by Betty Neels
‘You don’t want to take Nel with you?’
‘There won’t be any other children there—she would be bored, my dear.’ She smiled her charming smile. ‘If you’re in England perhaps you would collect her from school and take her to Lady Brennon’s—I’m sure you want to see her again.’
Mr van der Eisler agreed; he would like to see Olivia too, although he didn’t allow himself to examine this wish.
‘I think it would be a good thing if Nel were to get to know you really well,’ went on Rita. She met his eyes across the table. ‘She does need a father.’
He said at his most bland, ‘Oh, are you planning to marry again? Do I know him?’
Rita gave a little laugh to hide her annoyance. To marry Haso would settle all her problems—Nel could stay at school and, since Haso was wrapped up in his work and divided his time between the two countries, she would be free to live as she wished. He was a wealthy man, well-known in his profession, and he came from an old and respected family. Besides, he was blessed with good looks. She had set her heart on marrying him and had felt sure of getting her way. She would have to be more careful. At least she saw him frequently and there was always the excuse that she needed to know something about Nel. Perhaps she should go over to Bath and collect the child at the end of term? But if she suggested that, probably he would assume that he needn’t go too.
‘No, of course not. I go out a good deal, you know that, but there is no one—I still miss Rob.’
She sounded sincere and Mr van der Eisler said kindly, ‘He wouldn’t want you to stay on your own for the rest of your life, Rita. He loved you too much for that.’
She had the good sense not to say any more but began to talk about Nel, a subject she knew always interested him.
It wanted a scant three weeks until the end of term, and the whole school was occupied with preparations of importance for the last day—prize-giving, the school choir rendering suitable songs and the most senior of the girls, due to leave and go on to a variety of private schools, performing a play written by themselves. Olivia spent her days hearing lines, helping to make the costumes and taking prep in the evenings, so that the class mistresses could meet to discuss who should have the prizes. She had no time to herself but she didn’t mind; life was interesting, the weather was splendid and Miss Cross had told her that she might return for the autumn term.
‘Although I must warn you,’ she had added, ‘that since you have no qualifications the Board of Governors may wish to replace you after Christmas—even a diploma in music or art would be sufficient. It adds tone to the prospectus, and the parents expect highly qualified staff in a school such as this one.’ She had sighed. ‘It is a pity, Olivia, for you are a very useful member. Perhaps I shall be able to persuade them to accept you when they meet in January.’
Olivia thought it unlikely, but it was of no use worrying about it now. She had a job until Christmas, and only then would she worry. In the meantime, with certain reservations, she was happy.
On top of everything else there was the visit to the Roman baths—purely instructive; Miss Cutts had made that clear. Olivia found herself on the back seat of the school bus once more, listening to Miss Cutts’ resonant voice recounting Bath’s history. A pity they weren’t to be allowed to see the Assembly Rooms and have tea there, reflected Olivia, longing for a cup of tea as they all got out and trooped at a snail’s pace from one end to the other of the baths, stopping to admire the statue of the Emperor Hadrian overlooking the largest of the baths and listening to Miss Cutts reeling off the various measurements of the baths, expounding the beauties of the mosaic flooring, explaining how a Roman plumber had planned and fitted the lead conduit which supplied the water to the largest bath. The children listened obediently, but she could see that they had their minds on other things; the excitement of the end of term was too near to be ignored now.
That wasn’t the end to the day either. It was Olivia’s bedtime duty, which meant that after a hasty cup of tea she had to start collecting the smallest girls and get them bathed and into bed. They chattered like magpies, full of the things that they would do when they got home and speculation as to who would get the prizes. It was Nel who said wistfully to Olivia as she brushed her hair, ‘I’m sure Mummy will come this time—I might get a prize and then she’ll be proud of me.’
‘I’m quite sure she’s proud of you whether you get a prize or not,’ Olivia assured her. ‘And of course she’ll come. The last day of the summer term is a very important one, isn’t it? Are you looking forward to singing in the choir?’
