A Gentle Awakening

by Betty Neels

  ‘Did you say goodbye to Daddy?’

  It was difficult to speak. ‘Yes.’ She managed to smile as she went.

  Jolly hadn’t much to say during the drive to Wheel House, and the fact that she was leaving wasn’t mentioned. He was a loyal old servant and she would have been surprised if he had referred to it. But he was kind and helpful and she believed him when he said that both he and Mrs Jolly would miss her, but that wasn’t until the next morning, after she had packed her things, arranged for most of them to be sent to her father’s house, and bidden Nanny goodbye. Nanny had had very little to say and Florina had been rather hurt over her lack of concern for her future. She had been kind and had fussed around Florina, and she and Jolly did everything to help her, but they hadn’t expressed any interest in her future. She thought sadly that even Pauline hadn’t minded overmuch. She had got up early and stripped her bed and left the room tidy, reflecting that she wouldn’t be missed and would certainly be quickly forgotten in the bustle of the forthcoming wedding.

  Her father, when she had walked through the village to see him, had said in a satisfied voice, ‘I told you so, didn’t I? But you knew best, and look where it’s landed you. You’d better find yourself work in Holland, for I can’t afford to keep you.’

  They were to drive to the hospital where she was to meet Doctor van Thurssen, and as Jolly helped her out of the car and carried her case into the entrance hall she looked around, longing to see Sir William just once more, but no one was there. She said goodbye to Jolly and sat down to wait.

  Doctor van Thurssen came presently and they went out to his car. It was parked in the consultants’ car park and the Bentley was beside it; there was no one in it, of course. If she had turned her head and looked up at the windows of the children’s ward she would have seen Sir William standing at one of them, watching her. It was only when Doctor van Thurssen had driven away that he turned back to resume his round of his little patients.

  If Florina had been happier, she would have enjoyed the journey to Hindeloopen. They had caught the midday ferry, arriving at the Hoek in the evening, and then driving north, to arrive some four hours later at his home. It was dark by then and she was hungry, for they had stopped only long enough to eat a sandwich and drink coffee, and the sight of the brightly lit house on the edge of the little town was very welcome. A welcome echoed by Mevrouw van Thurssen, who greeted her warmly, took her to her room, bade her take off her outdoor things and return downstairs for her supper.

  The room was pleasant, nicely furnished and large and the bed looked inviting. She was very tired, but she was hungry too. She went back downstairs and was ushered into a lofty dining-room, furnished with a massive square table and solid chairs, given a glass of sherry and told kindly to sit herself down at the table. Supper was all that a hungry girl could have wished for, and while they ate Mevrouw van Thurssen outlined her duties.

  ‘Of course, the older children go to school, but Lisa, the youngest, is at home. Saska—she’s five—goes to Kleuterschool in the mornings, and Jan and Welmer go to the Opleidingschool here—they are seven and ten—and then Olda and Sebo both go to Bolsward each day. Either the doctor or I drive them there and back—’ she hesitated. ‘I don’t suppose you drive? Of course, Ellie has a licence, so she was able to take them sometimes…’

  ‘Yes, I’ve an international licence and I brought it with me. I drove quite a bit when I came to Holland with my mother, although that is some years ago.’

  They beamed at her. ‘How fortunate we are in having you, Florina—may I call you that? Now, I am sure that you are tired. In the morning you shall meet the children, and perhaps if you come with me to Bolsward you can see where the schools are? Lutsje can take Saska to school and look after Lisa while we are away. Perhaps we could do as Ellie and I do? One of us goes to Bolsward and the other takes Saska to her school and takes Lisa at the same time in the pushchair.’

  In bed, Florina closed her eyes resolutely. She had plenty to think about until she went to sleep, and in the morning she would feel quite different; she had turned a page in her life and she wasn’t going to look back at it. After all, she was quite at home in Holland; Friesland was a little different perhaps, but she had slipped back into Dutch again without any effort, it should be easy enough to get a job and it didn’t matter where… Here her good resolutions were forgotten; she went back over her day and wished herself back in England, at Wheel House, cooking something delicious for Sir William who would come into the kitchen and say hello in his calm fashion. She wondered if he had missed her—just as a cook, of course—but probably by now Wanda had already engaged a French chef…

  He had seemed almost relieved to see her go. ‘Oh, William,’ she mumbled into the pillow. She cried a little then, until at last she slept.

