by Betty Neels
He looked astonished. ‘Lor’ luv yer, miss—we enjoy ’aving yer—it’s quiet, like yer said.’
‘Yes. Noakes, I’ve heard a dog barking…’
‘That’ll be Rex, miss. ’E’s a quiet beast mostly, but ’e barks when the Professor comes in. Marta’s got a little cat too.’
‘Oh, has she? So have I—his name’s Waterloo, and my landlady’s looking after him while I’m away. It’ll be nice to see him again.’
‘Yes, miss. Juffrouw Kropp’ll bring coffee for you.’
It was indeed quiet, sitting there by herself. Caroline leafed through the newspapers and tried to get interested in the news and then turned to the magazines. It was almost lunchtime when she heard the Professor’s voice in the hall and she sat up, put a hand to her hair and then put on a cheerful face, just as though she were having the time of her life. But he didn’t come into the room. She heard his voice receding and a door shutting and presently Juffrouw Kropp brought in her lunch tray, set it on the table beside her and smilingly went away again. Caro had almost finished the delicious little meal when she heard the Professor’s voice again, speaking to Noakes as he crossed the hall and left the house.
She was taken to the library by a careful Noakes after lunch and settled into a chair by one of the circular tables in that vast apartment, but no sooner had he gone than she picked up her stick, eased herself out of her chair and began a tour of the bookshelves which lined the entire room. The books were in several languages and most of them learned ones, but there were a number of novels in English and a great many medical books in that language. But she rejected them all for a Dutch-English dictionary; it had occurred to her that since she was to spend several more days as the Professor’s guest, she might employ her time in learning a word or two of his language. She was deep in this task, muttering away to herself when Noakes brought a tea tray, arranged it by her, and asked her if she was quite comfortable.
‘Yes, Noakes, thank you—I’m teaching myself some Dutch words. But I don’t think I’m pronouncing them properly.’
‘I daresay not, miss. Tell yer what, when Juffrouw Kropp comes later, get ’er ter ’elp yer. She’s a dab hand at it. Nasty awkward language it is—took me years ter learn.’
‘But you always speak English with the Professor?’
‘That’s right, miss—comes as easy to ’im as his own language!’
Caroline ate her tea, feeling much happier now that she had something to do, and when Juffrouw Kropp came to light the lamps presently, she asked that lady to sit down for a minute and help her.
Caro had made a list of words, and now she tried them out on the housekeeper, mispronouncing them dreadfully, and then, because she was really interested, correcting them under her companion’s guidance. It whiled away the early evening until the housekeeper had to go, leaving her with the assurance that Noakes would be along presently to help her back to her room.
But it wasn’t Noakes who came in, it was the Professor, walking so quietly that she didn’t look up from her work, only said: ‘Noakes, Juffrouw Kropp has been such a help, only there’s a word here and I can’t remember…’
She looked round and stopped, because the Professor was standing quite close by, looking at her. She answered his quiet good evening cheerfully and added: ‘So sorry, I expected Noakes, he’s coming to help me up to my room. I’d have gone sooner if I’d known you were home.’
She fished the stick up from the floor beside her and stood up, gathering the dictionary and her pen and paper into an awkward bundle under one arm, only to have them removed immediately by the Professor.
He said stiffly: ‘Will you dine with me this evening? Since you are already downstairs…’
Caroline was so surprised that she didn’t answer at once, and when she did her soft voice was so hesitant that it sounded like a stammer.
‘Thank you for asking me, but I won’t, thank you.’ She put out a hand for the dictionary and he transferred it to the other hand, out of her reach.
‘Why not?’ He looked annoyed and his voice was cold.
‘You don’t really want me,’ she said frankly. ‘You said that I wasn’t to—to interfere with your life in any way and I said I wouldn’t.’ She added kindly: ‘I’m very happy, thank you, I’ve never been so spoiled in all my life.’ She held out her hand; this time he gave her the dictionary.
