by Betty Neels
It took all of Eloise’s ingenuity to keep Mevrouw Pringle in her bed the next morning, but by dint of getting Juffrouw Blot to come upstairs and discuss the last details for the evening, as well as her husband’s soothing company, she contrived to prolong it until midday, and by mid-afternoon Mevrouw Pringle was ready enough to rest once more while Eloise laid out her dress for her, fetched up a tray of tea and finally persuaded her to take a nap.
Pieter was to arrive some time after tea. He came just as Eloise, the tray in her hands, came downstairs, and it was just as she had feared; he was indeed a head shorter than she was, nice looking enough even if inclined to faint corpulence, and already going a little thin on top. He was dressed with almost finicky neatness; he would be the sort of man who poked around the kitchen to see if his wife had cleaned the saucepans properly… She dismissed the thought as unkind and smiled at him as he crossed the hall towards her.
‘You must be Eloise.’ He spoke good English with a marked accent. ‘What a big girl!’
Eloise ignored that. ‘How do you do?’ she said politely. ‘You must be Pieter.’ She remained on the last tread of the staircase so that he was forced to look up at her quite some way. ‘Mevrouw Pringle will be delighted to see you; she’s sleeping at present.’
He said importantly: ‘I couldn’t get home before this; I have an important job. Where’s my father?’
‘I believe he’s in the cellar, choosing the wine.’
She watched his portly back disappear through the door leading to the basement and went on her way to the kitchen. She hadn’t expected a great deal from Pieter, but even with that, she was disappointed. He had shown a marked lack of interest in his mother, and besides, he had called her a big girl. She wondered if Doctor van Zeilst thought that too. She wandered back to the sitting room, where there was a vast mirror over the carved mantelpiece and standing well back so that she could see the whole of her person, studied her reflection.
‘He was right,’ she observed to the empty room, and was startled into a squeak of fright when Doctor van Zeilst asked from the door behind her: ‘Who was right, and what did he say?’
She was still so indignant that she didn’t stop to consider her answer, but even as she uttered the words she would have given a great deal to have taken them back; there was nothing to do but wait for his laugh. But he didn’t laugh. ‘A girl, yes—but big? No.’ He put his head on one side and studied her at his leisure so that she drew in a sharp indignant breath, a tart retort on her tongue, but before she could voice it he went on with impersonal kindness: ‘Most of the women in this part of the world are tall and generously built—a good thing too, for we men would look silly if our women didn’t match us for size.’
‘Oh, do you mean that? But I’m not Dutch.’
He said kindly: ‘No matter, you’re quite all right as you are.’ He became all of a sudden businesslike. ‘Mevrouw Pringle—has she been resting?’
‘Yes, almost all day. Do you suppose she’ll be able to hold out? I mean, everyone is coming at half past seven, supposing no one goes until eleven o’clock or later?’
‘I’ve thought of that,’ he told her easily. ‘A phone call for me and I’ll take Liske with me, of course, and offer a lift to anyone going our way—that should start the ball rolling…’ He frowned in thought and Eloise asked:
‘She doesn’t know—or guess? You wouldn’t tell her?’
His voice was silky: ‘My dear young lady, you haven’t much faith in my professional integrity, have you?’
‘Of course I have, but surely doctors tell things to their wives.’
His brows rose. ‘But I have no wife.’
‘Oh,’ said Eloise, breathless. ‘I thought—that is, you talk about Liske…’ She stopped because of the look on his face, sheer, wicked amusement.
‘Fishing, Eloise?’ he wanted to know softly. ‘Should I be flattered?’
She felt her face grow red and said crossly: ‘I’m not in the least interested in your private life, Doctor van Zeilst. And now if you will excuse me, I’ll go up to Mevrouw Pringle.’
She crossed the room in her stateliest manner, her nose so high in the air that she didn’t notice the small woven mat, one of many strewn about the house and the source of great annoyance to everyone in it excepting Mevrouw Pringle. It slid from under her as she tripped on it and would have fallen flat on her face if the doctor hadn’t plucked her on to her feet with a powerful arm. She extricated herself from his hold even while she was enjoying it and said, very cross: ‘These absolutely beastly little mats!’ and bounded through the door and up the stairs. The doctor’s low chuckle added to her discomfiture.
