by Betty Neels
‘Where’s this?’ asked Serena sharply.
‘My home.’ He stopped the car before the massive door, undid her seatbelt and then got out to open her door, take her firmly by the arm and go across the gravel just as the house door was thrown open and allowed children, dogs and a number of people to emerge.
‘My family,’ said the doctor, and gave her a wicked look.
It seemed they were all there. She was introduced to his sisters, four young women, tall, blonde and good-looking with bright blue eyes. ‘Talitha, Sanna, Wibekke and Prisca,’ said the doctor. ‘You can sort them out later.’ And he left her for a moment to join his brothers while they shook her hand, all talking at once.
‘My brothers; Wilbren, Kaeye and Stendert.’
‘Don’t bother to remember our names,’ the young man called Wilbren said cheerfully, ‘and I must warn you that there are more of us inside.’
They bore her indoors with the doctor and his sisters following, but as they entered the hall from the porch he was beside her again.
‘Come and meet my mother,’ he invited, and crossed the hall—an apartment Serena would dearly have loved to inspect at her leisure, with its lofty ceiling, walls almost covered with paintings in huge ornate frames and a chandelier, dripping cascades of crystal above her head. There was a curving staircase at the back of the hall, but she was given no time to do more than glimpse it.
They went through double doors, solid wood with carved swags of flowers and fruits over their arches, and into a room which was as lofty as the hall and far lighter by reason of the long, wide windows, their velvet curtains echoing the patterned carpet which covered almost the whole floor. Very old, she observed silently, and probably priceless.
There were several people in the room; four men were standing between the windows and there were two young women with them, all tall and good-looking. But the elderly lady coming to meet them wasn’t tall, nor was she particularly handsome, moreover, she wasn’t much taller than Serena. Her hair was mousy too, as mousy as Serena’s own tidy head, but it was streaked with silver and dressed severely in a French pleat. She was dressed with an elegance that didn’t detract from her welcoming smile; she would have looked as nice in a pinny, thought Serena happily.
The doctor bent his great height to kiss his mother. ‘Mama, here is Serena. She has been working hard for the last few days and a change of scene seemed a good idea.’
Serena shook the hand held out to her and smiled at the older woman; a nice friendly face, and the blue eyes were gentle.
‘My dear, you must think that Marc has brought you to a madhouse! There are so many of us. Whenever he comes to Holland we try to get together here so that we can have a family gathering. Have you brothers and sisters?’
‘No, mevrouw. I live with my mother.’
‘You have a busy life too, I’ll be bound.’ She turned to the group by the windows. ‘Come and meet Serena,’ she said, and added, ‘Sons-in-law, my dear, and my youngest daughter’s fiancé—the two girls are Wilbren and Stendert’s wives.’ She chuckled. ‘There are two adorable babies in the nursery as well as the children running around here.’
It was a lovely day; Serena was passed from one group to the next, talked to, teased a little in the kindest possible way, asked about her work, and after a splendid lunch they took her on a tour of the house and then walked her round the grounds, and all this time she hardly spoke to the doctor. He seemed content to leave her to the friendly care of his brothers and sisters, and after a while she lost her initial shyness and began to enjoy herself enormously. Once or twice she wondered if she were in a dream, for the sight of the doctor, strolling along with one or other of his family, playing with the children, throwing sticks for the dogs, was so alien to her concept of him. There was no sign of his casual coolness, his polite indifference, his confident expectancy that she would do exactly what he wished without argument. He was treating her exactly as he treated his sisters and sisters-in-law. Upon reflection Serena was vexed at the thought.
Over tea she had a talk with his mother, a conversation skilfully conducted by that lady which left her in possession of a fair picture of Serena’s life. The men went away to play billiards after tea and the women gathered together. The Baronne stitched at her embroidery frame, several of the girls had knitting with them, while the rest sat idle, chatting, careful to include Serena in their talk, and all the while children and dogs and a large black cat wandered from chair to chair. Serena had never been so happy.
