by Betty Neels
It was cold on Christmas Eve; the doctor hadn’t sent word as to when he was to arrive, they weren’t even sure how he intended to come. ‘Sometimes he flies,’ said his aunt vaguely, ‘sometimes he comes by boat—he might not get here until Christmas morning.’
It seemed as though her words might prove right; there was no sign of him by tea-time and even though they held supper back as long as they could, he still hadn’t arrived. At eleven o’clock Alexandra persuaded Penny, not without difficulty, to go to bed. ‘Even if he comes now, he’ll be tired,’ she pointed out reasonably. ‘All he’ll want is a warm drink and his bed.’ So Penny went to bed and Alexandra, going upstairs half an hour later, found her soundly asleep.
It was almost twelve o’clock when Miss Thrums allowed her straight back to sag a little. ‘My dear,’ she said, ‘I feel a little tired, would you mind very much staying up just a little longer—just in case Taro should come? There’s soup warming on the Aga, and you know where the whisky is.’
Alexandra was playing with Sambo, curled up on her lap. ‘No, of course I don’t mind, Miss Thrums, though I don’t expect he’ll come until the morning now. How long shall I stay up?’
Miss Thrums looked vague. She had, come to think of it, thought Alexandra, looked vague about her nephew’s arrival all day. ‘Oh, another hour, my dear. You’re sure you don’t mind?’
She went to let Rover out into the garden while she wound the clock just as she did every night, and then with him for company, trod quietly up the stairs. The little house was very quiet after she had gone.
Alexandra made no effort to move because of disturbing Sambo; she sat doing nothing in the softly lighted room, watching the dim outlines of the trees against the moonlit sky. The curtains were never pulled; she could see clearly into the garden—the deer were there as they usually were and it was all very peaceful. So peaceful that she dozed off, to waken as the clock struck midnight. Christmas Day, and she should really go to bed. She lifted the kitten gently on to the old shawl he liked for his bed and went to the window to look out. The doctor was outside, sitting hunched up in a sheepskin jacket, his bag at his feet, packages piled neatly beside him. He smiled at her through the glass and when she made haste to open the window, wished her a happy Christmas in a voice which held no impatience.
Alexandra urged him inside, snatched up the nearest of the parcels and closed the window on the icy air outside. ‘You must be frozen!’ she exclaimed. ‘However long have you been there? Why didn’t you tap on the glass?’ She had him by the sleeve and was pushing him towards the fire. ‘You’ll catch your death,’ she added gloomily.
‘I’m not frozen,’ he assured her cheerfully, and glanced at the clock. ‘I got here at five minutes to midnight, and you looked so comfortable sitting there snoring. I hadn’t the heart to wake you.’
‘Snoring? I wasn’t—I don’t…how could you have heard through the window?’
He chuckled. ‘You rattled the glass,’ he assured her. ‘Where’s the whisky?’
She fetched it. ‘There’s some soup. I’ll get it.’ She slipped past him and he put out a hand and caught her arm. ‘Nice of you to stay up,’ he said.
‘Well, I didn’t—at least, your aunt was tired and she asked me…and Penny wanted to keep awake, really she did, only she’s not quite well yet.’
He let go her arm. ‘Dear Miss Dobbs, so quick with the practical answer.’ And when she looked at him she saw the smiling mockery on his face; she saw the tiredness there too. ‘You’re tired,’ she said gently. ‘Drink your whisky and I’ll get that soup. How did you get here?’
‘Upon the wings of the wind.’ He smiled unexpectedly and she smiled back as she went to the kitchen.
She brought a tray; soup somehow didn’t seem enough for such a large man. She loaded it with bread and cheese and mince pies, and set the coffee on the heat before she carried these back into the sitting-room. He was stretched out in a chair, his eyes closed, although he opened them as she put the tray down. ‘Food,’ he observed happily, and fell to.
‘It’s useful to be practical sometimes,’ said Alexandra dryly as she served the soup.
