by Betty Neels
instead of the everlasting shop which was talked at the hospital, and
even when she was home, William liked to tell her about his cases; many
a meal she had eaten to the accompaniment of a blow-by-blow account of
the appendix which had ruptured, the ulcer which had perforated on the
way to theatre, the stitching he had been allowed to do.
.
.
it was pleasant to forget all that and listen to the children's
chatter.
To sit at such a table with children such as these, but her own,
watching them gobble with healthy appetites, hearing their high, clear
voices, would be wonderful, she thought wistfully.
She was deep in a daydream when she was roused by Hubert's asking why
her eyes were a different colour from everyone else's.
"I don't really know," she told him. "It's just that they're
mauve--everyone has different coloured eyes. . ." "We all have blue
eyes,"
said Dirk, 'not Alberdina, of course, hers are brown, but Mama and Papa
have blue eyes too and so has Uncle Alexander." "My doll, Jane, has
brown eyes,"
Marineka tossed her fair hair over her shoulder. "It is to do with
genes,"
she announced importantly.
Beth looked at the little girl with something like awe.
She hadn't known anything about genes until she was in the sixth form
of the rather old-fashioned school her father had sent her to, but then
of course she hadn't a doctor for an uncle and her father, moreover,
hadn't held with girls knowing too much.
She said hastily, before she became involved in a conversation
concerning genetics in which she felt reasonably sure she would make
but a poor show: "Have you any pets at home?
' It was a successful red herring; there were several cats, all with
outlandish Dutch names, and a dog called Rufus, as well as a tame
rabbit or so, goldfish in a pond in the garden and a canary, although
the latter belonged to someone called Mies whose function in their home
was not explained to her.
It was an easy step from that for Dirk to describe his uncle's two
dogs.
Gem and Mini, black labradors, and when Beth commented on their names,
he gave her a sharp look.
"They're twins," he told her, and waited.
"Oh, I see--Gemini, the heavenly twins!
Very clever of someone to have thought of that.
' Her worth had obviously increased in his eyes.
"Not many people think of that.
Uncle Alexander has a cat too, called Mops and two horses as well as a
donkey, and there's a pond with ducks.
We feed them when we go to stay with him.
' It would have been nice to have heard more, but what would be the
good?
It would only stir up a vague feeling which she supposed was envy.
She suggested mildly that it was about time Alberdina went to her bed,
and offered to help her take a bath, a suggestion which was received
with such a lack of surprise that she concluded that the children were
quite in the habit of having someone to look after them; no wonder the
profess or had been so anxious to find a substitute for their mother.
By half past eight they were tucked up, the two boys sharing a large
room next to her own, the little girls across the landing.
Beth, a little untidy after her exertions, retired to her room to
change her sweater for a blouse and do her hair and face before going
downstairs.
Mrs Silver had said dinner at half past eight, and she was hungry.
It was lonely, though, after the bustle and noise of the hospital
canteen, sitting at the oval table in the quiet dining room, with only
Mrs Silver popping in and out with a succession of delicious foods,
accompanying each dish with the strong encouragement to eat as much as
she could.
For I do hear that those hospitals don't feed their nurses all that
well.
Stodge, I daresay, miss I don't hold with all that starch; here's a
nice little souffle, as light as a feather even though I do say it
myself, you just eat it up.
' She trotted off again, with the advice that she would bring coffee to
the sitting room in ten minutes' time, and left Beth to eat up the
souffle and then dash upstairs to make sure that all the children were
asleep.
They were; she went down to the sitting room and drank her coffee, and
then, feeling guiltily idle, went to examine the book shelves which
filled one wall.
Early bed, she decided, and a book; there was a splendid selection for
her to choose from.
She was trying to decide between the newest Alistair Ma clean and Ira
Morris's Troika Belle, which she had read several times already, when
she heard steps in the hall and turned, a book in each hand, as the
door opened and the profess or came in.