‘Just as you wish,’ he said with a politeness she found more daunting than coldness. He took the stick from her, then took her arm and helped her out of the room and across the hall. At the bottom of the staircase he picked her up and carried her to the wide gallery above and across it to her room. At the door, he set her down and opened it for her. His ‘Goodnight, Miss Tripp’ was quite without expression. Caroline had no way of knowing if he was relieved that she had refused his invitation or if he was angry about it. She gave him a quiet goodnight and went through the door, to undress slowly and get ready for bed; she would have a bath and have her supper in her dressing gown by the fire.
Marta came presently to help her into the bath, turn down the bed and fuss nicely round the room, and after her came one of the maids with her supper; soup and a cheese souffle with a salad on the side and a Bavarian creme to follow. Caroline didn’t think the Professor would be eating that, nor would he be drinking the home-made lemonade she was offered.
The house was very quiet when she woke the next morning and when Marta brought her her breakfast tray, she told her that Noakes had gone with the Professor to the airfield just south of the city and would bring the car back later.
‘Has the Professor gone away?’ asked Caroline, feeling unaccountably upset.
‘To England and then to Paris—he has, how do you say? the lecture.’
‘How long for?’ asked Caro.
Marta shrugged her shoulders. ‘I do not know—five, six days, perhaps longer.’
Which meant that when he came home again she would go almost at once—perhaps he wanted that. She ate her breakfast listlessly and then got herself up and dressed. Her leg was better, it hardly ached at all and neither did her head. She trundled downstairs slowly and went into the library again where she spent a busy morning conning more Dutch words. There didn’t seem much point in it, but it was something to do.
After lunch she went into the garden. It was a chilly day with the first bite of autumn in the air and Juffrouw Kropp had fastened her into a thick woollen cape which dropped around her ankles and felt rather heavy. But she was glad of it presently when she had walked a little way through the formal gardens at the side of the house and found a seat under an arch of beech. It afforded a good view of her surroundings and she looked slowly around her. The gardens stretched away on either side of her and she supposed the meadows beyond belonged to the house too, for there was a high hedge beyond them. The house stood, of red brick, mellowed with age, its many windows gleaming in the thin sunshine; it was large with an important entrance at the top of a double flight of steps, but it was very pleasant too. She could imagine it echoing to the shouts of small children and in the winter evenings its windows would glow with light and guests would stream in to spend the evening…not, of course, in reality, she thought sadly; the Professor had turned himself into a kind of hermit, excluding everyone and everything from his life except work and books. ‘I must try and make him smile,’ she said out loud, and fell to wondering how she might do that.
It was the following morning, while she was talking to Noakes as he arranged the coffee tray beside her in the library, that they fell to discussing Christmas.
‘Doesn’t the Professor have family or friends to stay?’ asked Caro.
‘No, miss. Leastways, ’e ’olds an evening party—very grand affair it is too—but ‘e ain’t got no family, not in this country. Very quiet time it is.’
‘No carols?’
Noakes shook his head. ‘More’s the pity—I like a nice carol, meself.’
Caro poured out her coffee. ‘Noakes, why shouldn’t
you have them this year? There are—how many? six of you altogether, aren’t there? Couldn’t you teach everyone the words? I mean, they don’t have to know what they mean—aren’t there any Dutch carols?’
‘Plenty, miss, only it ain’t easy with no one ter play the piano. We’d sound a bit silly like.’
‘I can play. Noakes, would it be a nice idea to learn one or two carols and sing them for the Professor at Christmas—I mean, take him by surprise?’
Noakes looked dubious. Caroline put her cup down. ‘Look, Noakes, everyone loves Christmas—if you could just take him by surprise, it might make it seem more fun. Then perhaps he’d have friends to stay—or something.’
It suddenly seemed very important to her that the Professor should enjoy his Christmas, and Noakes, looking at her earnest face, found himself agreeing. ‘We could ’ave a bash, miss. There’s a piano in the drawing room and there’s one in the servants’ sitting-room.’
‘Would you mind if I played it? I wouldn’t want to intrude…’
‘Lor’ luv yer, miss, we’d be honoured.’
