by Betty Neels
‘I’m going away,’ he had told her quietly, and had explained why he was going.
‘But it will be ghastly,’she’d exclaimed. ‘You’ll pick up one of those horrible diseases. There are dozens of young doctors willing to go, I’m sure. Really, Jules, I can’t allow you to do it.’
His eyes had been cold. ‘I’m afraid there is no question of your allowing me to do anything, Helene. This is my work and I intend to do it. I thought you might have understood…’
She had been pale with annoyance. ‘Understood? I’m not some GP’s wife, meekly accepting a dreary life of interrupted nights and uneaten meals. Life’s meant to be enjoyed and I intend to enjoy it.’
He had stayed silent for a moment, and then said quietly, ‘If that is how you feel, Helene, perhaps we should reconsider…’
She had seen that she had gone too far. ‘Jules, I’m sorry. Of course you must do what you think right. Only you frightened me for a moment…’She’d smiled at him, the picture of contrition. ‘Forgive me?’
‘Of course, but I do not intend to change my mind, Helene.’
She had said quickly, ‘No, no, of course not. You must tell me about it—how long will you be gone?’
She had infused interest into her voice. For a few moments she had been afraid that she would lose him; as a husband he was all, or almost all, that a woman could wish for.
She had kissed him warmly when they parted, but for Jules it could have been as unimportant as something half felt and brushed away with no further thought. He was aware now that Helene didn’t love him, never had, perhaps, but knew he represented everything that she wanted from life. She had no intention of releasing him from their engagement, and for his part would have been content with that—until he had met Daisy, whom he must forget, and who would go back to England and eventually marry some man or stay single. She had never been more than friendly, he reflected ruefully; it had been his misfortune to fall in love with a girl who didn’t care twopence about him.
He was to leave in a week’s time, and every minute that he could spare he spent with Helene, trying to rekindle his feelings for her. But she, secure as to her future, brushed aside his suggestions that they should marry.
‘For heaven’s sake,’ she had told him impatiently, ‘I’ll have years of being a wife, running our home and planning our social life. I mean to have some fun before then.’ She’d pouted prettily. ‘Jules, if only you would have fun too. You’re thirty-five, and as far as I can tell your life’s one dreary round of hospitals and patients and giving lectures.’
‘But that is my life and I’m happy with it, Helene. You can always change your mind…’
Once again she’d had a moment’s uncertainty, but she was too self-centred to let it worry her. ‘Dear Jules, of course I won’t change my mind. When you get back we’ll fix a date for the wedding.’
He said nothing to his mother when he visited her, but that lady, watching him on one of his rare visits, saw that something wasn’t right. She had enquired about Helene, as she always did, and received his vague replies in silence. But when she asked if he had seen Daisy and saw the look on his face she felt troubled. Unless Helene gave him a good reason for doing so Jules would never break their engagement—and Helene wasn’t likely to do so. But that, reflected Mevrouw der Huizma silently, is what I hope and pray will happen.
Daisy was up early on the morning Jules was to leave for Africa. She had neither seen nor heard anything of him, which should have made it easy to forget him, only it hadn’t. She thought about him a good deal, despite her resolution not to do so, and now, on this bright spring morning, she was in the shop packing up some china a customer was to call for on his way to the airport. Mevrouw Friske was upstairs, getting breakfast, and Heer Friske was still in bed. The street outside was empty save for early tradesmen.
She had her back to the door when the old-fashioned bell tinkled, and she glanced at the clock as she hurried to open it. The customer was early; he would have to wait for a few minutes.
She pulled up the blind as she opened the door, and stood back wordlessly as Mr der Huizma walked in.
‘We’re not open,’said Daisy, and, as an after thought, ‘Good morning.’
He made no reply to either of those remarks. ‘I’m going away—for a month, perhaps longer.’ His eyes searched her face. ‘I didn’t want to go without saying goodbye. I’m going to Africa.’
‘But you’ll be back?’ Her heart had sunk into her shoes, but she was glad to hear her voice sounding normal.
