A Good Wife

by Betty Neels

‘No, no. There’s so much to do—the dogs, you know—and—and…’ She was stuck. ‘Do you want to speak to Wim?’

  His voice sounded suddenly cool. ‘Yes, please. Goodnight, Serena.’

  She went to see Christina in the morning; there was to be coffee, and there would be several wives there whose husbands were colleagues of Ivo. She dressed carefully, anxious to make a good impression, and did her face and hair with a good deal more attention than she usually paid them. She must remember that she was a happy bride…

  There were two or three wives of her own age, one or two slightly older women, and an elderly lady with an air of great importance. The burgermeester’s wife. Serena was being circulated from one group to the next, and soon she found herself sitting on one of the sofas beside her and submitted to the questions put to her.

  ‘You should be happy,’ pronounced her companion. ‘Ivo is a most successful surgeon, and not only in Holland. A charming man too. He has had many opportunities to marry.’ She smiled—a rather mean smile, Serena thought. ‘And he ignores some of the most eligible young women in his own country and marries you. Men are so unpredictable.’

  Serena wondered if she was being deliberately rude or whether she was just tactless. She said, ‘Yes, they are, aren’t they? But he chose me…’

  ‘Yes, one wonders… Have you met Rachel Vinke? Now there is a beautiful and very clever girl. I had always thought that she and Ivo would marry…’

  ‘Probably Ivo found her too beautiful and clever,’ said Serena in a sweet voice. Her companion gave her a sharp look, and then looked away from Serena’s cool, calm gaze. ‘And I must go and speak to Christina,’ said Serena, ‘and go home. The dogs need their walk.’

  She offered a hand and crossed the room to where Christina was talking to two younger women, and presently, when the burgermeester’s wife had gone, one of them asked, ‘Was she cross-examining you, Serena? Don’t let her worry you. She can be very unkind.’

  Serena made some laughing rejoinder and said that she must go home, and went round the room saying goodbye and accepting invitations to coffee and tea and dinner parties.

  It was as Christina accompanied her to the door that she said, ‘Is there something wrong, Serena? Someone’s been gossiping. Don’t listen to it. Have you heard from Ivo?’

  ‘Yes, he’ll be home in a day or two.’

  Ivo had phoned while she had been at Christina’s house. He would be home on the following evening, said Wim, looking pleased.

  Serena spent a restless day, which seemed endless. The burgermeester’s wife’s snide remarks refused to go away, so that she went a dozen times to a mirror to confirm her fears that she was hopelessly plain—and this Rachel was beautiful and clever, she had said. Could she be the girl she had seen Ivo with? Serena did her hair again, renewed her make-up, and took the dogs and Puss for a quite unnecessary walk.

  She changed her dress after tea. Pink jersey silk— Nanny had said that Ivo liked pink. She did her hair once again and went and sat in the drawing room, the dogs at her feet, Puss curled up beside her, her knitting on her lap.

  Ivo, coming quietly into the room, paused at the door. While he had been away he had thought of her constantly, and here she was, exactly as he had pictured her, sitting there, tranquil, a delight to the eye…

  The next moment she had seen him, and got to her feet.

  ‘Ivo, how nice to have you home again. Was it a success?’

  He bent to kiss her cheek. ‘Yes, I’m glad to say. How delightful it is to come home and find you sitting there with your knitting.’

  He bent to fondle the dogs. ‘Have you enjoyed your days?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ She gave him an account of her activities. ‘And I’ve been in the garden with Domus; he let me help him plant out the winter pansies.’

  ‘He did?’ Ivo smiled. ‘How did you manage that? He won’t allow anyone to touch a blade of grass.’

  ‘I expect it’s because we can’t understand a word we say to each other!’

  He laughed then. ‘Dinner in half an hour? I’ll go and change…’

  She asked questions about Madrid, and the hospital there, and the operation he had performed, and he answered her readily. But he had nothing to say about the girl who had been with him.

  Serena sat wrestling with her knitting and wondered how she could find out. She could, of course, ask him, but supposing his answer was unsatisfactory? It would be best to do nothing about it. She was probably making a mountain out of a molehill.

