad rather late,’ she explained stiffly, and when a waitress came asked for tea to be brought to her room, to drink it under the doctor’s amused eye was more than she could manage.
But tea and the bath soothed her, so that by the time she got downstairs she was feeling quite cheerful again. Tom was already there, so she went across the bar to him and tucked her hand into his arm. ‘Sorry if I was a bit snappy,’ she said softly. ‘It was disappointing, wasn’t it—all that rain.’
He agreed placidly and ordered her a drink, moving a little way away so that she had to take her hand away, and she frowned a little. Tom hated any form of affectionate display in public and just for the moment she had forgotten that. Amelia perched herself on a stool at the bar and began a rather banal conversation with the barman and Tom and they were presently joined by her father and Doctor van der Tolck, both with the air of men who had enjoyed every minute of their day and were now prepared to enjoy their evening just as much. And strangely enough, the evening was so pleasant that she had gone reluctantly to bed, much later than usual. Doctor van der Tolck had joined them for dinner and proved himself to be an amusing companion without attempting to hog the conversation—indeed, his aptitude for listening with interest to whatever was being said contributed to the success of the evening and even Amelia, wary of his friendly manner, found herself telling him about St Ansell’s. She only just stopped herself in time from telling him that she intended continuing to work there after she and Tom were married. She had told him too much already…
She stopped almost in mid-sentence and asked: ‘Are you married, Doctor van der Tolck?’
He had dropped his lids so that she couldn’t see his eyes. He said evenly: ‘No, I am not. Shall you be going fishing tomorrow?’
It was a palpable snub and she flushed a little, admitting to herself that she had deserved it. All the same, thinking about it afterwards, she came to the conclusion that while he had extracted quite a lot of information about her, he had said precious little about himself. Not that she was in the least interested.
She avoided him as much as possible for the next two days, although he shared their table now, to her father’s pleasure and to her own unease, but she had Tom to talk to, although not for much longer now, since he would be leaving the next day, and she wondered once or twice if it would be a good idea if she went back with him. She even suggested it, to be met with a very natural surprise on Tom’s part. ‘What on earth for?’ he wanted to know. ‘Your father would be left on his own and you know he wanted you to go with him in the first place.’
‘Yes, well—there’s Doctor van der Tolck to keep him company.’
Tom shook his head. ‘He told me that he was going further north after salmon.’
She told herself that she was delighted at the news. ‘Oh, well, then I’ll stay.’
‘You won’t be bored?’
She shook her head. ‘We’ll be out for most of the day and I’m going to buy some of that lovely embroidery to do—I should have got some in Harstad. I’ll persuade Father to take the ferry and we’ll spend a day there—a change from fishing will do him good.’ She added, trying not to sound too eager: ‘Will you miss me, Tom?’
‘I’ll be up to my eyes in work,’ he told her, which wasn’t a very satisfactory answer. ‘There’s that team of Australian physicians coming over at the end of the week, it’ll be interesting to work with them. I heard that there’s a strong chance that they’ll offer jobs to any of us who are interested.’ He glanced at her, ‘How do you like the idea of Australia, Amelia?’
She shook her head. ‘Me? Not at all—so far away.’ She turned to look at him. ‘Tom, you’re not serious, are you?’
‘Why not? There are marvellous opportunities out there. We’ll discuss it when you get back.’
They were in the lounge waiting for her father and Doctor van der Tolck.
‘Why not now?’ she asked.
‘Oh, plenty of time for that,’ Tom said easily.
They almost never