by Betty Neels
His nod was casual. ‘I’ll sign everything here—perhaps you would take them down to the lodge as you go.’
Her, ‘Yes, sir,’ was, as usual, quiet.
‘Your mother is well?’ His head was bent over his papers.
‘Yes, thank you. I—that is, she asked me to give you this note.’
He put out a hand, not looking at her, finished what he was doing and opened it. Serena watched his face as he read. It was impossible to know what he was thinking from its blandness.
‘You have no objection to staying on for a few more days?’ he wanted to know. ‘Your mother seems quite content with her plans.’
‘Of course I’ll stay,’ she told him matter-of-factly. ‘Mother came because you were kind enough to allow her to do so. I’m very grateful; she’s been very happy...’
‘And no longer suffering ill health,’ he added drily. ‘I’m glad.’
He picked up his pen again and finished signing the papers. ‘I must go—I’m already rather late. What do you do with your evenings, Serena?’
She was taken by surprise. ‘Well, there’s supper and the TV, and I’m trying to learn one or two Dutch phrases...’ It sounded pretty thin.
She watched him go after wishing her goodnight and giving her a brief reminder that, since he would be operating again in the morning, she was to get on with the book.
The days passed quickly. Serena phoned her mother on Wednesday morning and wished her a good trip home. ‘I’ll ring you this evening,’ she told her. ‘You’ll be back by then.’
‘No, don’t do that, darling,’ said Mrs Proudfoot hastily. ‘I shall be exhausted after such a long journey, even in comfort, so I shall go straight to bed. Give me your phone number and I’ll ring you.’
‘I’m going to Friesland on Thursday,’ Serena reminded her.
‘Oh, I’ll get in touch during the morning, darling. Have fun!’ Her mother had rung off.
There was a final clinic on Thursday morning, and it seemed to Serena that there were more patients than ever. They were to leave at six o’clock from the hospital, and she had found time to phone Mevrouw Blom to tell her so. It was early afternoon before her mother telephoned, to say that she had had a delightful journey and she intended to spend a few days quietly. ‘And see you very shortly, darling,’ she added airily, ‘and mind you have some fun!’
Serena cast a rather jaundiced eye at the pile of notes still waiting to be typed. They hardly allowed for fun, and she supposed it would be the same in Friesland and indeed in London once they returned.
She reminded herself that she had no reason to complain. Her salary was good, she had a pleasant home to go to each evening and her mother’s company. She finished her work and wasted a few minutes doing sums on a piece of typing paper. She would have more than enough to buy all the clothes she wanted and contribute more to the household budget too. She covered the typewriter, left her desk neat and hurried to get ready to leave with the doctor.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘HAVE YOU HAD a meal?’ the doctor asked her as he urged her into the car and took her case.
Serena hadn’t had the time, but she wasn’t going to say so. Her, ‘Yes, thank you,’ was prim.
‘A pity. I didn’t stop for lunch and the cup of tea Theatre Sister gave me did no more than whet my appetite.’
He got in beside her and fastened his seatbelt. He sounded resigned, and her warm heart was touched. ‘As a matter of fact,’ she told him, ‘I haven’t had anything since lunch.’ And when he turned his cold questioning eye on her, ‘Yes, I know, but I didn’t want...that is, I thought you were being polite—you know what I mean?’
‘No, I don’t know what you mean, and I am never polite unless the occasion merits it. Serena, don’t fib to me again.’
‘Well, I won’t unless I really need to.’
‘That need should not arise. There is a place in Hoorn, we can get there in half an hour.’
He started the car and, once free of Amsterdam, drove north. The restaurant in Hoorn was pleasant, brightly lighted and only half full. They had a table in the window and ate sole bonne femme, braised celery and plain boiled potatoes, and, since the doctor was driving and Serena liked it, they drank Vichy water and followed that with poffertjes and coffee, and while they ate he outlined his programme for the next two days. ‘I shall be in theatre all day tomorrow, and on Saturday there are one or two cases lined up for me. I’m on the hospital board and there will be a meeting some time during the day. There will be the notes of the theatre cases for you to type and file, the rest of the time you can get on with the book.’
‘Will you be working on Sunday?’ she asked.
‘No. We shall leave on Monday morning. I’ll tell you when later on.’
It was dark by now. They left the restaurant and drove on, over the Afsluitdijk and into Friesland, and since it was impossible to see any of the scenery the doctor didn’t bother to tell Serena anything about it, leaving her to peer through her window as they swept through one small village after another. Only as they slowed to go through a sizeable town did he say, ‘Franeker—we’re almost there.’
‘The signposts aren’t in Dutch,’ said Serena. ‘Or some of them aren’t.’
‘Well, of course not, we’re in Friesland now, and everyone speaks Fries.’
‘Not Dutch as well?’
‘Of course they speak Dutch, but among themselves they speak their own language.’
‘Oh—do they speak English? I’ve managed to learn one or two basic sentences in Dutch...’
‘Have you, indeed? But don’t worry, English is widely spoken.’
