The Quiet Professor

by Betty Neels

  Presently she turned and walked back the way she had come, not daring to cross to the other side, happily unaware that the professor, standing at one of the apparently blank windows, was watching her with great interest and pleasure because she was so obviously alone. He began to whistle as he made his way through the building, for he was examining students that afternoon. Even if he had been free to go after her, he wouldn’t have done so; he was an angler of no mean repute and he knew the skills of playing his fish would pay off if he had patience. Megan wasn’t to be hurried and she must be quite sure. That he himself was sure had nothing to do with the matter, and he had no intention of coercion.

  Megan, with a last look at the Rapenburg Canal and its impressive buildings, took herself off to the shops, to buy Delft Blue china, silver coffee spoons, cigars and, after careful thought, an illustrated book of the historical towns of the Netherlands; a suitable gift for Oscar, she considered, being quite impersonal. Content with her purchases, she went to the Rotisserie Oudt Leyden, close to the station, and had a very expensive tea. There was only one large restaurant in Castricum where the food was good but certainly not four-star; she might not have the opportunity to have a meal as splendid as the one she was eating now. She would be leaving soon now although she didn’t know exactly when and rather than go to Amsterdam or den Haag she had decided to see as many of the smaller towns as possible. The train service was good; she could go to Enkhuizen or Medemblik on the Ijsselmeer and spend a day—and perhaps also to Delft. That left Utrecht, Arnhem and Apeldoorn, all of which she had been urged to visit, but she doubted if she would have the chance to go to them.

  By the time she got to Castricum it was too late for the evening meal at the orphanage, so she went to t’Eethuisje and had an uitsmijter and coffee before catching a bus back.

  It was several days later, while she was bathing Jantje, that the directrice came into the nursery. She bade her good morning and waited while Megan wrapped the baby in a warm towel and set him on her lap.

  ‘Don’t stop your work, Megan. I come merely to tell you that in two weeks you may return to England. The exact day I cannot yet tell but I am sure you will wish to know so that you can tell your family and perhaps make preparations to obtain work when you return.’

  Megan dried a peevish Jantje, sprinkled him with talcum powder and clothed him in a nappy and a zipper suit. ‘Thank you, Directrice,’ she said quietly, ‘that gives me plenty of time to make my plans. I shall be sorry to leave here.’ She brushed the pale feathers of Jantje’s hair into neatness and dropped a kiss on the back of his neck. ‘I shall miss the babies.’

  ‘We shall, all of us, miss you, Megan. If there had been a vacancy on the staff I would very much have liked you to stay.’ She glanced at Megan, ‘You are well, my dear? You are pale—you do not work too hard?’

  ‘Oh, no, Directrice—and I feel very well…’

  ‘I shall go now, for you have your morning’s work. If you wish to know anything, or I can help in any way, please come and see me.’

  The directrice sailed away and Megan popped Jantje into his cot. He was the last baby to be bathed, and it was time to start on the feeds, but first the older ones needed their mid-morning drinks. She had no time to think and that was a good thing; she had known that she would be leaving soon but now that it was a certainty she found herself unprepared for it.

  She was off duty and at three o’clock she changed into a cotton dress and a cardigan and sandals and made for the beach. It had been a warm sultry morning, the sunshine hazy, and although the sky was blue there were clouds and a misty veil over it draining its colour. The sands stretched away on either side of her and she turned north towards Egmond-aan-Zee, four miles away. She had some money in her pocket and when she got tired she could turn into the dunes and take the path running parallel to the sea and find her way back on to the road and find a bus back to Castricum.

  She walked steadily, deep in thought, making plans. She would go home, of course, but as soon as possible she would find a job, somewhere not too far from home yet far enough to avoid seeing Oscar more than occasionally. She had spent very little money in Holland and she had enough in the bank to tide her over the next few weeks; it only remained to decide exactly what sort of job she wanted. The obvious answer was surgery, she was well experienced in that, but she had enjoyed working with the babies; perhaps she could find something similar in England… She walked on, not noticing that the blue sky was now completely hidden and coming in from the sea at a great rate was a massive roll of black cloud.

  The storm struck suddenly, a flash of lightning to strike her dumb, a crash of thunder to deafen her and then torrential rain. She stood for a moment, bemused, looking with dismay at the ugly clouds facing her racing nearer. At that she took to her heels and raced for the shelter of the dunes.

