by Betty Neels
It seemed most unlikely that anyone would hear or take any notice; there were a good many young people darting about making a lot of noise, arms entwined or arm-in-arm singing; all the same it was worth a try. She opened her mouth and drew a breath just as Mr van Houben said gently in her ear, ‘No need to scream, Caroline,’ and addressed himself to the man, who muttered uncertainly and then disappeared into the crowd.
Relief flooded her person but so did indignation. ‘I had no intention of screaming,’ she said with a snap. ‘I was merely going to call for help.’
He tucked a hand under her arm. ‘You’re a long way from the hospital—we might as well have a cup of coffee before we go back. Were you making for the Rembrandtsplein?’ When she nodded, he went on easily, ‘Quite a tourist attraction. Did you go there with your aunt at all?’
She quelled an absurd wish to burst into tears. ‘Only during the day; I—I thought I would like to see it lit up, then I can tell her about it.’
‘Good idea.’ They had reached the square now, its cafés and restaurants spilling out on to the pavements and thronged with people. He passed these and ushered her into the foyer of the Canansa Crest Hotel, which, while bustling and brilliantly lit, was entirely respectable, something which Caroline noticed at once and for which she gave him a shy grateful smile. ‘It’s rather—that is, I didn’t know that it was so popular—the Rembrandtsplein, I mean.’
He ordered coffee and sat back at his ease, and she waited uneasily for him to ask her what she thought she was doing roaming around a strange city in the evening. Probably he would read her a lecture into the bargain…
He didn’t mention it, but while they drank their coffee he talked of this and that in an offhand fashion which was somehow reassuring. She wasn’t going to admit it, even to herself, but she had had a bad fright when that man had caught her by the arm; she would thank Mr van Houben when they got back to the hospital, and apologise.
They walked back presently, this time through small quiet streets, and when they reached the hospital she bade him a quiet goodnight and added, ‘Thank you for sending that man away; it was very silly of me to go off on my own…’
‘Why? I suspect that you are perfectly capable of looking after yourself, Caroline. But it was very silly of you to lie to me—don’t ever do it again. Goodnight.’
He pushed open the door for her and she went past him, her cheeks red and angry tears in her eyes. He was quite right, of course, but he need not have sounded so coldly angry.
They went back to Alpen-aan-de-Rijn the next day, fetched by Mijnheer van Houben and seen off by several of her new acquaintances among the nursing staff.
‘You must come to Amsterdam again,’ said Mijnheer van Houben kindly. ‘You have made friends and you can perhaps spend a day sightseeing with them. You will have some free time now that Juffrouw Grote is engaged as governess. She will come each afternoon at first, when Marc wakes from his nap, and stay with him until teatime, and then after a few days she will come in the morning until his lunchtime, and then, if all is well, she will come all day. We hope that you will stay with us for the next ten days or so, Caroline, so that he will be quite used to her by then. He is fond of you, so it would not do for you to leave suddenly, Marius agrees with me about that, and so does Mr Spence. You do not mind?’
She said that of course she didn’t mind; there was nothing else she could have said, after all; it was a sensible solution and little Marc was also almost ready for a normal life again.
Juffrouw Grote arrived the next day, a generously built girl with a pleasant, kind face, not much older than Caroline. Caroline liked her at once and, invited to help her unpack, sat on the bed, giving Juffrouw Grote a succinct résumé of Marc’s accident and its consequences, and, since her successor’s English was more than adequate, she was able to add a good many ideas and tips of her own.
‘I can’t go on calling you Juffrouw Grote,’ said Caroline. ‘My name is Caroline…’
‘Tine—Te-ne. I shall ask the little Marc to address me as that also. I am told that he is very fond of you.’
‘Only because I’ve been with him for some time. He’s a very loveable little boy; I’m sure he’ll take to you.’
‘Take to me?! I do not understand.’
Caroline explained. ‘I expect you will see Mr Spence before he goes back to England.’
Tine nodded. ‘Yes, I am to see him tomorrow and also Mijnheer van Houben, but today I am to stay with Marc for the afternoon—you know this already.’
Caroline, who had been a bit doubtful about handing over to someone she didn’t know, heaved a sigh of relief—she and Tine liked each other and she couldn’t leave little Marc in better hands. Tine had lunch with them presently and Marc, wary at first, decided that he liked her too and went off happily enough with Caroline for his nap knowing that when he woke up it would be Tine who would see to his small wants. Caroline, said Tine cheerfully, was going to have a walk that afternoon, but she would be back in plenty of time to give him his tea.
The new regime worked well; each day Caroline saw a little less of Marc and Tine saw more, and by the end of a week she was getting him up each morning and giving him breakfast with Tine and herself and then handing him over until the afternoon with no ill effects. He had grizzled a bit to start with but he liked Tine and slowly he was becoming accustomed to seeing more of her than of Caroline.