He was slowing the car again as they entered Leeuwarden, driving down a broad road lined with fair-sized red brick houses. They could have been in the outskirts of Bath or Basingstoke. But the houses faded away, and the road became narrow as they reached the heart of the city. The streets were almost empty by now, but the shop windows were lighted and Serena could see that the buildings were old and picturesque, but she had very little time to look. The doctor swept the car into a narrow street and turned in between two stone pillars, into a courtyard beyond which she could see the hospital. It was large, larger than she had expected, and from what she could see modern, its lighted windows giving it a cheerful appearance.
The doctor undid her seatbelt and got out to open her door, and she waited quietly while he got her case from the boot, then followed him to the entrance. There was a porter there. He held open the door and, when the doctor spoke to him, took her case and nodded before going to the lodge to telephone.
‘You weren’t speaking Dutch,’ observed Serena.
‘Of course not.’ The doctor smiled down at her in what she considered to be a rather smug fashion. ‘I’m Friesian.’
He turned away to take the phone from the porter and presently put it down and came back to her. ‘HoofdZuster Grimstra is coming for you. She will take you to your room and you will be called in the morning, shown where to have your meals and then taken to the room where you are to work. If you get into difficulties, you can contact me.’
‘But I won’t know where you are.’ Serena suddenly felt lonely.
‘No, but anyone here will know how to reach me.’ He said something to the porter, who listened and then nodded. ‘Piet here will tell the porters on duty to keep an eye on you. If you want me—but only if it’s urgent, please—it will be enough for you to say my name to one of them.’
She wondered what it must be like to be so important that everyone knew immediately who you were. She thanked him, and he smiled, but not at her. She turned round to face the person who had just joined them—a splendidly built woman, not young but handsome, with fine blue eyes and grey hair pinned into an old-fashioned bun. She wore uniform and an imposing cap and held herself very erect.
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bsp; She shook the doctor’s hand and smiled at him, exchanging a few words before he said, ‘This is Serena Proudfoot, my secretary. HoofdZuster Grimstra, who will look after you. Go with her now, Serena.’ He saw her slight frown and added, ‘If you please. I’ll see you some time tomorrow.’
Her, ‘Goodnight, sir,’ was uttered in a waspish voice.
She had to trot to keep up with HoofdZuster Grimstra’s stride. They went through the long corridor running from one end of the hospital to the other and climbed the stairs leading from a second entrance hall.
‘This door you will use,’ said her companion, ‘also this staircase. The nurses’ home is through this door.’
They had reached a wide landing and she opened a stout door on one side of it. Another long corridor, lined with doors, one of which she opened and ushered Serena inside. The room was very like those she had slept in at the other hospitals, with a welcome addition.
‘You like tea,’ stated HoofdZuster Grimstra, ‘therefore here is a tray and a kettle and a teapot.’
‘How very kind!’ Serena smiled happily at her. ‘Thank you very much.’
‘You will be called at seven o’clock, a nurse will show you to the dining-room. I wish you a good night, Serena.’
HoofdZuster Grimstra nodded and smiled and made her stately way back along the corridor, leaving Serena to examine her room. There were tea-bags, little packets of powdered milk and sugar lumps arranged neatly on a tray beside the kettle. She took off her jacket, filled the kettle from the washbasin and switched it on, reflecting that the Dutch sister was both kind and thoughtful for her comfort. In this she was correct; she didn’t know that the dear soul was only obeying the doctor’s request, indeed it would have been the last thing that she would have expected of him.
* * *
A CHEERFUL YOUNG nurse came for her in the morning and bore her down to the ground floor for her breakfast, and when she had eaten her bread and butter and cheese and drunk the delicious coffee, HoofdZuster Grimstra carried her off to a small room high up in the hospital where she found the doctor’s manuscript on a desk beside a typewriter and enough paper to keep her occupied for days.
‘You will eat at twelve o’clock,’ said HoofdZuster Grimstra, and sailed away.
The morning went quickly, although by noon Serena realised that she was a little lonely, but the cheerful attempts of the nurses in the dining-room to carry on a conversation with her mitigated that; she went back to her typing and worked with a short break for a cup of milkless tea halfway through the afternoon. Of the doctor there was no sign, but round about four o’clock a porter brought her a bundle of notes to type.
‘Written with his left hand and blindfolded,’ declared Serena to the empty room. ‘I never saw such a scrawl!’
It took her an hour or more to decipher them and render them into neatly typed reports.
She had finished by six o’clock and since there was no sign of the doctor she bore her work down to the lodge. ‘Dr ter Feulen,’ she said firmly, and handed it over to the porter.
He understood what she was talking about. He took the papers from her, summoned a junior porter, handed them to him and gave him some instructions.
‘Dr ter Feulen?’ asked Serena, just to be on the safe side.
‘Yes, yes, miss. He goes now.’ She watched the porter race away, hoping she had done the right thing.
The evening meal was at half-past six; bread and butter, cheese, sausage, cold meat and a salad. She ate it with appetite, carrying on a conversation of sorts with the nurses around her. They were friendly girls; they bore her off presently to a large sitting-room where she watched TV and drank more coffee before going to her bed. It had been quite a nice day, she decided as she jumped into bed, even though she hadn’t seen the doctor.
