An Old-Fashioned Girl

by Betty Neels

  ‘They won’t be long,’ she assured Patience as she went. A remark which proved to be over-optimistic; it was three-quarters of an hour before the door opened and Mr van der Beek, now also in a long white coat, marched in with his three companions. It was obvious to her that he had for the moment forgotten that she was there, for he looked surprised before saying carelessly, ‘Haven’t kept you waiting, have I?’

  She felt that she was superfluous. ‘I’ll wait outside,’ she said in her sensible way, and smiled at the youngest of the doctors who was holding the door for her.

  There was a kind of foyer outside the office, its window ledge filled with potted plants but not a chair in sight. She wandered to the window and stared out at the darkening evening while she thought of the food she would like to eat. She hoped that Dobbs would have something for them when they eventually got to Chiswick. A drink first, she reflected, then a bowl of soup and perhaps fish or chicken, even a cheese soufflé. She was deciding on a pudding when the office door opened and Mr van der Beek came out, his three companions at his heels.

  His, ‘Ah, there you are,’ was uttered in a voice which conveyed the impression that she had been keeping him waiting, but she forgave him that; she could see that, compared with the welfare of his patient, she fared badly. Anyway, she reminded herself, she had suggested that he should come to the hospital in the first place…besides, she loved him, was head over heels in love with him, and if necessary she would spend the night in the foyer waiting for him. She would have had to, she reminded herself with her usual good sense, for she had no idea how to get out of the place.

  Fortunately that was not going to be necessary; another five minutes of murmured conversation and exchanged goodnights and they were in the lift once more and then in the car where Basil yielded up his seat, barking in a satisfied way and then fell asleep on the back seat.

  There wasn’t a great deal of traffic. Half an hour later they were going through the doorway of his home and there was Dobbs waiting for them with the information that Mijnheer and Mevrouw ter Katte had dined but dinner would be served them at their convenience.

  ‘Oh, ten minutes or so, Dobbs,’ said Mr van der Beek. ‘I dare say Miss Martin wants to make sure that Rosie is asleep.’ He glanced at Patience. ‘Come down when you’re ready,’ he suggested casually. ‘Fifteen minutes?’

  She watched Basil being led away to his supper, instantly ready, and felt envy, but there was nothing for it but to go upstairs and tidy herself and take a look at Rosie.

  The fifteen minutes was barely up when she went downstairs again, and since there was no sign of Mr van der Beek she went into the drawing-room.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ Mijnheer ter Katte greeted her cheerfully. ‘Julius popped his head round the door but he didn’t stay. Have you had a good day? I’ll get you a drink. Sherry? Do sit down.’

  The sherry was a large one; perhaps she looked as though she needed it. Mevrouw ter Katte begged her to sit down beside her and proceeded to tell her about their own day. Rosie had been an angel—well, for most of the day—and Rinus had been to see Nanny again and it was all arranged that he should fetch her the following afternoon and drive straight on to the ferry. ‘Julius hasn’t said when he’s taking us back home. He told us he’d called in at the hospital this evening and that everything is going well.’

  Patience took a very large sip of her sherry; it might play havoc with her empty insides but she was feeling more cheerful already. She tossed off the last of it as Dobbs came to tell her that dinner was served and she got smartly to her feet; being in love hadn’t affected her appetite in the least.

  The meal was all that she had hoped for; cheese and cauliflower soup, chicken with a winter salad and cabinet puddings with a creamy custard, and the conversation was as good as the food. Mr van der Beek, apparently satisfied with his patient’s condition, carried the talk from one topic to another and none of it requiring much concentration on her part, which was a good thing because of the sherry and the excellent Chablis she had drunk with the chicken and that followed, at his so gentle insistence, by a glass of Sauternes with the pudding.

  The good food and the wine had given her a pretty colour; her eyes sparkled and since she was happy her ordinary features took on a prettiness which Mr van der Beek didn’t fail to observe. He wondered idly how long ago it was when he’d realised that she wasn’t a brown mouse at all.

  ‘Shall we have coffee in the drawing-room?’ he suggested, and they spent the rest of the evening discussing Rinus’s plans for the following day.

  ‘When are we going?’ his sister had wanted to know.

  ‘In two days—three at the latest. I’ll let you know for certain tomorrow evening. They’re expecting Rinus in den Haag?’