‘Oh, yes. Will you be gone?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps. Why are you going to Africa?’ she added. ‘It’s a long way.’
‘I’m going to organise a hospital and feeding centre for the children in a famine area.’
‘Yes, of course; they must need someone like you. If I were a nurse I’d have liked to have gone with you.’ And when he said nothing she added, ‘Helene must be sorry that you’re going.’
As indeed she was—but for all the wrong reasons.
He said harshly, ‘Helene has a great many interests to keep her happy while I’m away. Will you miss me? Daisy?’
She studied his calm face. ‘Yes, of course I shall. One always misses friends, and we are friends, remember? But I don’t see you often—hardly at all, and then it’s by accident.’ She sighed. ‘But, yes, I’ll miss you. But I wish you success,’ she added, ‘and a quick return home.’ She put out a hand, suddenly aware that if he stayed much longer she would burst into tears. ‘Goodbye.’
He took her hand and held it carefully, as though it might break, then he swept her into his arms and kissed her. It was a kiss not to be easily forgotten. Indeed Daisy hadn’t known kisses like that existed outside romantic novels.
‘I have to have something,’ said Mr der Huizma in a goaded voice, and released her so violently that she nearly fell over.
‘Well,’ said Daisy, but she spoke to an empty shop. The Rolls was already on its silent way.
It would never do to burst into tears, although she very much wanted to. Instead she sucked in her breath like a hurt child, and finished packing the china. Presently, called to her breakfast by Mevrouw Friske, she went upstairs and drank her coffee. To eat would have choked her; she pleaded a headache which she was sure would soon go, and agreed with Mevrouw Friske that she would make up for her lack of appetite at their midday meal.
Mr der Huizma, handing over the car to Joop, who had accompanied him to Schipol, boarded his plane and allowed his thoughts to dwell on Daisy. She had been pleased to see him, he was sure of that, but she had said nothing which would allow him to hope that she had any warmer feelings for him. And a good thing too, he reminded himself. That she should be made unhappy was something he would not be able to bear. He hadn’t intended to kiss her, that had been a mistake, but one which he realised he had been powerless to prevent. He hoped that she would consider it as a farewell kiss and nothing more. He didn’t think that she was a girl who had been kissed very often, and she would probably think that it was a normal goodbye. After all they were friends; she had said so.
And now he must forget her, and consider the work ahead of him. He got out his paperwork and began to study it, dismissing Daisy from his mind. He hadn’t thought once about Helene. For the moment his personal problems must take second place.
Daisy got through her day somehow. She knew how awful it was to love someone who didn’t love you. True, he had kissed her quite savagely, but he hadn’t really minded when she had told him that she would probably be gone by the time he returned. If she had been other than a sensible girl, who had learned that she wasn’t particularly attractive to men, she might have built her hopes on that kiss. As it was she decided that he had been upset at leaving his home and Helene and had needed to express his feelings.
A sensible conclusion, which didn’t prevent herself from crying till she fell asleep that night. It was so awful that she wouldn’t see him again—she would be home befo
re he returned, she felt sure—but what was worse was that she had no idea where he had gone, nor would she hear news of him. And how silly of her to fall in love with a man who was on the point of getting married to a very beautiful woman, and who lived in a different world to her own.
Hearts didn’t break, Daisy assured herself, and life must go on, and in a little while she would be able to think of him as one thought of a pleasant dream. She would apply herself wholeheartedly to the study of Dutch antiques, strive even harder to acquire some knowledge of the Dutch tongue, and on her free Sundays see as much of the country as she could.
These high-minded resolutions took her through the week following Jules’s departure, and she planned a whole day’s outing on Sunday. It would involve buses and trains, and she would probably get lost, but it would keep her fully occupied and it would be something to write home about…
There was a letter for her on Saturday morning; a vellum envelope, and addressed in a fine, spidery handwriting. Her heart had leapt at the sight of it and then common sense had taken over. Mr der Huizma had no reason to write to her, and she doubted if expensive notepaper was readily obtained where he was living now. She opened it, and spread out the sheet of fine notepaper it contained. It was from Mevrouw der Huizma. Would she have lunch and spend the afternoon with her on Sunday? Joop would fetch her and bring her back. Perhaps she would phone and let her know.
