by Betty Neels
‘Thank you, that sounds fine, Lady Thorley, and I’ll let you know each day where we shall be going. The twins love to walk and there’ll be a lot to see.’
She drank her coffee and excused herself on the plea that she would like to write home…
‘There’s a phone in the lobby leading off the hall,’ said Sir Hugh. ‘Telephone your mother now and there won’t be such an urgent need to write at once.’
It was a temptation to have a good gossip with her mother and Pamela but she confined her news to the fact that they had arrived safely and that everything was quite perfect, promised to write as soon as possible and took herself off to bed.
The Thorleys were still in the sitting-room with the door half-open. As she went past, Lady Thorley’s rather high voice reached her clearly. ‘Val’s coming over quite soon. There’s heaps of room for him to stay here; we must invite some people to meet him…’
Daisy, getting ready for bed, allowed her thoughts to wander. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to meet Dr Seymour again; on the other hand she had to admit that she found him interesting. Not, she reflected, that she was likely to have much to do with him even if he was a guest in the flat; she could see that any social life she might see would be from the outside looking in. Not that she minded, she told herself stoutly and, being a sensible girl, went to sleep at once.
The next day was largely taken up with finding their way around. They went into the garden after breakfast and then walked to the nearby park, although there wasn’t time to do more than give it a brief visit before they went back to have their lunch with Lady Thorley; and, since they were nicely tired by now, the twins consented to lie down for a while, giving Daisy a chance to get her letter home started. In the afternoon they went out again, this time to watch the trams at the end of the road. These went to Scheveningen and back and Daisy decided that going to the beach by tram might be much more fun than driving there in a car. She would have to ask Sir Hugh if that was allowed. Tucking the children in that evening, she considered that their first day had been quite successful. The twins were taking everything in their stride, Mien produced exactly the right food for them and Corrie hadn’t seemed to mind the extra work when Daisy had asked if she might have her dinner in the play-room. Perhaps there had been a nanny before her and it was the normal thing to do.
They spent most of the next day at Scheveningen, driven there by a morose man from the British embassy and collected by him during the afternoon. Daisy’s request that they might use the trams had been received by Sir Hugh with sympathy, but he wished to take advice from his colleagues first… All the same, they had a lovely day. The sand stretched as far as the eye could see in either direction and there was a great deal of it. They built sandcastles, paddled in the rather chilly water and ate a splendid lunch of sandwiches and buns and potato crisps and went very willingly to bed when they were home again. Lady Thorley had joined them for nursery tea. ‘Such a busy day,’ she had declared. ‘I would have liked to be on the beach with you. You must be tired, Daisy. We’re going out to dinner this evening, but when you have had yours, do watch television in the sitting-room or go into the garden for an hour.’
It was a splendid evening, the first hint of autumn in its creeping dusk and faint chill, much too nice to sit and watch an indifferent TV programme which she couldn’t understand anyway. The twins already asleep and her dinner eaten, Daisy pulled a cardigan around her shoulders and went down the staircase to the garden. The sun had set but the wide sky reflected its rays still and the garden, carefully tended, smelled faintly of lavender and pinks with the faintest whiff of roses along the end wall. She wandered along its length and then back again to be brought up short by a voice from behind the iron railings before the ground floor apartment.
‘I saw you yesterday but you had the children with you.’ A cheerful face peered at her through the bars. ‘Philip Keynes—I live here. It’s a very small flat but I’m a clerk at the embassy and on my own. It’s nice to have someone in the flat above… Are you a daughter?’
‘Me? No. I’m a temporary nanny—Daisy Pelham—just until they can find a governess for Josh and Katie.’
They faced each other through the bars, liking what they saw.
‘You’re not lonely?’ he asked.
‘No, no, I don’t have time; the twins keep me busy all day.’
‘You get time off?’
‘Not during the day and in the evening Sir Hugh and Lady Thorley get asked out a good deal, I believe.’
‘But you get a free day?’
‘Oh, yes—Wednesdays. There’s a lot to see here, isn’t there? I hope I stay long enough to see everything…’
He said diffidently, ‘I’d be glad to show you round if you’d like that; I can always get an afternoon off. Next Wednesday perhaps?’
‘Well, that would be nice…’
He heard the doubt in her voice. ‘Sir Hugh knows me…’ He grinned suddenly. ‘I mean, I’ll get him to introduce us properly if you like.’
Daisy laughed. ‘No need. I would be glad of someone to show me round the Hague.’
‘Good. I’ll be free at half-past twelve. Do you think you could meet me? There’s a brown café just across the street from the Bijenkorf—that’s the big department store in the shopping street—you can’t miss it.’
‘Yes, of course. I must go and make sure that the children are all right.’
She bade him goodnight and went back up the stairs to the balcony where she paused to look down into the garden. It was somehow comforting to see the reflection of a lamp from his sitting-room window.