The mole velvet, when she surveyed herself in her bedroom mirror some time later, dissatisfied her; it was well cut and the material was still good, but any woman would see at a glance that it was several years out of date. She eyed its simple lines with disfavour, wishing childishly that she were small and slender and wearing clinging pastel crêpe in the very latest fashion. Her jaundiced eye failed to notice that the cut emphasised her charming shape and the sober colour complemented her creamy skin. She tugged pettishly at its high neckline, fastened the gold chain which her father had given her years ago, and went along to Mevrouw Pringle’s room, for she had dressed early so that she would have ample time to help her patient.
Mevrouw Pringle had chosen to wear sapphire blue silk. It matched her eyes and what was more to the point, was easy to get into. Eloise dressed her gently and without haste, sat her down before her dressing table and under Mijnheer Pringle’s loving eye, did her hair and face for her and then stood back to allow him to put on the sapphire pendant he had brought home with him earlier in the day.
There were a few minutes to spare when Eloise had finished; she settled Mevrouw Pringle on a chaise-longue with due regard to the blue silk and slipped away with the suggestion that she should make sure that everything was in order downstairs. She went back presently, having admired the dinner table, eaten an olive or two and signified by sign language that Juffrouw Blot had made a super job of everything, to find the Pringles sitting hand in hand. They looked happy although they had little to be happy about, but perhaps, thought Eloise, when two people loved each other as they did, it kept them safe from fear and loneliness and grief.
For no reason at all she thought of Doctor van Zeilst, calm, always a little amused about some small joke she was never asked to share, but surely a man who would prove a tower of strength to anyone he loved. She sighed, not knowing that she did so, and said brightly: ‘There’s five minutes to go—shall we go downstairs and get you settled in your chair?’
The drawing room looked pretty with the fire lighted and the lamps switched on. Mevrouw Pringle expressed pleased satisfaction at its appearance and had just settled herself when the first guests arrived; Eloise thought that she looked like a happy child at a party as she greeted them; the Potters, old friends and older than the Pringles, a little staid perhaps, but charming. They made all the proper remarks about their hostess, joked a little with their host and were kind to Eloise, as were the Haagesmas and the van Eskes when they arrived, drawing her into their friendly circle, speaking English so that she shouldn’t feel shy. They had almost finished their drinks when Pieter came in with the excuse that he had had to return to Groningen. His manner implied that it had been a matter of grave urgency which had taken him there and his audience murmured sympathetically; except for Eloise, who considered him too self-important by far.
It was a pity that he caught sight of her at that moment and started to make his way towards her just as the door opened once more; Doctor van Zeilst and his Liske, as eye-catching a girl as Eloise had feared, and contrary to the doctor’s assurance, she was the exception to every rule; small and willowy, with guinea-gold hair and bright blue eyes, and as if that wasn’t enough, she was wearing pastel silk cunningly draped and probably, Eloise guessed sourly, it had cost a small fortune to achieve such simplicity. The mole velvet bec
ame all at once the most hideous garment in the room and she herself exactly what Pieter had said—a big girl.
The doctor’s companion shared her view—not in so many words, of course, but the blue eyes took in Eloise in one sweeping glance, and although the girl smiled and shook hands and murmured pleasantly, she was left in no doubt as to what her new acquaintance thought of her, for the delicately made up eyes were full of cold amusement and the pretty mouth wore a faint sneer.
The doctor, looming behind his pretty companion, wished her a bland good evening, his eyes on her face, and then went to speak to the other guests, taking Liske with him and leaving Eloise to entertain Pieter, who had reached her side by now and in fact, she quickly discovered, needed no entertaining at all, as he talked about himself, pausing only now and then to allow her to murmur suitably. It was quite a relief when they all went in to dinner, even though it was short-lived, for he was sitting beside her. But Mijnheer Potter was her other neighbour, and after giving Pieter her attention for the whole of the soup, she felt free to talk to the older gentleman, who entertained her with a gentle flow of small talk which was a nice relief from Pieter’s self-important utterances.