Daisy read the letter twice, and then sat thinking about it. She would love to go, she liked Mevrouw der Huizma and she wanted to see Jules’s home again, but would it be better if she were to refuse? Going to his home would keep alive the memories she was trying so hard to forget. But he wasn’t there, she reminded herself…
She went to tell Heer Friske, and then telephoned her acceptance.
Joop came to fetch her soon after eleven o’clock. Daisy had spent some time searching her scanty wardrobe for something suitable for the occasion, but really there wasn’t anything there to match the magnificence of his home. It would have to be the jacket and skirt again, and a plain silk blouse. Not that it mattered, reflected Daisy, studying as much as possible of her person in the small looking glass in her room. Jules wasn’t there, and even if he was, he wouldn’t notice what she was wearing.
Joop, driving an elderly Daimler, greeted her in a fatherly fashion and looked pleased when she got in beside him. He drove well, but at a discreet pace, which gave her time to practise her Dutch on him. He replied in the same language, gently correcting her when her verbs became too tangled. At the house he ushered her out of the car and into the house. Katje took her jacket and led the way to the drawing room.
Mevrouw der Huizma was sitting in her usual chair, Bouncer beside her. She got up to greet Daisy with every sign of pleasure.
‘Sit down, Daisy. Katje will bring coffee in a moment. This is kind of you to bear me company. I wondered if you would like to see round the house presently? There are some rather nice pieces, and I know you are interested in antiques. But first let us have coffee and chat. How are you getting on?’
They talked comfortably over coffee, but Jules wasn’t mentioned. Daisy, who had been hoping to hear something of him, was disappointed, but perhaps later…
They began a tour of the house presently. ‘For there is a lot to see,’explained her hostess. ‘The ground floor will take us until lunch time.’
Daisy would have liked to have spent more time in the drawing room; it held some splendid specimens of marquetry and a collection of porcelain she could have spent hours over, but she followed Mevrouw der Huizma out of the room to linger in the dining room, with its magnificent Regency sideboard and panelled walls hung with family portraits in heavy frames. Daisy, peering up at them, thought that Jules looked very like his ancestors, even though he didn’t wear a wig. But she didn’t say so as she followed her hostess into a small room with striped wallpaper, comfortable chairs and a round games table under the window. There was nothing modern there, but it would be a delightful room in which to sit and do nothing…
‘I sit here a great deal,’ said Mevrouw der Huizma, ‘sewing and knitting and writing letters. The grandchildren call it Granny’s Room.’
‘Oh—do you have many? Grandchildren?’
‘Five, so far. I have two daughters. I hope for more grandchildren when Jules marries.’
Daisy said steadily, ‘I’m sure you must do. Children are such fun, and this house is made for them, isn’t it? I mean, it’s rather grand and large, but it’s home…’
Mevrouw der Huizma gave her a look of deep approval. Here was a girl after her own heart, and, she suspected, Jules’s heart too. She sighed and led the way to the library, and the study, and then into the vast conservatory at the back of the house.
Presently, drinking sherry before lunch, once more in the drawing room, she said, ‘You must come again, Daisy, and roam around as much as you please. Everything is catalogued, which may help you.’
‘I should like that very much, mevrouw. But I’m not sure how much longer I shall be at Heer Friske’s…’
They lunched in the dining room, sitting together at one end of the long table; melon balls, jellied lobster, salad, and a sponge pudding swimming in sherry and thick cream. Daisy, undeterred by the eyes of Jules’s ancestors staring down at her from the walls, enjoyed every morsel.
It was as they sat drinking their coffee in the drawing room that Mevrouw der Huizma observed, ‘I was glad to hear from Jules this week. A brief note brought by one of the nurses returning to Holland. He says very little, but I gather that there is a tremendous amount of work to be done there and they need skilled men such as he. I shall be glad to see him again, though.’
