by Betty Neels
The sherry went at once to her head. She climbed the stairs and sat on the top tread, one arm round the carved balustrade. She would have to think of something; sooner or later Elisabeth would come back and she could tax her with her conduct, but in the meantime she would have to pull herself together. Helped enormously by the sherry, she went to the kitchen where Emma gave her a surprised look and asked: "Is anything the matter, Mevrouw? You look strange. I was just going to take in the soup."
Olympia smiled and nodded and went back to the sitting-room to tell Waldo that dinner was ready. He put down his glass and stood looking at her. "Olympia," he said, and his voice was kind now, "I hope that you will do nothing impulsive because of this-Ria must not be upset a second time."
"You mean run away or something?" she asked bluntly, her voice a little loud by reason of the sherry. "No, I won't do that-I won't run away, although that was probably what I was meant to do."
He frowned. "That sounds like a wild statement, what did you mean by it?"
"Nothing just a wild statement. The soup will be getting cold."
It was a rather silent meal. Nothing could be sillier, thought Olympia, nibbling her way through a meal she didn't want, than two people making conversation when they had nothing to say to each other. She stole a look at her husband; he wasn't eating much either,, but his face wore its usual placid expression again-his dear face, she thought foolishly, and she would never be able to tell him that, he would be shocked and upset if she told him that she loved him to distraction. She had only to open her mouth and say so. He looked up and the words she longed to say turned themselves into an offer of more trifle. She wondered what he would say if she told him that Elisabeth had planned the whole thing; she must have been very quick about it, for she had had only a few minutes in which to decide how to turn Waldo's words to her advantage, and presumably she expected that Olympia would give in at last, and faced with Waldo's anger and Ria's dislike, go back to England. Well, she wasn't going to. She would be here, waiting, when Elisabeth came back. It wasn't until she was in bed, still thinking about it, that she remembered that Waldo wasn't in love with Elisabeth; he would never want her for his wife, she was certain of that. The girl in London, forgotten until that moment loomed into her mind to keep her sleepless for the greater part of the night.
It was obvious the next day that Ria had neither asked any questions nor volunteered any information about her escape. Waldo must have explained matters very satisfactorily, for she was quite happy and undisturbed, and to Olympia's delight, displayed an affection for her which she had never shown before. It was at the end of an endless day that Waldo came home to tell them that they were all going over to London to visit Aunt Betsy. "I have one or two matters to attend to," he explained, "and a change will do us all good."
Ria received the news with rapture, Olympia rather more guardedly.
"Do you really want me to come with you?" she asked.
"But of course, do you not wish to come? I thought we might go to one or two theatres."
So he had meant what he said, he had forgotten; she had never believed that he would, or could; he had forgiven her too, even though he believed that she had done all the things of which he had accused her. She loved him very much for that. "I should like to go very much," she said quietly. "How long shall we be away?"
His voice was coolly friendly. "I can't say. It rather depends upon someone I must see while I am in London."
For no reason at all Olympia remembered the girl. A wave of misery engulfed her. She had been a failure; at least, perhaps not quite, but she had hardly been a sparkling success, had she? Thinking about it, she knew now that she would have been more of a success if Elisabeth hadn't pointed out her mistakes and shortcomings quite so often, but that didn't matter now. Waldo must bitterly regret marrying her; she caught sight of her reflection in the wall mirror and saw that she was hardly looking her best; she was wearing a sober grey dress which drained all the colour from her already colourless face and she hadn't bothered over-much with her hair. If I were a man, she told herself silently, I wouldn't look twice at you, let alone marry you, and she transferred her gaze to the doctor, poring over a map with Ria. It was a fine muddle they were in. She remembered that someone he had to meet in London; let him sort it out for himself, he would get no help from her. Rage bubbled up, devouring her carefully preserved serenity. For the hundredth time she wondered why he had married her; Elisabeth had been there, waiting for him to open his arms, and even though he hadn't wanted her, there was this sweet-voiced creature in London. Olympia snatched up her ill-used knitting. It wouldn't be fit to wear by the time she had finished with it, but what did that matter? It gave her something to do. She began on it now, appalled at the strength of her feelings; she had always thought that love would be gentle, and when necessary, self-sacrificing. It was nothing of the sort; it was overwhelming, a flame of feeling which brought out the very worst aspects of her character.