During the next few days she met some other English girls when she took the twins to the park. They were friendly, giving her useful tips—where to find the nearest hairdresser, the best shops to go to for humdrum things like toothpaste and tights, the cafés which served the cheapest food. They wanted to know if she had a boyfriend and gave her faintly pitying looks when she said that no, she hadn’t. They considered that she was badly treated when it came to time off, too. ‘You should have at least two evenings a week as well as a whole day; some of us get weekends…’
‘I wouldn’t know what to do with them,’ said Daisy, ‘and anyway I’m only here until Lady Thorley finds a governess.’
They smiled at her with faint patronage. A plain little thing, they told each other when she had left them.
Wednesday came with pleasing swiftness. Daisy had seen very little of Lady Thorley for there was a constant stream of visitors and she was out a good deal. True to her promise, she came to the play-room in good time for the children’s breakfast this morning. ‘I asked Corrie to take a tray to your room,’ she told Daisy, ‘and you go just as soon as you like. Will you be out late this evening?’
Daisy thought it unlikely; Philip Keynes hadn’t mentioned any kind of evening entertainment. ‘I don’t think so, not this evening. Some of the girls I met in the park suggested that we might all go to a cinema on Wednesday evening but I expect I’ll come back once the shops have shut.’
‘Then I’ll ask Mien to leave a tray for you in the kitchen. Have a pleasant day, Daisy; we shall miss you.’
Daisy gobbled her breakfast as she got ready to go out. She was a little excited; she had a week’s pay in her purse and the prospect of a morning’s window-shopping and then the unknown pleasures of the afternoon. She boarded a tram at the end of the road, thankful that it was a cool day so that the good suit didn’t look out of place.
The shops were absorbing; she gazed into elegant boutique windows, shuddering at the prices, had coffee and spent the rest of her morning in de Bijenkorf, rather like a small Selfridges and more suited to her pocket. Not that she bought much but it was fun to go round the departments deciding what she would take home as presents, and at half-past twelve she crossed the road to the brown café
and found Philip Keynes waiting for her.
She had felt a little shy of meeting him again but there had been no need; he was friendly, full of enthusiasm at the idea of showing her round the Hague, but it was a casual friendliness which quickly put her at her ease. He came from Bristol, he told her, and knew her home town quite well. Over coffee and kaas broodjes they talked about the West Country and its pleasures. ‘I don’t care much for cities,’ he told her, ‘but this is a good job and once I’m promoted I’ll get a posting back home. What about you, Daisy? Do you want to travel before you settle down?’
‘Not really. I’m glad I’ve had the chance to come here but when I get back home I’ll find a local job.’
They didn’t waste too much time over their lunch. He had the afternoon planned and kept to it. They visited the Ridderzaal and after that the Mauritshuis with its famous paintings. Daisy would have liked to have lingered there but she was urged on; the Kloosterkerk was a must, he told her; never mind that they could spend only a short time there—she would know where to go when next she went exploring and from there there was a glimpse of the eighteenth-century Kneuterdijk Palace. They stopped for tea then, this time in a café in Noordeinde, and it was as they emerged from it that Daisy came face to face with Dr Seymour. The pavements were crowded with people hurrying home from work, and since they were going in opposite directions it seemed unlikely that he had recognised her, but all the same she had been surprised at the sudden delight she had felt at the sight of him, instantly followed by the hope that she wouldn’t meet him while he was in Holland. A good thing, she reflected, that she dined alone each evening; there would be no chance of meeting him if he came to see his sister…
She was recalled to her present whereabouts by her companion. ‘I say, will it be all right if I put you on a tram? I’ve got to get to one of these official gatherings at the embassy. It’s been a delightful afternoon; we must do it again.’ He added anxiously, ‘You hadn’t any plans for this evening?’
‘No, and I said I’d be back some time after tea, I’ve all kinds of odd jobs I want to do.’ She saw the relief in his nice face. ‘And you don’t need to come with me to the tram; I know which one to catch.’
He wouldn’t hear of that; they walked through the narrow streets together and he actually saw her on to a tram which would take her to the end of the road where the Thorleys were living. It was still early evening, but she had letters to write and her hair to wash and an hour or so just sitting with a book would be pleasant. She told herself this as she wished him goodbye, doubtful if he would repeat his invitation; she thought that she was probably rather a dull companion… All the same she had enjoyed the afternoon and she thanked him nicely for it and was surprised when he said, ‘I meant it when I said we must do it again. A cinema, perhaps?’
‘I’d like that.’ She nipped on to the tram and was borne away at high speed down the Scheveningenscheweg, to get out at her stop and walk the short distance to the house.
The concierge admitted her with a muttered ‘good evening’ and Daisy, ignoring the lift, skipped up the stairs to the Thorleys’ apartment and rang the bell. Corrie opened the door, bade her a cheerful hello and told her, in her peculiar English, that her dinner was ready whenever she liked to have it. Daisy thanked her and crossed the hall, to be stopped by Lady Thorley’s voice from the half-open door of the drawing-room.
‘Daisy?’ she called. ‘Come in here and tell us if you’ve had a nice day.’