The table was a circular one and over the elborate centrepiece, she could see the doctor, Mevrouw Pringle on one side of him and Liske on the other. Once or twice he caught her eye, but his glance was brief and abstracted. Only towards the end of the meal did she find him staring at her again, and this time he smiled, a slow smile which sent her heart tumbling against her ribs and left her short of breath. She took care not to look that way again until, dessert eaten, Mevrouw Pringle suggested that they should all go to the drawing room for coffee. She cast Eloise a quick glance as she spoke, and Eloise, rightly interpreting it as a plea for help, made her way round the chattering guests and unobtrusively gave her an arm with the laughing remark that she had hardly spoken to her hostess all the evening, just in case anyone had noticed, and out of earshot for a moment she whispered urgently: ‘Are you in pain? Do you want a tablet?’
Mevrouw Pringle shook her head. ‘No dear—just suddenly tired, but only for a moment. It seemed a long way to the drawing room.’
Somebody had noticed. The doctor was beside them now. ‘Tired?’ he murmured. ‘We’ll each take an arm—no one has noticed, don’t worry, Debby. Sit in your chair for the rest of the evening and Eloise shall stay with you and bear the brunt of any conversation.’ He added in a cheerful, rather loud voice: ‘I love that dress, my dear—I’ve not seen it before. Blue always suits you…’
He turned to include the Potters in this remark, for they had come close enough to overhear, but by then they had reached the drawing room and the doctor, settling Mevrouw Pringle in her chair, wandered off without a word or a look at Eloise. But he had told her to stay, so stay she did, managing to take Mevrouw Pringle’s share of the conversation on to her own shoulders and refusing Pieter’s offer to show her the conservatory, which annoyed him very much. He was a bore, she decided, and even if he had realised how ill his mother was, he could have shown a little more concern for her. It amazed her that two such nice people could have such a tiresome creature for a son.
Mevrouw Pringle’s cheeks grew paler and Eloise longed for the doctor to do something, and quickly, and true to his word, he did. It was chiming ten o’clock when Juffrouw Blot entered the room and whispered in his ear. He went away with a muttered excuse and returned almost at once with the news that he was wanted urgently at a remote farm some miles away and would have to leave at once. He glanced at the clock as he spoke and added: ‘Liske, I’m sorry, but I’ll have to drop you off as we go.’ His eye swept round the other guests. ‘Can I give anyone a lift?’
He had been right; the Potters made a move to go too, and presently the others followed suit, making protracted farewells and offering plans for future meetings, so that it was almost eleven o’clock by the time the front door was finally closed and by then Mevrouw Pringle was looking quite alarmingly exhausted.
Eloise worked fast; her patient was tucked up in bed within minutes and Mijnheer Pringle went to sit with his wife while Eloise undressed, plaited her splendid head of hair, put on her elderly dressing gown and padded back to take his place. Mevrouw Pringle was asleep, but she decided to stay with her for the next hour or so, a decision which her husband at first contested and then agreed to, agreeing that if she were needed, Eloise would be on the spot. ‘All the same,’ he told her in a whisper, ‘I’ll not go to bed yet—there’s plenty of work I can do. I’ll be in my study.’ He added wistfully: ‘You think it was worth while? She enjoyed herself?’
‘Indeed she did—and don’t worry, I think she’s exhausted, but a good night’s sleep will put that right.’ She knew that she was being over-optimistic, but her soft voice was reassuring and kind. He gave her a grateful glance and went away, leaving her to sit in the small easy chair drawn up to a dim lamp. There were books on the bedside table. Eloise turned them over idly while she thought about the evening. It had been a success from Mevrouw Pringle’s point of view and that was what mattered. She didn’t think anyone had noticed anything untoward and even Pieter had bidden his parents goodbye without appearing to notice his mother’s pale face. She hoped that the doctor would come in the morning and persuade his patient to rest for a day or two. There had been talk of going to the Potters’ house for lunch one day soon and the Haagesmas had suggested that they might all make up a party and dine at Menkemaborg Castle. Mevrouw Pringle would never manage that; a twenty-mile car drive to start with, probably a protracted dinner and then the drive back…
Eloise closed the book she had been holding and sat quietly, listening to her patient’s breathing, while her thoughts dwelt on the doctor and his pretty girl-friend. The smallest sound behind her made her look round. He was there, within inches of her chair, still in his dinner jacket, immaculate and calm. He smiled as she stared and got to her feet.
