by Betty Neels
It was a couple of days later when Lady Merrill said suddenly in the middle of lunch. ‘My—er—my companion will be returning in a week, Cressida, and I have been giving the matter some thought. Have you any plans?’
Cressida put her fork carefully down on the plate. ‘No—no, I haven’t, Lady Merrill, but I have no doubt that I shall be able to find something.’
Cressida cast around in her head. There was an aunt of her mother’s living somewhere in Cumbria whom she had never seen, two cousins in Canada and another cousin in the States, all much older than she. ‘Well, I’m sure I can find a room,’ she began, ‘just for a little while, you know.’
‘Mrs Sefton—you know her, of course—telephoned me yesterday and asked after you, and, when I mentioned that you would be leaving shortly, wanted to know if you were interested in a job in Holland as companion to a lady living on her own. Middle-aged, I believe and speaks fluent English. She lives very comfortably by the sea. Not a permanent position but for the winter months.’
‘Does Mrs Sefton know this lady?’
‘No, but she knows an acquaintance of hers who mentioned it in a letter.’ Lady Merrill smiled encouragingly. ‘It might be better to go to someone already known rather than to a complete stranger.’
That made sense, reflected Cressida; besides, it would be nice to go abroad—and Dr van der Linus lived there. She had her passport too.
Lady Merrill watched the tell-tale expressions drift across Cressida’s face; she wasn’t going to say any more, she had already been involved in Aldrik’s plans and told far too many fibs as well as inventing a mythical companion, but she hoped that Cressida would go to Holland because that was what he wanted, although she was sure that he didn’t know why he wanted it. She could be wrong about that. She wasn’t quite happy about this woman being an aunt of Nicola’s; on the other hand Aldrik would be able to see Cressida from time to time and for the present she was content with that; besides, he had seen this woman and approved of her.
Cressida had made up her mind. ‘I think I’d like to take this job. It will be a change to see another country. Does this lady wish me to write to her?’
‘That would be a good idea. I’ll get the address from Mrs Sefton.’
So Cressida wrote a brief polite letter and received one by return of post, couched in pleasant terms and offering a wage which was ample for her needs. She was expected in a week’s time and directions as to how she was to get there were added. Very satisfactory, thought Cressida, suppressing a feeling of uneasiness which she couldn’t account for. It had all been so easy, but she brushed the doubt aside; she was in no position to look a gift horse in the mouth.
She went to Yeovil once more on a free afternoon and added to her wardrobe a plain jersey dress in grey which she hoped would pass muster for more formal occasions, a pair of court shoes, going cheap in a closing-down sale, and another sweater. She had, she considered, an adequate wardrobe which she proceeded to pack in her two cases which Elsie had taken away and dusted and polished for her. The last day came and she got out of bed feeling sad and rather reluctant to go. She had been happy with Lady Merrill and the entire household had been kind and friendly. She hoped that Jonkvrouw van Germert would be as kind.
‘I shall miss you, child,’ observed Lady Merrill. ‘I hope you will be happy in Holland—write to me, won’t you?’ She offered an elderly cheek for Cressida’s kiss. Baxter and Elsie bade her a reluctant goodbye too as they saw her into the car which was to take her to Yeovil and the train to London. Her travelling expenses had been sent, although there had been no allowance made for taxis or meals on the way. She was to travel to Harwich and take the night ferry to the Hoek. It seemed to her a needlessly round-about journey, especially as she had to cross London, but she had her instructions and presumably was expected to keep to them. At the Hoek she was to catch a train to den Haag and change again to a local train to Noordwijk-aan-Zee where she was to take a taxi to Jonkvrouw van Germert’s house. In the train speeding up to Waterloo, she read the instructions once again and then settled down to watch the scenery, wondering when she would see it again. Probably in the spring, she reminded herself, for it had been made clear that she was to be employed only for the winter months. She wondered briefly about her stepmother, who hadn’t replied to her letters, but she had had long letters from Moggy, happily settled with her sister and reiterating her offer to Cressida of a place to stay if ever she should need one. It was a comforting thought.