The children were borne away to bed presently and the grown-ups had supper: watercress soup, lobster patties, beignets and salad and a pavlova to finish. They sat over their coffee, and Serena could have stayed there for hours, just listening to the cheerful hum of talk around her, but the doctor put an end to that.
‘Time we went back,’ he declared cheerfully. ‘We’re leaving early in the morning.’
‘You’ll come again soon?’ asked his mother.
‘Yes—I’m examining at the Medical School in Groningen in a few weeks’ time.’
‘And Serena?’ Friendly faces beamed at her.
‘Me? Oh, I don’t suppose I’ll come to Holland again...’ She caught sight of the doctor’s raised eyebrows and hurried on, ‘What I mean is, only if the doctor has work for me.’
‘Does he drive you hard?’ asked Kaeye. ‘And do you always call him Doctor?’
‘Yes, always.’ She smiled because Kaeye was fun, the youngest of the brothers, with an easy friendliness that had melted her shyness.
‘Take no notice, Serena,’ said the doctor from the head of the table. He sounded amused. ‘And do call me Marc if you would like to.’
She said thoughtfully, ‘Thank you, but I don’t think it would do. I might forget in hospital and that wouldn’t be very nice for you.’
‘I quite agree,’ chimed in the Baronne. ‘Marc wouldn’t have a patient left if everyone addressed him so. Doctors have a certain mystique...’ There was a howl of laughter from everyone at the table. When it had died down, she went on calmly, ‘Not for me, of course, but there are still any number of people who think of the medical profession as a race apart.’
There was more laughter as the doctor got to his feet. ‘You’re undermining my ego,’ he observed. ‘It is a good thing I’m not operating tomorrow, I’ve lost all my self-assurance!’
There was more laughter as they all trooped into the hall, while Serena got into her jacket and went round shaking hands with everyone.
‘I’ve had such a lovely day,’ she said to the Baronne. ‘I’m going to remember it forever... I had no idea...’
Her hostess kissed her cheek. ‘I’m very glad you came, my dear, and I hope that one day perhaps you will come and see us all again.’
Serena, getting into the Bentley, reflected that there was nothing she would like more, but she supposed it was politeness on the part of her hostess, kindly meant, in the same way as her mother so often begged a chance-met friend to come to tea one day without meaning it at all.
The doctor had nothing much to say, merely wanted to know if she was tired, reminding her that he intended to leave at eight o’clock the following morning, and beyond a few remarks about the darkness of the evening and their prospects for a speedy journey back to England he had nothing to add. He was his usual self once more, retreated into his bland and distant shell. She sighed gently; the glimpse she had had of him had been exciting.
Everyone had seen them off. They lingered on the steps outside the porch, watching the tail-lights disappear round the bend in the road.
The Baronne turned to go into the house. ‘A very sweet girl,’ she observed. ‘She will do very well.’
‘Mama, you matchmaker!’ said Talitha. ‘She is just right, though.’
‘Of course she is, my dear.’
‘But Marc isn’t..
.’
‘Marc wishes her to be happy, he is concerned for her but he does not want to show it. He has been in love many times, I am sure, but to love as well as being in love, that is something else. He is not yet aware...’
‘And Serena?’
‘Ah, she does not expect to be loved and so she is also unaware.’ The Baronne took Talitha’s arm. ‘We shall see.’
They went indoors and the elderly Hans, who had served the family for almost all his life, shut the door behind them. ‘A nice young lady the baron brought home,’ he said in Fries with the respectful familiarity of an old and trusted servant. ‘Tiele thinks the same, mevrouw.’
The Baronne paused by him. ‘You are both right, Hans—a charming young lady.’ She put a hand on his sleeve. ‘Let us hope that we see more of her.’
* * *
AT THE HOSPITAL the doctor got out of the car and went with Serena into the entrance hall. She stopped inside the door to look up at him.
‘Thank you for my lovely day, Doctor. I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed myself so much, and your family were so kind.’ She added shyly, ‘I don’t know much about large families—they must be tremendous fun.’
