by Betty Neels
He settled back in his chair and between sandwiches told her about the patient he had driven miles to see that evening: a public figure whose illness needed to be kept secret; even the faintest whisper of it would send the Stock Market into a state of chaos.
‘He’ll recover?’
‘I believe so, and no one will be the wiser.’ He ate the last sandwich. ‘How satisfying it is to come home to someone and talk.’
Emma took the mugs to the sink. ‘Well, that’s why we married, wasn’t it, to be good companions?’
He got up, too. ‘Yes, Emma. Is that thing you’re wearing new? It’s very pretty.’ He kissed her cheek, a cool kiss which she had come to expect. ‘Thank you for being here. Now go to bed and sleep. We will see each other at breakfast.’
She smiled at him sleepily, aware that something had happened between them although she had no idea what it was. In bed presently, she thought about it, but she was too sleepy to think clearly—knowing only that remembering the hour in the kitchen gave her a warm glow deep inside her.
She wore one of the cashmere jumpers and a new skirt to breakfast, and felt pleased when he remarked upon them.
‘Will you be home for tea?’ she asked him.
‘I’ll do my best. I’ve a clinic this afternoon, and sometimes we have to run overtime, but I’ll be back in good time for dinner. I’ll be free on Saturday, as well as Sunday, so we will go and see my mother and father. They are anxious to meet you. They wanted us to stay the night but I thought we might have Sunday to ourselves. We’ll go for lunch and stay for tea, and perhaps for dinner. We can take Percy and Prince.’ He picked up his letters and came round the table to bend and kiss her. ‘Have you any plans for today?’
‘I’m to inspect the linen cupboard with Katje and then I’m going for a walk with the dogs.’
‘Don’t get lost. But if you do say who you are and someone will see you safely home.’
The countryside round the village was quiet, despite the fact that Amsterdam was only a few miles away, and, warmly wrapped in the new winter coat, she and the dogs walked along the narrow brick roads. They met few people, but those she did, greeted her cheerfully. She came to a canal presently, and walked beside it for some distance. The country was very flat, and she could see the village churches dotted here and there in the landscape. They were further away than they appeared to be, however, and so she turned for home.
The walk had given her an appetite, and she ate lunch and then settled down to read by the fire, with the dogs snoozing at her feet. Presently she snoozed off herself, her rather untidy head lolling on the chair cushions.
Which was how Roele found her, sprawled awkwardly, her shoes kicked off, her mouth slightly open. He sat down opposite her, watching her until she stretched and woke and sat up.
‘Oh, goodness, I fell asleep. Have you been here long?’ She was scrabbling around for her shoes and tucking odd wisps of hair tidily away. ‘I went for a long walk and ate too much lunch. I’ll go and tidy myself and tell Kulk to bring the tea.’
‘You are very nice as you are, and Kulk will be here in a few minutes. Where did you go? As far as the canal?’
Emma decided on the green jersey two-piece for their visit on Saturday. It was simple, the colour flattered her, and if they stayed for dinner it would pass muster. Wrapped in her new winter coat, she got into the car beside Roele, telling herself that she wasn’t at all nervous. He had settled Percy and Prince on the back seat and now turned to look at her.
‘Nervous? Don’t be. They are longing to meet you and I believe that you will like them. They’re elderly, but interested in just about everything. They are enthusiastic gardeners, they love the theatre and concerts and they still travel. You met Wibeke—and I have another sister, married with children, living in Limburg, and a brother. He’s a doctor too, not married yet. He’s at Leiden.’
Which gave her plenty to think about.
Roele drove down towards Den Haag and turned off to Wassenaar on the coast north of that city. Wassenaar was so close to Den Haag that it might be called a suburb, peopled by the well-to-do. But once past the elegant tree-lined roads and villas there was the old village, and past that a stretch of fairly open country bordering the wide sands stretching out to the North Sea. The doctor turned into a narrow lane with a pleasant rather old-fashioned lot of houses on either side, and at one of these he stopped.