Cressida had travelled in Europe with her father before he remarried; France, Italy and Greece, and always in comfort, so that she was unprepared for the inside cabin she was to share with three other women on the ferry, and since she had to be careful of her money she made do with coffee and a ham roll before she climbed into her bunk. The three other occupants were older women, one of whom snored. She had a wakeful night and got up as early as she dared, washed and dressed by the aid of one small light and went on deck. It had been a rough crossing and the wind was blowing but after the stuffiness of the cabin she was glad of the fresh air. They were very near the Hoek now; she went and got herself a cup of tea and a roll and collected her luggage.
There weren’t a great many passengers, she was quickly through Customs and the train was waiting in the station. It was a short journey to den Haag but she wasted a good deal of time looking for the right platform, unable to hurry with her two cases, and it was with relief that she settled in the train for Noordwijk-aan-Zee. Much revived by a cup of coffee, she watched the scenery until the ticket collector came round, pointing out in good English that the train didn’t go to the little town but to the larger Noordwijk inland. ‘You can get a taxi from the station,’ he told her cheerfully. ‘It is two kilometres, no distance.’
Which she was glad to discover was true; what was more, the taxi driver understood English and knew where Jonkvrouw van Germert lived. He drove through the wide aged gate up to the front door, got out and put her cases on the step, accepted his fare and a tip, wished her a happy stay and drove away as she rang the bell.
The door was opened by a cross-looking woman who stared at her without speaking but when Cressida uttered her mistress’s name she stood back while Cressida, lugging her suitcases, went into the hall, then she walked away to disappear through a door on one side of the hall.
A gloomy place, thought Cressida, but obviously a well-to-do household if the heavy side-table and side-chairs, the thick carpet and the elaborate chandelier were anything to go by.
The girl came back, said, ‘Kom mee,’ and led the way back across the hall and opened a door for Cressida to go through. The room she entered was as gloomy as the hall, rich brown and terracotta with a great deal of dark furniture. There was a fire opposite the door and a woman sitting in the chair drawn up to it.
‘Come in, then—Miss Preece, isn’t it? How do
you do?’
Cressida crossed to the chair and offered a hand. ‘Jonkvrouw van Germert?’
‘Yes.’
Her hand was shaken after a moment’s hesitation. ‘Well, Corrie had better show you your room—lunch is at half-past twelve and we can talk then.’
She frowned slightly. ‘You are very slight—I hope you are strong?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Cressida eyed her companion, a stout florid lady, very fashionably dressed, and wondered why she needed to be strong.
‘Well, find Corrie and get unpacked; you have almost an hour.’
So Cressida went back into the hall and found Corrie standing at the front of the stairs. They each took a case and climbed to the square landing, where Corrie opened a door at the end of a narrow passage. The room looked over the garden at the back of the house and that was the best part about it. It was a small room, adequately furnished and cold, and there was a bathroom next to it. Left to herself, Cressida poked her nose into cupboards and drawers, tried the bed and look
ed out of the window. Of course, she told herself, it was a grey day; when the sun shone the room would look much nicer and once she had settled in she would have a vase of flowers and perhaps a small table lamp by the bed. She had some photos of her mother and father and her home—the place would soon be more cheerful, it was only that after the comfort of her room at Lady Merrill’s house this one seemed a little bare.
She unpacked quickly, did her face and hair, and, mindful of the time, went back downstairs.
Over lunch Jonkvrouw van Germert outlined Cressida’s duties, which were rather different from those at Lady Merrill’s. She was to keep her own room clean and of course make her bed, water the many plants and arrange the flowers, wash the porcelain in the display cabinets in the drawing-room, answer the phone if the maid was out or busy, make sure that the daily cleaning woman had done her work properly and make herself useful as and when necessary.
‘And my free day?’ asked Cressida.
‘A free day? Oh, do you expect that? But you will be living here in comfort with me, and I have no free day.’