  There was little time to think in the morning; the entire family breakfasted together before Doctor van Thurssen went to his surgery, and then, with Lisa left in the care of Lutsje, who would take Saska to school, Florina got into the family estate car with the two elder children and was driven to Bolsward. Olda and Sebo were at different schools; their mother dropped them off and turned for home. ‘If you take them tomorrow,’ she suggested, ‘I could to go to Sneek in the morning. And perhaps you would fetch Saska at midday?’

  After that the day flew past. The household was well run; Mevrouw van Thurssen had plenty of help, but there was always something or someone in need of attention, and the day had a certain routine which had to be kept. The family was a happy one and close-knit, and she was kept busy until she had helped put Lisa and Saska to bed. After supper, she helped Welmer with his English lessons. When the children were in bed, she sat for a while with the doctor and his wife, drinking a last cup of coffee before going to her own bed. She was tired by then, too tired to think clearly about her own affairs. In a day or two, she promised herself, she would decide what she was going to do. She slept on the thought.

  A week went by and she was no nearer a decision; by now she had become involved in the life of the Thurssen family; the children liked her; she worked hard, cooked when there was no one else to do it, sewed, bathed the smaller children, ferried the older ones to and from school and helped out with their homework in the evenings. But it wasn’t all work; at the weekend they had all crammed into the estate car and spent the day on board the doctor’s yacht which he kept moored at Sneek—the weather had been fine, if a little chilly, and Florina had enjoyed every minute of it.

  On the way back, Olda, sitting beside her, said, ‘We like our Ellie, but I wish you could stay with us too.’

  It brought Florina up with a jolt. Ellie was due back in a week and she had done nothing about her future. It was a question of whether she should stay in Holland, get a work permit and find a job, or go back to England. She had a little money saved, enough to live on for a week or two while she found work. London, she supposed, where there were hotels and big private houses where cooks were employed; it seemed sensible to go there. At the very back of her mind was the thought that if she went there to work, she might, just might, see Sir William; not to speak to, of course. She was aware that this was a terribly stupid wish on her part; the quicker she forgot him the better. If she went to see her father she would have to take care to do so during the week when Sir William wouldn’t be at Wheel House.

  It was all very well to make good resolutions, but she was never free from his image beneath her eyelids and, however busy she was, he popped up in the back of her head, ready to fill her thoughts. All day and every day she was wondering what he was doing, and that evening, pleading tiredness after their outing, she went to bed as soon as the last of the children had settled down for the night. But she didn’t sleep, she lay picturing him at Wheel House, sitting in his lovely drawing-room with the mill stream murmuring and Wanda with him, looking gorgeous and dressed to kill.

  She was quite wrong; he was indeed in his drawing-room and Wanda was with him, not sitting but storming up and down the ro
om, stuttering with bad temper. He had, for his own purposes, taken her for a walk that afternoon; a long walk along bridle paths and over fields of rough grass, circumventing ploughed fields and climbing any number of gates. All the while he had talked cheerfully about the pleasures of the country. ‘We’ll come every weekend,’ he assured her, ‘and spend any free days that I have here. I must get you a bike, it’s marvellous exercise. You’ll feel years younger.’

  Wanda, her tights laddered, stung by nettles and unsuitably shod in high heels, almost spat at him; she would have argued with him but she had needed all her breath to keep up with his easy stride.

  ‘Just wait until we get back,’ she told him furiously. And she had had to wait until they had dined—rather sketchily because Nanny and Mrs Deakin were good plain cooks with small repertoires. Wanda had suggested getting a cordon bleu cook, but Sir William had said easily that there was no hurry, and when she had pointed out that there was no reason why they shouldn’t marry within the next week or so, he hadn’t been in a hurry about that either; he had a backlog of theatre cases and an overflowing outpatients’ clinic. An unsettling remark, since she had spread it around that they were marrying shortly.

