by Betty Neels
But for the moment he said nothing. Ways and means were discussed, and presently the two men went upstairs to talk over the idea with coffee. Daisy stayed in the shop and sold a pair of brass candlesticks and a copper bed-warmer to a young American couple honeymooning in England. She let them have the bed-warmer for less than the price on the ticket because they were so obviously happy and delighted with their purchases.
She felt happy too. She hadn’t allowed herself to dwell too much on the fact that she wouldn’t see Mr der Huizma again, but she had been aware of disappointment, almost sadness at the thought. But now she would go to Amsterdam again, and even if their meeting was brief, it would mean that she would see him once more. Their paths had crossed several times, she reminded herself, and she had come to regard him as a friend. She thought of the brooch then—a splendid gift for his Helene. ‘If I were Helene,’muttered Daisy to the empty shop, ‘I’d be head over heels in love with him.’
When he and her father came back into the shop she was buying a small Wedgwood teapot from an elderly lady. A genuine piece, with the model of the widow on its lid, and worth a good deal more than the lady had asked for it. By the time she had paid the delighted owner its true value, Mr der Huizma had gone…
The task of cleaning the brooch fell to her lot; she had patience with finicky jobs and she spent part of each day restoring it to its original sparkle, so that she was constantly reminded of Helene and Mr der Huizma. She didn’t hurry over it. There was no need, her father had pointed out, and besides the shop had to be attended to if he was busy elsewhere. A week went by, and a second, and midway through the third week the brooch was ready. Minutely examined by her father and carefully packed up. Any day now, as soon as it was convenient, she would go over to Holland. Or so she thought!
Back in Amsterdam Mr der Huizma had immediately immersed himself in his work, and only some days following his return did he visit Helene.
‘So you’re back again,’ she greeted him. ‘Really, Jules, you must cut down on your work. Give up some of the hospitals where you have beds. Oh, I know you need to keep your hand in with the children on the wards, but you would have a far bigger private practice if you did. There are plenty of other doctors who could take over from you…’
She was looking very beautiful that evening, beautifully dressed and made up and ready to charm him.
But he discovered that he wasn’t charmed. He was fair enough to realise that he did spend many of his days and quite often his nights with his small patients, but Helene had known that when she had said that she would marry him. He saw now that she had no real interest in his work; she would cavil at interrupted meals, broken nights and urgent flights to other countries, she would be quite unable to visualise the kind of life they would lead together, and certainly she wouldn’t be willing to give up the social round which was so important to her.
But he was an honourable man. He had asked her to marry him believing that he had loved her. He had been in love with her, but that wasn’t enough and that wasn’t her fault…
He said now, ‘Helene, my work is my life. My patients matter to me—if you were to come to the hospital and see some of the little ones you would understand that.’
Helene crossed the room and sat down beside him on the sofa. ‘You’re tired because you’re working too hard. Of course you enjoy your profession, it must be most interesting, but why wear yourself out? Life’s too short. I’ve been invited to fly down to Cannes for a week—the van Hoffmans. Come with me; they told me to bring you if you were free.’
‘But I’m not free,’ said Mr der Huizma quietly.
Helene frowned. ‘Nonsense. Really, Jules, you’re deliberately annoying me…’
‘No, Helene.’ He sounded tired and remote, and she had a sudden feeling that she had gone too far. She didn’t love him, but he would suit her as a husband— money, an old family, making a name for himself in his profession. She had thought that her future was secure with him, but now she felt a faint prickle of doubt. She laid a hand on his arm.
‘Don’t be angry, Jules. I do know how much your work means to you, but I worry that you don’t have enough leisure.’
He went home presently, and sat for a long time in his study with the faithful Bouncer for company. He saw nothing but unhappiness for himself and Helene if they were to marry. He was aware that she didn’t love him, had never even been in love with him, but she had seemed so suitable.
