by Betty Neels
‘Paard,’ recited Marc.
‘Horse,’ said Caroline, which made the little boy laugh.
‘Never tell me that you jib at a few Dutch words,’ remarked Mr van Houben, appearing silently and sitting down beside Marc.
She cast him a cold look. ‘Certainly not, but since there is no need for me to learn your extremely difficult language I see no reason why I shouldn’t speak my own tongue when no one is listening.’
‘Marc is listening and so am I.’ He smiled suddenly, ‘It is a difficult language to learn, you’re quite right. I’ve come to fetch you back to the house. Mr Spence wants to talk to you.’
He stood up and hoisted his nephew on to a shoulder, and she perforce got up too and walked beside him across the lawn and in through the French windows of the drawing-room, where the van Houbens and Mr Spence were sitting drinking coffee.
‘Come and sit,’ invited Mevrouw van Houben, and beckoned her to go to the sofa beside her, ‘and you will have a cup of coffee with us while we talk.’
So Caroline sat, aware that she showed up badly beside her companion, whose golden hair framed a charmingly made-up face and whose blue two-piece, unless Caroline was much mistaken, was cashmere. If I had known, she thought peevishly, I would have put on the jersey dress…
She accepted the coffee and glanced briefly at Mr van Houben, sitting opposite her with Marc on his knee.
It was Mr Spence who spoke. ‘I am delighted with the progress Marc has made; he has still a long way to go but time is on his side, his lung seems to be healed and he eats and sleeps well. We think, Mr van Houben and I, that he should go into the children’s hospital in Amsterdam for a brief period while we run a few tests. In order to see that he is disturbed as little as possible, we would like you to go with him. He knows you well now and you will be able to carry out all the usual chores which in the hands of a strange nurse might upset him. Mr van Houben can arrange for a bed in two days’ time and his parents will drive you both to Amsterdam. You can appreciate that it is impossible for Mevrouw van Houben to stay with him; there is his little sister to consider.’
Mrs van Houben turned to Caroline and took her hand. ‘You will do this, won’t you, Caroline? I would like to be with Marc, but you can see that it is difficult while the baby is so very small.’
‘Of course I’ll go.’ Caroline gave the hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘And I’m so glad that he’s making such good progress. You must all be so pleased and relieved…’
Mr van Houben offered Marc a biscuit. ‘There is an EMI scanner at the hospital which means that most of the diagnostic techniques are unnecessary. He should be there a few days only. I suggest that nothing is said to him until a few hours before you leave.’
He looked at her as he spoke but it sounded as though he was doing a ward round and giving polite instructions to Sister. A cold fish, reflected Caroline, at the same time aware that he wasn’t anything of the sort.
She went back to the garden presently with Marc, and at lunch, although both Mr Spence and Mr van Houben were careful to include her in the conversation, she sensed that they would have been just as happy without her. A pity, she thought, spooning soup, that she hadn’t thought to suggest that she should have stayed with Marc after she had given him his dinner, and had something on a tray. Mevrouw van Houben was so kind that she would never have suggested it herself. She excused herself when the meal was over, refusing coffee on the grounds of making sure that Marc was asleep. ‘Because if he isn’t I will read to him for a while,’ she explained.
Mr van Houben went to open the door for her; his manners, she had to admit, were faultless. ‘Dutch or English?’ he asked as she went past him.
‘When there is no one to listen, Dutch. Marc is a very tolerant listener.’
His crack of laughter sounded annoyingly in her ears as she went upstairs.
Leaving the baby with her nanny, they were driven to Amsterdam two days later. It was a fine spring day, the country looked charming, and the gardens before the houses they passed were bright with flowers. Caroline, sitting at the back of the car with a cheerful Marc on her lap, wondered if she would have the chance to do some shopping; she had been paid before she left the hospital and so far she had spent nothing save for a gulden or two on stamps. She was wearing the jersey dress with a bright scarf knotted at the neck, and in her bag she had packed the green voile as well as the Marks and Spencer top to go with the denim skirt. She had prudently added the plastic mac, although she knew that it did nothing for her, but she had the good sense to know that it rained very frequently and the weather, if she was lucky enough to get some time to go sightseeing, wasn’t going to keep her indoors.
They drove through a part of the city she had never seen before, but after a little while she recognised some of the buildings as those she had seen with Aunt Meg and then got lost again as Bartus van Houben drove away from the heart of the city towards the Rhine, saying over his shoulder, ‘The hospital is close by. There is a frequent tram service to the shopping centre.’
The hospital was right on the main road, its white walls with its many windows rising rather bleakly from the pavement, but once through the doors and the gates at its side it looked more welcoming, with a wide forecourt and a good-sized entrance. Bartus stopped in front of it and got out with his wife, and Caroline got out with Marc, carrying him, because he had taken fright and buried his face against her shoulder.