CHAPTER NINE
THEY were to go to England in a week's time and the intervening days were filled agreeably enough with shopping and the English lessons Ria had demanded; it seemed that she was bent on mastering the English language within a few days, and indeed, she was quick enough to learn all that Olympia was teaching her. As for the doctor, he was seldom at home. Taking a week's holiday would put extra pressure on his two partners, so that he felt compelled to do more than his share before he went. He was usually gone now before Olympia got down in the morning and if he came home for lunch it was a meal eaten in a hurry with no chance to talk. Nor did he join them for tea; it was as though he were making his work an excuse for avoiding her, and she, supposing this to be so, forced a cheerful face, devoted herself to Ria and in the slow evening hours before he came home at last, occupied herself at his desk, neatly entering appointments, answering the telephone and sorting his letters.
Two days before they were to leave Waldo came home unexpectedly early. Olympia was in the study, laboriously sorting circulars from the post, while Ria, dressing-gowned and ready for bed, sat before the small fire gobbling down her milk and biscuits which Olympia had Just fetched from the kitchen. It was a splendid sign, she thought, watching the little girl with an amused smile, that Ria had developed such a good appetite. She had changed a good deal since Olympia had found her in the shed; she seemed content and very sure of the love they were both taking such pains to show her; certainly the happy little face she turned to the doctor as he came into the room was proof of that as she jumped to her feet to be hugged and kissed. He groaned in mock horror at the barrage of questions he was expected to answer as they laughed and talked together. But Olympia couldn't help but hear the change in his voice as he turned to speak to her. Answering his polite inquiries as to their day, she wondered if this was how it would always be now; this reserved politeness and deliberate avoidance of her company; if so, how would she ever learn to bear it? But her face as she turned to answer him was serene enough.
She left his letters neatly piled and said pleasantly: "I'll go and see about dinner. Are you going out again? Would you like it earlier?"
He had got down on the rug beside Ria and Niko had joined them. They made a charming domestic picture, the three of them. "Don't bother," he told her. "I'll get myself a drink before dinner-I had tea at the hospital. How are the lessons going?"
He was being friendly, she supposed, because Ria was there. "The Instant English?" she said cheerfully. "Absolutely super-the child's a wizard. Aunt Betsy is going to be very impressed."
"I'm impressed too," said Waldo softly, "with your kindness and patience and affection for Ria."
It was so unexpected that she could only stand and gape while a slow wave of colour swept over her face. "That's a joke, isn't it?" she managed in a steady voice, "but a cruel one after the-the things you said to me."
She almost ran out of the room and stayed in the kitchen until Ria came in to tell her she was going to bed. They went up the stairs hand
-inhand, the little girl still chattering gaily, not noticing Olympia's silence.
She was silent during dinner too, but if Waldo noticed it he said nothing, but talked of small matters, begged her advice as to what Ria might want to do in London and asked her if she needed anything for herself.
With an effort she made herself answer cheerfully. "No, thanks, I can't think of anything. I've bought one or two things Ria needed, and if you don't mind, I thought I might go shopping for her while we're in London-she could do with some new shoes and I want to get some Vyella for her dresses-it's cheaper there, you know."
He smiled faintly. "Of course, a good idea. I may have to leave you to your own devices for some of the time, but I don't suppose you will mind that."
"You are sure you want us to come'?" The question had popped out before she could stop it.
He gave her a long, unnerving look. "Quite sure. There is someone I want you to meet—-sooner than I had planned, in fact, but suddenly it's important that we…'
"A woman?"