* * *
AN UNSEEN HAND had left more of the manuscript on her desk. She spent the whole of Saturday typing, happy to know that she would be free to do as she liked on Sunday. There was Leeuwarden to explore for a start, and she would find somewhere to have a nice meal. The shops would be shut, of course, but she could look in the windows... She finished the last of the typing, tidied her desk, covered her typewriter and gathered her work neatly together. She would have to take it down to the lodge again, she supposed; there had been no sign of the doctor. Probably tied up with his meetings, she decided, and switched off the lights.
They were switched on again at once. ‘Finished?’ asked Dr ter Feulen. ‘Splendid. Give me those, if you please. Be outside the entrance at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.’
‘Another hospital?’ asked Serena faintly.
‘No. We will, I hope, enjoy a few hours’ leisure before we return on Monday.’
‘Where?’
‘Shall we keep it as a surprise?’ he wanted to know blandly. He stood aside for her to pass him and shut the door after them both. ‘You have been comfortable here?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Serena said coldly. ‘I was looking forward to exploring Leeuwarden, I’m not sure that I—’
‘Well, if you’re not sure you won’t mind postponing that until another time, will you?’
They had gone down the staircase together, and now he turned to go in the opposite direction to her. ‘Don’t forget, nine o’clock.’ He smiled at her suddenly. ‘Goodnight, Serena.’
She marshalled all the reasons she had for not going with him while she ate some supper and sat with the nurses watching an old American film. The reasons, on second thoughts, seemed petty, and moreover she had earned any treat he might have in store for her. She would wear the checked skirt and the jacket and the ivory silk blouse she had most fortunately brought with her. She was still deciding which shoes she should wear when she fell asleep.
* * *
IT WAS A fine morning, but cold. Serena dressed, did her face and hair and got into the court shoes. Suede boots would have been the thing, but the court shoes, while probably unsuitable, were unobtrusive.
She had her breakfast, packed her case once more and went downstairs to the forecourt. She had very little idea as to when they were to leave the next morning, so it seemed prudent to leave everything as ready as possible. He had said a few hours, which could mean anything...
The Bentley was drawn up before the entrance and the doctor was deep in conversation with an elderly man. Serena slowed her steps, not sure what to do.
‘Good morning, Serena. Come and meet Dr Heringa, he’s the director of the hospital.’ He turned to the other man. ‘My secretary and right arm, Serena Proudfoot.’
She shook hands with the elderly man and said in English, ‘Good morning.’
He replied, ‘You will enjoy your day, I am sure. I am delighted to meet you, Miss Proudfoot. I will not keep you from your pleasure.’ He clapped the doctor on the shoulder. ‘I will see you before you go, Marc.’
Serena felt a thrill of pleasure as she settled into her seat. The car was warm and comfortable and she was looking as near her best as it was possible to be. Her euphoria was shortlived.
‘You should be wearing a winter coat,’ observed her companion carelessly with a sideways glance which bore all the interest of a man looking at a heap of potato sacks.
‘Well, I decided not to,’ she told him with a snap, ‘and what I wear is of no concern to you!’
‘My dear girl, don’t fly at me like that. And it is my concern; I don’t want a secretary with a streaming cold in the head.’ He had started the car, but now he stopped and turned to look at her. ‘Shall we cry pax?’
Serena said with dignity, ‘Certainly, Dr ter Feulen,’ and then, forgetting her dignity, ‘Where are we going?’
‘Ah, wait and see,’ was all he would say.
He drove out of Leeuwarden, going north, and presently she saw a signpost to Dokkum. ‘Are we going towards the coast?’ she ve
ntured.
‘Yes.’ His rather stern profile gave nothing away, and she decided not to say any more. She knew Dokkum was associated with St Boniface and thus had connections with England. Perhaps he was going to show her something of it. The country was pleasant under a wintry sky and here and there she glimpsed water. There were farms, lying well back from the road, flat-faced and broadly built, connected to the huge barns behind them by a narrow passage. There wasn’t much traffic on the road and the villages they went through were quiet.
‘Everyone is in church,’ said the doctor.
Serena would have liked to have stopped in Dokkum when they reached it; there was a canal running through the centre of the little town, and its old buildings were charming, but the doctor went on, still going north. He had turned off the main road now and was driving along a brick country road, running beside a canal. They drove through two villages, small circles of houses with a church brooding over each of them, and now she could see trees ahead of them, topping a slight rise in the ground.
There was a village tucked into the trees, nicely sheltered from the wide land around it. The church dominated the tiny square and the houses were for the most part small, but every one of them gleamed with paintwork and shining windows, draped in whiter-than-white curtains. In among them were larger houses and what she took to be a miniature town hall opposite the church.
‘What a dear little place—like an illustration in a fairy-tale! What is it called?’
‘Oosterzum.’ They were leaving the village behind and now there were tall iron railings on one side of the road. They curved inwards between stone pillars, and the doctor turned the car between them into a straight drive leading to a large square house, with white walls and green shutters at each of its orderly row of windows.