by Betty Neels
‘We call you Cressy,’ said Willum, and they all nodded, and when their mother remonstrated Cressida said, ‘Oh, I think that’s a splendid idea, so much easier than Cressida, isn’t it?’
They all went into the house then, through the tiled hall and into a lofty room with windows at each end, very comfortably furnished and cluttered with books and toys. Mevrouw swept a pile of magazines off a roomy sofa and bade Cressida sit down. ‘The room is not tidy, but the playroom and nursery are at the top of the house and it is too far, you understand? But now that you are here there will be someone to be with them. The boys are old enough to go cycling together and Willum has his own room now, but the little girls may not go out alone.’
She sat down beside Cressida. ‘Let us have coffee and then you shall see your room and the house and meet everyone.’
A tall bony woman brought the coffee and Mevrouw ter Beemstra said, ‘This is Leike, she speaks no English but she will help you all she can.’
Cressida shook hands and Leike smiled from a fairly stern face. Looking around her, Cressida had that nice warm feeling that she was going to be happy.
Mijnheer ter Beemstra came home for lunch. A large man, thick-set, and a good deal older than his wife with a rugged good-humoured face. His children fell upon him, all talking at once, as his wife introduced Cressida. He shook hands, smiling broadly. ‘We are glad to welcome you, Miss Preece, and we hope that you will be happy with us; you will also be busy...’
Sitting up in bed, much later, Cressida paused in writing a letter to Moggy to review her day. It had been full, not a minute wasted from the moment when she had been led upstairs to her room, a small cosy place comfortably furnished and with a view out over the wide fields beyond the grounds, then, accompanied by all six children, she had been taken on a tour of the house. The children had come to show her everything and they had rooms close to hers, and at the end of a long passage there was a big playroom and beside it a smaller room, used as a nursery for Baby. Here she had met Lucia’s nurse, elderly, her beady eyes studying Cressida with guarded politeness. Of course, Cressida had thought, she was afraid that Cressida was going to usurp her position, something she had no intention of doing. She had contrived to let the nurse understand this with the help of Willum, who’d laboured away doing his best to translate for her. It had been a relief to see the nurse relax presently.
English was to be spoken at meals; lunch had been a hilarious affair with her encouraging and correcting and offering, rather diffidently, to improve upon an accent. Afterwards, walking down to the village to buy stamps at the little post office, accompanied by everyone except Lucia, she had been teased into trying her Dutch. Which, Willum solemnly told her, was very bad.
At the end of the day, getting them to bed had been a major operation, so that when she went downstairs finally and Mevrouw ter Beemstra suggested that she might like to go to bed herself she was glad to go. Perhaps, she reflected, it would be a good idea if she did that every evening, she could always plead letters to write and probably once she had got settled in there would be odd jobs of mending and so on which she could do in the playroom.
She punched her pillows into greater comfort and thought about her free day. It was to be Thursday because the girls went to dancing class in the afternoon and the boys had fencing lessons; she could, if she wished, go in to Leeuwarden with Mijnheer ter Beemstra after breakfast and return when she liked; there was a bus which went through the village in the evening, but if she missed it, she only had to telephone and she would be fetched. The last weekend of each month was to be hers too. She could stay in the house if she wished and go somewhere each day or she could go away for the weekend. ‘I believe that Charity will love to have you,’ said Mevrouw ter Beemstra kindly.
She would go to Leeuwarden, she decided, and have a good look round, and since Christmas was only a couple of weeks away she would buy small gifts and one or two cards—for Moggy and her sister and Mr Tims, Charity and Tyco and Cook and Dr van der Linus. She wondered what he was doing, picturing him in Nicola’s company. She allowed her imagination to run away with her; Nicola would be quite exquisitely dressed and looking prettier than ever, trilling her tinkling laugh, asking him sympathetically something about his day’s work, making him smile. Cressida was suddenly consumed with a profound dislike of the girl; she was all wrong for the doctor and he was extremely silly not to see that for himself. Well, let him cook his own goose, she muttered, and picked up her pen once more and wrote several pages of cheerful news to Moggy.