She thought that for one minute he was going to laugh. Certainly his eyes were dancing, but when she looked at him, his face was grave enough. "Yes, a woman. Olympia, there is something I must say…'
She interrupted him fiercely. "There's nothing to say-there's nothing I want to know, and anyway, have you forgotten that I can't keep secrets? Whatever it is you want to tell me, I might turn it to my own advantage again, mightn't I?" Her eyes flashed and her tongue gathered speed. "Oh, you said it was never to be spoken of again, but I can't stop my thoughts-nor, I imagine, can you." She dug into Emma's exquisite Charlotte Russe with no regard as to its perfect shape and passed him his plate. "You'll excuse me," she got up rather clumsily and made for the door, "I have a headache, I think I'll go to bed."
She heard his urgent "Olympia!" and ignored it as she closed the door behind her.
It was fairly simple to avoid being alone with him for the next twenty-four hours; she had enough to keep her busy, packing and preparing for their trip, and there was Emma to confer with about the housekeeping. They met at mealtimes and if Waldo had wanted to tell her something urgent, he showed no sign of being in a hurry to do so; besides, she gave him no chance.
They travelled in the Rolls with Ria squeezed between them, to Olympia's relief, because now there would be no opportunity for Waldo to talk to her. She put a protecting arm round the child and in answer to his query, assured him that she was comfortable.
"But in England, liefje," he told Ria, "you will sit in the back and make no fuss. That is understood?"
The moppet was all obedience. "Yes, Papa, and Mama shall sit with me."
"Mama will sit where she is."
"But I want her with me."
"I want Mama too." There was something in his voice which made Olympia look at him, meeting his eyes across Ria's head. They held an expression which she couldn't read and she made haste to say brightly:
"I'll sit here so that I can show Papa the way." And that, she told herself, was one of the silliest remarks she could have uttered, an opinion borne out by Ria, who shrilled: "But Papa knows the way."
"Papa," said the doctor gravely, "has been getting lost lately-he has been chasing rainbows."
Ria, highly interested, wanted to know why.
"Well, there is a song which goes: "Follow every rainbow till you find your dream" and that is what I have been doing."
"Did you find your dream, Papa?"
He was still staring at Olympia, who, aware of it, was scrabbling round in her handbag, her head bent. "Yes," he spoke slowly, "it took me a long time, though, and even then I didn't know it at once." He started the car. "Have you lost something, Olympia?"
She shut her handbag with a snap. "No-no." Which wasn't quite true; she had a nasty feeling that she was fast losing her wits.
There was no doubting Aunt Betsy's welcome when they arrived at her house. She embraced them all in turn and then turned to Ria again, with some laughing remark in Dutch. Ria fixed her with a bright dark eye.
"I speak English," she informed her great-aunt importantly, and having achieved her triumph, lapsed into her mother tongue. Olympia, standing a little on one side while Waldo fetched in the luggage, wasn't quite certain what she was saying, but she saw a horrified look on her hostess's face and then: "Papa isn't my papa," shrilled Ria, and this time Olympia understood her. "Aunt Elisabeth told me so, but it doesn't matter…'
"Who told you, liefje?" asked the doctor from the door.
The little girl danced across to take his hand. "Tante Elisabeth, when she took me to the shops-she told me how I could run away to England too, she said I must because you and Mama didn't want me, but I didn't know about being your own little daughter from the day I was a baby, did I? And I didn't know Mama loved me too. Tante Elisabeth said Mama wanted me to go away, but it was a mistake, wasn't it?" She lifted her face to be kissed.
"Yes, little one, a very silly mistake. You're my daughter, and Mama's too we couldn't be without you." He pushed her gently towards Mrs. van der Graaf. "Go and tell Aunt Betsy all about it. I think she will be very interested in your adventures."
Aunt Betsy took her cue from him on the instant. "Most interested," she assured her listeners. "I daresay it will take until bedtime to tell-I shall give Ria a nice little supper and put her to bed myself, and you two can go and tuck her up later." She held out a commanding hand and with a delighted Ria in tow, swam from the hall.
Olympia watched them go, not looking at Waldo at all, although she was perfectly aware that he had shut the front door and was coming towards her. As he swung her round to face him he sounded quite shocked.
"Olympia, dear girl, why didn't you tell me?"