Another week, reflected Caroline, walking down to the village to buy postcards and stamps, and she would leave; Mr Spence was coming that afternoon and she expected to be told that she was no longer needed. Indeed, she was beginning to feel that she was quite surplus in the household, although the van Houbens treated her with great kindness and made no mention of her leaving. But that afternoon Mr Spence put an end to her speculations. She might return to the hospital at the end of the next week; Juffrouw Grote was coping admirably with Marc, the van Houbens were quite satisfied that she was a kind and caring girl and observant of any unlikely set-backs he might have. ‘No doubt they will arrange your return to London,’ he told her, ‘and I have had a talk with the hospital committee and they are inclined to be lenient about your absence. Possibly you may need to work for an extra month; they will deal with that when the time comes.’
Not very satisfactory from her point of view, but one didn’t argue with consultants; she would go and see the SNO when she got back and find out exactly where she stood. She was bidding Mr Spence a polite if rather cold goodbye when Mr van Houben joined them.
‘Still here?’ he wanted to know cheerfully and, not waiting for her reply, ‘Everything as it should be?’ he enquired of Mr Spence. ‘I hear from Emmie that Juffrouw Grote is ideal for the job.’ He glanced at Caroline. ‘Get on well together, do you?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
‘Splendid. Well, we won’t keep you—I dare say I shall see you from time to time at the hospital.’
She eyed him thoughtfully. ‘I think it unlikely that you see—actually see—any of the junior nurses, sir. Good afternoon, Mr Spence—Mr van Houben.’
She made a dignified exit, her back very straight. The two men stared after her for a moment and then fell to discussing the patient’s condition. Neither of them gave her another thought, only as Mr van Houben got into his car he reflected that she had been quite right, he rarely actually looked at any of the nurses—ward sisters occasionally, and staff nurses, since he had to discuss cases with them. He smiled a little; he must rem
ember next time he was in London to make a point of singling her out and speaking to her.
He drove himself home to Amsterdam, changed for the evening and took a charming widow of his acquaintance out to dinner. She was an amusing companion and very pretty, but rather to his surprise he found himself wishing that it were Caroline sitting opposite him. He dismissed the thought with a hidden smile; small, energetic young women with a fund of common sense and a complete disregard for making the most of themselves were hardly to his taste.
He drove his companion home presently, refusing in the nicest possible way to go in and have a cup of coffee. He wasn’t a conceited man but he was aware that women liked him, and not only him: his wealth, his background, his important work in the medical field…work which, however, filled his days and his powerful mind. It would have to be a girl in a million to make him change his mind and marry.
He let himself into his lovely old house by the canal and went along to his study, followed by Fram and a small untidy-looking dog. Mr van Houben glanced down at the beast and bent to pat him. ‘He’s no trouble, Fram?’
‘None, mijnheer. A grateful animal too, and so he should be.’
Mr van Houben sat down at his desk and the little dog settled by him, looking up adoringly into his face. ‘He’ll soon have a name?’
‘Something watery,’ suggested Fram, ‘Anna thought, seeing that you fished him out of a canal. Shall I bring you a nice cup of coffee, mijnheer?’
‘Yes, please. We’ll call him Neptune—he came out of the deep, didn’t he?’
Fram allowed himself a dignified smile. ‘Oh, very good, mijnheer.’ He then went away to tell Anna and fetch a tray of coffee. He had been with the family a very long time and he had a strong affection for Marius; he said now as Anna added wafer-thin biscuits to the tray, ‘A pity he can’t find a good wife, but he’ll be hard to please.’
‘He’ll meet his match one day,’ said Anna comfortably, and for no reason at all remembered the English girl who had fallen down outside the house. It would have surprised her very much to know that Mr van Houben was remembering her too, sitting in his chair, doing nothing. He had a heavy schedule ahead of him for the next week or two but at the moment he wasn’t concerned with it, he was in fact making plans, with his usual meticulous attention to detail, to take Caroline out for the day before she returned to England.
He addressed the little dog. ‘You see, Nep, she had very little fun while she’s been here and it isn’t possible for Emmie and Bartus to spend a day away from home.’
Nep thumped a straggly tail. ‘You agree with me? She isn’t quite whom I would choose to spend the day with, but one must do what one considers is one’s duty.’ He added, ‘There is, of course, the possibility that she will refuse to come; I’m not sure that she likes me.’
Neptune licked the large elegant shoe he was leaning against as if to say that he for one could find no fault with the shoe’s wearer.
Caroline had time to herself now as Tine took over more and more of her day’s work, but beyond going into Alpen-aan-de-Rijn to look at the shops and buy a modest present for Aunt Meg she hadn’t gone far away. For one thing she hadn’t a great deal of money left. She was to fly back; Mr van Houben had given her her ticket, assured her that he would drive her to Schiphol himself, and written down the time of the flight so that she could make her own arrangements when she reached Heathrow, but there would still be some small expenses and she would have to get back to the hospital from the airport. She didn’t allow it to worry her; it was nice to have a few hours each day in which to explore and Bep actually lent her an old bicycle and she tooled around the bicycle paths, safe from the traffic, admiring the very pleasant countryside.