She went with him later that day, through the baize door at the back of the hall, down a flagstoned passage and through another door into a vast kitchen, lined with old-fashioned dressers and deep cupboards. Marta was at the kitchen table and Juffrouw Kropp was sitting in a chair by the Aga, and they looked up and smiled as she went in. Noakes guided her to a door at the end and opened it on to a very comfortably furnished room with a large table at one end, easy chairs, a TV in a corner and a piano against one wall. There was a stove halfway along the further wall and warm curtains at the windows. The Professor certainly saw to it that those who worked for him were comfortable. Caroline went over to the piano and opened it, sat down and began to play. She was by no means an accomplished pianist, but she played with feeling and real pleasure. She forgot Noakes for the moment, tinkling her way through a medley of Schubert, Mozart and Brahms until she was startled to hear him clapping and turned to see them all standing by the door watching her.
‘Cor, yer play a treat, miss,’ said Noakes. ‘I suppose yer don’t ’appen to know Annie Get Yer Gun?’
She knew some of it; before she had got to the end they were clapping their hands in time to the music and Noakes was singing. When she came to a stop finally, he said: ‘Never mind the carols, miss, if yer’d just play now and then—something we could all sing?’
He sounded wistful, and looking round at their faces she saw how eager they were to go on with the impromptu singsong. ‘Of course I’ll play,’ she said at once. ‘You can tell me what you want and I’ll do my best.’ She smiled round at them all; Noakes and Marta and Juffrouw Kropp, the three young maids and someone she hadn’t seen before, a quite old man—the gardener, she supposed. ‘Shall I play something else?’ she asked.
She sat there for an hour and when she went she had promised that she would go back the following evening. And on the way upstairs she asked Noakes if she might look at the piano in the drawing-room.
She stood in the doorway, staring around her. The piano occupied a low platform built under the window at one end, it was a grand and she longed to play upon it; she longed to explore the room too, its panelled walls hung with portraits, its windows draped with heavy brocade curtains. The hearth had a vast hood above it with what she supposed was a coat of arms carved upon it. All very grand, but it would be like trespassing to go into the room without the Professor inviting her to do so, and she didn’t think he would be likely to do that. She thanked a rather mystified Noakes and went on up to her room.
Lying in bed later, she thought how nice it would be to explore the house. She had had glimpses of it, but there were any number of closed doors she could never hope to have opened for her. Still, she reminded herself bracingly, she was being given the opportunity of staying in a lovely old house and being waited on hand and foot. Much later she heard Noakes locking up and Rex barking. She hadn’t met him yet; Noakes had told her that he was to be kept out of her way until she was quite secure on her feet. ‘Mild as milk,’ he had said, ‘but a bit on the big side.’ Caroline had forgotten to ask what kind of dog he was. Tomorrow she would contrive to meet him; her leg was rapidly improving, indeed it hardly hurt at all, only when she was tired.
Her thoughts wandered on the verge of sleep. Would the Professor expect to be reimbursed for his trouble and his professional services, she wondered, and if so how would one set about it? Perhaps the hospital would settle with him if and when he sent a bill. He wouldn’t be bothered to do that himself, she decided hazily; she had seen a serious middle-aged woman only that morning as she crossed the hall on her way to the library and Noakes had told her that it was the secretary, Mevrouw Slikker, who came daily to attend to the Professor’s correspondence. Undoubtedly she would be businesslike about it. Caro nodded her sleepy head at this satisfactory solution and went to sleep.
She walked a little further the next day, following the paths around the gardens and sitting down now and again to admire her surroundings. She wondered if the Professor ever had the time to admire his own grounds and thought probably not, he was certainly never long enough in his own house to enjoy its comforts and magnificence. She wandered round to the back of the house and found a pleasing group of old buildings grouped round a courtyard, barns and stables and a garage and a shed which smelled deliciously of apples and corn. It was coming out of this interesting place that she came face to face with an Old English sheepdog. He stood almost to her waist and peered at her with a heavily eyebrowed whiskered face. ‘Rex!’ she cried. ‘Oh, aren’t you a darling!’ She extended a closed fist and he sniffed at it and then put an enormous paw on each of her shoulders and reared up to peer down at her. He must have liked what he saw, for he licked her face gently, got down on to his four feet again and offered a head for scratching. They finished their walk together and wandered in through a little side door to find Noakes looking anxious.