‘I’m a fool,’ said Mr der Huizma to Bouncer, who wagged his tail and whined in sympathy. It was late when he at last went up to bed. The half-formed plans he had allowed to simmer at the back of his head had resolved themselves. Tomorrow he would go and see Heer Friske.
It was early evening before he reached the antiques shop. His day had been long, and there were several sick children who were concerning him. He was tired, but this was something he had promised himself he would do.
The shop was still open, and when he walked in Heer Friske came to meet him.
‘The wine cooler has arrived safely; I have heard from Mr Gillard. It was good of you to give Daisy a lift back, mijnheer.’
‘It was no trouble. It would have been an awkward journey for her by ferry and train, although she seems a sensible young woman.’
‘Indeed, and a knowledgeable one too. She has the instincts of a good antiques dealer. I dare say she will find work with one of the big firms in London…’
This was the opening Mr der Huizma sought. ‘She is most interested in Dutch antiques. Did she not tell you? But of course she doesn’t know anyone in Holland who would train her…’
‘She knows me,’ observed Heer Friske. ‘I wouldn’t mind having her for a couple of months. The tourist season will be starting shortly, and I was thinking of getting someone.’
Mr der Huizma murmured in a disinterested voice and went to look at an attractive small enamel box, a pretty trifle, pale green and painted with roses. He bought it without speaking of Daisy again, and presently went home. Perhaps nothing would come of it, but Heer Friske had risen to his bait.
And Heer Friske was thinking about it, pondering the pros and cons. He decided that he would write to Mr Gillard.
He was a cautious old man, and he deliberated over the matter for some time and then finally wrote his letter.
Mr Gillard read it several mornings later over his breakfast. He read it twice before remarking, ‘This letter will be of interest to you, Daisy. Heer Friske asks if you would like to work for him for a short period. He was impressed by your knowledge of antiques and thinks that a month or so in his shop will broaden it.’
Mr Gillard took off his spectacles and looked at Daisy. ‘You will do as you wish, of course, but if my opinion is asked then I would say that it is a good idea. One can never know enough, and although you have no qualifications there is no reason why you shouldn’t carry on here when I retire.’
‘You’re not going to retire for years,’ said Daisy, ‘but I see what you mean.’
She had a mental picture of herself in middle age, plain of face, slightly dowdy as to dress, and absorbed in her work. Well, there wouldn’t be anything or anyone else to be absorbed in, would there? No husband or children, dogs, cats or ponies, all living in a comfortable house as happy as the day is long…
She brought her thoughts back to the present. She would like to go to Amsterdam, and not only for the reasons her father had mentioned. She would be in the same town as Mr der Huizma, she might meet him again, which was something she very much wanted to do.
‘Yes, Father, I should like to go. When does Heer Friske want me to start?’
‘He doesn’t say. He writes that he will wait for your decision before he goes into details. I suppose it will be fairly soon, for the tourists will be arriving in Holland to see the bulb fields and I believe he does good business at that time.’
‘I don’t speak Dutch,’ said Daisy.
‘Well, probably most of his customers are American or English. You will
be an asset in the shop. Of course, there is a good deal to discuss before you agree. Are you to be paid, I wonder, and what free time can you expect and where will you live?’
Her mother said quietly, ‘Surely all that can be sorted out in one letter? And of course Heer Friske isn’t going into details until he knows that Daisy will go to Amsterdam.’ She added, ‘You’ll need some new clothes, dear.’
Something elegant, thought Daisy, so that Mr der Huizma would notice her—that was if they should meet…
Heer Friske was pleased at her decision; she would receive a small salary, he wrote, and commission on anything she might sell from his shop. She would be free on Sundays and Mondays, but on her working days she was not to expect any time off. She would have a room in his house; he and his wife would be glad to have her company. The date of her arrival was to be arranged within the next week or so.