She fetched the coffee presently and poured herself a mug as well, sitting on the leather camel stool close to the fire to drink it. She had had to edge her way in rather, for the doctor’s long legs took up a great deal of room. They spoke hardly at all until he had polished off the last of the mince pies and drained the coffee jug; he certainly had a mammoth appetite, but then there was a great deal of him. He didn’t look tired any more, indeed, he sat up and dragged the pile of parcels towards him. ‘Here’s your present.’
She was surprised. ‘Mine?’
‘You didn’t suppose that you would be left out?’ He sounded so astonished that she answered simply: ‘I thought you might give me something off the tree…’ She waved a hand at a corner of the room, where the tree, splendidly bedecked, stood, waiting for the moment when its candles would be lighted. Miss Thrums didn’t like electric tree lights.
He shook his head at her and offered a gaily wrapped box. ‘Open it,’ he laughed suddenly. ‘It’s not the sapphires—they’ll have to wait.’
She paused in her unwrapping to look up at him, not sure if he was joking. But of course he was, there was that funny bland look on his face; the look he laughed behind when something amused him. She opened the box. The golden angel, carefully wrapped in cotton wool, lay inside. Alexandra took it out carefully and stood it on the hearth. ‘Oh, she’s lovely!’ she breathed. ‘But it was only a joke, you know…you shouldn’t have…’ She caught his eye. ‘Thank you very much, Doctor van Dresselhuys.’
‘Taro.’
‘All right—Taro.’
He bent down and wound the little figure up and it began to revolve, tinkling out ‘Away in a Manger’ with a faint sweetness, like a fairy playing the piano. ‘Oh,’ said Alexandra, and smiled, ‘it really is Christmas, isn’t it?’ And then because he was staring so hard: ‘Should we not go to bed?’ She got to her feet. ‘I’ll clear this away in the morning—your room’s quite ready.’
She bent to pick up the little angel and when she stood up again it was to find his arms encircling her. ‘We’ll have to imagine the mistletoe,’ he said, and kissed her surprised mouth. ‘Now go to bed.’
She went, the angel held delicately in one hand, not looking back. She didn’t dare, he might have seen the look on her face; she was sure it was there; something must show of the surge of feeling tearing through her chest. She had never felt like this before—it was tremendous and exciting and surprising, probably it was because it was Christmas. She looked at the little angel cradled in her hand and knew that it wasn’t anything to do with Christmas, indeed, it had nothing to do with the time of year. She supposed she would have fallen in love with Doctor van Dresselhuys at any season. She got ready for bed, wide awake now, sure that she wouldn’t close her eyes all that night. She was wrong, of course, for no sooner had she laid her lovely head on the pillow than she was dreamlessly asleep.
She wakened early and remembered the tray and its contents scattered round the sitting-room fire, but when she crept downstairs, it was to find everything neatly tidied away, and early though it was, someone had been there to clear away the ashes and make a new fire, so she wasn’t altogether surprised when the doctor bade her good morning from the kitchen, adding: ‘And once more, a happy Christmas, my practical Miss Dobbs. Down early to clear up last night’s little party, no doubt?’
She hadn’t known how she would feel when she saw him; the uprush of delight was damped before she could enjoy it. She wished him a happy Christmas and good morning and considered what she should say next. But she had no need, for he went on blandly: ‘You need not have worried, I always tidy up as I go.’ He gave her a little mocking smile. ‘I’ve made tea—would you like some?’
She was longing for a cup, but the idea of staying there while he made remarks like that at her was more than she could bear. ‘No, thanks
, but I’ll take up a cup for Penny—she’ll be down for breakfast this morning,’ she smiled faintly, ‘because you’re here.’
He didn’t answer her, only gave her a cup and saucer and told her to be careful not to spill it. She carried it upstairs very carefully, feeling hollow.
