The Final Touch

by Betty Neels

  The children fell upon her as they came out of school.

  ‘You’ve got a new coat and hat,’ cried Letizia. ‘Have you bought anything else?’ and Teile chimed in with,

  ‘When are we going shopping with you?’

  ‘On Saturday morning? Your Papa says you may have some new frocks…’

  She had tea with them in the schoolroom and then took them to her bedroom to help her unpack the boxes which had arrived. Tyco found them there when he got home, so busy admiring the old rose three-piece that none of them saw him leaning against the door-jamb.

  ‘A start has been made?’ he asked with placid good humour, and all three of them turned to look at him. The children ran to him as they always did but Charity stayed where she was, smiling rather shyly.

  He kissed his daughters and strolled across the room to where she stood. He didn’t kiss her, though, only asked her if she had enjoyed her afternoon.

  ‘Yes, oh, yes, very much. And I’ve brought a great deal back.’

  He glanced at the clothes spread on the bed and across the chairs. ‘As I said, you’ve made a start.’

  ‘Yes. I thought I might take the girls shopping on Saturday morning—they need a few things.’

  ‘By all means. I leave it entirely to you, my dear.’

  Charity was surprised to find that she had slipped into her new role with such ease; of course it was made easy by Tyco’s matter-of-fact approach to their marriage, his acceptance of her presence in his home as though she had been there for years instead of days. The week came to an end; a delightfully busy period for her, going each day to comb the boutiques for the right clothes. By Saturday she had acquired a collection of clothes which she hoped would cover every occasion likely to arise and was glad of it when Tyco handed her an envelope at breakfast on Saturday morning. ‘Mevrouw ter Appel invites us to dine a week today—the first of many, I’m sure. We will go, of course. They are old friends.’

  Presently he left for the hospital and she and the children were driven by Jolly in the Rover to La Bonneterie where they spent a delightful morning and a good deal of money and returned home to find Tyco sitting in his chair with Samson at his side, reading his post.

  He expressed suitable pleasure at their successful shopping, declared that he could hardly wait to see the new dresses and suggested that they might like to go to the Opera House on the Waterlooplein that afternoon. ‘Sleeping Beauty,’ he continued. ‘The Royal Netherlands Ballet Company are performing. I have a box, and it starts at two o’clock.’

  The girls were too excited to eat much of their lunch. ‘But if you both eat your pudding,’ coaxed Charity ‘and drink all your milk, you will have time to change into your new red dresses.’ She was going to change too; the tawny wool would do very nicely…

  The afternoon was a success—the two little girls sat enthralled between Charity and Tyco, speechless with delight. Charity was enthralled too. She hadn’t mentioned it but she had never been to the ballet before; if she had but known it, her face bore the same absorbed wonder as the children’s and Tyco smiled at the sight of it—he found it rather more to his liking than the ballet.

  They all went to the English church on Sunday morning but afterwards he went to the hospital and didn’t come home until after tea and then, once the children were in bed, he said that he had a good deal of work to catch up on and would Charity mind being on her own for an hour or so?

  ‘Not in the least,’ she took great care to say with just the right amount of understanding in her voice. She hadn’t really expected anything else, she told herself silently, and thanked heaven that she had had the sense to buy wool and needles for the jumpers she intended to knit for the children. The sort of jumpers Miss Bloom wouldn’t have considered—Teile was to have sheep gavotting across the front of hers, and Letizia had chosen a flight of ducks. Charity, who liked knitting and was expert at it, cast on the stitches with pleasure.

  She had almost finished the ribbing by the time he came back again and a few minutes later Jolly came in to say that dinner was served.

  Tyco had gone to pour their drinks. ‘Ask Mrs Jolly to hold everything for five minutes, will you, Jolly? I quite forgot the time.’ He looked across at Charity. ‘I’m sorry, my dear.’

  She smiled gently, finished the row and stuck her needles in the wool. ‘The time goes quickly when one is occupied; I enjoy sitting here by the fire, being lazy.’

  After dinner, in case he felt that he must entertain her with chat, she became absorbed in her knitting instructions, giving him the chance to read his papers if he wished to do so.