He looked magnificent; a black tie did something for a man--it
certainly did something for him.
Not that he needed it, for he had the kind of looks which could get
away with an old sweater and shapeless slacks, though Beth very much
doubted if he ever allowed himself to be seen in such gear.
"Presumably the sight of me has rendered you speechless," he commented
dryly.
"T've wished you good evening twice and all I get is a blank purple
stare.
' She put the books down and came into the centre of the room.
"I'm sorry.
.
.
I was thinking.
Is this your special room?
Would you like me to go?
' "My dear good girl, of course not.
My study is at the back of the hall--out of bounds to the children, but
consider yourself invited to make use of it whenever you wish--only
don't touch my desk.
' She smiled widely.
"Is it a mess?
Doctors seem to like them that way.
I was going up to bed, actually.
The children have been splendid--and how good they are at their
English, even Alberdina.
' She made her way to the door.
"I rather think they wake early in the morning and I want to be ready
for them.
' He had taken up a position before the empty fireplace, his eyes on
her face.
"T've some messages from Mar tina about the children, could you not sit
down for a minute while I pass them on?
' "Yes, of course.
' She perched on the edge of a large chair and folded her hands in her
lap.
"I hope Mevrouw Thor becke is getting on well?
' "Excellently.
' He pressed the old-fashioned bell by the fireplace and took a chair
opposite hers.
"T've been to a very dull dinner party, do you mind if I have some
coffee and something to eat?
' He broke off as Mrs Silver came into the room.
They were obviously on the best of terms, for she clucked at him in a
motherly fashion and burst at once into speech.
"There, Profess or, didn't I know it--you were given a bad dinner and
now you're famished," and when he admitted that this was so: "You just
sit there and I'll bri
ng you some coffee and sandwiches.
I daresay Miss Partridge could drink another cup and keep you
company.
' "Of course," he said, before Beth could get her mouth open; Mrs
Silver had gone by the time she managed: "I had coffee after dinner,
thank you.
' "You would prefer something else?
' His voice was blandly charming.
"No, thanks.
' She spoke firmly and wondered how it was that ten minutes later she
was sitting there with a cup of coffee in her hand, and moreover,
eating a sandwich.
She was still there an hour later; she had forgotten that her companion
was someone who, in the ordinary way, she would have addressed as sir,
taken his word for law in theatre, and if she had encountered him
outside their working sphere, wished him a sedate time of day and
nothing more; she only knew that she was content to sit in his company,
listening to his mild nothings and replying in kind.
The handsome ormolu clock on the mantelpiece chiming the hour recalled
her to the astonishing fact that it was midnight.
"Heavens, I never meant to stay as long as this," she exclaimed, aware
of regret as she jumped to her feet and made for the door.
The profess or had got to his feet too and with his hand on the door
she stopped short.
"The messages," she exclaimed again, 'you had some messages for me.
' He opened the door.
"I am ashamed to say that I have forgotten every one of them--they
couldn't have been of much importance, could they?
Your room is comfortable?
You have everything you want?
' She told him yes, feeling a little uneasy about the messages, but
there seemed nothing she could do about them now, so she wished him a
good night and went to her room, where later, and still very wide
awake, she thought about the evening, telling herself at the same time
that it was only because she had been feeling lonely that she had found
his company so very pleasant.
CHAPTER THREE beth took the children to Hyde Park in the morning and
now that they had got used to her, a little of their natural high
spirits were apparent; they screamed and laughed and ran races and fell
over like any other child, and Beth, with no one much around to see,
ran races too, her hair tumbling loose from her topknot and her cheeks
flushed a healthy pink.
And because it was such a lovely day, they walked home instead of
taking the bus, with a good deal of stopping on the way to look at
anything interesting which caught the eye of anyone in the party.
They arrived on the doorstep in a happy chattering bunch and Beth rang
the bell.
It was the profess or who opened the door to them and was instantly
assailed by all four children, each telling their own version of the
morning's amusements, interlarded with loud declarations of hunger.