‘Good girl, I knew you would keep an eye on things.’ He trod soundlessly to the bed and stood looking down at its occupant, possessed himself of the thin wrist while he took the pulse, laid it gently back on the coverlet and beckoned Eloise to follow him onto the landing.
‘Well, she stood that well,’ he said, soft-voiced. ‘Try and keep her in bed until I get here in the morning, and go to bed yourself, Eloise.’ His blue eyes raked her. ‘You looked charming this evening and I liked that brown thing you were wearing.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘You look charming now, even though you’re muffled to the eyebrows in flannel.’ He put out a hand and gently tugged at the thick plait of hair hanging over her shoulder, then bent his head to kiss her on her astonished mouth.
‘And now off with you,’ he urged her, ‘and don’t worry, I shall stay for a little while and talk to Cor. I’ll look in on Deborah before I leave and if there’s anything for you I’ll let you know. But I fancy she’ll sleep till morning.’
‘I gave her a tablet when I put her to bed.’ Eloise tried to keep her voice matter-of-fact. ‘I usually go along at six o’clock to make sure she’s still sleeping.’
‘Do that.’ The hand still holding her plait dropped to his side and he stood aside to let her pass. ‘Good night.’
She fastened her eyes on his waistcoat. ‘Good night, Doctor van Zeilst.’ Her voice sounded wooden in her ears as she slipped past him and went to her room and closed the door without looking back. She set her alarm clock for six o’clock, took off the unglamorous dressing gown and got into bed, quite certain that she would never sleep. She did, of course, within minutes.
CHAPTER FOUR
ELOISE, wakened by her alarm clock, muffled herself in her dressing gown, and yawning widely, hair hanging anyhow around her shoulders, crept along to Mevrouw Pringle’s room. Doctor van Zeilst was there, standing with his back to the curtained window, doing nothing. She swallowed a yawn half way, choked on it and with a glance at her still sleeping patient, asked urgently: ‘What’s happened?’
‘Nothing, and you don’t ne
ed to look like that, pineapple girl, you’re dead on time—you said six o’clock, and six o’clock it is. I was called out on a case and it seemed a good idea to call in on my way back—Cor left the side door open.’
She rubbed her eyes like a sleepy child. ‘Yes, but…’
He came closer to the bed and looked down at his sleeping patient. ‘We have been friends for a long time now,’ he told her softly. ‘The least I can do is to make sure that everything that can be done is done.’ He added: ‘I’m glad it’s you with her.’
He bent down and took the flaccid hand on the coverlet in his own large one. ‘She’ll sleep for another hour, I think.’ He glanced at Eloise and smiled, and she saw then how tired he was. His handsome face was lined and he needed a shave; moreover she noticed for the first time that he was in slacks and a sweater.
‘How long have you been out of your bed?’ she wanted to know in a careful whisper.
He left the bedside and caught her by the arm and walked her to the door. ‘Since three o’clock—come down and make me some coffee, there’s a dear girl.’
She allowed herself to be swept downstairs with soundless speed, but once in the kitchen with the light on, she said: ‘You’re very tired, aren’t you? Haven’t you been to bed at all?’
‘Oh, a couple of hours. I shall do all right.’
She was putting on the kettle and searching for the coffee grinder.
‘Well, you must go straight to bed the moment you get home—you could get an hour or two…’
He chuckled. ‘I can’t, you know. Surgery at half past eight, then a round of visits after lunch, and I’ve a teaching round at the hospital.’
She persisted doggedly. ‘Well, you could go to bed early.’ She was assembling milk and sugar on the kitchen table. ‘Do you have an evening surgery?’
He was laughing at her. ‘Yes, and I’m taking Liske out afterwards.’