  She finished the ribbing and was weaving in the wool for the first sheep when he asked idly, ‘What are you knitting, Charity?’

  ‘Jumpers for the children.’ She held up the patterns for him to see. ‘They’re all the fashion among the children at school, you know. Teile has the sheep and Letizia wanted ducks.’

  ‘Clever girl. Can you cook and sew as well as make dolls’ houses out of boxes?’

  She wasn’t sure if he were joking or not but the answered him seriously. ‘Well, I can cook, but nothing like Mrs Jolly of course, and I can sew and knit; most women can.’

  ‘The ladies of my acquaintance must be shy of allowing their talent to be seen, although my mother shares your interest in such things and Lucia is a very domesticated girl. I must say that it is most restful to sit here and watch your busy fingers.’ He said to surprise her, ‘We have been married a week, Charity.’

  ‘Eight days; how time flies.’

  ‘No regrets?’ The question was casual.

  ‘None. It’s all still strange, of course, but the children are dears and Jolly and Mrs Jolly are so kind and thoughtful.’ She shot him a smiling look. ‘And all my lovely new clothes.’

  He laughed then. ‘Well, we must make opportunities for you to wear them.’

  Two days later he brought Mevrouw de Groot home, explaining blandly that he had given her a lift, and by chance—a lucky one—Charity had decided to try out a particularly pretty outfit—a long pleated skirt in grey jersey, a silk blouse in pale pink and a short boxy jacket with a neat little pink pattern. While she was at it, she had got into the grey suede and kid shoes which went so well with it. The result pleased her and she set off to fetch the children from school, shrouded in the new top coat and wearing the boots. It was a raw day and they hurried home, where she discarded the coat, donned the shoes and pivoted before the little girls, as pleased as they were at her transformation.

  They had gone straight into the schoolroom for their tea, for the children had some homework to do and Charity had been firm about them getting it done before their father got home, but she had barely lifted the teapot when the door opened and he came in, ushering a tall, strikingly dark woman before him.

  Charity put down the teapot and looked enquiringly at Tyco, although she guessed who it was before he spoke. ‘Hello, my dears—I’m home early for once and I’ve brought Mevrouw de Groot to meet you, Charity. She is an old friend…’

  Is she indeed? thought Charity waspishly, and thank heaven I’ve got this outfit on. Her pleasantly smiling face showed nothing of her thoughts. She offered a hand and murmured politely in reply to Mevrouw de Groot’s effusive greeting. She was charming to the children too but although they were on their best behaviour they showed no pleasure in her appearance. Charity wondered why they didn’t like her and the thought followed hard on her wonder that she didn’t like her either.

  ‘We are having tea here because the girls have some homework to do, but Nel can come here and we can go downstairs—I’m sure you will have tea?’

  ‘I never drink it,’ declared Mevrouw de Groot, ‘but you won’t mind if Tyco gives me a glass of sherry before I go? Don’t let me disturb your tea.’ She gave a tinkling laugh. ‘This isn’
t a visit; we just happened to—how do you say?—bump into each other.’

  ‘You must come to tea one day soon,’ said Charity. ‘It is so nice to meet Tyco’s friends.’

  She hadn’t looked at him, aware that he was leaning against the wall, looking amused. Now she said pleasantly, ‘Tyco, do take Mevrouw de Groot to the drawing-room and give her that drink. Such a wretched afternoon.’ She went on chattily, ‘A glass of sherry will be just the thing.’ She smiled at the woman and offered a hand. ‘I’m so glad we have met,’ she said with insincere fervour, ‘and do please come again soon.’

  Alone again with the children Teile said in a whispering voice, ‘Charity, we don’t like her. You shouldn’t let Papa take her to the drawing-room; she wants to marry him—we heard Miss Bloom say so…’

  Charity giggled. ‘Well, she can’t, my dears; Papa is married to me.’

  ‘She won’t be able to make him change his mind, will she? We like you very much.’