  Wanda glared at his broad back now and wondered if it was worth it—he was successful and rich and handsome, everything a girl such as herself expected of a husband; he was also proving tiresomely stubborn. She allowed herself to reflect upon the American millionaire William had introduced her to only that very week. Now, there was a man eminently suitable; possessed of oil wells that never required his presence, able to live wherever fancy took him; a real lover of bright lights. He had sent her flowers and she had half promised to see him again; after all, William was so seldom free and, if he was, he liked to have a quiet evening at home.

  In the drawing-room, drinking Mrs Deakin’s instant coffee, she allowed bad temper to get the better of her good sense. ‘This is the worst weekend I’ve ever had to spend,’ she raged. ‘This coffee is unspeakable and I’ll tell you now, William, I will not live here, not even for weekends. You can sell the place, I hate it.’

  Sir William swallowed some more coffee and thought of Florina. ‘No, I don’t wish to see it sold, Wanda. In fact I’m thinking of taking on less work and spending more time here.’

  She came to a halt in front of him. ‘You mean that? You really mean it?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I would like to enjoy my wife and children, and I would need to have more time for that.’

  ‘But you’re at the top of your profession—you’re well known, you know everyone who matters.’

  ‘I begin to think that the people who matter to you aren’t those who matter to me, Wanda.’

  She stamped her foot. ‘I want some fun, I want to go out dancing and have parties and buy pretty clothes.’

  He said thoughtfully, ‘When we first met, you told me that you wanted to have a home of your own—you even mentioned children…’

  ‘Well, I found you attractive and I wanted to impress you, I suppose. I must say, William, you have changed. If I marry you, will you send Pauline to boarding-school and get rid of that awful old Nanny and give up this dump? We could have such fun in London; you would have much more time to go out if you didn’t have to come racing down here all the time.’

  He looked at her from under half closed lids and said mildly, ‘No, Wanda, I won’t do any of those things.’

  ‘Then don’t expect me to!’ she shouted at him, as she tugged the diamond ring off her finger and threw it at him. ‘I’m going to bed and you can drive me back in the morning. I never want to see you again! All these months wasted…’

  She flung out of the room and Sir William went to the side table poured himself a whisky and sat down again. He was smiling to himself—quite a wicked smile. Presently he went into his study and picked up the telephone.

  It was Florina’s last day; Ellie would be back in the morning. She had packed her case, telephoned a surprised Tante Minna, done the daily chores she had come to enjoy so much and now she was sitting on the side of Lisa’s cot reading her a bedtime story. It was when the child gave a sudden chortle that she paused to look up from the book. Doctor van Thurssen had walked into the night nursery and with him was Sir William.

  Florina’s voice faltered and died. She made no answer to the doctor’s ‘Good evening’ as he picked his small daughter up from her cot and sat her on his lap. She had no breath for that. She could only stare at Sir William and gulp her heart back where it belonged.

  ‘Is it not convenient?’ observed Doctor van Thurssen cheerfully. ‘Here is Sir William come to fetch you home.’

  She was on her feet, wild ideas of escape mixed with delight at seeing him again. She must be firm, she told herself, and cool and matter-of-fact. She said, in a voice she strove to keep just that, ‘I have arranged to go to my aunt.’

  Sir William crossed the room towards her and she retreated a few steps, which she realised, too late, was silly; the door was further away than ever. Moreover, there was only the wall behind her and he had fetched up so close to her that she had only to stretch out her hands to touch him. She clasped them prudently and kept her eyes on his waistcoat.

  He said in his placid voice, but this time edged with steel, ‘I shall take you home, Florina, where you belong.’ And Doctor van Thurssen, who had been tucking his small daughter back into her cot, capped this with a brisk, ‘Most satisfactory—it could not be better for you, Florina.’ And while she was still trying to frame a watertight argument against it, he swept them both downstairs.