His hands were gentle on her shoulders, and there was something in his voice…she ignored it. "I didn't know-not for certain, you see. I couldn't ask Ria because you made me promise not to speak to her about it ever again."
"My God, I deserve to be shot…'
"Yes, you do," she agreed fiercely. "You are a most tiresome and difficult husband, and I don't think I want to be your wife any longer." She sniffed. "You don't believe me, and you don't tell me things…' She rounded on him, quite beside herself and not caring what she said any more. "You believed Elisabeth-and now there's this girl you've come to see, and I know you only want me here so that you can arrange a divorce. Why don't you tell me that I've been a miserable failure, instead of treating me like a-a stranger? I suppose when everything is settled I'm to be told."
He actually laughed. "Yes, that's exactly what I had planned, but I can see that it won't do now, my pretty. There's so much I must say to you, but that must wait, there is a quicker way to explain. Now stay where you are, I have to speak to Aunt Betsy."
He was back while she was still wondering why he had called her his pretty. He said nothing more, however, merely swept her out of the house once more and back into the car. She was composing a suitable question or two, something she could say without loss of dignity, when she noticed that they were going up Primrose Hill, and forgetting all about the dignity, she exclaimed: "We're not going to see Aunt Maria?"
He didn't answer her, for there was hardly time, but it seemed that they were; he stopped in front of the well-remembered house and got out and came round to open her door. "Well, here we are," he said nicely. "Out you get."
"I don't think I want…' she began, and a long arm slid round her waist and lifted her without effort and stood her on her feet on the pavement. So much for asserting herself, she thought vexedly, and not wishing to be carried across the pavement, went meekly to the front door with him. Only as he rang the bell she protested: "My aunt won't want to see me."
"Your aunt isn't here," observed Waldo blandly, and stooped to kiss her soundly as the door opened and he ushered her inside. She barely heard him say: "It will be explained later, my darling,"-a remark, which, coming on top of the kiss, left her speechless. Mrs. Blair had opened the door, but Olympia had no time to do mo
re than wish her good evening, for her aunt's office door had opened and a woman was coming to meet them. A rather dumpy woman, no longer young but with a merry round face, surmounted by a nicely goffered muslin cap and wearing Matron's uniform. She began to speak before she reached them, and Olympia realized with a shock that she had heard her voice before-a youthful voice, pretty and light; like a girl's-even on the telephone it had lost none of its charm.
"Doctor van der Graaf, how nice-I wasn't sure when you would-and you have brought your wife… I wondered if…' She paused for breath, offered a hand and smiled largely at them both.
Waldo greeted her with easy friendliness. "Yes, this is my wife. Olympia, this is Mrs. Doreen Betts, my dear, she and her husband run the home for me. I believe that you have already spoken to each other on the telephone."
Olympia glanced at him. There was a gleam of amusement in his eyes, and she looked away quickly and offered a hand to Mrs. Betts, who went on chattily, "A surprise for you, isn't it, Mrs. van der Graaf? talk about secret, and such a lot to do-everything altered and painted and papered-you've no idea. And to think that I almost let the cat out of the bag! I had no idea that day I rang up that it was you on the telephone. I daresay you wondered who I was. I hope you didn't guess?"
Olympia murmured that no, she hadn't and remarked, feverishly, that the hall, now that it had been papered a warm red and all the paintwork a spanking white, looked delightful.
Mrs. Betts agreed with enthusiasm as she led the way to the office. "And the whole place so bright and cheerful," she went on. "Such a busy time we've had, haven't we, Doctor? Coloured sheets and bedcovers, and easy chairs and a lift so that the top floor patients can come down to the "common" room that's been built just like you wanted, Doctor…'
Waldo smiled at her. "We must alter that, Mrs. Betts; it is just like my wife wanted."
Olympia stood very still, remembering how she had opened her heart to him soon after they had met, telling him all her dreams of what she would do if she had limitless money and the chance to use it on the home-and he had remembred. Quite forgetting Mrs. Betts, she began: "Waldo…'