The Silver Thaw

by Betty Neels

  Her father was pleased to hear her. ‘Having a splendid time, I daresay,’ he declared. ‘Is Gideon there?’

  She said he wasn’t. ‘If there’s a message...?’

  ‘No, no—just to wish him all the best for the New Year, and you too, my dear. We’ve a few friends here; dinner, you know, and a toast to the New Year, nothing as splendid as your evening will be. Have fun, my dear.’

  She assured him that she would and replaced the receiver. There wasn’t going to be much fun watching Gideon with his future wife, for most certainly she would be there. She gathered up her things and went upstairs, making up her mind as she went that she wouldn’t look at him for the whole of the evening. There were plenty of rather nice men around, there was no reason why she shouldn’t have a whale of a time. There would be champagne too, that always made her feel good.

  She found herself next to Mevrouw van der Tolck at tea, being gently prodded into giving details of her work and home, and very shortly they were joined by Saskia, which made it easy for Amelia to concentrate on her two companions and ignore Gideon, wandering round the room, his teacup in his hand, talking to everyone. Even when he fetched up with a group of men standing close by and stayed some time with them, she managed not to look at him although her ears were stretched to hear his voice, although that was a waste of time, for he was speaking Dutch. True, he did join them presently, but only for a short time while he discussed the evening ahead with his mother, addressed a few remarks to herself, exchanged a spirited argument with his sister and strolled away again.

  Amelia dressed with great care; the navy sequins, while not absolutely new, was decidedly fashionable and she would need the pleated crêpe for the following evening. She rolled her hair into an elegant chignon, stuck a sequined bow in it, and went downstairs, guided by the hum of voices and a lot of laughing.

  She had hesitated about going down because she was scared to be alone with Gideon, but now she saw that the room was full; she must be the last one. She went a little pink with embarrassment and sidled round the door, making for a group of people close by. But Gideon had seen her. Before she was halfway there, he was beside her, heading her off to a quiet corner, where he gave her a drink.

  ‘You ought to have made an entrance in that dress,’ he told her with a smile, ‘instead of which you crept round the corner like a child late for school. Were you hoping to escape unnoticed, Amelia?’

  She was regaining her cool. ‘Certainly not, but I realised that I was late and the last one in always feels awful—it’s like being the first one in, only that’s worse.’

  ‘Well, it wouldn’t have been; we could have kept each other company and reminisced. But perhaps you don’t want to do that.’

  She heard the faint mockery in his voice and said uncomfortably: ‘I—I don’t mind.’ She put down her glass and raised her lovely eyes to his face. ‘Gideon, why did you ask me to come?’

  ‘I was hoping you’d ask me that; what a pity that you did so now and here, with the entire family pretending not to look at us. Some time, when we’re alone, I’ll tell you. Have another drink?’

  ‘No, thank you.’ She spoke worriedly; the evening was starting all wrong. She had planned to spend the evening with anyone but him, and here she was, within seconds of entering the room, pinned into a corner with him.

  ‘Now, I warn you that we get increasingly merry as the Old Year slips away and we bring the New Year in with something of a bang—and I mean that. Fireworks are all part and parcel of the evening.’ He took her arm and walked her across to a group of young men and women—cousins, she remembered.

  ‘Pieter’s taking you into dinner.’ Gideon nodded at a fair-haired youngish man in a frilled shirt and velvet jacket. Amelia took exception to them both and she wasn’t sure if she liked their wearer, but he welcomed her warmly, drew her into the circle and soon she was laughing with the rest of them.

  The dinner was magnificent, with silver and crystal gleaming on white damask and bowls of violets down the centre of the table. Amelia ate her way through caviar, stuffed aubergine, roast goose with all its proper accompaniments, and a trifle as light as thistledown, laced liberally with sherry. They had drunk champagne and she rose from the table decidedly improved in her spirits and prepared to enjoy the rest of the evening to its fullest extent.