Whereupon Nel burst into song and had to be shushed, popped into bed and tucked up.
Olivia was up early on the last day. So was everyone else, anxious to make the day a success. The first parents would arrive mid-morning and by noon, when a buffet lunch was to be served, they should all have arrived ready to take their seats in the nearby assembly hall for the entertainments and the prize-giving.
Everyone was drifting towards the dining-room when Olivia, rounding up stragglers, felt an urgent tug on her sleeve. Nel lifted a troubled face to hers. ‘My Mummy hasn’t come,’ she whispered. ‘She said she would—she promised she’d come with Granny— Granny isn’t here either.’
Olivia put an arm round the small shoulders. ‘There’s still plenty of time, Nel—perhaps they’ve got held up in the traffic. I tell you what we’ll do, we’ll hurry to the door and make sure they aren’t there…’
They reached the entrance as the Bentley came to a soundless halt and Mr van der Eisler got out, opened the door and helped Lady Brennon out. ‘They’ve come,’ shrieked Nel, and flung herself at her grandmother as Olivia beat a hasty retreat. Not fast enough, however.
‘Don’t go.’ Mr van der Eisler spoke quietly as he turned to receive Nel’s onslaught upon his vast person.
‘Where’s Mummy?’ Nel asked suddenly.
Lady Brennon gave him a speaking look, took a few steps towards Olivia and sighed, ‘Oh, dear…’
‘She sends her dearest love,’ said Mr van der Eisler cheerfully, ‘but she just couldn’t come—she has to work, you know, and she can’t take a holiday whenever she wants one.’
Nel banged her small fist against his waistcoat. ‘She doesn’t have to work and she’s got lots of money and she promised. You mustn’t break a promise—Olivia told me so.’ The child was near to tears. ‘And it’s not a holiday, it’s me!’
‘Ah, but I’m going to take you over to Holland in a week or two. Mummy will make sure to have a holiday then, and we’ll all go out together, and we’ll take Achilles with us—and Ofke’s cat has had kittens. I’m sure she won’t mind if you have one to keep.’
‘Mummy doesn’t like cats…’
‘In that case, I’ll have him, shall I? He’ll be company for Achilles.’
He glanced at Olivia, ‘Don’t you think that’s a good idea, Olivia?’
‘Quite splendid. What fun you’ll have, Nel. Now, would you like to take your grandmother to the dining-room? I’m sure you’d all like lunch.’
‘You will come with us, Olivia?’ asked Lady Brennon.
Olivia looked shocked. ‘Me? Heavens, no! I’m helping with the serving.’ She suddenly wanted to get away from Mr van der Eisler’s eyes. ‘You’ll excuse me?’
She made off at a great pace and in the dining-room was accosted by Miss Ross. ‘There you are—where have you been? Cook has cut her hand and can’t carve and we’re running out of beef and ham. Go to the kitchen and slice some more as fast as you can.’ She turned away to serve a parent and Olivia slid away kitchenwards. Mr van der Eisler, escorting his companions to a table near the buffet, watched her go.
Unhurriedly he collected food and drink and brought them back to the table. ‘I’ll be with you in a moment,’ he told Lady Brennon, and wandered off to go through the same door as Olivia.
He stood a moment in the kitchen doorway, watching her. Carving was one of the things Olivia didn’t know much about; a small p
ile of uneven slices bore witness to this, but there was no one to give her advice for Cook had retired to her room and the two kitchen-maids had gone too.
‘Allow me,’ said Mr van der Eisler, took the knife and two-pronged fork from her, and began to carve in a manner worthy of his calling.
‘You can’t come in here,’ said Olivia when she had got back her breath, ‘and you can’t do that either.’
‘But I am here, Olivia, and who but I am capable of carving this ham in the correct manner? After all, I have learned to be handy with a knife.’
‘Oh, don’t be absurd…’
‘Don’t work yourself up, dear girl. Take this dish of ham to the dining-room and I’ll start on the beef.’
‘You can’t…’
‘Now, now, off with you!’