Everyone met half an hour later in the sitting-room, where the presents had been put round the tree. Breakfast, Miss Thrums had informed everyone, would be boiled eggs and toast, because church was at ten o’clock, and she had no intention of being late. As if by common consent, they waited for Penny to open her presents first. She sat by the fire with the little pile of parcels beside her, looking sweetly pretty, her cheeks coloured with excitement, her eyes sparkling, and as she opened each packet she thanked the giver charmingly—the scarf, the knitted gloves Miss Thrums had made after she had gone to bed each evening; the chocolates in their gay box, the bottle of perfume Alexandra had added just in case there weren’t many presents. The bottom of the pile was a large box—a dress box, tied extravagantly with ribbon. Alexandra knew before it was opened what would be inside, and she was quite right: the blue dress. Penny squealed with delight and flung her arms round Taro and kissed him, and Alexandra, watching the indulgent smile on his face, wished with all her heart that she could wipe out Christmas Eve; that she had never stayed up to let the doctor in, that she had never discovered that she loved him…she remembered the little angel and swallowed tears.
‘Oh, Penny, how super!’ she cried gaily. ‘You must wear it—just as soon as we’re back from church.’
Penny looked mutinous. ‘Oh, church,’ she muttered. ‘Taro, you’re not going, are you?’
He was talking to his aunt. ‘Of course I am, you silly child,’ he told her carelessly over his shoulder, so that the mutinous look vanished and she skipped off to her room, the beautiful dress draped over her arms.
When she had gone, Miss Thrums said mildly: ‘Well, you’ve made Penny very happy, Taro,’ and looked as though she was going to say something more than that, but she didn’t, only after a tiny pause she added: ‘You have certainly made me very happy with my wheelbarrow—the pleasure I shall get from it…and did Alexandra get her sapphires?’
Alexandra avoided the doctor’s eye. ‘Something much nicer,’ she declared, still determinedly gay, ‘the little golden angel, no less. I’ll fetch her for you to see.’
She whisked out of the room and upstairs—just a few moments to herself, that was all she wanted, she thought desperately. She stood in the centre of her little room and stared out of the window, making herself think about anything under the sun other than the doctor, and presently she went downstairs again, her gift cradled in her hand, her face as composed as it usually was. Perhaps she was a little pale, but no one would notice that.
They went to church in the Morris, and sang the Christmas carols, although Penny didn’t sing them; Alexandra, watching her covertly, came to the conclusion that she wasn’t attending to the service at all; she was thinking about something else. Yet she could sing; Alexandra had heard her, joining in the pop music on the radio, and she knew the words, too. Probably her pretty head was full of the new dress. Alexandra carolled away, thinking about that; the doctor must have spent a good deal of money, for besides the blue dress, which hadn’t been much under a hundred pounds, there had been a handful of gay bangles, a leather purse, and a box of marrons glacés. She allowed her gaze to slide sideways to where he sat on the other side of Penny. He was wearing a grey suit today, and as usual he was faultlessly turned out even though the clothes he was wearing weren’t new. She wondered what he had gone without in order to buy his Christmas presents.
They went back to coffee and sherry and mince pies; the turkey was already in the oven, the pudding steaming away in its saucepan. Alexandra went away to lay the table and Penny disappeared upstairs to come down very shortly in the new dress. She looked lovely in it; Alexandra suppressed envy as she admired it while Penny revolved and preened and then went to sit by the doctor; she could hear her gay chatter while she and Miss Thrums saw to the dinner. Miss Thrums’ voice broke into her thoughts. ‘That’s what she needed, my dear—she’s a changed girl, isn’t she?’
Alexandra nodded. She had wound an apron round the jersey dress and her hair was becoming untidy; she pushed it back with an uneasy hand. ‘I wonder if she has a brother or a boy-friend? She’s so happy in the doctor’s company.’
Miss Thrums gave the turkey a cautious prod and closed the oven door again. ‘That seems to be working both ways,’ she observed dryly. ‘I don’t think Taro expected quite so much youthful gaiety.’
‘Oh, well—he’ll enjoy it all the more, I daresay. Shall I dish up the sprouts?’