  There was no denying that it was made easy for her to do just that. After dinner the company moved back to the drawing room, where they were very shortly joined by neighbouring friends, all intent on welcoming the New Year in the proper spirit. The silky rugs had been taken up while they were at dinner, and Amelia found herself dancing the moment she set foot inside the door—with Renier and Pieter and a succession of young men, all bent on entertaining her, but not with Gideon. She watched him dancing with his mother, his sisters, untold cousins and pretty girls whom she viewed with jealous eye, but somehow he never got around to her, not until it was almost midnight, when he joined the little group round her, saying smoothly: ‘Our dance, I think, Amelia,’ and then sweeping her off before she could tell him that it wasn’t.

  Not that she wanted to do that. Her feet on a cloud, she spent the first few moments listening to common sense warning her not to get excited—after all, he must have danced with every woman in the room and it just happened to be her turn. She damped down the excitement by earnest efforts to make light, witty conversation which Gideon listened to gravely and silently, which gave her no encouragement at all.

  She had lapsed into silence for perhaps ten seconds when she saw Jorrit threading his sombre way through the guests. She couldn’t hear what he whispered into Gideon’s ear, of course, but she saw Gideon’s quick frown and was quite prepared when he said: ‘Amelia, I have to go—only for a few moments—something telephoned through from the hospital.’

  He walked her to a sofa where his mother was sitting, murmured a few words to that lady, and went quickly from the room. Mevrouw van der Tolck muttered something under her breath and smiled at Amelia. ‘The hospital—it interferes so much with Gideon’s life. Just as he had planned everything so well, too.’

  ‘Indeed?’ Amelia was all agog to hear about his plans. Possibly when she did she would be sorry, but all these rumours about his getting married...she had no chance, she saw that now; she should have snapped him up when he had asked her to marry him on her first visit—it had been a joke, of that she was sure, but what would he have done if she had accepted him out of hand? Besides, she hadn’t been in love with him then, which made everything so much more complicated, and now the boot was on the other foot. He had been at great pains to let her see that he regarded her in the light of a good friend’s daughter. Oh well... She was roused from her thoughts by the sudden clamour of sound and she was pulled to her feet by Renier. ‘Quickly!’ he told her. ‘We must form a circle for Auld Lang Syne.’

  ‘Here?’ she asked him. ‘Do you sing that here too?’

  ‘Naturally, and then a great many Dutch songs.’

  ‘Gideon’s not here,’ she protested.

  ‘He will be, even if he has to bring the telephone with him.’

  She was standing between Renier and one of Gideon’s brothers-in-law, belting out Auld Lang Syne, when she saw Gideon come through the door at the farther end of the room. The clock began to strike midnight as he reached the circle and slid between two girls. She didn’t think that he had even noticed where she was—and why should he anyway? There was a ringing cheer at the last stroke of the hour and Amelia allowed herself to be kissed unendingly while she toasted the New Year with Gideon’s excellent champagne. Someone was throwing streamers and balloons, discreetly launched by a severe-looking Jorrit, were being tossed around. Amelia had just fielded one neatly back to an elderly bearded gentlemen whom she remembered vaguely as an uncle of some importance in the family when she was taken hold of firmly and whisked through the celebrations, out of a si
de door and into a small room she had never seen before.

  ‘A happy new year, Amelia,’ said Gideon softly. ‘Happier, I hope, than the last one. Personally, I have no complaints to make on that score—the Old Year has given me some very pleasant memories.’

  ‘Oh, has it?’ She had gone a little way away from him, to stand by a small bureau whose marquetry lid she was tracing with a forefinger.

  ‘Indeed yes. One waits, you know, for something for a long time, knowing that if one waits long enough it will happen, and it has.’

  ‘Oh, good. Did you discover a new anaesthetic or something?’

  ‘I discovered the girl I intend to marry.’

  ‘Do I know her?’ She made the question an airy one.

  ‘Yes.’

  It would be that beastly Fiona. ‘She was at Barbara’s wedding?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then why isn’t she here?’ she asked sharply. ‘You shouldn’t have let her go off to America like that.’