  She was soaked before she reached the scanty shelter; it was difficult going through the fine sand and then the helm—the dune grass—and the shrubs and low-growing trees gave little protection, and all the time the lightning danced and sizzled around her and the thunder tumbled and crashed. Megan was a level-headed, sensible girl for the most part, but this sudden eruption of sound and fierce flashes was rather more than she liked and since no one could possibly hear her she allowed herself to scream; it relieved her feelings. She wiped her streaming face and cringed at another flash, thankful that there wasn’t a really tall tree in sight. She dared to look over her shoulder and saw that the grey sky over the sea was a nasty black with a yellowish tinge; the storm was by no means lessening, and indeed there appeared to be worse to come. She worked her way deeper into the dunes, telling herself that if she kept going she would be bound to come to a road, but before long, what with the streaming rain, the noise and the lightning, augmented now by a fierce wind coming in from the sea, she lost her sense of direction, turning north instead of inland. The undergrowth was dense now and there were stunted trees and for a time the dunes hid the sea from her so that when she found herself on a sandy path she could have shouted with relief. Paths led somewhere, she reminded herself; the road couldn’t be far off. The storm was at its height but she was past caring. She followed the path in the eerie half light, flinching at each flash and clap.

  Presently she came to a fork in the path and after only a moment’s pause took the right-hand one since the other would lead her back to the coast again—and plodded on, unaware that she was going further and further away from the orphanage with each step; quite disorientated, she imagined that she had the sea behind her and that she was going inland. She was numb with fright, soaked to the skin and possessed of only one thought—to reach the road as quickly as possible. The path ran straight ahead of her in the blinding rain, lighted every few moments by lightning flashes, one so shockingly vivid that she stood still stiff with fright, waiting for the explosion of thunder to follow, and it was then that she saw the patch of white at the side of the path. A plastic bag, one of millions that the countrywide supermarket Albert Heijn handed out to its customers. It had something in it, for she saw its faint movement and she picked it up gingerly and peered inside. The light was bad but not so bad that she was unable to see the baby wrapped in a piece of blanket inside it.

  ‘Oh, my goodness me,’ said Megan, for the moment impervious to lightning and thunder alike. ‘You poor darling,’ and she put an urgent and gentle hand inside the bag. The infant was alive. ‘Thank heaven for that,’ cried Megan. ‘Now we find a road quickly…’

 
There had been an uncanny pause in the storm and she hurried along the path to be brought to a sudden breathless halt by the hail. It beat down on her like bullets from a gun and although she had the bag held close to her it beat down on the baby too. She did the only thing possible and crouched down in the undergrowth at the side of the path, cowering away from the renewed lightning and thunder claps, holding the baby against her. ‘All I need,’ said Megan in a loud voice to keep her spirits up, ‘is a miracle.’

  It wasn’t until the evening meal that her friends at the orphanage started to worry about Megan. They had had a busy afternoon, dealing throughout with the childish terror caused by the storm, closing windows, and doors, and setting out candles and oil-lamps to light them when the electricity gave out.

  ‘Which way did she go?’ asked Anneke. ‘Did anyone hear her say?’

  No one had but one of the girls said, ‘She told me last week that she was going to walk to Egmond-aan-Zee one day, but she didn’t say when. Perhaps she went this afternoon…’

  Someone told the directrice and while they were doing so the phone rang. It was Professor van Belfeld, wanting to know if they were all right at the orphanage.

  ‘No electricity,’ said the directrice, ‘but we have candles and lamps. I am a little concerned about Megan—she went for a walk this afternoon and she isn’t back. She may be sheltering somewhere, I’m told that she had mentioned that she wanted to take the path through the dunes to Egmond. Shall I let the police know?’

  The professor’s voice was quieter than ever. ‘Not yet. I’m at home; I’ll be over.’

  So he was, within a very short time, throwing down his sopping Burberry and going at once to the directrice’s office, where they pored over the large map on its wall. ‘She was off duty at three o’clock? Allow half an hour for changing her clothes…the storm struck at half-past four more or less, which means she would have been about three kilometres along the dune path—or the beach. In any case she would have surely made for shelter. Which means that she should be roughly here, probably making for the coast road.’ He pointed a long finger at the map. ‘I think it will be best if I take the car along the road and go into the dunes from there. I shall probably meet her.’

  ‘You would like someone to go with you?’

  ‘I think not. The weather is shocking outside, no need to risk anyone else getting wet. I’d like a blanket if I may…’

  He got into his Burberry again, took the blanket and went out into the violent weather and drove away down the narrow road which ran behind the dunes.

  He drove to the spot he had marked on the map, switched on the car’s lights, took his torch and got out. The hail had stopped but the rain was still heavy as he made his way towards the dunes, quite wide here and heavily wooded at this point. The storm still raged but the wind had died down so that between the thunderclaps there was comparative silence except for the noise of the incessant rain. As he reached the dunes he paused to find a path before plunging into the undergrowth, stopping every now and then to shout. For such a quiet man he had a formidable voice but there was no reply as he went deeper towards the sea, lighted at one moment by the lightning and the next plunged into darkness with only his torch to guide him. It was between two thunderclaps that he at last heard a voice answer his shout. He had stopped where two paths crossed each other, and stumbling towards him was Megan, a deplorable sight, wringing wet, her hair plastered on her head and clutching the plastic bag.