So she picked up the dish of wafer-thin slices and hurried to the dining-room, where they were snatched from her. ‘And do hurry with the beef.’
‘Gratitude,’ snorted Olivia, speeding back to the kitchen. Mr van der Eisler reduced the beef to a pile of evenly cut slices, took one, and sat down on the table to eat it.
‘You can’t…’ began Olivia.
‘That is the third time you have said that. Run along with the beef, there’s a good girl, and then come back here.’
‘I…’ She caught his eye and did as she was bid, and presently returned.
‘On which day do you return to Sylvester Crescent?’ he asked her.
‘Oh, I have to stay for another day, to tidy up, you know, and leave everything just so.’
‘I’m staying with Lady Brennon for a day or two. I’ll pick you up and drive you back—I’ve to be in London myself.’
‘Yes, but…’
‘But what? Is there some young man waiting for you?’
‘A young man? Me? Heavens above! I don’t have time to say more than good morning to the milkman—and there aren’t any young men around.’
‘A pity. Never mind. I’ll come for you about ten o’clock in the morning. Are you going away for your holidays?’
‘No. I—we—that is, we shall stay with Granny.’
‘And what will you do all day?’
She was suddenly cross. ‘I don’t know—I have not the least idea. I must go.’
‘Run along,’ said Mr van der Eisler, and carved himself another slice of beef.
Parents were leaving the dining-room and making their way to the assembly hall. Olivia began to clear the plates and glasses and presently went round to the back of the stage to make sure that the choir were all present and looking presentable. The senior girls’ play was already in progress and when that was over there would be a brief display of dancing before the choir. She laced up shoes, tied hair-ribbons and stilled childish nerves, and went to peep at the audience through a spyhole in the curtain. Lady Brennon and Mr van der Eisler were sitting in the second row. Lady Brennon was smiling gently; her companion looked as though he might be asleep.
The play over, the dancing done to great applause, the choir was coaxed into a semi-circle, the music mistress struck up a chord, and they were off, speeding the boat over to Skye with tremendous verve.
Olivia, in the wings acting as prompt, thought that if Mr van der Eisler had been dozing, that should have roused him nicely.
They sang a bit of Gilbert and Sullivan next, and then a rather sad song about snow. The choir hadn’t liked it but the music mistress had decided that they were to sing it. They got through the first verse well enough, moaning ‘Oh, snow’ with enthusiasm, but somehow they lost the thread during the second and Olivia had to do some prompting. Several small faces turned to look at her in panic, the music mistress thumped out the last few bars and since no one sang began on them again. Olivia began to sing the words very softly and in a moment a relieved chorus of small voices took over from her. It had been only a slight hitch in an otherwise perfect performance and the applause was deafening.
It was later, as the children began to leave with their parents, that Mr van der Eisler went in search of Olivia. He found her on her hands and knees, grovelling under a schoolroom cupboard.
‘I must say,’ he remarked pleasantly, ‘that you look nice from any angle, Olivia.’
She rose to her splendid height, very red in the face. ‘I’m looking for a lost tennis racquet. What do you want?’
‘You do not mince your words. To remind you that I shall be waiting for you at ten o’clock on the day after tomorrow.’ He smiled and nodded and turned to go. ‘You have a pretty singing voice,’ he observed as he left the room.
She spent the next day doing whatever she was told to do and then going to the annexe to pack her own things. Her thoughts were muddled. On the one hand she felt a pleasurable excitement at the thought of seeing Mr van der Eisler again, but this was strangely mitigated by her doubts as to whether she should allow herself to be drawn into some kind of friendship with him. Perhaps just this once, she told herself weakly—she wasn’t likely to see much of him anyway; he had said that he was taking Nel back to Holland with him and perhaps her mother would bring her back next term. Besides she had a strong suspicion that he and Nel’s mother intended to marry.
He was just being kind, she decided. What could be more normal than to offer a lift since they were both going to London on the same day?
The thought of Sylvester Crescent depressed her. It would be lovely to see her mother again but six weeks of living with Granny was daunting.