  ‘I like you very much, too, and no, I don’t think your papa will change his mind. Listen, my dears. Even though Papa is married to me, he may have all the friends he wants—why should he give them up? He must have known many of them long before he met me.’

  She kissed the two enquiring faces. ‘Now let us have our tea. There are muffins in that dish and Mrs Jolly has made a chocolate sponge especially for you both.’

  They had finished the muffins and had made inroads into the sponge when Tyco came back. He cast a look at the muffin dish and observed, ‘Have you eaten them all?’

  ‘Every one,’ said Charity composedly. ‘I’ll get Jolly to bring up some more, and another pot of tea.’

  He sat down at the table, asked the little girls what they had been doing at school and demolished the muffins when they were brought.

  ‘Homework?’ he wanted to know.

  When they said, ‘Yes,’ he said,

  ‘I want to talk to Charity—we’ll come back in half an hour and see how you are getting on. You don’t mind?’

  ‘Not if you’re with Charity,’ said Letizia.

  ‘Too early for a drink?’ asked Tyco, sitting down opposite Charity in the drawing-room.

  ‘Oh, much,’ she said promptly.

  He grinned and then said, ‘You look nice—something I haven’t seen yet?’

  ‘There are a great many things you haven’t seen yet,’ said Charity tartly.

  He smiled a little. ‘I look forward to rectifying the omission. Do you want to know anything more about Mevrouw de Groot?’

  She had picked up her knitting, such a useful occupation when one was put out. ‘More? I don’t know anything about her…’

  ‘I seem to remember the children—er—expressing their disapproval. You were lunching with us.’

  Charity went pink. ‘Oh, that—yes, well…’

  He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘She was a friend of my first wife’s and when Miranda was killed she transferred her friendship to me.’ He added without conceit, ‘She has been trying to marry me ever since.’

  ‘Oh, is that why you—?’ Then she caught her breath and choked on the rest of the sentence.

  ‘Married you?’ He sounded very placid. ‘No, certainly not. Consider, my dear; if I had wanted to escape her clutches I could have married at any time during the past few years. To tell the truth I never gave the matter much thought. I had Miss Bloom for the children and I had—still have—my work, but when I met you it seemed to me that you would fill the empty place in my home. The children love you, I have never seen them so happy and content, and I—I find you a most restful person; it is as though you have been there all the time, you fit in so well.’

  Charity said, ‘Oh!’ and couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  He added deliberately ‘Young van Kamp’s loss is my gain.’

  ‘He never really had me to lose,’ she said quietly. ‘When you’re a plain girl like me you’re likely to get carried away when someone tells you you are the only girl in the world; you want to believe him and you make all kinds of excuses. It hurts but I dare say it’s good for you.’

  He got up, came across to her chair and hauled her gently to her feet. ‘To be hurt is never good for anyone, and why it had to happen to someone as kind and gentle as you I do not know. Promise me something, Charity. If you are unhappy or sad, will you tell me? You are so much younger than I am and I have only just realised that. Should you meet a man more your own age and love him you must tell me—any man for that matter.’

  He put a hand under her chin so that she had to look at him. ‘Promise?’

  ‘I promise. Will you do the same, Tyco?’

  ‘I? My dear girl, I rather believe that I am immune to romance, but I’ll promise.’ He bent and kissed her, not on the cheek this time.

  It was a gentle kiss but it sent a pleasant thrill through her person; she kissed him back shyly. She drew back a little. ‘Thank you for telling me about Mevrouw de Groot, but you didn’t have to, you know.’

  He ran a finger down her cheek. ‘No secrets,’ he said, and smiled again. She really looked rather pretty; mousy hair had its own unobtrusive beauty and her eyes were lovely. ‘We had better see how those children are getting on.’