  He didn’t look as if he were keeping anything from her, sitting there, reading his post. She had put some invitations addressed to them both in with the pile of letters and he read them out.

  ‘They’re all from friends of mine. I see Duert and Christina have asked us for Saturday—there will be others there, of course.’

  ‘What should I wear?’

  ‘Something pink; you look nice in the dress you are wearing. I shall be free tomorrow afternoon; shall we go and look for something?’

  ‘Oh, yes, please. And there’s an invitation to a reception. Will that mean a long dress?’

  ‘Oh, yes. We might see a dress we like tomorrow. Have you had any invitations to coffee, and tea parties?’

  ‘Yes, quite a few. I went to Christina’s yesterday and met several of the wives we saw at the hospital. And the burgermeester’s wife…’

  ‘Who no doubt peppered you with questions…?’

  ‘Indeed she did, and a great deal of gossip. I don’t think she liked me overmuch.’

  He had picked up another letter and said carelessly, ‘She doesn’t like anyone, my dear.’

  Going shopping with Ivo was much more exciting than being on her own. For one thing, she didn’t need to ask the price of anything, and, for another, he was interested in what she bought. They found a deep pink dress in a silk crêpe and, since the evenings were getting chilly, a marabou stole to go over it, and while they were about it he suggested matching sandals. Serena, who would have called a halt at the dress, was enchanted. After a leisurely search around the boutiques they found a dress just right for the reception. The blue-green of a summer sea, its bodice embroidered, its taffeta skirt wide, rustling deliciously—and sandals to match, insisted Ivo, and swept her away to tea and cakes.

  ‘Thank you, Ivo,’ said Serena, choosing a rich cream cake. ‘I can wear them to all the parties we will be going to. I mean, they’re quite suitable for the winter.’

  ‘My dear girl, you will need several more frocks before then. We must get some sort of a cloak for the evening too. I’m due back at the London hospital in a couple of weeks’ time; would you like to come with me?’

  ‘Yes, please. I’d like to see Nanny again, and your nice house…’

  ‘Our nice house, Serena.’

  It had been a lovely afternoon, she reflected later, watching him drive away. A private patient, he had told her, and she wasn’t to wait dinner for him. He still wasn’t home when she went to bed.

  He was at the table when she went down to breakfast. She wished him good morning and told him not to get up, and slipped into a chair opposite him. His own good morning was absent-minded, but since he was reading his post that seemed reasonable enough to her.

  She was completely taken by surprise when he said quietly, ‘Dirk Veldt came to see you while I was away. Why didn’t you tell me?’

  He looked as calm as usual, but she had a nasty feeling that he was angry. ‘Well, I really don’t know, Ivo. I mean, it wasn’t important. He thought I might have been lonely with you away and came to ask me to go with him for a drive in his car. I didn’t want to go and I told him so. He was only here for fifteen minutes or so. I didn’t invite him to stay.’

  ‘And it was so unimportant that you didn’t think to tell me of it?’

  She said matter-of-factly, ‘That’s right. There was nothing secret about it, you know.’ She added coolly, ‘Husbands and wives shouldn’t have secrets.’ And then went slowly red, for she ha
d a secret, hadn’t she? Loving him and not saying so.

  Ivo watched the telltale colour. ‘I have no intention to censor your friendships, Serena. There was no reason why you shouldn’t have gone for a drive with Veldt; he’s an amusing companion, so I’ve been told.’

  ‘I don’t want to be amused,’ said Serena tartly. ‘Are we quarrelling?’

  He laughed. ‘No, no. We’re both far too sensible to do that. What do you intend to do today?’

  ‘I’ve been asked to have coffee with someone called Mevrouw Kasper… She’s rather nice.’

  ‘Yes, Kasper’s one of the anaesthetists, a sound man. They’ve four children—all boys.’

  ‘Oh, then we shall find plenty to talk about.’ She buttered toast. ‘Will you be home for lunch?’

  ‘No, but in time for tea, I hope, and a long, peaceful evening.’

  Mevrouw Kasper lived in Wassenaar, a leafy, wealthy suburb of Den Haag—a modern house, but not aggressively so, and roomy, with a fair-sized garden.