Jonkvrouw van Germert saw the look on Cressida’s face and made haste to change her tactics. It would never do for the girl to leave after dear Nicola had planned everything so carefully. ‘Well, let me see, I go to the Bridge club on Wednesdays; supposing you consider yourself free to go out from 10 o’clock in the morning until seven o’clock in the evening?’
It seemed there was to be no question of an hour or two off each day and perhaps it would be sensible to wait for a few days before suggesting it. Cressida agreed, and then asked in her sensible way, ‘And my salary? Is that to be paid weekly or monthly?’
‘Oh, monthly. Now that we have decided on these tiresome details will you be good enough to come upstairs with me? I rest for an hour after lunch and you may read to me. My English is good,’ said Jonkvrouw van Germert with a lamentable lack of modesty, ‘but you will read slowly; if I do not understand a passage you will explain it to me.’
It had been a long day, thought Cressida, getting ready for bed that night and jumping into her bed, thankful for the hot-water bottle which Corrie had surprisingly found and filled for her. She wasn’t as cross as she looked—probably she was tired, for there was certainly enough for her to do. The house wasn’t over large but it was full of furniture and knick-knacks and the floors were polished wood. There was a cook; Cressida had been sent to the kitchen to fetch a fresh pot of coffee and had seen her there. She had offered a hand and the surprised woman had shaken it, giving her an unfriendly glance and muttering something in Dutch. Not a cheerful household, reflected Cressida, curling her small person around the warmth of the bottle; probably they had thought her coming would make more work for them but judging from the list of tasks she was expected to get through each day she might turn out to be a help.
She was disappointed, but that, she told herself firmly, was because Lady Merrill had been exceptionally kind. She would doubtless have her ups and downs but she had a roof over her head, quite a good salary and a chance to save some of it. Just before she dropped off she thought that she might, by some miracle, meet Dr van der Linus again, then she slept.
Her days, she discovered, were fully occupied—making herself useful covered a multitude of odd jobs as well as being Jonkvrouw van Germert’s companion and at her beck and call—but she had the odd half-hour to herself from time to time when visitors called. She had arrived on a Thursday so that she had to wait a week for her free day and when it came at last it brought cold rain and a bitter wind. Not that Cressida minded that; she tidied her room, ate her breakfast, went to Jonkvrouw van Germert’s room to bid her good morning and was told in a chilly voice to be sure and be back by seven o’clock, and then she ran down to the kitchen. Her Dutch was fragmental but she managed, ‘Boodschappen?’ which she had learned meant shopping, and pointed at Corrie and the cook in turn.
They stared at her for a moment and then smiled and nodded, and she waited while they wrote what they wanted on a bit of paper.
‘Geld?’ asked Corrie.
She smiled again at once when Cressida said, ‘Straks,’ which was a useful word she had made haste to learn since it meant later, presently or even not now.
The bus service was good though not so frequent in the winter months; all the same it took her swiftly to Leiden, where, Jonkvrouw van Germert had told her in one of the more expansive moments, there was a good deal to see and even some nice shops. She had added, ‘And if you want the cheaper places, there is Hema, rather like your Woolworths, I believe...’ A remark which had annoyed Cressida very much.
In Leiden she went straight to the tourist office to get a map of the town and all the information she could find, and, thus armed, set out to enjoy herself. She had had to admit to herself within the first few days of living at the villa that she wasn’t very happy there; Jonkvrouw van Germert didn’t like her. Not that she had ever said so but her indifference was plain to see and she treated Cressida with a kind of long-suffering politeness which was hard to bear. Almost as though she didn’t want a companion and certainly not me, Cressida had thought. What she really needed was another maid in the house; Corrie was overworked and the woman who came in to clean had no time to do more than polish the floors and clean the kitchen, and she herself discovered that she was expected to make beds, dust and occasionally set the table for meals. It was a job, she told herself stoutly, and it enabled her to see something of another country, and having a day off to herself once a week was something to look forward to.