* * *
SHE SLIPPED INTO the life of the household quickly, helped by Mevrouw ter Beemstra’s kindly hints and the enthusiastic encouragement of the children. Her days were busy, for there were always children around, with the constant need to speak English and whenever possible have it read to them. She set herself, within the first day or so, to learn as many Dutch words as possible, and it was surprising how easy it was to understand the children; committed to speak English with all of them, she didn’t venture to try them out, but she listened while she was with them and boldly tried out the few words she had understood on the maid and the elderly cook in the kitchen, quite undeterred when one of them failed to understand her.
Her duties, away from the children, were light—she made her bed but no one expected her to do any household chores although there was plenty of mending and occasional ironing to do for the children—but her days were full enough, keeping six children occupied while they were not at school. She made sure that they bathed, washing their flaxen hair, putting plasters on grazed knees, helping them with their English lessons. The two elder boys brought home a good deal of homework and since she had a smattering of Latin grammar and knew something of geometry and algebra she rose in their regard. It was with Friso and the two girls that she had most contact; their English was sketchy and they were at an age when learning was a bore anyway. All the same, by the end of the first week she had devised several ways of making it more attractive to them, taking them for walks or cycle rides, getting them to tell her names of the trees and flowers and everything else in sight and then repeating everything in English. Baby, of course, was no trouble at all; her nurse relinquished her from time to time and Cressida soon had her prattling away, quite happy to speak any language anyone should choose to teach her.
The week flew by and on the Wednesday evening Charity telephoned to invite her over for her free day. ‘I’ll come and fetch you,’ she offered, ‘and Tyco shall take you back after dinner. I’ll be there about half-past nine so mind you’re ready.’
The weather had turned fine with a pale blue sky, a searing cold wind and thin ice on the canals. Cressida, wrapped in her winter coat and wearing the woolly hat and scarf she had bought in Leiden, bade the ter Beemstras goodbye and got into Charity’s car.
‘Ought you to be driving?’ she asked as they started off.
‘I promised Tyco this morning that I won’t take the car out again until after I’ve had the baby. He’s fussy...’ Somehow it sounded high praise.
‘I can drive you,’ said Cressida.
‘Oh, thanks—we’ll go shopping together. I love Christmas, don’t you?’ Charity overtook a farm tractor with caution. ‘Well, how do you like the job? The ter Beemstras are delighted with you—Beatrix told me when I phoned yesterday.’
‘It’s marvellous. They’re so kind and I don’t have to do any housework.’
‘I should hope not. I can’t think what came over Aldrik, letting you go to that horrible woman.’
‘Well, if he’s in love with Nicola and she suggested it I suppose he thought it would be all right.’
‘He’s not in love with her, though. She’s fastened on to him and he’s too busy and wrapped up in his work to do anything about it.’
Somehow this piece of news cheered Cressida up. ‘Oh, do you think so?’ She would have liked to have pursued the matt
er but they had arrived at Charity’s home and Jolly came out to drive the car round to the garage for her and beg them to hurry inside. ‘Mrs Jolly’s got the coffee ready, Mevrouw, and there’s a good fire in the small sitting-room.’
There was a great deal to talk about; Christmas—and things to do with the children during the school holidays. ‘Tyco’s family come over for Christmas and of course we’ll have a party. You’ll come...?’
‘Will I? Supposing the ter Beemstras want to go out? There’ll be the children to mind.’
‘They’ll come too. Baby’s nurse will come and our housemaid is marvellous with children and we can pop in and out. They have a room to play in and their own food. Tyco says they’ve always done it, and they come and join the grown-ups when the presents are handed out.’
‘Won’t it be a bit much for you?’