Nice, thought Emma, getting out and taking a look. Homely and solid. As indeed the house was. It was red brick, with shutters at the windows and an iron balcony above a solid front door. And the garden, even in winter, was one to linger in.
Not that she was allowed to linger. Roele took her arm and whisked her through the large stout door which a woman was holding open. He flung an arm around her and kissed her plump cheek. ‘Klar…’ He said something to make her laugh and turned to Emma.
‘Klar looks after my mother and father,’ he told her. ‘She has been with us for even longer than the Kulks.’
Klar shook hands and beamed, and led the way through the hall to a door at its end and opened it. The room beyond was large, with a great many windows giving a view of the garden beyond. There were plants arranged in it, as well as comfortable chairs and tables and an old-fashioned stove at one end of it. It was warm, light and old-fashioned. Children, thought Emma, would love it.
She gave a small sigh of relief as the two people in it came to meet them. Roele, thought Emma, in thirty years’ time: a nice old gentleman in elderly tweeds, still handsome, his eyes as bright and searching as his son’s. And his mother—she had tried to imagine her without much success, and she had come nowhere near the plump little lady with hair in an old-fashioned bun and a pretty face, unashamedly wrinkled. Her eyes were blue and she was wearing a dress of the same colour, not fashionable, but beautifully made.
‘Mother, Father,’ said the doctor, ‘here is my wife, Emma.’
She had not known such warmth since her father died. She was welcomed as though they had known and loved her all their lives. She swallowed back unexpected tears and was kissed and hugged and made to sit down beside Mevrouw van Dyke, and over coffee and sugary biscuits she listened to her mother-in-law’s gentle kind voice.
‘You poor child, you have had little happiness for the last year or so, but now Roele will make you happy again. We are so delighted to have you for another daughter. He has taken a long time to find a wife to love and to be loved by her.’
Presently Emma found herself sitting with the old gentleman. ‘Roele has told us so much about you; we feel we know you well already. We don’t see as much of him as we should like, for he is a busy man. You will know that already. But you must come and see us as often as you wish. Do you drive? Then he will get you a car so that you can be independent of him.’
Emma murmured agreement, not sure that she wanted to be independent. Roele’s company wasn’t only a pleasure, she had a feeling that she didn’t wish to do without it. Surely he didn’t want her to be one of those women who had so many interests outside the home that they were hardly ever there?
She caught his eye across the room and had the feeling that he knew just what she was thinking. That made her blush, and that in turn made Mevrouw van Dyke smile.
Lunch was a light-hearted meal, with cheerful talk about the wedding, and afterwards Emma walked round the garden with her father-in-law. Since she was quite knowledgeable about plants, flowers and shrubs, they got on famously.
Later, he told his wife that Roele had married a splendid girl. ‘She knows the Latin names of almost everything in the garden but doesn’t boast about it. He’s met his match!’
His wife knew just what he meant. She said comfortably, ‘Yes, dear. He’s met his love too.’
It was late when Roele and Emma got home, for they had stayed for dinner and sat talking long after the meal was finished. The house was quiet, for the Kulks had gone to bed, and they went into the kitchen to sit at the table drinking the hot chocolate Katje ha
d left on the Aga, not saying much, sitting in companionable silence. Prince and Percy, curled up together in Prince’s basket had given them a sleepy greeting and dozed off again, and Emma yawned.
‘A lovely day,’ she said, sleepily content—only to have that content shattered a moment later when Roele told her that he was going to Rome in the morning.
Emma swallowed the yawn. ‘Rome? Whatever for? For how long?’
In her sudden dismay she didn’t see the gleam in the doctor’s eyes. There had been more than surprise on her face; his Emma was going to miss him…
‘I have been asked to examine a patient who lives there. I shall be gone for four or five days, perhaps longer. It depends upon her condition.’
‘A woman?’ said Emma, and he hid a smile.