She kept up a flow of gentle talk as they all went inside and were taken upstairs at once in one of the lifts. Clearly they were expected, for no time was lost in asking where to go or whom to see: they were ushered into a small room on the second floor and a moment later a ward sister joined them. It was only then that Caroline wondered how she was going to manage about the language. Her Dutch, after so short a time, was about as basic as it could be, and presumably she would have to be told what was going on from time to time… A needless worry; Zuster Tregma introduced herself to the van Houbens and then she turned to Caroline.
‘Miss Frisby, I am pleased to meet you. Do not worry about being understood. I speak English and the nurse who will relieve you while you are here also speaks good English.’
She looked at the back of Marc’s head, still buried against Caroline. ‘I think if we put him to bed, I will talk to Mijnheer and Mevrouw van Houben and presently Mr Spence and others will come. That will give him time to recover from his fears, will it not?’
So Caroline detached a reluctant Marc from her person and, with a good many pauses, singing and the odd five minutes here and there looking at one of his picture-books, she got him ready for bed. His mother came then and sat with him while Caroline saw where she was to sleep. A small room next door to Marc; someone had already put her bag there and she went to look out of the window. It overlooked the busy street below and she wondered where the nearest park was.
It only took a few minutes to unpack, tidy herself and go back to Marc. Mr Spence was there and so was Marius van Houben, sitting one each side of the bed, rumpling the covers and the little boy, quite recovered from his uneasiness, was laughing and shouting at their gentle teasing.
They got up as she went in. ‘We’ll have him up tomorrow afternoon, Nurse,’ said Mr Spence. ‘Arrange your off duty so that you will be with him, and I shall want to have you with him afterwards—he may be a little unsettled.’
Mr van Houben had nothing to say and presently they went away, but at the door he turned back. ‘There is a s
mall park close to the hospital,’ he told her. ‘Go left when you get to the main street and take the first turning on the left; it’s five minutes’ walk, no more. You will be glad of a breath of fresh air.’
Before she could thank him, he had gone.
CHAPTER FIVE
THERE was no chance of going to any park for the rest of that day: Marc’s mother and father went away presently, leaving Caroline to look after Marc. He had become fretful at the sight of so many strange faces and clung to her like a limpet, so that she had spent the rest of the day with him, and not until he had finally fallen asleep in the early evening was she able to go down to the canteen with one of the Dutch nurses and eat her supper. When she went back to the ward the hoofdzuster came to talk to her. ‘It will be difficult for you tomorrow,’ she observed. ‘Marc is restless without you or his mother. Do you wake early?’
Caroline said that yes, she did.
‘Then it is a good idea, yes? If you are roused at six o’clock and go for half an hour to walk in the park—it is close by. Does Marc wake early?’
‘About seven o’clock, but then he’s usually asleep by half-past six. He’s so unsettled now—’ She glanced at her watch. ‘It was well after seven o’clock before he slept this evening.’
‘That is good. So you can walk before he wakes and if he is quieter tomorrow you will be able to have some free time during the day.’ She nodded her severely coiffed head. ‘A night nurse will be here within the next half-hour. Her English is good; tell her all that she should know. Someone will call you in the morning.’ She went away to her office and Caroline went back to the sleeping Marc and presently, when she went off duty, she went to telephone to Mevrouw van Houben and assure her that her small son was asleep.
She went to bed early, for there was nothing else to do, so that she was quite ready to get up when she was called in the morning by a friendly night nurse bringing a mug of coffee. She was dressed and out of the hospital in fifteen minutes, intent on finding the park. It was a lovely morning, already light and getting warmer every minute under the sun beaming from the wide blue sky. She found the park without difficulty, less than five minutes’ walk away from the hospital. It wasn’t large, but there were trees and grass and beds of bright flowers on either side of its narrow paths, and here and there an inviting seat. There was a small fountain in the centre surrounded by a little pool. Sitting on its stone rim was Mr van Houben, and she stopped short at the sight of him, so very much at his ease. He, on the other hand, showed no surprise at seeing her, but got to his feet and came over to meet her.
‘Good morning, Caroline.’ He sounded friendly. ‘Having a breath of air before the day’s round? A delightful morning, isn’t it?’
‘Good morning,’ said Caroline, pleased to see him but anxious now to show it. ‘Yes, I am to go back in ten minutes or so, before Marc wakens. He’s had a good night, the night nurse told me.’
‘Come and sit down for a minute.’ He pulled off the sweater he was wearing and arranged it on the rails. ‘You’ll come with him, of course. He is bound to get upset during the tests, but they must be done.’
‘Do you think that he will make a complete recovery?’