‘Yes, my dear, and then get those two to the table, will you?’
Alexandra went just as she was, rather pink and shiny in the face, the apron still on, across the tiny hall and into the sitting-room. Penny and Taro were under the mistletoe, making, as far as she could see, very good use of it.
‘I couldn’t have come at a worse time, could I?’ she exclaimed with false cheer, and when they turned to look at her: ‘We do seem to interrupt each other at the wrong moment, don’t we, Doctor?’
He wasn’t in the least disconcerted, but then why should he be?—although Penny looked furious. ‘Your aunt wants you at table so you can carve the turkey.’ She turned to go again, aware that she must look pretty awful in her draped pinny and untidy hair, whereas Penny looked quite lovely; like someone on a chocolate box lid.
‘Just a minute,’ said Taro, and as she hesitated, broke a piece of mistletoe off the bunch above him and came across the room so fast that she had no chance to move. She managed to turn her cheek just a little, though, so that his kiss landed just below an eye. She wasn’t sure why she had done it; perhaps because Penny was glaring at them. She met his smiling eyes and managed to smile too as he twirled her round and caught her arm. ‘And now for Aunt Euphemia,’ he declared, and made for the kitchen.
Penny would have liked to sulk during dinner, but none of them gave her the chance; the talk was gay and lighthearted and every now and then the doctor slipped in a question which might have led to a clue of some sort as to her past. But it was no good, they finished the meal without finding out anything which might help them, and afterwards he washed up, Alexandra’s apron tied round his vast person, while Penny stayed close by, not helping at all, but keeping a jealous watch on all he did.
They did nothing much for the rest of the day. Penny declared that she was too tired to go for a walk—even in the garden, and Alexandra was wise enough to refuse the doctor’s invitation to accompany him, although she longed to do so, and because Penny was showing signs of real temper by the evening, she spent more time than was really necessary getting their supper ready in the kitchen, attending to Rover and Sambo, and then devoted herself to Miss Thrums for the rest of the evening.
She told herself how silly she was as she got ready for bed; she could make rings round Penny if she wished to when it came to attracting a man, but somehow she couldn’t do that, partly because Taro hadn’t shown in any way that he would like her to. Christmas, she decided as she got into bed, was an overrated affair, and mistletoe was just plain silly.
They did go walking the next day, all four of them, with Rover trailing from side to side in a leisurely way so that they had to keep stopping to allow him to catch up with them. The doctor strode ahead with Penny beside him, no trace of her sulks apparent now. Only when he slowed down to join his aunt and Alexandra, who instantly partnered Penny, was it obvious that she was put out at his action. She walked along beside Alexandra, not bothering to answer any of her remarks, staring ahead with a face like a thundercloud, and presently the doctor made matters even worse by joining them with a careless: ‘Keep Aunty company, will you, Penny? I want to talk to Alexandra.’
It was only to discuss Penny’s progress, they could have been in the middle of a hospital ward with a dozen people listening in
, but it was only too plain that Penny didn’t think so. She barely spoke to Alexandra for the rest of the day and went to bed early, declaring that she had a headache. Her temper wasn’t improved by Taro’s cheerful advice to have a good sleep, and Alexandra, going upstairs a little later to see how she felt, had her head bitten off for her pains.
She was her charming self at breakfast the next morning, though, and when Alexandra offered to drive down to the village for the eggs Miss Thrums always had from old Mrs Deed’s hens, she offered to go with her—something which astonished Alexandra very much, because the doctor was leaving that afternoon and she had imagined that Penny would want to spend every available moment with him. He had offered to go himself, but it seemed to her that he had had little enough opportunity to talk to his aunt; there must be things they would wish to discuss. She stifled a sigh as she went to get her coat; it would have been marvellous to have had him for company instead of Penny, but she put the thought resolutely aside. She had promised herself not to think about him, even while she was quite well aware that to keep such a promise was quite beyond her powers. But at least she could try.