He had taken her hand in his. ‘They are. I’m glad that you were happy with us.’
‘I’ll never forget it. Goodnight, Doctor.’ She turned away and paused. ‘Ought I to call you Baron? I didn’t know you were so—so important! One of your sisters—no, it was a sister-in-law, I think—said that you were the head of the family and that the house and grounds and several farms were yours and your people had lived there for hundreds of years.’
‘That would be Sebbie, the chatterbox. And don’t ever dare to call me Baron, Serena. That’s all very well in Friesland but unthinkable in hospital.’
His words were severe, but uttered in such a kindly voice that she smiled widely at him.
* * *
IT WAS RAINING when they left the next morning, with a chilly wind blowing in from the Waddenzee, but the car was warm and Serena settled into her comfortable seat, prepared for a long drive. The doctor had told her that he intended driving to Boulogne. Once they were on their way he told her more. ‘We shall go over the Afsluitdijk and down to Amsterdam, then Utrecht, south to Antwerp and across to Boulogne.’
‘It will take all day?’
‘Not in this car. I hope you will be home by late afternoon, possibly before that. We shall stop for coffee north of Amsterdam and have lunch round about Breda, but if you want to stop you mustn’t hesitate to say so.’
They drove in silence for a time, rushing across the dijk, swallowing the miles to the other side. ‘Take the day off tomorrow,’ said the doctor presently. ‘I won’t be going into the hospital and you will be glad of some time to yourself.’
‘Thank you.’ She sought for something else to say and could think of nothing sensible. She sat looking out at the wet countryside, conscious that she was reluctant to leave Holland. Partly, she had to admit, because she had had a glimpse of what life could be like if one lived in a lovely old house surrounded by a family who seemed to enjoy their lives.
They stopped in Hoorn for their coffee. The Keizerskroon Hotel was old and its restaurant was pleasant and warm, but Serena wasn’t allowed to linger, and within twenty minutes they were on their way again.
There was a good deal of traffic on the road by now, all moving fast, and the nearer they got to Amsterdam the busier it began to be. They didn’t go into the city but took the ring road that joined the motorway to Utrecht. They avoided that city and drove on to Breda. South of the town the doctor stopped in Princehage. ‘There’s a restaurant here—the Mirabelle. You must be hungry.’ He turned to smile at her. ‘I know I am!’
They lunched with good appetites; erwtensoep, grilled sole, and finished their meal with poffertjes and a pot of coffee and, much refreshed, got back into the car once again.
‘Not long now,’ observed the doctor. ‘You’re not tired?’
Even if she had been she wouldn’t have said so. He had planned the trip to get them back by a certain time, and to delay him wouldn’t do at all. They swept on to Antwerp, Lille and finally Boulogne.
It was still raining and the afternoon was dwindling into a miserable dusk. The doctor had timed his journey accurately. They went aboard the Hoverspeed within half an hour, and Serena heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of the tea she was offered. It seemed to her that they were at Dover in no time at all. They went through Customs without hindrance and slid with deceptive speed up the motorway on the last leg of their journey.
They had spoken very little, but the silence had been a comfortable one. As they slowed through the suburbs Serena said, ‘Are you going to the hospital? Would you mind putting me down there, please?’
‘I’m not going there. I’ll drop you off at your home.’ He spoke in a voice she had learned not to argue with, and anyway, it would be nice to be taken right to her door.
East Sheen contrasted badly with Oosterzum, and the house looked small and uninviting as the doctor stopped before its door. There were no lights showing and he asked sharply, ‘Is there no one at home? Does your mother not know that you are coming back today?’
‘Well, I tried to get her on the phone yesterday and the day before that, but I dare say she was out... I expect she’s visiting friends; she’ll be back for supper.’ She undid her seatbelt, and he got out of the car, opened her door and got her case from the boot.
‘I don’t like to leave you alone—’ he began, but she interrupted him briskly.