Charity poured more coffee. ‘Me? No, no. Besides, there’s you and Tyco’s sisters and Mrs Jolly and the ter Beemstras. It’ll be great fun.’
She glanced at Cressida. ‘I’m sorry Aldrik won’t be here. He’s splendid with children.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose if Nicola succeeds in getting him to marry her she’ll have lots of nasty little Nicolas...’
‘She doesn’t look as if she would like even one.’
‘That won’t suit Aldrik; he told me once that he would like a large family when he married.’
She got up. ‘Come and see the nursery, it’s all ready—the girls helped me and we’ve had such fun. Tyco keeps bringing home teddy bears and rattles...’
They spent a pleasant hour while Cressida admired everything before going to Charity’s bedroom to go through her wardrobe and try on her hats. They went downstairs for lunch presently and just as they reached the hall the front door opened and Tyco and Aldrik came in.
‘Hello, darling—Cressida too.’ Tyco kissed his wife, ‘Aldrik’s on the way to Janslum; I’ve brought him home for lunch.’
Charity lifted her face for Aldrik’s kiss. ‘How very nice, and here’s Cressida, spending her day off with us.’
Cressida offered a hand and smiled up at him, aware of a deep delight at seeing him again. He took it in his own large one and bent and kissed her cheek. ‘This is an unexpected pleasure,’ he told her, and Tyco, his arm around his wife, winked at her. ‘I have been wondering how you have been getting on.’
Cressida had gone rather pink. She had enjoyed the kiss but it mustn’t be allowed to go to her head, she reflected. ‘I’m very happy,’ she told him. ‘Everyone is kind and the children are dears.’
She came to a halt, wishing very much to tell him every detail of her days. That would bore him, she thought, so instead she asked politely, ‘I hope you haven’t been too busy?’
The doctor, who had been out of his bed for most of the night after a long day at Amsterdam Hospital, assured her that he hadn’t been at all busy, and Tyco suggested that they might all go to the drawing-room and have a drink before lunch.
‘Teile and Letizia will be here in a few minutes,’ said Charity. ‘Mrs Jolly’s gone to fetch them.’
Lunch was a very cheerful meal; Christmas was near enough for it to be the main topic of conversation and the twins could talk of nothing else, but presently Tyco said, ‘Well, I’ve a couple of patients to see and I said I’d look in at the hospital. I’ll drop these two off as I go. Tell Jolly to fetch them after school, my love, will you? I’ll be back about five o’clock.’ The children went to get their outdoor things and as Charity got up too he said, ‘And you’ll put your feet up, darling.’
‘While you’re doing that,’ said Aldrik casually, ‘I’ll take Cressida over to Janslum. It will give her the chance to see something of the country.’
Charity was buttoning the twins into their coats and Cressida got up to help her. She said over her shoulder, ‘It’s most kind of you, Doctor, but I shall be very happy to stay here and read—or something—while Charity rests.’
‘Oh, I’m not being kind.’ He spoke carelessly. ‘Tyske—my housekeeper—has made speculaas and I won’t be able to eat all of them; besides, the dogs are there—I brought them up with me last night.’
He added briskly, ‘Caesar is very fit, I thought you might like to see him—and Mabel, of course.’
‘Well, yes, I would—thank you. I’ll come...’
‘You’ll enjoy the drive,’ said Charity, ‘and you’ll both come back here for dinner—seven o’clock, because Cressida wants to be back by ten o’clock.’ She added, ‘And bring the dogs, Aldrik; Samson hasn’t seen them for a time, and they can have a romp together.’
Her husband gazed at her fondly. ‘Darling, we will all do exactly as you ask, but if I find you haven’t curled up for at least two hours I shall beat you when I get home.’
They all laughed and then Aldrik said, ‘Get your coat, Cressida, and we’ll be off.’ He gave Charity a quick kiss. ‘Thanks for the lunch, my dear,’ and he bent to kiss the little girls’ cheeks. Whatever it was he said to them sent them running into the hall to search the pockets of his heavy jacket and find the chocolates he had brought with him. Cressida, tying a scarf over her tidy head, thought how happy everyone was. I’m happy too, she reflected, I suppose it’s because I’m settled and everyone is so nice.