‘Yes, a famous one too. In the entertainment world.’
‘How interesting,’ said Emma tartly, and got to her feet. ‘Shall I see you tomorrow before you go?’
‘I’ll leave here tomorrow about nine o’clock. Shall we have breakfast about eight?’
She nodded. ‘I’ll leave a note for Katje.’ She went to the door and he went with her and opened it, bending to kiss her cheek as she went past him.
‘Goodnight, Emma, sleep well.’
Well, I shan’t, thought Emma crossly, intent on lying awake and feeling sorry for herself. Leaving her alone in a strange country while he jaunted off to Italy. And who was this patient? Some glamorous film star, bewitchingly beautiful, no doubt, lying back on lacy pillows in her bed, wearing a see-through nightie…
Emma allowed her imagination full rein and cried herself to sleep.
She went down to breakfast feeling quite contrary, wearing a tweed skirt and a cashmere jumper, wishing to look as much unlike the hussy in the nightie as possible. She had dabbed powder on her nose but forgotten her lipstick, and swept her colourful hair onto the top of her head in an untidy bunch.
The doctor thought she looked adorable, but from the look on her face he judged it hardly the time to tell her so. He enquired instead as to whether she had slept well, passed the toast rack and told her that he would phone her that evening.
‘What time will you arrive in Rome?’
‘Early afternoon.’
‘Then you can phone me when you get there.’ That sounded like a suspicious wife, so she added hastily, ‘That is, if you have the time.’
‘I’ll ring from the airport.’
The matter settled to her satisfaction, Emma finished her breakfast, remarking upon the weather, the garden, the dogs—anything but his trip to Rome.
When he had gone, with Kulk beside him so that he could drive the Rolls back from Schipol, she took the dogs for a walk. She was beginning to find her way around now. The countryside wasn’t dramatic but it was restful, and there was little traffic. She walked a long way, meeting no one and feeling lonely.
Roele phoned after lunch. His voice reassured her that the flight had been uneventful and he was about to be driven into Rome.
‘I hope you will find your patient not too ill,’ said Emma, ‘and that you will have some time to enjoy Rome.’
They had had orgies in ancient Rome, she reminded herself. Did they still have them, and would Roele be tempted to go to one? She wasn’t exactly sure what one did at an orgy but there would be bound to be beautiful girls there…
Such thinking wouldn’t do at all, she told herself. Her imagination was running away with her again. It was only because she liked Roele so much that she wanted him to take care. It was a pity that she couldn’t picture him, calm and assured, bending over the bed of a famous singer who had been struck down by some obscure illness which, so far, no one had diagnosed. The bed of the hospital variety, without a lace pillow in sight, and his patient’s wan face as white as the all-enveloping garment she was wearing. And, since she was feeling very ill, the doctor could have been an ogre with two heads for all she cared.
There was plenty to keep Emma occupied during the next few days. The dominee called to ask her to go with his wife to Amsterdam to buy the small toys to be handed out to the schoolchildren on Sint Nikolaas Eve, and the following day they had to be wrapped in bright paper and stowed away ready for the party. When Roele phoned Emma told him about it, not taking too long, in case he was anxious to ring off. But it seemed he wasn’t, for he wanted to know what else she had done, whether the dogs were behaving themselves and had she taken any long walks?
She wanted very much to ask when he was coming home, but surely he would tell her? She was on the point of bidding him a cheerful goodbye when he said, ‘I shall be home tomorrow, Emma.’
Before she could stop herself she said, ‘Oh, I’m so glad; I’ve missed you…’
She hung up then, wishing she hadn’t said it.
She went to find Kulk and tell him, and discovered that he already knew. He was to take the car to Schipol to pick up the doctor from the plane landing at three o’clock. And would mevrouw like to see Katje about dinner for the following day? The doctor was bound to be hungry…
Emma felt hurt. Roele could have told her at what time he would arrive, and she could have gone to Schipol to meet him. But he hadn’t wanted her.
