by Betty Neels
"Oh, yes, more than I. .
' A look of utter shock crossed her face.
"Oh, I am a fool," she said in a stunned little voice, and turned and
ran for the stairs.
He caught her easily enough before she was even half-way up and without
a word sat her down on a tread and lowered himself to sit beside her.
"Will you tell me, or shall I tell you?
' he asked gently.
"No--' her voice was quiet too but rather high.
"Don't you see, if you don't talk about something, you can pretend it
isn't true.
' She made this childish remark without looking at him and so missed
the tender amusement in his eyes; a smile which tugged at the corners
of his mouth as well when she went on, with a fine disregard for what
she had just said: "I believe it happens a lot, this--this situation-at
least, it does in books.
' The amusement was there, but he kept his voice placid.
"And you think that if we ignore this--er--situation, it will go away,
as it were?
Is that what you want, little Partridge?
' "Yes--and I wish you would not call me little Partridge in that way,
it--it makes me feel.
.
.
' She gave up the rest of what she was going to say, although her voice
was still nice and steady, even though her awakened heart gave a
sickening lurch at the very thought of him going out of her life for
ever just when she had, as it were, discovered him.
All the same, she would have to get things straight.
.
.
"T've not been in love before," she told him.
"Once or twice I thought I was, but that's quite different, isn't it?
But I'm a sensible girl, you know, with no time to moon around, so
there's--there's no harm done," she swallowed bravely, 'and of course
it's quite different for you--you must have loads of girlfriends;
William has a different one every week.
' "William," said the profess or with some asperity, 'is a dozen years
or more younger than I. ' "Oh, I know, but you're very good-looking and
successful and a famous surgeon, and so--so nice.
The girls at St Elmer's were quite turned on--you only had to lift a
finger.
.
' "Contrary to your mistaken reading of my character, my girl, I am not
in the habit of chatting up the birds.
' "Well, I don't suppose you have a great deal of time, do you?
' she agreed soberly, unaware of his silent amusement.
They sat without speaking for a few minutes; the profess or seemed
content to say nothing and Beth wanted only to go somewhere nice and
quiet and have a good cry, but she was a tidy-minded girl and she
wasn't sure that she had made herself quite clear.
"I think," she began again, 'it would be best if we forgot this
conversation, don't you?
' "I have a rententive memory," interposed her companion meekly.
"Well, I can't help that," she replied, nettled, 'and it can't be all
that difficult for you; it isn't as if that is, you don't really fancy
me, do you?
It's only because we've seen rather a lot of each other just lately and
you've not seen any other girls.
But we're not likely to see much of each other, are we, and I'm only
here for a week or two.
' "You consider me quite unsuitable, little Partridge?
' "Not you me, but you don't have to worry about that.
' "Ah, no.
You are very sensible; you have already told me so.
' The trouble was that he was so very easy to talk to; she was pouring
out her thoughts and feelings like water from a bucket when she should
have hidden them behind a sudden headache or something.
Instead of which she had actually let him see that she was in love with
him.
Well, if he had been surprised, so had she.
She pulled herself together and said again: "You must have any number
of girls.
' The profess or hid a smile.
"Oh, I have, Elizabeth, I have.
Safety in numbers, so they say.
' "Well, then.
.
' But she couldn't go on, her throat was thick with tears and there was
really no need to say any more; she had made her point.
It was quite a relief when the profess or, not looking at her, said
cheerfully: "Go to bed, Beth.
You have told me twice that you're a sensible girl and wish to forget
this whole conversation, so let us do just that.
' He got up and pulled her to her feet.
"Off with you!
' She flew upstairs, not looking back, because if she did she would
have flown down again straight into his arms and suffered the bitter
humiliation of knowing that he was being kind to her because he felt
regret for something which had actually been no fault of his.
He hadn't encouraged her, she sobbed to herself as she got ready for
bed, not once; he had been friendly and kind, and if she hadn't been
such a little fool she would have known that she was falling in love
with him and done something about it.
Exactly what, she had no idea.