  She was still so intent on the bureau that she didn’t see his eyes widen with surprise and then narrow with amusement. He said to ruffle her false calm: ‘Have you heard from Tom?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, but I didn’t expect to.’

  ‘I’m a little surprised; I should have thought that once he was out there and had had a look around, he would have had second thoughts.’

  Amelia turned on him fiercely. ‘Look, I’m not going to be any man’s second thought,’ but she was not thinking of Tom at all, only of Gideon, amusing himself with her while his Fiona was safely in America.

  Gideon’s face had become all at once bland. ‘You feel very strongly about that, don’t you, Amelia?’ He smiled slowly at her. ‘How serious we have become—and in the middle of a party too! Shall we go back and see how everyone is getting on?’

  She said yes with such alacrity that her tongue tripped over the word. She would have liked to have left the party and gone to her room and howled and howled until she had no tears left, instead of which she would have to dance and laugh and chatter for hours yet.

  Something which she achieved very creditably until the party broke up shortly before three o’clock, by which time she was so tired she had no wish to think about anything at all, certainly not her own unhappiness.

  She was on her way up to bed, mounting the staircase beside Mevrouw van der Tolck, when Gideon called her softly from the hall below. She paused to look down at him, almost cross-eyed with sleep.

  ‘Come down, Amelia, just for a moment.’

  There was no reason why she should retrace her steps so obediently, but she did. The hall was dimly lit now and Mevrouw van der Tolck didn’t look round as she reached the head of the staircase and started along the gallery to her room. Amelia could hear Jorrit talking to someone behind the closed doors of the drawing room and the heavy breathing of Nel and Prince waiting to be taken for a last run before their master went to his bed, she was conscious of the heavy tick-tock of the great Friesian wall clock too, but these small sounds only served to make the silence of the old house deeper. She crossed the hall to where Gideon stood and fetched up before him.

  ‘Well?’ she asked.

  He didn’t answer her, only took her in his arms and kissed her gently.

  ‘A farewell to the Old Year,’ he explained, ‘but I don’t think we’ll do anything about the New Year at the moment—I like to be sure of my facts.’

  Amelia looked up at him, owl-like. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean,’ she told him with something of a snap. Her misery, dulled by tiredness, had returned even more sharply because he’d kissed her.

  ‘No, I’m sure you don’t.’ He was staring down at her, his arms still around her despite the surreptitious tug with which she had tried to free herself. ‘You’re in a muddle, aren’t you, Amelia? Your pretty head is filled with fancies and quite absurd notions and you’ve got to get rid of them.’

  She pulled away from him then and turned her back, her eyes full of tears. ‘Don’t you preach at me,’ she said in a voice becoming a little shrill. ‘I’ll manage my own life, thank you.’

  ‘You see what I mean?’ he asked mildly. ‘That’s another absurd notion.’

  Amelia didn’t wait for more but flew away at a great rate and up the stairs and into her room, where she burst into tears, something she had been wanting to do for at least five minutes. Everything was so hopeless! If only he hadn’t been going to marry Fiona she might have told him everything—that she didn’t love Tom, that she loved him. She might even have asked him humbly if he had meant it when he had asked her to marry him, because if he did, she would, very willingly—that Tom had never meant the same to her as he did, that without him life was going to be bleak...and thank God I didn’t say all that, wailed Amelia between hiccoughs.

  She dried her eyes presently and went to bed where naturally enough she fell asleep at once, quite worn out with despair and tiredness. She didn’t wake until she was roused by her early morning tea, only by then it wasn’t early at all, but well past nine o’clock. She got up at once and went downstairs to find most of the younger members of the party at the breakfast table, and she was immediately drawn into a discussion about the night’s festivities, pronounced great fun by everyone there. ‘Such a pity that Gideon had to leave so early,’ observed Saskia.

  Amelia buttered toast with a hand which shook. ‘Oh, did he? But we didn’t go to bed until three o’clock.’

  ‘He didn’t go to bed at all—saw us all safely upstairs, then takes the dogs out and races off to Utrecht for some dire emergency or other.’ Saskia peered into her coffee cup. ‘He needs a wife to keep an eye on him—don’t you agree, Amelia?’