  Somehow, for the rest of the evening, Florina was thwarted from her purpose to be alone with Sir William; she had to tell him that nothing on earth would make her go back to Wheel House with him, but there was no chance, even when, in desperation, as she and Mevrouw van Thurssen were on their way to bed, she tried to interrupt the men’s learned discussion about the treatment of childish illnesses; they barely paused to listen to her request for five minutes of Sir William’s time. He simply smiled kindly at her and pointed out that they would have plenty of time to talk as they drove back the next day. She had bidden them a stony goodnight and gone upstairs with Mevrouw van Thurssen, fuming silently.

  Everyone was at breakfast and everyone talked; there was not the slightest chance of being heard above the cheerful din. She glowered at Sir William, who apparently didn’t notice, although his eyes gleamed with amusement behind their lids. It wasn’t until goodbyes had been said and she was sitting beside him in the Bentley that she had her chance at last. She had rehearsed what she was going to say for a good deal of the night. Clear, pithy remarks which would leave him no doubt as to her intention to remain in Holland. Unfortunately not one single word came to mind. She blurted out instead, ‘I wish to go to Tante Minna…’

  ‘A bit out of our way, but I think we could squeeze in an hour or so—I’d like to get home latish this evening.’

  ‘I’m not going back with you, Sir William,’ her voice was waspish and she was horrified to know that she was near to tears.

  ‘For what reason?’ He sounded mildly curious.

  ‘You know perfectly well what the reason is.’ She felt quite reckless, what did it matter what she said now? He already knew that she loved him. She pursued her train of thought out loud. ‘Wanda told you…’

  ‘Why yes, she did, but she told me something I already knew, Florina.’

  Florina sniffed. ‘Well, then, why do you persist… She won’t have me in the house.’ She stamped a foot in temper and he laughed softly.

  ‘And you can stop laughing, you know quite well I wanted to get you alone yesterday…’

  ‘Oh, yes, it needed a lot of will-power on my part to prevent it, too.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ He skimmed past a huge articulated lorry. ‘You are driving very fast.’

  ‘The better to get home, my dear.’

  ‘I’m not your dear.’ Really, the conversation was getting her nowhere. ‘Sir William, please understan
d this, I will not come back to Wheel House— Wanda…’

  ‘Let us leave Wanda out of it, shall we? She is not at Wheel House and I think it enormously unlikely that we shall ever meet again—she is enamoured of a wealthy American and they are probably already married!’

  Florina digested this in silence. ‘You sent me away—’ she began.

  ‘My darling girl, consider—it was obvious to everyone—the likelihood of my not marrying Wanda once I had met you became a foregone conclusion. To everyone but you—if I had not sent you away you would probably have spent your time in earnest endeavours to get us to the altar.’

  ‘You mean Wanda doesn’t want to marry you? She jilted you?’

  ‘Yes, with a little help from circumstances.’

  She cast a quick look at him; he looked smug. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Oh, nothing really—a long country walk, rather a muddy one, I’m afraid—and the nettles at this time of year. Nanny and Mrs Deakin cooked dinner, and I refused to sell Wheel House and live for ever and ever in London.’

  They drove for some miles in silence while Florina sorted out her thoughts. There was no reason why she shouldn’t go back to Wheel House now. Just once or twice she had felt a rush of pure excitement wondering what he would say next, only he hadn’t said anything, and by that she meant he hadn’t said that he loved her. But for what other reason would he take all the trouble to fetch her back? Because she was a good cook?

  She frowned, staring ahead of her as the car tore along the motorway. Perhaps it would be wiser if she were to stay in Holland. Perhaps he thought that she was suffering from an infatuation which would pass once she was back in her kitchen. She became aware that he was slowing the car into the slow lane and she looked at him.

  ‘If I tell you that I love you—am in love with you, and have been since the moment I saw you, my darling, will you be content to leave it at that until we are home? I can’t kiss you adequately in the fast lane, and nothing else will do!’ He smiled at her with a tenderness which made her gulp. All she could do was nod, and he reached out and caught her hand for a moment. ‘We will marry as soon as it can be arranged. Now sit quiet and think about the wedding cake while I drive.’