CHAPTER EIGHT viewed in the early light of the morning, it was a
nightmare; Beth went hot and cold just thinking about it.
What must he have thought of her, letting him see so easily that she
had fallen in love with him?
True, she had done her best to put that right, hadn't she, but thinking
about it, she wasn't sure if she had succeeded.
But there was nothing to do about it now; she would have to stay until
Mevrouw Thor becke had found someone else or felt well enough to cope
herself, because she had promised that she would, and if she kept out
of his way it might not be too awful.
The thought depressed her.
It was fortunate that the very nature of her work kept her so busy that
she had very little leisure in which to ponder her situation.
The children wouldn't be going back to school for another few weeks.
Beth wasn't sure why; something to do with their father returning, she
supposed, so in the meanwhile she controlled their natural exuberance
to the best of her ability, taught them English; regular lessons in
reading and writing each day, and accompanied them to the heated
swimming pool at the bottom of the garden and, a little 170
apprehensively, swam with them.
They were all very good at it, even Alberdina, and Dirk, for one, made
no secret of his scorn at her efforts to keep afloat.
She found this a little hard to bear, but since their little adventure
in the Cheddar Gorge, he had persistently cold shouldered her, although
he was always polite now; unnaturally so for a boy of ten, she
considered--never smiling at her, never admitting her to the close
friendship she enjoyed with the other children.
She tried to be philosophical about it; children were as entitled to
dislike people as grown-ups, only they had started out on such a good
footing and she had no idea why it had gone wrong.
They went cycling too, and here she was able to hold her own with her
charges, as they sped along the paths beside the main roads,
with Dirk
always in the lead, and herself bringing up the rear, with a hand on
Alberdina's small shoulder to steady her on her own miniature bike.
And in the evenings, when the children were in bed, she sat with
Mevrouw Thor becke, talking about clothes or watching television, and
sometimes, when Mevrouw Thor becke was bored or depressed, Beth sat
down at the grand piano in the enormous bay window of the sitting room
and played little bits of anything that came into her head.
She played rather well, and her companion, nicely soothed, would
frequently confide her small worries to her.
Beth listened silently, nodding her head from time to time and making
soothing sounds as she played; she liked the other girl; they were as
different as chalk from cheese and the profess or's sister was
undoubtedly spoiled and lazy, relying upon her husband for just about
everything, and when he wasn't there, her brother, but she loved her
children dearly and from what Beth could make out, adored her
husband.
It must be wonderful to be cherished like that, thought Beth, who
hadn't been cherished for a very long time, and sighed as she brought
her music to a halt and suggested a game of cards.
The profess or came on Saturday morning, looking tired and driving a
magnificent Aston Martin Lagonda.
He suffered his small relations' rapturous greetings with calm,
attended without fuss to several household matters which his sister
assured him were pressing, nodded casually to Beth when he met her, and
declared his intention of going sailing for the greater part of the
day, and if the children wished to accompany him they were free to do
so.
"That is if they have been good.
Miss Partridge?
' He smiled at her, his eyebrows lifted in casual, friendly inquiry.
Above the excited shouts and squeals she assured him gravely that she
had no fault to find with any of them, whereupon he crossed the room to
where she was sitting, mending a doll for Alberdina.
"You will be glad of a few hours' peace and quiet," he suggested, and
she agreed composedly in a wooden voice which quite hid her true
feelings.
Of course, it would have been absurd of him to suggest that she might
have liked to go too.
She felt unaccountable annoyance because he hadn't, forgetful of her
resolve to see as little of him as possible.
She helped the children prepare for their treat, went to the kitchen to
ask, in her fragmented Dutch, that a picnic might be prepared, and went
back upstairs until the children were ready.
She didn't go downstairs with them; Mevrouw Thor becke was at the door,
waiting to see the party off and there was no need for her to go.
The children raced down the stairs, shouting their good-byes as they
went, but Alberdina came trotting back to throw her arms round her neck
and wish that she was coming too.