  Amelia kept her eyes on her plate. ‘Yes, oh, yes, I’m sure he does.’

  A cousin from the other end of the table joined in: ‘I pity the poor girl—keeping an eye on him will be a round-the-clock job.’

  ‘Well, that wouldn’t be much of a hardship.’ It was his second sister, Chloe, speaking. ‘Gideon’s a darling. A good thing he’s made up his mind at last.’

  There was a profound silence, and Amelia, her eyes still on her plate, didn’t see the eyes of the van der Tolck family fastened apprehensively upon her. Chloe had always been too quick with her tongue, as everyone was quick enough to tell her later. Now she made amends as speedily as possible by demanding to know rather loudly what they were all going to do.

  ‘I shall take Amelia down to the stables to see that dear little dog Gideon found,’ observed Saskia, ‘and there are crowds of people coming to lunch, don’t forget. Gideon’ll be home by then.’

  ‘Won’t he want to sleep for a little?’ ventured Amelia. Poor Gideon, not getting to bed at all, and she had been so ungracious, though possibly he had forgotten all about it... His mind would be wholly occupied by Fiona.

  ‘If I know him, he’ll have a shower, change his clothes, snore his head off for ten minutes and be the life and soul of the party.’ Renier smiled across the table at Amelia. ‘You must find us a very peculiar family.’

  She shook her head, wishing with all her heart that she could become a member of it.

  Probably Renier had been right about Gideon, for when lunch time came, there he was, being the perfect host, the picture of a leisurely man with nothing much to do. Only when she looked carefully at him when he couldn’t see her doing it did she see the lines etched between nose and mouth and the marked droop of his eyelids. He looked up and saw her and she turned her back quickly and began talking to a tall, very thin young man who she felt sure was about to tell her his life’s history.

  Gideon’s voice in her ear prevented that. ‘Your face was a mixture of pity and surprise and something else—why?’

  She wasn’t going to be caught out. ‘Well, that’s easy—I was feeling sorry because you had no sleep last
night, and surprise that you’re here, looking so—so...’

  ‘Alert? happy? handsome? You choose. What was the other look, Amelia?’

  ‘I have no idea.’ She gave him what she hoped was a cool smile and turned back to the thin young man. He had gone. ‘I was talking to someone,’ she protested.

  ‘Cousin Theodore—twenty-one, garrulous and full of conceit. I’m much more interesting.’ She giggled and he said: ‘That’s better. Don’t you find me interesting?’

  Amelia twiddled her glass round and round in her hand until he took it away from her and put it on a table. ‘I thought we might go for a long walk after lunch.’

  ‘Don’t you need some sleep?’

  ‘I can sleep later. I thought we might go round the park and down to the village—the church is rather special.’

  ‘Well, yes—all right. Just us?’

  His raised eyebrows sent the colour into her cheeks. ‘I am considered to be a very safe companion even for the prettiest of young women.’

  ‘I’m sorry—I didn’t mean that.’ It was annoying of him to ask at once:

  ‘Then what did you mean?’

  ‘Oh, nothing—I was just saying anything to—to keep the conversation going.’

  ‘Oh, dear, am I such hard work?’ He was laughing at her now and she said crossly:

  ‘You know I didn’t mean that.’ She was about to try and explain in a light and joking fashion when they were joined by several others and presently Gideon moved away. Probably, Amelia told herself unhappily, he won’t want to take me for a walk now.

  It seemed that he did. She had barely finished her coffee when he asked her if she would like to get her coat. ‘For it gets dark early,’ he explained, and, ‘Do put on something warm, it’s a good deal colder.’

  It was indeed very cold. She wore her thick topcoat and borrowed a fur hood belonging to someone or other and dug her hands into thick mitts. But ten minutes’ brisk walking set her glowing so that her cheeks were red and her eyes sparkling. ‘Gosh, it’s frosty,’ she remarked as they skirted the field beyond the stables.