by Betty Neels
She was sitting with the twins on the following morning, patiently showing them a large map of the world and reciting the countries in English, when their mother came into the room.
‘Cressida, I would like to talk—if Sepke and Galske could amuse themselves for a while?’
‘I’ll get their painting books. Would you like me to come downstairs?’
‘Please.’ She went away, leaving Cressida wondering what they would have to talk about—the little girls going to school, she supposed, or perhaps the boys weren’t doing as well with their English at school as their father expected. She fetched paints and water and painting books, told them to be good children and ran downstairs.
Mevrouw ter Beemstra was in the drawing-room, a half-knitted pullover for one of the boys in her lap. ‘Come and sit down, Cressida,’ she said kindly. ‘While you were out with the children there was a telephone call for you—a Miss Mogford. She wished to speak to you urgently. I told her that you would be back shortly and she asked that you should ring her after half-past eleven...’
‘Moggy,’ exclaimed Cressida, ‘but she’s not on the phone—she was our housekeeper before my father died—she’s retired now.’
‘She was telephoning from a—a box. Is that right? Therefore she tells me the time that you should ring her. It is a quarter past eleven now. When it is time, go to the library, it is quiet there, and see what is the matter. I hope it is not bad news...’
‘Was she—did she sound upset?’
‘Crying, I believe. I had a little difficulty understanding her...’
‘Well, she’s a Dorset woman, and she doesn’t speak in the same way as someone from London or one of the big cities.’
‘I understand. Like our Anna. You are fond of her, Cressida?’
‘She came to my mother and father when they married, so I’ve known her all my life.’ The remembrance of Moggy’s elderly face brought a lump into Cressida’s throat. ‘I’m very fond of her.’
‘We will have a cup of coffee together and then it will be time to telephone,’ said Mevrouw ter Beemstra, ‘and if it is necessary then you must go to your home and give her what help is needed. I hope that will not be so, but if it is then we will help you.’
Cressida thanked her, put down her coffee-cup and went to the library, the one room in the house where the children were not allowed to enter unless they were invited by their father. She dialled the number Mevrouw ter Beemstra had taken down. A moment later she heard Moggy’s soft Dorset voice.
‘Miss Cressy? I’m that sorry to bother you but I don’t know what to do. I’m at my wits’ end and no one to ask. It’s all so sudden like and I’m sure my sister never meant it...’
‘Moggy, dear, it’s all right,’ Cressida spoke encouragingly. ‘Just tell me what has happened and I’ll help. Is your sister ill?’
‘She’s dead. Oh, Miss Cressy, whatever shall I do? She meant to alter her will, see, and leave the cottage to me, but she died sudden like and it’s to go to her husband’s nephew and ’e says as I must be out by the end of the month, and there’s ’er two cats and he don’t want ’em, and who’s to take in two cats? For I’ll not leave them...’
‘The end of the month. That’s two weeks away. Moggy, I’m coming back—I’ll see the solicitors for you and see what can be done. Now don’t worry, Mevrouw ter Beemstra has said that I can go to England if I’m needed. I’ll be with you in a few days. Just stay where you are, Moggy. Don’t sign anything and if anyone bothers you just say that I’ll deal with them when I get there.’
‘But your job, Miss Cressy—’
‘I’m sure that I can come back, Moggy.’ As she spoke Cressida realised that here was the chance she had wanted to leave Friesland, to go as far away from Aldrik as she could. It was strange that now that she had it she was loath to take it. All her good resolutions dissolved before her longing to see Aldrik just once more. Only for a moment; then Moggy’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
‘You will come, Miss Cressy?’
‘Yes, Moggy. Just as soon as I can—two or three days...’
She said goodbye and went to tell Mevrouw ter Beemstra about it.
‘Of course you must go, Cressida. A seat will be booked on a plane for you and we will drive to Schiphol with you and you are to stay as long as it is necessary. We will miss you very much, but it is your duty. You wish to go at once?’
‘I explained to Miss Mogford that I would try and get to her in two or three days’ time and she is content with that. Could I go the day after tomorrow? I can talk to Anna and explain to the children and pack, and please may I phone Charity?’
‘Better than that, you shall definitely go and see her. Tomorrow morning Sepke and Galske are to spend an hour or two at the school they will go to next term. Anna can look after Baby, the boys will not be here, so you will be free. Take the little car and go over to the van der Bronses’.’
‘You’re so kind,’ said Cressida soberly, ‘and I’m leaving you in the lurch.’
‘Lurch? What is this lurch?’ and when Cressida explained she said, ‘Think not of lurches,’ and she added magnanimously ‘We are in your debt. All shall be arranged.’
Charity was in the nursery, where Cressida had expected her to be. She had driven herself over in the little Mini and Jolly admitted her and ushered her without ceremony upstairs.
Charity was on a low stool dressing her infant son, but she looked up with real pleasure when she saw Cressida.
‘How nice—you’re just in time for coffee.’ She did up poppers with brisk efficiency, kissed the feathery hair on the small head and popped her son into his cot. ‘Nanny is in the next room...’ She stood for a moment while a cosily plump person in a white apron came into the room and settled by the window with her knitting and then she took Cressida’s arm.