For the first time since they had married she wondered if she had made a dreadful mistake. Somehow the close friendship she had felt at Salcombe was dwindling away. Perhaps he was disappointed in her, although she had done her best to be what he wanted. He had said he wanted a friend and a companion, someone who would ease his social life for him and preside at his dinner table when they had guests.
She worried at her thoughts like a dog worrying a bone for the rest of the day, and a good deal of the night. But by the following afternoon she had pulled herself together, deciding she was being silly, imagining things which didn’t exist. She put on one of the pretty warm dresses, took pains with her face and subdued her hair into a French pleat. She went downstairs and sat in the drawing room with Prince and Percy and, so as not to look too eager, had a book open on her lap.
She didn’t read a word but sat, her ears stretched for the sound of the heavy front door closing, so that the doctor, coming into his house by a side door, caught her unawares.
He stood in the doorway and said, ‘Hello, Emma,’ in a quiet voice.
She dropped the book and spun round and out of her chair to meet him. She forgot that she was going to be pleased to see him in a cool friendly way; instead she shot across the room and he came to meet her and take her in his arms.
‘Well, what a warm welcome,’ he said, smiling down at her. He held her a little way from him. ‘And how pretty you look. For my benefit, I hope?’
‘No, of course not. Well, yes. I mean, you were coming home…’ She saw his slow smile and added hastily, ‘Was it a success, your visit?’
‘I hope so. An obscure chest condition which might bring an end to the lady’s singing career.’
He came and sat down opposite her and Kulk brought in the tea tray. Emma felt a very warm contentment.
It was on the following day that he told her that they had been invited to have drinks at the hospital director’s house. ‘We have known each other some time now, and he has a charming wife. Will you be ready if I get home around six o’clock.’
‘Then I’ll tell Katje to have dinner ready at eight?’
‘Yes, by all means. I should warn you that this is the beginning of an obligatory social round so that you may meet everyone—my colleagues, their wives, old family friends. I did tell you that I knew a number of people.’
‘My Dutch…’ began Emma.
‘No need to worry; they all speak English. I must rely upon you to deal with invitations, and of course we shall have to invite everyone back again.’ He smiled at her. ‘You can see why I need a wife!’
For some reason his remark depressed her.
CHAPTER NINE
SHE must look her best, decided Emma, getting ready for the drinks party that evening. She brushed her hair to shining smoothness, to
ok pains with her face and got into the dark green velvet dress. Which, even under her critical gaze, was without fault. And Roele’s admiring look clinched the matter.
Although she was by no means unused to social occasions, Emma felt nervous. The director of the hospital was an important person, and she wanted to make a good impression and not let Roele down. But she need not have worried. Their host was a middle-aged, scholarly man who appeared to be on the most friendly terms with Roele, and as for his wife, an imposing lady with a rigid hairstyle and ample proportions, she was kindness itself, taking Emma under her wing and introducing her to several other people there.
Going back home later, Emma asked anxiously, ‘Was I all right? I wish I could speak Dutch—your kind of Dutch, not just the odd word.’
‘You were a great success, Emma. I have been envied by the men and congratulated by the women and, should you wish, you have a splendid social life ahead of you.’
‘Well,’ said Emma, ‘I like meeting people and going to the theatre and all that sort of thing, but not by myself and not too often. And only if you’re there, too.’
‘I shall do my best to be on hand, but you will have to go to numerous coffee mornings on your own.’
‘I’m going to one in the village tomorrow. A kind of coffee morning the children have got up to raise money for Christmas. All the mothers are going and the dominee asked if I would go too. It’ll be fun and I can practise my Dutch on the children. I asked Katje to make some biscuits so that I could take something. You don’t mind?’
‘My dear Emma, of course I don’t mind. This is your home in which you may do whatever you like, and I’m glad that you like the village. My mother did a great deal to help the dominee and he will be delighted to have your interest.’