Daisy took herself off to Plymouth. Spring might be in the air but it was still chilly. She bought a jacket and skirt in a warm brown tweed, a couple of woolly jumpers and a sober grey dress suitable for the shop. And, since her father had been generous with a cheque, she bought a three-piece in dark green jersey just in case she should encounter a social occasion.
She went back home, tried everything on before packing them tidily, and waited to see what would happen next.
Mr der Huizma had allowed ten days or so to elapse before calling in at Heer Friske’s shop once more. This time he bought an antique baby’s rattle—coral and silver bells; it would doubtless make a handsome christening present for some baby or other later on. While he was purchasing it Heer Friske, in an unusually expansive mood, told him that he had engaged Daisy.
‘That was a good idea of yours,’ he observed, ‘and it seemed worth asking her. She is glad to come, and I shall teach her all I can while she is here. She has her future to consider—probably she will take over her father’s shop in due course. A nice girl, but not pretty, and unlikely to marry.’
‘When is she to come?’enquired Mr der Huizma idly.
‘As to that, as soon as it can be arranged…’
Mr der Huizma’s manner was casual. ‘I’m going over to England next week, I could give her a lift back here.’
‘You would do that? It would not inconvenience you?’
‘Not in the least. Would you let her know? I shall be in England on Saturday and will call at her home early on Sunday morning. We should be back here late on Sunday evening.’
He went home then, to make arrangements for the journey, and after due thought telephoned Mr Gillard.
‘It is so fortunate,’he pointed out in his placid voice, ‘that I shall be in England next week. I can collect the brooch and Daisy at the same time, provided you have no objection to her leaving early on the Sunday morning. I must be back for a Monday morning clinic.’
‘I’m sure Daisy will be glad of a lift,’ said Mr Gillard, ‘and I’m grateful. I wasn’t too happy about her taking that valuable brooch. I’ll let her know and she will be ready—eight o’clock and many thanks.’
Daisy’s eyes sparkled when she was told. Kindly Fate was giving her a treat. Mr der Huizma loomed large in her mind, but she didn’t allow herself to think too much about him. He was the nicest man she had ever met, and she liked him, but he was going to marry Helene and that fact prevented her from allowing her thoughts to wonder about him. To see him again would be delightful, though. Probably he wouldn’t speak more than half a dozen words to her, but they would be together for several hours.
She packed her case, rubbed a face cream guaranteed to bring beauty to the dullest visage into her cheeks, and washed her abundant hair. The cream made no difference at all, but she felt better for it and on the strength of its supposed magic qualities bought a new lipstick.
She was to stay with Heer Friske for as long as either she or he wished. Two or three months, she supposed, perhaps longer. Of course there was always the possibility that his wife might not like her, or that she wouldn’t pull her weight in the shop. She hoped that would not happen; there was so much to see and learn.
Daisy wrinkled her small nose with pleasure—all those marvellous museums, and those narrow streets lined by antiques shops to explore, as well as getting familiar with the contents of Heer Friske’s shop.
She was up early on Sunday morning, eating a hasty breakfast, wearing the new jacket and skirt, pale with excitement, listening to last-minute instructions from her father and quiet sensible comments from her mother.
When Mr der Huizma arrived she hardly spoke beyond replying to his pleasant greeting. He had a cup of coffee, examined the brooch and stowed it away in a pocket, complimenting her on the work she had done on it, then professed himself ready to leave. So she bade her mother and father goodbye and got into the car beside him. Now that the moment of departure had actually come she had the sudden urge to get out of the car again; to stay at home, return to the security and quiet of her life there. Even if she had voiced her wish she would have had no chance to carry it out, for Mr der Huizma drove away without loss of time so that she had only a moment in which to wave goodbye.
‘Comfortable?’His voice was calmly reassuring and she relaxed.
‘Yes, thank you. It is kind of you to give me a lift…’
‘Well, I thought it a good idea to get you and the brooch at the same time, since I was in England. You’re happy at the idea of working for Heer Friske?’
‘Yes. I liked him; I don’t know his wife, though.’