Sitting beside the doctor presently, driving along a narrow brick road between polder land, she said, ‘Charity told me that you’re going to England for Christmas. Do you go every year?’
He slid the car into an even narrower road. ‘Usually; my grandmother is too old to travel over here. My mother spends Christmas with her but she is visiting one of my sisters. I don’t like to think of the old lady being on her own.’
‘You come back for New Year?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Then I expect you’ll be getting married?’
He said drily, ‘The idea had occurred to me. Should I be flattered at your interest, Cressida?’
She looked away from him out of the car window. ‘Have I been nosy? I’m sorry. I—I was just making conversation.’
‘Surely there is no need for us to have to do that? Let’s talk instead.’ He turned and smiled at her. ‘I wonder if you will like my home—we’re almost there, another mile or so. We’re quite close to the sea now. As we go back we’ll take the other road through Dokkum. Are you to be free on every Thursday?’
‘I think so, and once a month I’m...’ She stopped just in time from telling him that she would have a weekend to herself.
‘Once a month?’ he prompted.
‘Oh, nothing,’ she mumbled, ‘nothing important.’ She had gone pink; the very idea of telling him about her weekend...he might have thought that she was fishing for an invitation to go out with him. He was nice enough to have responded too even if he hadn’t wanted to. She remembered how he had put himself out on her behalf and said hastily, ‘Charity and I are going shopping together. It’s lovely having her so close, I’ve—I’ve planned to do such a lot.’
He didn’t reply and she was searching her head for a suitable topic of conversation when the road widened into a very small village square encircled by cottages, an austere church, two shops and a village school.
‘Janslum,’ said the doctor. ‘I’m just up the lane.’
Cressida, with the vague idea of a smallish country house with a nice garden, was taken aback as he swept the car through an open gateway between high pillars and along a straight drive between small wintry blown trees. It curved presently and the house came into view.
‘You live here?’ gasped Cressida. ‘All by yourself?’
‘Not quite by myself,’ he conceded, ‘and later of course...’
‘When you are married.’ He had got out to open her door and help her and she stood beside him, looking at the house, white-walled and gabled with tall windows on either side of the porch, the windows above gettin
g smaller and smaller until they reached the roof. There were lights shining from the downstairs rooms and as she looked the door was opened and she could see the hall beyond, aglow with soft lamp-light.
‘It’s perfect,’ she said to no one in particular. ‘Just right.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE DOCTOR DIDN’T say anything, but he smiled a little as he swept her indoors. ‘This is Wester, who looks after the house for me. His wife Tyske does the cooking. I should sink without trace without them.’
Wester smiled discreetly and shook the hand Cressida held out.
‘I’ve brought Miss Preece for tea,’ explained the doctor. He glanced at his watch. ‘There’s plenty of time; would you like to look round the grounds, Cressida?’
‘Oh, yes, please.’
‘It’s very nearly dark but there is a moon. Come this way...’
He led her round to the side of the house, down a few shallow steps and through a shrubbery. There was a gate at the end and as they reached it he asked, ‘Do you like horses?’
‘Horses? Me? Yes, I do. When Father was alive I used to ride with him. My stepmother sold Father’s horse and my pony.’ She bent down to fondle Caesar’s ears and pat Mabel, pacing along beside her. The memory still hurt.
‘Take a look at these,’ invited the doctor cheerfully, and whistled. The two enormous beasts who loomed up at a gallop by the gate were followed by an old pony and a donkey.
‘Heavens above—the size of them! They’re percherons, aren’t they? Do you work them?’
‘Just when we make hay and plough. They’re elderly—I got them from the knackers—there’s room enough for them here and they deserve a year or two of peace and quiet.’