Downstairs in the small sitting-room at the back of the house she said, ‘You never come like this—
suddenly—what’s happened, Cressy?’
Over coffee Cressida told her. ‘So I’ll have to go back to Templecombe,’ she finished, ‘but I’m not sure if I shall be able to come back.’
‘Do you want to?’ asked Charity. ‘There’s some other reason, isn’t there? I won’t pry.’ She busied herself filling up their cups. ‘Did you see Nicola when she came? Heaven knows why she needed to call and congratulate us; she couldn’t care less. I was surprised that she was going to see the ter Beemstras—they hardly know each other.’
‘She came to see me.’
Charity handed the biscuits and waited.
‘She’s going to be married. She came to tell me, she said that—that Aldrik had asked her to see me.’
‘He’s not even in Holland.’
‘No, but he’s coming back quite soon, they’re going to be married as soon as he’s home. I—I want to go before he gets here.’ Cressida lifted her unhappy gaze to her friend’s face. ‘She said that he had sent her because he was afraid that I was getting too fond of him.’
‘Are you, Cressy?’
‘Oh, yes, only I didn’t think that it showed. I’ve been so careful—only I thought that we were friends. I feel so silly, I can’t possibly meet him again. I was wondering what I should do and then Moggy phoned.’
‘I don’t believe that they are going to be married,’ said Charity. ‘In fact...’ She didn’t go on; she could be wrong, for she hadn’t had much interest in any world but her own happy one for the last few days. Tyco might know and if he didn’t he would find out and tell her what to do. ‘Ah,’ she asked instead, ‘and when do you plan to go?’
‘Tomorrow. Mijnheer ter Beemstra is driving me to Schiphol. They’ve been very kind. I shall be in Templecombe by the evening.’
‘Have you enough money?’
‘Yes, thank you. They’re paying my fare. If I don’t come
back I must return it.’
‘Don’t do that, Cressy; they want to repay you for all you’ve done and for going out to look for Anna and Baby.’ She hesitated. ‘Is there anything I can do for you—messages or the like?’
Cressida got to her feet. ‘No, Charity, dear, I’ll say my goodbyes tomorrow but please say goodbye to Tyco for me and thank you both for being so kind to me. I’ve been very happy here. I’m glad I was here when little Tyco was born. Oh, and I do love the little girls.’
Charity went to the door with her and watched her get into the Mini. Tyco was in Leeuwarden at the hospital, it would be easy enough to ring him up, but he would be home at teatime and he would know what to do. She waved goodbye and went indoors, longing for the day to be over and for Tyco’s reassuring calm.
There was one other person Cressida wanted to say goodbye to—the domine. He was in his study at the severe little house by the church, writing what she supposed was his sermon. He was pleased to see her but his face fell when she told him why she had come.
‘I had hoped that you would be staying with us,’ he told her. ‘I believe that we might have become good friends.’
‘Well, I hope we’re friends already,’ said Cressida, ‘I’ve been very happy here, you know, and I’ll not forget any of you. Perhaps we shall meet again one day.’
‘You do not intend to come back?’
‘I don’t know. It very much depends on Miss Mogford. I can’t just leave her, you see—she was with my family for years and years and she has no family now that her sister has died, and no money.’
‘That is sad. You will miss us, then?’
‘Indeed I shall.’
‘But I think that there is some reason why you wish to go away from Friesland and not return.’ His eyes searched her face. ‘You do not wish to talk about it but I would respect your confidence.’
‘Oh, I know you would, and you’re quite right, there is a reason I want to go away from here. If Miss Mogford hadn’t telephoned me I think that I would have gone anyway; the only thing that would have stopped me was the inconvenience to Mevrouw ter Beemstra.’
Presently she said goodbye and drove back to the house, packed her case and went to talk to Anna in the queer mixture of Dutch and English which they used together, and then when Mevrouw ter Beemstra came back with the twins there were the careful explanations to make the little girls understand and the last-minute arrangements to make with their mother.
Leave-taking was hard; she hadn’t realised quite how much she had absorbed of the life in Friesland and now that she was going away she felt that she was leaving part of herself behind. She had been happy there and she had grown to love Aldrik there too; it wasn’t just part of herself, she reflected sadly, it was her whole heart. Since there was nothing else to be done, however, she would do her best to forget him and make a new life in England. She would have to help Moggy first, of course, although she had no idea at the moment how she could. She would at least go and see Mr Tims or write to him and get his advice. If the nephew who was to have the house didn’t want to live in it he might even agree to rent it to her at a rent she could afford; he might even be generous enough to add a little to her pension and if she could herself find a job locally she could get settled in the house with Moggy and share the expenses. It would be like old times...
She watched the flat coast of Holland disappear under the plane’s wing, fighting her tears. Everyone had been so kind; the children had been upset and so had the ter Beemstras and she was really going to miss Charity and Tyco.
She swallowed her tears with the coffee and then concentrated on the problem of settling poor Moggy.