Beth, much touched, kissed the round cheek, assured her that she would
be waiting to hear all about their day when they returned, and sent her
running after the others.
Mevrouw Thor becke had seconded her brother's suggestion that Beth
should have the rest of the day free until the sailing party
returned.
She excused herself from lunch, took her writing things and wandered
off, taking care to walk away from the harbour in case she should be
seen by the children.
But after half an hour, when she judged they should be gone, she wended
her way back through the little town and strolled round its small
harbour, watching the boeier, already quite a way out, fast
disappearing into the distance.
As she turned away, she wondered if the profess or had a yacht of his
own; it would be exceptional if he hadn't, for he seemed to have
everything.
She had coffee and a kaas broodje in the hotel, and since it was
perfect sailing weather and everyone who had the chance was on the
water, the place was almost empty.
She had a second cup of coffee, and began a letter to William.
But she couldn't think of much to write about; she touched on the
perfect weather, the pleasant little town, the children and the vague
possibility of her return within a short time, hoped that he was coping
with the housekeeping and ended this rather dull missive with various
instructions regarding the shopping and his laundry.
She then took herself off to post it, and because there was really
nothing more to do, she went back to the house, collected some knitting
from her room and went out into the garden, where she sat doing nothing
at all until the commotion made by the returning sailors roused her
from her thoughts.
Beth looked at her watch; it was after five o'clock.
She hadn't gone in for a cup of tea at half past three because she had
heard a car full of visitors arriving, and if Mevrouw Thor becke had
friends to tea it would be better if she didn't join them, because then
everyone was forced to speak English, which might have been rather a
bore for them.
She got up now, carefully packed up the knitting she hadn't touched,
and went indoors to where the children, very excited, were telling
their mother about their day, while their uncle lounged in a chair, his
eyes shut.
Mevrouw Thor becke gave a relieved sigh as Beth entered the room.
"Ah, Beth, there you are!
I have a headache--all those wretched people calling and talking like
magpies--would it not be a good idea if the children were to have their
tea in the playroom with you?
Then they could have their baths and be ready for dinner.
There must be some quiet game they could play then.
' Beth agreed quickly, conscious of the profess or's eyes, open now,
upon her, and torn between relief at not having to talk to him and
disappointment at not seeing him again until dinner, she led the
children away, still talking at the tops of their voices, except for
Dirk, of course, who answered her questions civilly enough, but
volunteered no remarks of his own.
But the other children made up for his silence; they talked and giggled
themselves through an enormous tea and then settled down to a game of
Monopoly behind closed doors because of the noise, shrieking with
laughter at Beth's endeavours to play in a foreign language, until it
was time for their baths.
It was striking eight when she led them downstairs, the elder three
very clean and smart because their uncle would be there, and Alberdina
in her dressing-gown, ready for bed.
And as for Beth, she had put on the purple dress and made up her face
in a very perfunctory fashion, dragging her hair back with a severity
which somehow made her look very young indeed.
Dinner was eaten with a good deal of laughter and talking and small
sleepy giggles from Alberdina, whom Beth whisked away as soon as the
last of her pudding had been spooned up, returning to escort Hubert to
his bed and then go down once more to drink her coffee in the drawing
room while D
irk and Marineka, being the two eldest, were enjoying
another fifteen minutes with the grown-ups.
They in their turn, said good night, and she got up with them, adding
her own good nights.
"My dear good girl," expostulated the profess or, 'you can't possibly
go to bed at nine o'clock.
Besides, I want to talk to you.
' He had said he would forget their regrettable conversation on the
stairs, and it seemed he had; Beth told herself she should be glad as
she agreed to join them again, but only because Mevrouw Thor becke had
added her voice to her brother's.
They were going to tell her that she could return to St Elmer's, she
decided, but it wasn't that at all.
The profess or offered her a chair opposite his sister, seated himself
where he could look at her and stated simply: "You have had no day off,
Beth.
I should like to drive you to my home tomorrow.
'1 She glanced at him, sitting back at his ease, elegant in his tweeds,