She bent to pat Bouncer, curled up at their feet. ‘Jules brought Bouncer here while he is away; he’s company for me and he does miss his master. Joop, too, comes here whenever I need him. Both my daughters live some distance away—Ineke in Goningen and Lisa in Limburg. They both have young children and homes to run, and it isn’t easy for them to visit me very often. They telephone me several times a week, though.’ She smiled. ‘You see that I am very well cared for by my family.’
She put down her coffee cup. ‘Would you like to see the rest of the house, Daisy? It will take some time, and then we can have a nice chat before tea.’
It certainly took time; Daisy could have spent hours lingering in the bedrooms. Especially the vast principal bedroom, with its four-poster and massive tallboy, and the dressing table under the bow windows, all of mahogany inlaid with tulip wood, and there was a silver ewer on a side-table which she would have liked to examine at her leisure. But politeness forced her to follow her hostess from room to room, some large, some small, all splendidly furnished.
‘There are attics too,’ explained Mevrouw der Huizma, ‘crammed with more furniture, but that would take too long…’
She led the way downstairs, and as they reached the hall the doorbell clanged and Joop went to open the door.
‘Who can that be?’ She frowned. ‘I was not expecting anyone to call.’
Certainly not Helene, who brushed past Joop and crossed the hall, smiling, her hands held out as though she were about to embrace Mevrouw der Huizma.
‘Mevrouw der Huizma. I come unannounced, but I thought we might have a talk together. You must be missing Jules and there is so much for us to discuss.’
Mevrouw der Huizma took one of the outstretched hands and shook it.
‘Helene, this is a surprise. You have news of Jules?’
‘Oh, just a note saying that he had arrived safely. I don’t expect to hear from him, and really there’s nothing of his work there which would interest me.’
‘So I would imagine,’ said Mevrouw der Huizma, and spoke in English. ‘I believe that you have met Daisy at Jules’s house?’
Helene gave Daisy a cursory glance. ‘Have we? Oh, yes, you’re the girl from the antique shop.’ She added sharply, ‘Are you looking over the furniture here?’
She was being deli
berately rude, but Daisy ignored that. She didn’t answer.
It was Mevrouw der Huizma who spoke. ‘Daisy has spent the day with me.’She added deliberately, ‘She has been here before, with Jules; he has shown her something of Holland while she is here.’
‘Oh,’ Helene’s fine blue eyes were cold. While she had been in California, of course. This nondescript girl had gone behind her back—though heaven knew what he saw in her. Something would have to be done about that, but not at the moment.
‘You couldn’t have a better person to show you the country,’ she said, and smiled at Daisy. ‘Are you going to be here long?’
‘I’m not sure, but I expect I’ll go home in another month or so. It depends on Heer Friske.’
They had walked as they talked, and now seated themselves in the drawing room. Helene curled up on one of the sofas, as if to demonstrate how at home she was. Bouncer went over to her, and she put out a beautifully shod foot and pushed him away. She laughed as she did it. ‘Jules’s awful dog—I’m always telling him that it should live in the kitchen. Has he given it to you?’
Mevrouw der Huizma said levelly, ‘No, Bouncer stays with me while Jules is away. He is splendid company.’
‘Well, I shall persuade Jules to give it to you when we marry. A dog is such a nuisance.’
Mevrouw der Huizma ignored that. ‘Will you stay for tea? We are just about to have ours?’
‘Just a cup of tea. I must lose a few pounds; I got positively fat while I was in California and I’ve brought some lovely clothes back with me so I don’t dare to eat too much.’ She gave a satisfied little laugh and looked down at the elegant outfit which emphasised the boniness of her person.
Flat as a board, reflected Daisy. That dress would look better on a coathanger. She felt better for the thought. She wasn’t given to unkindness, but really Helene was a horrid woman, and how Jules could possibly want to marry her Daisy couldn’t imagine. At the thought of him she smiled a little, and Helene, watching her, felt a little prickle of disquiet. What had the girl got to smile about? she asked herself with sudden suspicion. ‘Has Jules written to you?’