  ‘We moved here,’ explained Moira Kasper, pouring coffee, ‘because of the boys. We needed more space.’ She laughed. ‘Wait till you start a family…not that that should trouble you. Ivo’s house is pretty big, isn’t it, and the grounds are vast.’ She saw Serena’s pink cheeks and added, ‘Sorry, it’s none of my business. How do you like living in Holland?’

  ‘Very much, though I haven’t seen a lot of it yet. We went to Friesland, to Ivo’s farm there. I hope we can go again soon.’

  ‘Perhaps now that he’s married he’ll take more time off—he’s a glutton for work. What are you wearing to the ter Brandts’ on Saturday?’

  Serena enjoyed the dinner party. She knew almost everyone there, and they stood about gossiping in the ter Brandts’ drawing room, drinking sherry and eating the tidbits which the three children offered. And at dinner she sat between Dr Kasper and an elderly rotund man who was quite a famous pathologist. He had a dry sense of humour, and Dr Kasper an endless fund of funny stories, so that she was happily entertained. Dirk Veldt was there, but at the other end of the table, and beyond saying hello before dinner she hadn’t spoken to him. Although later, as they sat over coffee in the drawing room, he came and sat beside her for a few minutes, making polite conversation before drifting away again. Serena, aware that Ivo was watching her, made no attempt to delay him.

  The pattern of her days settled into a quiet round of small chores around the house: the flowers, discussing the meals with Elly—a laborious and sometimes hilarious task, helping Domus when he was in a good mood and didn’t mind her being there, taking the dogs for their walks, playing with Puss, writing longer letters to Nanny and shorter notes to her brothers, who never replied. I’m a lady of leisure if ever there was one, reflected Serena, enjoying every minute of each day, so different from her days looking after her father.

  And each evening there was the joy of seeing Ivo come home, and to sit and listen while he told her about his day. She understood perhaps half of what he told her, but she stored up his remarks and spent time in the library, where she buried her head in the medical tomes there. She had started Dutch lessons, too, going in to Den Haag twice a week with Ivo in the morning and spending an hour or more with a fierce little woman who worked her hard and was ruthless about homework not properly done.

  And she had a busy social life now, and not all idleness, for there were various charities she had been asked to join. Life, decided Serena, was a pleasure—although not perfect. It would never be that unless Ivo discovered that he loved her, but loving him coloured her days.

  The reception was to be a grand affair, and everyone she knew was going. There was a lot of talk about dresses and hairstyles, and a rumour that royalty might put in an appearance.

  ‘I’m just a bit nervous,’ she confessed to Ivo.

  ‘No need. You will look delightful in that gown—which reminds me…’

  He went out of the room and came back with two leather cases. ‘The family pearls, yours now, and these earrings.’ A double row of pearls with a diamond clasp and pearl earrings surrounded with diamonds.

  ‘My goodness,’ said Serena, ‘they’re heirlooms?’

  ‘Yes.’ He took another case from a pocket. ‘And this is a very late wedding present, Serena.’ He opened the case and took out a bracelet, a delicate affair of diamonds and pearls, and fastened it onto her wrist.

  ‘It’s beautiful, Ivo,’ said Serena, ‘thank you.’ And she kissed him. And felt him draw back. She swallowed, hurt; she must be more careful, and remember that they were friends and nothing more….

  Dressed for the reception, taking a last look at herself in the pier glass, she knew that she looked almost pretty. Nothing would improve her face, of course, but her eyes were bright with excitement, her hair, in its usual simple style, had gone up well, and the dress was perfection. And, to crown everything else, the pearls and earrings and bracelet gave her an air of opulence. ‘I look like a successful man’s wife,’ she told herself, and went downstairs to where Ivo was waiting for her.

  He watched her coming carefully into the room and thought that he had never seen anyone so beautiful. He said, ‘You look charming. I’m very proud of my wife, Serena.’

  ‘Thank you—and I’m proud of you—tails do something for a man. No wonder the burgermeester’s wife told me that you could have had any one of the beautiful and talented young women in Den Haag.’

  She laughed as she spoke, and he laughed with her. ‘You will see some splendid uniforms tonight. They will probably outshine the women.’