‘I often come home when Mother is out, please don’t worry.’
All the same, he took the door key from her and opened the door and followed her into the house, turning on lights as he went. The rooms were tidy, but there was no sign of a welcome, no tray laid, no sign of a meal prepared. He said slowly, ‘I think you had better come with me and I’ll bring you back later when your mother is home.’
She said vigorously, ‘That’s kind of you, but quite unnecessary—I’m fine.’
‘You want me to go?’
‘Yes, I do.’ As she uttered the words she knew them for a lie. She didn’t want him to go; suddenly the thought of not seeing him for even one day was unbearable. Of course she didn’t want him to go, she wanted him to stay with her for the rest of her life. It was a shock to discover that she loved him, and she said feverishly, ‘Do please go—and thank you for bringing me home.’
‘If that is what you want.’ He stood close to her, staring down into her face. ‘I shall telephone later to make sure that you’re all right.’ He swooped suddenly and kissed her hard, then went out of the door into his car and drove away.
She closed the door and stood in the hall, getting over the shock of the kiss. Why had he kissed her? she wondered, and then caught a glimpse of her face in the hall looking-glass. It gave her the answer; she looked pale and tired and her hair was untidy, her nose shone—she was an object of pity. The kiss, she felt sure, had been given in the same spirit as a kindly man would have stroked a forlorn kitten or patted a lost puppy. Two tears dripped down her cheeks and she wiped them away with a gloved hand, leaving a grubby smear on her cheeks.
Crying wasn’t going to help: she went to her room and unpacked her case, tidied herself and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Tea and toast would make her feel better. The house was cold and she stayed in the kitchen to drink her tea. Obviously her mother hadn’t expected her; perhaps her letter had never arrived. She got up and went into the sitting-room, turned on the gas fire and looked around her. Her letter was on one of the lamp tables. She picked it up and reread it; there were just a few lines to remind her mother of the day on which she would return. She went upstairs then and looked in her mother’s bedroom, which was much as usual, and she went downstairs again to drink her tea.
When she hea
rd the front door open she got up and went into the hall. Her mother was taking off her coat.
‘Darling, there you are!’ She shivered. ‘This house is icy—I shall catch a chill.’
Serena kissed her. ‘Did you forget I was coming home, Mother?’
‘Well, no, not really, darling, but I’d made arrangements I didn’t want to break.’ She laughed suddenly. ‘I’ve got a surprise for you, Serena. I’m going to marry Mr Harding—Arthur!’
CHAPTER SIX
SERENA WAS SILENT for so long that Mrs Proudfoot said petulantly, ‘Well, aren’t you going to wish me happy?’
‘Yes, of course, Mother. I hope you’ll be very happy. Do tell me all about it.’ She smiled, and it felt as though her face had cracked. ‘Come into the sitting-room—I lit the fire.’
Her mother sat down in an easy chair. ‘You’re surprised, I suppose. But you were so wrapped up in your work,’ she sounded accusing, ‘there seemed no point in talking to you about it. Anyway, it has all turned out so well. Arthur—Mr Harding—has a house in Shropshire, near Ludlow, and you’ll be able to spend your holidays there. He’s staying in London for a few more days. We shall be married by special licence—there’s no point in waiting. I’ve put this house up for sale...’
She saw Serena’s look of simply dismayed astonishment. ‘You can have some of the money to rent a small flat. You’ll like that, darling—to lead your own life and have fun with your friends.’ She leaned forward, brimful of her news. ‘There’s already someone waiting to buy this place. He’ll let me know tomorrow. You can have what furniture you want, of course.’ She gave her tinkling laugh. ‘Darling, you’ll have to go flat-hunting—can you get some days off?’
‘Only tomorrow—’ Serena broke off as the phone rang. She had forgotten that the doctor had said he would phone. She got up to answer it, and when she did he said,
‘Serena? Is your mother back?’
She answered steadily, ‘Yes, Doctor. Thank you for ringing.’
‘What’s the matter?’