She followed one of the leaflet’s instructions and spent an hour or more at the Lakenhal before going in search of coffee. From the café she found her way to Breestraat running through the heart of the oldest part of the city, bent on viewing the old fortification, the Burcht, and that done she made her way to the Korenbeursbrug to enjoy the views her leaflet urged her to see. She looked her fill, and then, bent on seeing the Sint
Pieterskerk, walked back towards Breestraat. It was as she was waiting to cross the street that she saw Dr van der Linus on the opposite pavement. She stood quite still, jostled by impatient people wishing to cross the street and finding her in the way. She was unaware of them, wholly taken up with the delight of seeing him again. He had crossed the street before she had decided what to do. His, ‘Cressida, what a delightful surprise,’ was uttered with just the right air of unexpectedness; he had been in France for two weeks and had returned several days before he was expected, and although he had planned to call on Nicola’s aunt in order to make sure that Cressida had settled down nicely he had not expected to see her in Leiden. He took her hand and smiled kindly at her. ‘You look well...’
‘I’ve a job here, companion to a lady who lives in Noordwijk-aan-Zee.’
‘You’re happy? You don’t find it strange?’ He gave her a sharp glance. ‘This lady is kind to you?’
It would have been a relief to tell him that she wasn’t happy and that everything was strange and the lady was rather less than kind, but that would never do. She said in her quiet way, ‘It is a little strange but everyone, or almost everyone, speaks English. I’ve only been here for a week. Noordwijk-aan-Zee is very attractive; I dare say it’s very busy in the summer.’
He frowned a little, watching her face, sure that she would have liked to have said more but wasn’t going to. It was a pity that he was on his way to the hospital and already late. ‘It would have been nice to have had lunch together,’ he told her, ‘but I am late already. Let me have your address...’
She gave it to him and added, ‘But please don’t come and see me, I’m not sure if Jonkvrouw van Germert would like that.’
‘Oh, why is that?’
‘You’re going to be very late for your appointment,’ said Cressida. ‘I dare say we shall meet again when there’s more time.’
He took her hand in his. ‘Indeed we will, I don’t intend to l
ose sight of you.’
She watched him stride away, going towards the Rapenburg Canal and the medical school and she went on her way to the church. It was vast and empty and she perched on a solitary chair the better to think. It had been wonderful seeing the doctor again and surprising too. She had thought that he lived in Friesland but apparently he came to Leiden, she presumed to the hospital, and it wasn’t very likely that she would see him again for some time. Even if she came to Leiden each week on her day off the chances of meeting him there were remote, but all the same she was aware of a warm, comforting glow at the thought that he had remembered her and stopped to talk even though it had been obvious to her that he was in a tearing hurry.
The church was cold; she walked back to Breestraat and had a cheese roll and coffee in a little café and went to look at the shops. She wasn’t to be paid until the end of the month so her purchases were small and necessary but with Christmas approaching the shops had plenty in their windows. She spent a happy hour wandering from one to the other, deciding what she would buy at the end of the month, then had tea and a mouth-watering mountain of a cream cake before catching the bus back. She had enjoyed her day and as she stood on the step waiting for Corrie to open the door she reflected that perhaps she had been over-hasty in her first impression of Jonkvrouw van Germert; after all, they had to get to know each other. She went straight to the kitchen and handed over the purchases she had made for Corrie and the cook and then hurried to her room to tidy herself for the evening. Her employer changed each evening; Cressida got into the grey dress which would have to be worn until she had her wages and she could buy a second one. Perhaps if she went to the Hague on one of her free days she would find something to suit her pocket.
Jonkvrouw van Germert was in the drawing-room, wearing an elaborate dress and a good deal of gold jewellery. ‘Oh, you’re back,’ she observed as Cressida went in. ‘I shall be out for dinner—the car will be here at any minute now. I have told Cook that you can have your supper in the kitchen with her and Corrie—it will save them work. I shall want you to drive me into den Haag in the morning. I am going to the hairdresser.’