Just before ten o’clock the next morning she locked her door, took the key along to the school porter, and went outside. The Bentley was there, with Mr van der Eisler, his hands in his pockets, strolling around the flowerbeds bordering the sweep. He saw her at once, took her case from her and put it in the boot, and then opened the car door.
‘Good morning,’ said Olivia pointedly.
‘Don’t look so cross. Will you smile if I say good morning to you?’
She laughed. ‘Don’t be absurd. I’m very grateful for this lift.’
He got in beside her and drove off without any fuss. ‘So am I,’ he told her. A remark which left her vaguely puzzled.
‘I expect Nel is glad to be with her Granny?’
‘She is always happy there. I’ll take her over to Holland in a week’s time when I go back.’
‘I’m sorry she was disappointed about her mother, but she soon cheered up, didn’t she?’
He grunted non-committally; he had spent a good deal of time trying to smooth over the fact of Nel’s mother not coming to the school, and it had been hard work.
The grunt didn’t sound very promising. Olivia stayed silent, admiring the scenery to herself and watching his hands on the wheel. They were large, blunt-fingered and beautifully kept.
They had driven for some time in a silence which was strangely companionable when he said, ‘How about coffee? I don’t know about you, but I was up early; Nel and I took the dogs out.’
‘You like dogs?’
‘Yes. My own dog, Achilles, is an Alsatian; I’ve had him since he was a very small puppy. I should like to have a dog here, but I don’t have much time to myself when I’m in England. My housekeeper has a cat—you like cats?’
‘Yes. We had two, and an Old English Sheepdog. Our cook took the cats and Shep died just before we had to leave.’
After a few moments of silence she ventured. ‘Your housekeeper’s cat, does it have a name?’
‘Bertie.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘You and I don’t need to make small-talk, Olivia. Here’s a place where we can have coffee.’
It was a pleasant wayside inn, and they sat outside drinking their coffee in the sun. ‘Tell me, what do you intend to do, Olivia?’ asked Mr van der Eisler. ‘You must have some plans.’
‘What is the use of plans? I hope that Miss Cross will keep me on at the school and I can have Mother to stay each term. She isn’t happy with Granny, you know. I have thought that I might study for something in my spare time. It would have to be something where I could earn a
living and have a home too. Am I too old to be a nurse?’
‘No, but that is three years in hospital, and even when you have trained the chance of your getting a post where you could live outside hospital on your salary wouldn’t be too great. I do not wish to bring up the question of Rodney, but there must have been other men in your life, Olivia.’
‘Oh, yes. I had a lot of friends, and I suppose if Father hadn’t died and left us awkwardly placed I might have married one of them. Although now I’m older I don’t think I should have liked that.’
‘No, I don’t think you would. Wait for the right man, Olivia.’
‘Oh, I will,’ she assured him.
It was when they were back in the car, she sitting silently beside him, that she realised that there was no need for her to wait for the right man. He was here already, sitting beside her.
CHAPTER FIVE
MR VAN DER EISLER began to talk presently about nothing much, and it served to quieten her jangling nerves. She needed to go somewhere very quiet so that she could think. She mustn’t see him again, of course, and she must stop thinking about him, and the sooner the better. Her thoughts were interrupted by his casual, ‘Becky will have lunch ready. I hope you will lunch with me, Olivia? I’ll take you home afterwards.’
So much for her good resolutions. They flew out of the window and she said happily, ‘Oh! Thank you, that would be nice.’ Then she added, ‘But isn’t it interfering with your day?’
‘Not in the least. I’m free for the rest of the day.’ His voice held just the right note of casualness. He lapsed into silence again and she thought uneasily that he might wonder why she didn’t have something to say for herself. The weather seemed a safe topic, and the countryside, so she enlarged upon these two items at some length and he, aware that for some reason she was feeling awkward with him, allowed her to chatter in a manner quite unlike her usual self, making suitable replies in his quiet voice so that gradually she regained her normal composed manner and by the time he stopped before his house she had herself nicely in hand.