‘There you are, miss—I ’opes yer ’aven’t been too far.’ His elderly eyes fell upon Rex. ‘’E didn’t frighten yer? ’E’s always in the kitchen with Marta in the mornings. I’ll take ’im back…’
‘Oh, Noakes, please could he stay with me? He’s company and ever so gentle. Is he allowed in the house?’
‘Lor’ yes, miss. Follows the Professor round like a shadow, ’e does. Well, I don’t see no ’arm.’ He beamed at her. ‘There’s a nice lunch for yer in the library and Juffrouw Kropp says if yer wants ’er this afternoon she’s at yer disposal.’
So the day passed pleasantly enough, and the following two days were just as pleasant. Caro did a little more each day now; the Professor would be back in two days’ time, Noakes had told her, and she had to be ready to leave then. She had no intention of trespassing on his kindness for an hour longer than she needed to. Of course she would have to get tickets for the journey home, but that shouldn’t take long, and Noakes would help her and perhaps the Professor would allow him to drive her to the station in Leeuwarden; she had already discovered that the train went all the way to the Hoek—all she would need to do was to get from it to the boat. She had mentioned it carefully to Noakes when he had been clearing away her supper dishes, but he had shaken his head and said dubiously that it would be better to consult the Professor. ‘’E may not want yer to go straight away, miss,’ he suggested.
‘Well, I should think he would,’ she told him matter-of-factly, ‘for I’m quite well now and after all, he didn’t invite me as a guest. He’s been more than kind to let me get well here and I mustn’t stay longer than absolutely necessary.’
Noakes had shaken his head and muttered to himself and then begged her to go down to the sitting-room and play for them all again—something she had done with great pleasure, for it passed the evenings very nicely. When she was on her own she found that she had an increasing tendency to think about the Professor—a pointless pastime, she told herself, and went on doing it nonetheless.
It rained the next day, so tha
t she spent a great deal of it in the library, with Rex beside her, poring over her dictionary. She was making progress, or so she thought, with an ever-lengthening list of words which she tried out on members of the staff. All rather a waste of time, she knew that, but it passed the days and in some obscure way made the Professor a little less of a stranger. She went earlier than usual to play the piano that day, perhaps because the afternoon was unnaturally dark and perhaps because she was lonely despite Rex’s company. And Noakes and his staff seemed pleased to see her, requesting this, that and the other tune, beating time and tra-laing away to each other. Presently, with everyone satisfied, Caroline began to play to please herself; half forgotten melodies she had enjoyed before her aunt had married again and then on to Sibelius and Grieg, not noticing how quiet everyone had become; she was halfway through a wistful little French tune when she stopped and turned round. ‘Sorry, I got carried away,’ she began, and saw the Professor standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, leaning against the door frame.
He didn’t smile, indeed, he was looking coldly furious, although his icily polite: ‘Pray don’t stop on my account, Miss Tripp,’ was uttered in a quiet voice.
Caroline stood up rather too hard on the bad leg so that she winced. ‘You’re angry,’ she said quickly, ‘and I’m sorry—I have no right to be here, but you’re not to blame Noakes or anyone else—I invited myself.’
She wanted to say a great deal more, but the look of annoyance on his face stopped her. She wished everyone goodnight in her newly acquired Dutch and went past him through the door and along the passage. He caught up with her quite easily before she could reach the staircase, and she sighed soundlessly. He was going to lecture her and she might as well have it now as later; perhaps she might even get him to see that no harm had been done, indeed he might even be glad that his staff had enjoyed a pleasant hour.
She turned to face him. ‘It’s a pity you frown so,’ she said kindly.
He looked down his splendid nose at her. ‘I have very good reason to frown, Miss Tripp, and well you know it. I return home unexpectedly and what do I find? My butler, my housekeeper, my cook, the maidservants and the gardener being entertained by you in the servants’ sitting-room. Probably if I had come home even earlier I should have found you all playing gin rummy in the cellars.’