  The great hall was already crowded when they arrived. They were received by the burgermeester and his wife—she in purple velvet cut too tight for her ample proportions. She eyed Serena up and down before observing that she had never been able to wear that particular shade of blue-green herself, adding, ‘You know many of the people here; it should be an enjoyable evening.’

  Serena thanked her prettily and was swept onto the floor by Ivo. He was a good dancer, if conventional, but she was glad of that for she had had little chance to dance when she had been living at home. When the dance ended they were joined by friends and she was swept away by Duert. And after that she never lacked partners.

  Her dress, she was pleased to see, was as pretty as any in the room, and that knowledge gave her an added sparkle. She was enjoying herself, and when Ivo claimed her for the supper dance she lifted a happy face to his. ‘Such a lovely evening,’ she told him.

  Soon to be spoilt.

  Leaving the supper room presently, they came face to face with the burgermeester and his wife, and with them was a young woman. Serena recognised her at once—she had been with Ivo at the hospital and in his car. And now, having a closer look, she could see that she was strikingly beautiful, with almost black hair and large dark eyes. She was dressed in black, something slinky and soft, showing off her splendid figure.

  And Ivo had stopped, so that Serena had to stop, too.

  ‘You must meet,’ said the burgermeester’s wife. ‘Ivo must have mentioned Rachel to you, Serena—such old friends.’ She smiled maliciously. ‘Serena, this is Rachel Vinke. Serena is Ivo’s wife.’

  She watched them both with sharp eyes and Serena offered a hand, somehow managing to keep a smile on her face. ‘How nice to meet you,’ she said, and was pleased to hear how friendly she sounded.

  Rachel shook hands, murmured something conventional and turned to Ivo.

  ‘Ivo, we must talk; there is a great deal I have to say to you.’

  She flashed a smiling look at Serena. ‘You do not mind? A personal matter, you understand?’ She turned back to Ivo. ‘Tomorrow, perhaps? If I come to the hospital?’ She frowned. ‘No, of course it will be Sunday…’

  ‘Why not come to lunch?’ asked Serena, surprised at the words which had popped out of her mouth before she could stop them. She had been mad to utter them, but at least she had seen the disconcerted look on the burgermeester’s lady’s face. When she glanced at Ivo there was
no way of knowing if he was pleased or not; he looked exactly the same as always: calm and remote and pleasant.

  ‘That would be ideal,’ said Rachel. ‘We will then have the leisure to talk, you and I?’

  Ivo’s voice was giving nothing away; he agreed with just the right amount of interest expected of him, and after a few minutes’ talk they separated.

  Serena, not sure what was to happen next, said quickly, ‘I’m going to tidy myself before the dancing starts again,’ whisked herself away. She wasn’t certain, but she had the feeling that Ivo was angry.

  And so he might well be, she thought angrily, pinning her already tidy hair, springing a surprise like that on her just when she was enjoying herself. Well, he couldn’t say that she was interfering in his life like a possessive wife. They were friends and nothing more, weren’t they? She whirled herself back to the ballroom, and the first thing she saw was Ivo with Rachel. She was looking up at him as they danced, and talking… The second was Dirk Veldt, who swung her onto the floor before she had the chance to speak.

  ‘I was beginning to think that I would never get the chance to dance with you,’ he told her, ‘but I see Ivo is engrossed with Rachel Vinke. You’ve met her? She’s beautiful, isn’t she? Personally I prefer your type of beauty, Serena. You look gorgeous tonight.’

  She didn’t believe that, of course, but it was welcoming to her unhappy ears. He was holding her too tightly, but she didn’t care. If Ivo could go dancing off with this Rachel who seemed to know him so well, she had every right to dance with Dirk. And what did they want to talk about? Something that necessitated her coming to lunch….

  ‘You’re not listening to a word I’m saying,’ said Dirk, bending his head to speak softly into her ear.

  She wasn’t, but as Ivo and Rachel were close enough to see them, Serena gave Dirk a brilliant smile.

  The dancing went on for some time. She had partners for all the dances, and two more with Dirk, but at last it was the final dance and Ivo claimed her. They danced in silence, and when it finally ended they made their way back out of the ballroom, stopping to speak to friends as they went.