‘Yes, I do. It will be slow but that’s to be expected, and it’s possible that he may have the odd relapse—by that I mean a slight impairment of speech if he should get over-excited or very angry, and that isn’t very likely. The main thing now is to get him used to being home again and back into his normal way of living. Emmie has a splendid woman engaged to be his governess for the next year or two; she will be introduced gradually of course, taking over from you in easy stages.’ He glanced at her. ‘You’re quite happy here?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
‘A good thing, since you will be needed for another week or two at least. Juffrouw Grote is coming at the end of this week, provided the results of the EMI scanner are good.’ He got to his feet and pulled her to hers, then picked up his sweater. ‘Time you were going back.’
They walked together out of the little park and she paused there.
‘I do hope all will go well, Mr van Houben.’
‘It will, it will.’ He didn’t say goodbye but walked beside her back to the hospital. ‘My car is parked round the back—I’ll see you later.’
Marc was still asleep; Caroline had time for another cup of coffee and a slice of bread and butter thickly spread with cheese before he roused himself.
The tests went well; all the same Caroline was glad when it was at last the end of the day, for she hadn’t been able to leave the little boy for more than brief periods. He was to spend one more day in hospital while final checks were made. Fortunately it was only one day, she thought as she tucked him up for the night, for he was fretful and wanting his mother and his own home. She bent to kiss him goodnight and he put his thin arms around her neck and gave her a throttling hug.
‘Now be a darling boy and go to sleep and I’ll sing “Sing a Song of Sixpence” to you and you shall sing it with me.’
He had picked up the words with the ease of a small child, although he had no idea what they meant, only the last line when a blackbird came along and pecked off her nose he sang with tremendous glee, sensing it was the high point of the rhyme. They sang the last line with gusto and Mr van Houben, watching from the doorway, smiled a little. Caroline, he reflected, was a funny little thing; no looks worth mentioning, a sharp tongue at times and, while not entirely careless of the way she looked, certainly not fashion-conscious. She was, however, a good nurse; his small nephew would make a complete recovery, largely thanks to her care and wholehearted efforts.
He went into the room then, bade Marc goodnight while casting a keen eye over him and then looked at Caroline. ‘Off duty?’ he wanted to know. ‘We might have dinner together…’
He hadn’t meant to say that, indeed he had no idea what had made him utter the words, so it was all the more puzzling that when she told him politely that she was going out with some of the nurses he should feel disappointment.
As for Caroline, she had uttered the lie with complete conviction. She would have liked above all things to have spent the evening in his company, but several good reasons had prompted her to refuse without hesitation; nothing to wear; the certainty in her own mind that he had asked her on the spur of the moment and was even now regretting it; a strange reluctance to be in his company and the even stranger wish to get to know him a lot better.
She watched him go away with mingled regret and relief and presently, having handed Marc over, took herself off to the canteen for supper. It was a lovely evening, chilly but still light; she fetched her jacket and, after cautiously checking that there was no sign of Mr van Houben or his car, left the hospital.
The car was parked round the back, out of her sight, and Mr van Houben was standing at the window of the consultant’s room, looking out, when he saw her. He watched her pause on the pavement outside the hospital and peruse the street map she had prudently taken with her before setting out towards the centre of the city. There was no sign of anyone with her; she looked small and lonely as she started to walk. She hadn’t gone more than a few yards when two men stopped to speak to her; he watched her shake her head and then walk on briskly, leaving the two men laughing.
Mr van Houben sighed and went out of the room, out of the hospital and into the street beyond. Caroline was walking faster now, pausing at each crossing to make sure that she was going in the right direction. They woul
d probably be gone tomorrow, she had decided, and this was her only chance of seeing something of Amsterdam again. Aunt Meg would want to know where she had been and it was a chance to see what the city was like after dark. She remembered that their guide-book had said that the Rembrandtsplein was ringed around with cafés—she would go there, have a cup of coffee and then walk back or even take a tram…
There were plenty of people about and the streets were well lit, and she had no intention of leaving the main road. She walked on, pausing now and again to look at a picturesque house or a stretch of canal. Once or twice people spoke to her, but when she took no notice they melted away into the crowds. She wasn’t a nervous girl, she had little money with her and there was nothing about her unassuming person to attract attention, but as the crowds grew thicker she wondered if she should have come so far alone. She stopped again to look at the map under a street lamp. Rembrandtsplein was close; it would be a great pity to have come this far and not seen it so that she could describe it to Aunt Meg. She walked on and found her way barred by a young man. He was ill-kempt, with a dirty face and long greasy hair, and naturally enough when he spoke to her she had no idea what he was saying.
She removed his grubby hand from her sleeve. ‘So sorry, I don’t speak Dutch,’ she told him, and made to pass him. His hand took a firmer grip and she didn’t care for his smile. ‘Let go, please,’ she said in what she hoped was a firm voice, which didn’t help at all, for he gripped her other arm as well. She had no wish to make a scene and for all she knew she thought he might be asking her for money. Unfortunately she couldn’t get at the purse in her jacket pocket. ‘Take your hands away, please,’ she told him in a voice which shook just a little, ‘or I shall be forced to call for help.’