The drawing-room was a grand room, rather over-furnished in a handsome way. Daisy crossed the parquet floor to the group of people sitting together at the far end by the open windows. She was halfway there when she saw that Dr Seymour was there too, standing leaning against the wall, a drink in his hand. There was a woman sitting there, a strikingly handsome woman in her early thirties and dressed in the kind of clothes Daisy, not given to envy, envied now.
‘You know Dr Seymour already,’ said Lady Thorley in her friendly way, ‘and this is Mevrouw van Taal.’
Daisy said, ‘How do you do?’ and wished the doctor a good evening.
‘You enjoyed your day?’ Sir Hugh wanted to know. ‘The Hague is a most interesting city. Of course you would have enjoyed it more if you had had a guide…’
Daisy glanced at the doctor. He was looking at her and smiling, a rather nasty little smile, she considered. So he had seen her after all. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she had spent most of her day with Philip Keynes, but that might sound boastful and besides, he might not like that. She agreed quietly that it was indeed a most interesting city and it would take several days to explore it thoroughly.
There was a little silence and the mevrouw said in a sugary voice in faultless English, ‘Well, I suppose if you have nothing better to do it passes the time.’
‘Most agreeably,’ said Daisy. ‘Goodnight, Lady Thorley, Sir Hugh.’ She smiled in the general direction of the doctor and Mevrouw van Taal and walked tidily out of the room, shutting the door gently behind her.
‘I wish him joy of her,’ she muttered as she went to her room.
The twins were asleep; she wondered what sort of a day their mother had had—she would hear in the morning, no doubt; in the meanwhile she would enjoy her dinner. She had been only a few minutes in the play-room when Corrie came in with a tray. Cold lettuce soup with a swirl of cream in its delectable greenness, chicken à la king, asparagus and game chips and a chocolate mousse to finish. Coffee too, brought by Corrie just as she had polished off the last of the mousse. Really, she thought, life couldn’t be more pleasant. The unbidden thought that she was lonely crossed her mind, to be dismissed at once. It would have surprised her if she had heard the doctor, sitting at the dinner-table, waving away the chocolate mousse in favour of some cheese. ‘Does Daisy not have her meals with you?’ he asked idly.
‘We almost always have lunch together—the two of us and the children. Of course Daisy could dine with us if she wished but she thought it would be better if she stayed in the play-room in case the children should wake.’
Lady Thorley sounded apologetic and then frowned when Mevrouw van Taal spoke. ‘Well, one would hardly expect the nanny to dine, would one? Besides, it is likely that she has no suitable clothes. They have a garish taste in cheap clothes, these au pairs and nannies.’
Dr Seymour’s face was inscrutable. He said mildly, ‘One could hardly accuse Daisy of being garish.’ He thought of the times he had seen her; mousy would be a more appropriate word, and that terrible plastic mackintosh…
The conversation became general after that and presently Mevrouw van Taal declared that she would really have to go home, smiling at the doctor as she said it. ‘If someone would call a taxi?’ she asked. ‘Since my dear husband died I have not dared to drive the car.’
The doctor rose to his feet at once. ‘Allow me to drive you back,’ he said; his voice held nothing but social politeness. ‘I have to go back to the hospital.’
An offer which Mevrouw van Taal accepted with rather too girlish pleasure.
Unaware that the doctor was spending the night at the apartment, Daisy slept peacefully; she still slept when he went down into the garden very early in the morning. There was a decidedly autumnal chill in the air but it was going to be another fine day. He strolled around and presently became aware that there was someone watching him—the occupier of the downstairs flat, leaning against the wall, behind the railings.
The doctor caught his eye, wished him good morning and was sure that he had seen him before—with Daisy yesterday afternoon. ‘Are you not allowed to share the garden?’ he enquired pleasantly. He held out a large well cared-for hand and thrust it through the railings. ‘Valentine Seymour—Lady Thorley’s brother—over here for a few days. I saw you yesterday with Daisy.’
Philip shook hands. ‘Philip Keynes—I’m a clerk at the embassy
. Yes, I showed Daisy something of the Hague. She’s nanny to the children, but of course you know that.’
‘Yes. She must have been glad of your company; it’s hard to find one’s way around a strange city.’ The doctor leaned up against the railings. ‘Have you been here long?’
‘Almost a year; I’m hoping for promotion so that I can go back home! You’re not at the embassy, are you?’
‘No, no. I’m a paediatrician; I’m over here lecturing and seeing one or two patients that they’ve lined up for me. I live in London, but I have beds at Salisbury and at Southampton.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I must go—I have to be in Utrecht soon after nine o’clock. I dare say we shall meet again.’
He went back upstairs to the balcony just as the twins, dressed and released to let off steam before breakfast, tore on to the balcony, screaming with delight at seeing him and followed at a more sedate pace by Daisy.
She stopped at the sight of him, uttered good morning in a small cool voice and added, ‘They must have their breakfast.’