  For such a powerfully built man, he moved with incredible speed. She felt his arms around her and burst into tears, so that whatever it was that the professor said in his own language escaped her. She drew a snivelling breath. ‘Jake, oh, Jake.’ She peered up at his calm face. ‘There’s a baby in the bag.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE professor took Megan’s news with commendable lack of surprise. He took the carrier-bag from her and shone his torch upon the sleeping infant inside it. He asked no tiresome questions, merely dropped a kiss on to her wet cheek, tucked the bag under one arm and urged her gently back along the path he had taken.

  She was tired and wet and frightened but somehow none of that seemed to matter any more. She was scarcely aware of being led back to the car, scooped up into the blanketed front seat, the baby in the plastic bag once more on her lap and the short journey back to the orphanage under way. Once there she was bustled inside, aware of the professor giving instructions in an unhurried voice before she was hurried away to be undressed, stood under a hot shower until she glowed and then popped into bed. It was Anneke who did this, presently joined by Sine with a mug of hot milk, both of them uttering soothing remarks.

  ‘Oh, is the directrice very angry?’ asked Megan, sitting up in bed, a normal colour once again and blissfully warm.

  ‘Angry? Why should she be angry?’ asked Sine. ‘She is only happy that you are safe. It is a very bad storm with much damage and accidents, and besides you have saved a baby’s life.’

  ‘A boy or a girl? I—I couldn’t see very well.’

  ‘A girl—newly born. The professor and Dr Timuss are with her now.’

  Megan sipped her milk and presently the directrice arrived to see her.

  ‘A bad experience for you, Megan,’ she observed kindly. ‘Most happily you were found by the professor. It is to be hoped that you have come to no harm.’

  ‘I feel quite well, thank you, Directrice,’ said Megan politely. ‘Is the baby all right?’

  ‘It is a mercy that you found her and kept her safe. She will need care—she is, the professor thinks, only a day or so old—but babies are tough. She is to be called Megan and when she is old enough we shall tell her that she owes her life to you.’ She broke off as there was a knock on the door and the professor came in. He ranged himself beside the directrice, staring down at Megan, who was, in fact, quite worth staring at; she had a healthy pink colour now and her hair, washed and dried, hung in a dark cloud around her shoulders and her nightie, pink and lace-trimmed, revealed a good deal of her charming person. The directrice, whose own nightwear was both concealing and sensible, gave a little cough; the professor transferred his gaze to the wallpaper and Megan, innocent of the effect she was having, looked at her enquiringly.

  ‘Professor van Belfeld wishes to make sure that you have come to no harm. Megan, you feel well?’

  Megan assured her for the second time that she felt very well.

  The professor lowered his eyes from the wallpaper. ‘You are a strong and healthy girl, and you should come to no harm, but if you have a sore throat or feel unwell perhaps you will let the directrice know at once.’ He smiled in a wintry way. ‘We must send you back to England perfectly fit.’

  Megan agreed bleakly and then, anxious to appear eager to return home, said brightly, ‘Oh, yes, I’m so looking forward to that. I’ve loved being here but it’s time I went back to a hospital—I shall miss the children and the other girls, they’ve been so friendly…’ She stopped, aware that she was babbling, and the professor was eyeing her with a faint lift of the eyebrows and a nasty curl of the lip.

  Then he turned away, saying, ‘I’m glad that you have come to no harm. The baby is, against all odds, in good shape. I’m taking her with me now to Leiden; she will be in Intensive Care for a while but as soon as she is big and strong enough she will come here.’ He held the door open for the directrice. ‘Goodnight, Megan,’ he said.

  ‘Goodnight, sir; goodnight, Directrice.’ She threw a pillow at
the closed door by way of relieving her feelings and then allowed herself the comfort of a quiet weep. She felt better then and when Sine came in with supper on a tray—an unwanted luxury—she was sitting up in bed with a newly washed face which, though pale, gave no sign of tears. Lying in bed presently her thoughts were of the professor; she was never going to understand him; when he had found her on the dunes he had held her close and although she hadn’t understood what he had said it had sounded loving; besides she had had a glimpse of his face…but just now, when he had come to see her with the directrice, he had been coolly impersonal, as though they had never shared those few minutes in the storm. She went to sleep presently, and, waking early, was glad that she was on duty at seven o’clock.

  There was a letter for her in the morning; the professor’s grandmother, having heard that she would be going back to England very shortly, would like her to go and bid her goodbye and would she care to go to lunch on her next free day? The note was written in a beautiful spidery hand and requested an answer as soon as possible, adding that a car would be sent to call for her.

  Megan still hadn’t been told exactly when she was leaving; she wrote back at once saying that she had a day off in two days’ time and would very much like to see Mevrouw van Belfeld.

  The orphanage had settled down again into its quiet routine, and the weather, after the freak storm, had settled down too to a mild warmth with a good deal of sunshine; the place rang with the sound of children’s voices, and Dr Timuss, paying his usual visit, remarked that it was a pity that Megan would be leaving just when there seemed the prospect of a fine summer.