He suffered them with good-natured patience, giving his opinion on
anything he was asked, and behaving, Beth was glad to see, just as an
uncle should, and when he looked over their heads to ask her if she had
enjoyed herself too, she answered happily enough.
"Oh, rather--it was super.
' "Beth's hair fell down," piped Alberdina.
"She ran races too, but she never won.
' "She's a girl," said Dirk kindly, and the profess or smiled
faintly.
"I daresay that after a morning with this lot, Miss Partridge, you feel
worn out.
A glass of sherry before lunch, perhaps?
' She accepted, adding the proviso that it would have to be in a few
minutes' time.
"T'll just get them upstairs and tidied--and me too," she told him.
"Would five minutes do?
' "Admirably--I shall be in the sitting room.
' The children, she was quick to see, as once more neat as a new pin
she sat sipping her sherry, were as good as gold; not only did they
like their uncle very much, they had a healthy respect for him too.
They sat quietly, Alberdina on her uncle's knee, the others in a row on
one of the sofas, and although they took part in the conversation, they
didn't make nuisances of themselves.
Nanny must have been a paragon; Beth wondered uneasily if she had ever
run races with the children in Hyde Park.
They were half-way through lunch when the profess or mentioned in his
placid way that he had wondered, as it was such a pleasant afternoon,
if the children would like to go for a drive in the car.
"With tea, of course," he finished amidst an excited outcry from his
small relations.
"And Miss Partridge?
' he wanted to know.
"Do you care to come with us?
Saturday afternoon, you know.
' Beth hesitated; it would be delightful to accept, on the other hand
was he just being polite?
She glanced quickly at the faces round her; the children at least
looked pleased with the idea, and when she peeped at the profess or,
there was nothing in his face to suggest that he minded one way or the
other.
"Well--' she said slowly, and was drowned by the children's demands
that she should go with them.
"If you want to," she said a little shyly.
"We shall be delighted to have your company, Miss Partridge.
Shall we say half past two, then?
' The children were brushed and combed and buttoned into their coats
much too soon, which gave her a little time to attend to her own
person.
She would have to wear the suit, for she had nothing else which would
do, but at least she could do her hair again and do the best she could
with her face.
Wholly dissatisfied with the result, she went downstairs, the children
strung out behind her, and found the profess or sitting on the wall
table in the hall, smoking his pipe.
When he saw them he got up and went to the kitchen door and sent a
subdued shout to Mrs Silver that they would be out for tea and he would
be out for dinner as well, before marshalling his party out of the
front door and into the car.
They went to Hampton Court gardens, where they explored every aspect of
the grounds before forming two groups and entering the maze.
Beth, with Dirk and Marineka, was a little nervous of getting lost, so
that it was with real relief that she found herself at the centre,
although she wasn't at all sure how she had managed it.
The profess or, whom she strongly suspected already knew the way, was
already there with Alberdina and Hubert, and after that getting out
again, following each other in single file, was an easy matter.
They had tea in Richmond, the sort of tea children expected when they
were taken out; hot buttered toast and sandwiches and plates of
cakes.
It was a merry meal with a good deal of laughing and talking, but at
length the children could eat no more.
"Home," the profess or pronounced firmly.
"T've a date this evening, and one mustn't keep the ladies waiting.
' "Is it your girl-friend, Oom Alexander?
' asked Marineka, and Beth found herself listening anxiously for
the
answer.
"Well, not the girl-friend, poppet, but she will do very nicely for
this evening.
' "Is she pretty?
' "Oh, very.
.
' he sounded absentminded as he paid the bill.
"Pretty clothes?
' persisted his niece.
"Fabulous--and something different every time I see her.
' He looked across to Beth and smiled a little.
"Ready?
Shall we get this lot home?
' The children were tired; they ate their suppers after a rowdy game of
Happy Families and were got without difficulty to their beds.
Beth, a little battered after supervising four baths and coaxing each