There was still plenty for her to do; Marc, now that he was almost well again, was frequently peevish and when that happened she and Tine took it in turns to amuse him, take him for short walks or read to him, but he slept through the night now so that the two of them, after dining with the van Houbens, were able to sit together and talk.
Mr van Houben came twice, the first time with Mr Spence, before the surgeon returned to London, the second time alone. Both times Caroline was out on the bike. When Tine mentioned it she felt regret mixed with relief that she hadn’t seen him again. They had, after all, said goodbye, and, as she had pointed out so sensibly to him, even if they saw each other in the hospital, there would be no reason for them to speak to each other.
However, he came a third time, two days before she was due to go home, and this time she was with Marc when he came into the nursery with his sister.
She was on the floor, teaching the little boy to play marbles, and the pair of them scrambled to their feet, he to run to his mother and uncle, she to stand composedly, her dress rumpled and her hair anyhow. Not that it mattered, she reflected, watching Mr van Houben with his nephew. Presumably he was either coming or going to hospital—or possibly he had a private practice as well—for he was wearing a sober grey suit and a silk tie which probably had cost more than the dress she was wearing. He looked very handsome, self-assured and a little remote; indeed his, ‘Good morning, Caroline,’ had been uttered in a polite impersonal tone.
Her own reply had been suitably colourless.
He came to stand by her presently, his nephew clinging to one long trouser-leg. ‘You return home on the day after tomorrow?’
He knew that already—hadn’t he bidden her goodbye only a few days ago?
‘Yes.’
‘If you are free tomorrow I should be delighted to show you more of Amsterdam and anywhere else you would like to see.’
He watched the utter astonishment on her face followed by a slightly mulish expression—she was going to refuse. Indeed she had her mouth open to frame a polite reply when Mevrouw van Houben exclaimed happily, ‘Is that not a splendid idea, Caroline? There must be a good deal that you have not yet seen, and Marius is a splendid guide. Such a nice end to your stay with us. What time will you come, Marius?’
‘Half-past nine? If that suits you, Caroline?’ said Mr van Houben blandly.
She had thought up several good reasons for not going while at the same time at the back of her head was the nagging thought that she wanted to go very much. ‘I’ve one or two presents still to buy,’ she began—not true, of course, but she hoped she sounded convincing. ‘And my packing to finish.’
‘Marius will take you to the shops,’ declared his sister-in-law, ‘and I’m sure your packing won’t take more than half an hour—you’re not going until after lunch. You will so enjoy yourself, Caroline.’
Caroline doubted that, and, as for Mr van Houben, she very much doubted if he would find enjoyment in her company—and for how long? And what would they talk about?
Mr van Houben, in his most persuasive voice but with a note of steel in it, said casually, ‘Well, that’s settled. I’ll be here and see you at half-past nine.’
They stayed a little longer, and when they had gone, taking Marc with them for a stroll in the garden, Caroline went in search of Tine, who was washing her smalls in the bathroom they shared. She listened to Caroline’s news with smiling pleasure. ‘So nice for you, you will have a good day with Mr van Houben and fine memories of Holland when you leave. I shall be sorry that you go but we must write to each other. You will be glad to finish your training and then you will be free to do as you wish, yes? Come back to Holland and visit—you know us all—we shall all welcome you.’
Caroline wondered
if Mr van Houben would welcome her—well, he’d do that because he had nice manners, but she thought it would only be a frosty welcome…
She said, ‘What shall I wear? Tomorrow…’
‘You will be in the car? Then wear the silk top and that pretty green skirt and, since you are an English lady, you will take a cardigan with you.’
‘Well, yes, I suppose that would do—I’ve got that cream wool one.’ She sighed—he wouldn’t notice anyway.
She was mistaken, Mr van Houben standing in his sister-in-law’s hall, watched Caroline coming down the staircase and found to his surprise that he approved of what he saw; probably Marks and Spencer, he judged, but chosen with an eye to the general effect. Clever, too; the outfit would pass muster anywhere.
She had done her face with extra care but it didn’t need much; she had a lovely creamy skin and she had borrowed one of Tine’s lipsticks for her too wide, gentle mouth. The eyes needed nothing, framed in curling lashes—looking at them, he reflected, one forgot the unassuming face…
Farewells said, he stowed her into the car, got in beside her and drove back to Amsterdam. It was a glorious spring morning, although there was a cool breeze and the country was serene and flat and somehow soothing.
Her companion glanced at her, sitting very composed beside him. ‘Is there anything you missed when you were here with your aunt?’ he asked. ‘I thought a stroll round Amsterdam, perhaps? You won’t mind if we go to my house first? I must pick up Neptune.’
She turned to look at him. ‘Oh—a dog?’
‘Yes—well, a puppy still.’
‘That’s a strange name…’
‘We call him Nep.’
Who is we? wondered Caroline, and made one of her sensible remarks about the weather.
The house was just as lovely as she had remembered it, and the old man who opened the door to them was just as dignified. They were barely inside before there was a scrabbling from behind the baize door at the end of the hall and Nep rushed to meet them.