‘I’m sure you will be happy with them. You will be kept quite busy, I dare say. His shop is popular with tourists who are looking for genuine antiques; he refuses to sell anything else.’
After that they lapsed into silence—which she had expected anyway. They stopped for coffee mid-morning, and were nearing Harwich before he stopped again for lunch.
‘Aren’t we a bit early for the ferry?’ asked Daisy.
‘We’re crossing on the new fast ferry—three and a half hours—saves a good deal of time. A catamaran. I came over on it. You’ll find it very comfortable.’
When she saw it, Daisy didn’t think it looked very safe. But once on board she changed her mind about that. It was warm and comfortable, and there were easy chairs and plenty of space. It seemed a long time since she had got up that morning; she curled up in a chair and went to sleep.
As a travelling companion she was ideal, decided Mr der Huizma.
She woke instantly at his touch when they docked, her hair slightly tousled, her face shiny with sleep, and she skipped away to tidy herself, to return in good time, once more immaculate, to get into the car again and sit quietly while he drove through the town and onto the motorway.
It was early evening by now, and den Haag, looming ahead of them, looked inviting in the dusk. Daisy was surprised when Mr der Huizma turned off the main road.
‘We will have a meal,’he told her. ‘You will probably be too tired to eat once we get to Heer Friske. There’s a quiet restaurant here, where we can get a meal.’
Daisy was hungry, and did justice to the grilled sole and the massive pudding which followed it—besides, it meant that she could be with him for just a little longer. But they didn’t linger over the meal; she sensed that he wished to get home as soon as possible. They drove on presently, and it was with regret that she saw Heer Friske’s shop at last. This is the end, she thought.
CHAPTER FIVE
MR DER HUIZMA told Daisy to stay where she was, then got out of the car and rang the bell beside the small door next to the shop. Which gave her ample time in which to wish that she had never come, that she was home again—and then, at the sight of Mr der Huizma’s large person standing there, to feel a wave of pleasure at the sight of him.
The door was opened and Heer Friske stood there, smiling. Mr der Huizma came back to the car and opened her door, and got her case from the boot. Her moment of panic was over. She got out and greeted Heer Friske, and was borne indoors and up the stairs to where he and his wif
e lived, with Mr der Huizma following with her case.
The room they entered was cosy, lived in and warm, and Mevrouw Friske was just as cosy. She made Daisy welcome, and offered coffee. Mr der Huizma refused, with his beautiful manners, and after a few minutes’talk made his farewells. With her hand in his, Daisy thanked him for her lift.
‘It was a very pleasant journey,’ she told him, aware that she sounded stiff and reserved. ‘It was so kind of you to bring me here.’
He stared down at her, not smiling. ‘But I wanted the brooch,’he reminded her, ‘and since the car was empty it made sense to bring you with me.’
He was still holding her hand. ‘I hope that you will be very happy while you are in Amsterdam. Please give my regards to your mother and father when you write. Don’t worry about phoning them this evening. I’ll do that when I get home.’
He went away then, and Mevrouw Friske bustled her up another flight of stairs to a pretty little room at the front of the house. It was simply furnished but comfortable, with a patchwork quilt on the bed and thick curtains to keep out the winter’s cold. There was a shower across the landing, Mevrouw Friske told her, and added anxiously that she hoped Daisy didn’t mind being on her own on the top floor. She waited while Daisy took off her coat, and then went back to the living room with her where Heer Friske was waiting.
She was to start work on Tuesday morning; breakfast was at half past seven, the shop opened at half past eight and stayed open until six o’clock—although if there was a customer in the shop it remained open until he or she had gone. Lunch-hour was brief, but there would be a substantial evening meal once the shop had closed. Tomorrow, being Monday, he pointed out, the shop would be closed. ‘Which will give you time to settle in,’ said Heer Friske in his correct English. ‘And now you will be tired. Coffee and a biscuit with cheese, and you will wish to go to your bed.’