She was in Templecombe by teatime. The cottage was close to the station and she walked to it, burdened by her heavy case and a plastic bag filled with presents from the children and several packages from Charity and Mevrouw ter Beemstra, as well as the rather wilted bunch of flowers she had bought at Schiphol for Moggy; she had bought a bottle of wine too. It might help them to make sensible plans together.
Moggy, she saw with a shock, had aged in the few months since they had last seen each other, but her welcome was very warm.
Moggy, who never cried, cried now. ‘I’m a selfish old woman,’ she mumbled into Cressida’s sympathetic shoulder, ‘but I’m at my wits’ end. A couple of weeks, that’s all I’ve got to find somewhere to go. I went along to the job centre in Yeovil but the lady there said I’d find it difficult to get anything—I’m too old.’
‘Hush, Moggy, dear,’ said Cressida, ‘I’m going to write to Mr Tims and see if he can help and if he can’t I’ll go and see Stepmother and ask her to help. Then I’ll get a job and we can pay her back. I’d better see whoever is advising the nephew...’
‘It’s Snide and Snide in Yeovil—my sister’s nephew lives in Leeds.’
They had dropped everything in the little hall and gone to sit in the kitchen and Moggy had made tea.
‘You mean to say that he is coming here to live?’
Moggy shook her head. ‘That’s just it—he’s going to sell the place lock, stock and barrel—there’s been one or two enquiries already.’
‘Is he a poor man?’
Moggy snorted. ‘Got a tidy little business, ’e ’as, no children and a wife who goes out to work.’
Cressida finished her tea. ‘Well, you’re not to worry any more, Moggy. I’m sure something can be done
about it.’
She spoke reassuringly, but she had her doubts, and Moggy was too upset to share them.
She went first to Snide and Snide where, after being kept waiting for all of half an hour, she was seen by the junior partner in the firm, a young man who took one look at her and decided that this rather plain girl with the quiet voice hardly merited his full attention. No, he told her, their client was adamant about Miss Mogford leaving the cottage; he intended to sell it.
‘How much does he want for it?’ asked Cressida.
He named a sum which she thought excessive, and in any case there was no hope in raising such a sum unless her stepmother would help.
She went away presently and was glad to go. She didn’t like the younger Mr Snide and she was aware that he felt the same about her. She tried Mr Tims next, this time with a carefully worded letter, and she received a reply by return of post telling her that really there was little he could do unless she was in a position to buy the cottage. However, he did promise to look into the matter in case there was some loophole.
Cressida was discouraged but she had no intention of giving up. Despite protests from Moggy she took herself off to her home.
The girl who answered the door knew Cressida. ‘Miss Cressida—have you come back home? How nice to see you...’
‘I’ve only come to see my stepmother, Mary. If you would tell her I’m here, please?’
Her stepmother looked up from her chair as she went in.
‘Cressida—the last person I expected to see. Why have you come? You didn’t expect to be welcome,
did you?’
‘No. I wouldn’t have come on my own account. I want to talk to you about Miss Mogford.’ Cressida sat down unbidden. ‘If you would listen,’ she began, and explained briefly. ‘I wondered if you would lend us the money to buy the cottage? I’ll pay you back as soon as I’ve got a job; something each month.’
Her stepmother gave an angry laugh. ‘What a silly little fool you are, Cressida. Do you really suppose that I would lift a finger to help either you or Miss Mogford? You’ve wasted money on a bus, my girl. Now go away and don’t come back; next time you won’t be admitted.’
There was nothing for it but to go back to Moggy, to make light of her visit to her stepmother and tell her that there was almost a fortnight still, ‘And anything could happen,’ said Cressida hearteningly. A statement which seemed to cheer Moggy but which did
nothing to improve her own low spirits.
Three days after Cressida had gone back to England the doctor returned to Holland. His lecture tour had been successful, even if gruelling, and he had carried out his role as examiner of medical students in several of the medical schools he had visited with such proficiency that he had earned high praise. He had no thought for that. On the long flight back he bent his powerful brain to the ways and means of seeing Cressida as soon as possible. She had got under his skin and taken possession of his heart as well and he supposed with hindsight that he had fallen in love with her the moment he had set eyes on her, sitting forlornly on the grass with Caesar. She was, he reflected, the only woman in the world for him; he would tell her so the moment he saw her. Before then he had commitments which couldn’t be ignored; by the time the plane landed at Schiphol he had a tightly scheduled programme planned which he had whittled down to three days’ hard work in Leiden. Far too long but she would still be there...
Wester was waiting for him with the Bentley, the two dogs in the back, panting with delight at the sight of him, and they drove at once to Leiden. It was still early morning and the doctor, stopping only to shower and eat his breakfast, went to the hospital to confer with his registrar, see his patients and in the afternoon take an out-patients clinic.
‘You’re doing too much, Doctor,’ said Wester severely when he got back to his house, and Mies chimed in,
‘All that way in one of those dreadful aeroplanes, too, you’re tired to the bone and don’t deny it.’
The doctor looked from one to the other of his faithful old friends. ‘Yes, I’m tired, but I want to get to Janslum as soon as I can and that means doing some work.’