  January merged stormily into February and Charity, after one or two false starts, settled down into her new life. The children had accepted her happily and she was fond of them and enjoyed their company. Mrs Jolly had tactfully handed over several household duties—the flowers, the ordering of the meals, even the occasional shopping when something special was needed. Her days were agreeably filled, for invitations came thick and fast and, hard on their heels, the various wives of Tyco’s friends came for coffee or tea. Charity, who had been dreading meeting them, found them more than kind, full of helpful advice, anxious to make her feel at home with them. The dinner parties she had secretly dreaded turned out to be unexpectedly entertaining and Tyco, without appearing to do so, was always there at her elbow. She wore the pretty dresses she had bought, anxious to look her best, and the diamond earrings he had given her as a wedding present. She had been delighted with them, at the same time suppressing the doubt that he had quite forgotten to give her anything until he had noticed the simple chain bracelet which his mother had given her. She had opened the box when they had got home from their visit to his family and found it nestling in its bed of blue satin, and for quite a time she hadn’t worn it in case he had thought that she was reminding him deliberately of his forgetfulness but then one afternoon he had come back early, and she had put it on because it went well with the dress she was wearing.

  She had told him when he had asked her who had given it to her and the day after he had given her the earrings.

  It was on a cold dreary day while she and the children were having tea in the schoolroom that he came home earlier than usual and joined them for a meal, and, as usual, without her fully realising it, Charity sighed with the pleasure of seeing him again. She poured his tea, offered toast and sat quietly listening to the little girls giving him an account of their day. He listened patiently, and when they paused took a letter from his pocket. ‘This came for you at the hospital,’ he told her as he handed it to her and turned his attention back to the twins.

  Charity knew the writing—Eunice’s. She hadn’t written since Charity had come to Holland and the letter Charity had sent telling her of her marriage had been returned with ‘Gone Away’ scrawled across it.

  Tyco glanced at her. ‘Do read it, my dear.’

  She smiled at him and opened it. The letter was short, to say that Eunice had a modelling engagement in Amsterdam and would be there for a week. She gave the dates—she would be arriving in a day’s time and intended telephoning the hospital. ‘Though I doubt if we shall see much of each other; I’m swamped with invitations
.’

  Charity folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. ‘It’s from Eunice; she’s coming to Amsterdam—she will be here tomorrow but she doesn’t say when. She says she’ll ring the hospital.’

  ‘Of course, she thinks you are still there. She must come here unless she has made arrangements already. How shall we let her know?’ He paused. ‘Shall I ask the switchboard to put any calls for you through to me? I can give her our address and she can come when she wishes. Is she on holiday?’

  ‘No, modelling. I expect that takes up a good deal of her day. But I would like to see her. You don’t mind if she comes here—to tea, perhaps, or lunch?’

  ‘My dear Charity, she is most welcome to stay here.’ He spoke very kindly and she smiled her gratitude.

  ‘I should like to be a model,’ said Teile. ‘Is she very pretty, your sister?’

  ‘My stepsister. Yes, she is, very.’

  ‘You’re not pretty,’ said Letizia, ‘but you’ve got a very nice face and you smile a lot. Is that because you are happy with us?’

  Charity nodded. ‘Yes, I’m very happy, dear. You’ll like meeting Eunice; she will tell you all about modelling. It’s very hard work, you know.’

  ‘Then I shall change my mind,’ said Teile, instantly, ‘I’ll marry a millionaire and have six children.’

  Tyco laughed. ‘They’re quite hard work, too, but they’re worth it, aren’t they, Charity?’

  He passed his cup for more tea. ‘We are home this evening, aren’t we? Good, an hour or so by the fire with the papers and you and your knitting for company is exactly what I need. We might even watch television for half an hour.’

  Which was exactly what they did. He with Samson at his feet and newspapers strewn around his chair and she with her knitting and a head full of vague troubled thoughts. There was nothing to trouble her, she reflected, so why did she have this sad uncertain feeling? Life was good, she told herself, and Tyco was kind and considerate; he liked her, too, she knew that. Only, she thought sadly, he wasn’t interested in her as a woman. She was his companion, someone to be at home when he got back after a hard day, to sit at the foot of his table and be hostess to all the other doctors’ wives and, above all, to be as good a substitute mother for the twins as she could manage. She should be content and very nearly was, but if only he would notice her as a person. He was punctilious in admiring her dresses when she wore something new but he didn’t look at her…