  Presently Patience said goodnight; the three of them would doubtless have a good deal to discuss and they would be more comfortable without her. She thanked Mr van der Beek for her day’s outing, assured his sister that she would see to Rosie in the morning and keep her with her while her father was making his final arrangements, and went to her room. It had been a long day but she had enjoyed it. As she got ready for bed she wondered if she would see much of Mr van der Beek when they were in Holland. He was fond of his sister; he would surely come to see her from time to time. On this pleasing thought, Patience fell asleep.

  Rosie spent a good deal of the next morning with her parents so that Patience had the chance to sort out the child’s clothes and start on packing for them both; she wouldn’t know until the evening just when they were going but she would be expected to be ready, and in the afternoon when Rinus ter Katte had gone she began on the far more formidable task of packing his wife’s clothes. Mevrouw ter Katte had done a good deal of shopping while she had been in London, extra cases had to be found, and Patience was glad that she had only one case for herself, for the boot would be bulging.

  Mr van der Beek arrived home just before dinner. They would leave on the day following the next and, with an eye to Rosie’s comfort, they would go from Dover on the short sea route. It would be a longer journey on the other side but, as he pointed out, if she was peevish or feeling sick or needed urgent attention, it could best be done in the car. ‘We can stop as often as you like once we are in France,’ he pointed out. ‘We’ll go on the mid-morning ferry.’

  He was away all the next day, which gave Patience time to see to the last of the packing, telephone her aunts and wash her hair after she had taken Rosie for a long outing. The little girl was getting excited at the idea of going home again and Patience only hoped that the journey wouldn’t be too irksome.

  They set off in good spirits although the sight of Basil’s woebegone face cast a cloud over everything for Patience, despite Mr van der Beek’s assurance that he would be back soon, but she had other things to keep her occupied by the time they reached Dover. Rosie had been dozing quietly beside her but now the bustle of the port wakened her and she started to grizzle. Waiting in the queue to go aboard, Patience did everything she could think of to keep her amused and when finally they were on board Mr van der Beek so thoughtfully saw to it that she and Rosie went to a cabin, where they were brought sandwiches and tea and Rosie ate her way through bread and butter and drank her milk, all smiling complacence. The small meal took up some of the time and the ferry had sailed by the time they had finished it. Brother and sister had gone off together and Patience supposed that she would stay in the cabin with Rosie until they landed. She tucked the moppet into one of the beds and sat down, wishing that she had something to read. Rosie went to sleep almost at once and didn’t rouse at the gentle tap on the door.

  Mr van der Beek loomed in the doorway. ‘Go on deck for half an hour,’ he advised her. ‘I’ll sit with Rosie—Marijke’s lying down in the cabin next door. Did you have sufficient to eat? We will stop for tea on our way but get another cup now if you would like. Have you enough money?’

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p; She smiled widely at him, happy because he hadn’t forgotten her after all. ‘I would like to go on deck if you are sure you don’t mind.’

  She went away and he watched her go, as neat as a new pin in her sensible jersey dress, not a hair out of place.

  She went back to the cabin presently, much refreshed, to find Rosie sitting on her uncle’s knee, listening to him story-telling; she had no idea what kind of story it was, for he spoke it in Dutch, but it was making Rosie crow with laughter. There was just time to see to her small wants before they rejoined the car and presently drove ashore, with Rosie still in high spirits and Mevrouw ter Katte, well rested, talking non-stop to her brother. Only Patience felt sad; the journey would soon be over and that probably meant seeing the last of him. He hadn’t told her that she would no longer be needed once Rosie’s nanny was back, but now that the book was safely with the publisher there was nothing more for her to do. She listened to the child’s happy little voice and wondered about the future; it would be hard to go back to the little terraced house in Themelswick and take up her prosaic life again, and it would be even harder for her aunts.

  They crossed into Belgium and then Holland and Mr van der Beek slowed the car and stopped before a small wayside café. Tea came in glasses but it was hot and fragrant and there were crisp little biscuits too. Patience, occupied with Rosie, took little part in the conversation. Mr van der Beek looked across the table at her. ‘Not long now,’ he told her kindly. ‘It has been a tiring journey for you.’

  And his sister chimed in. ‘Tomorrow Rosie shall stay with our housekeeper for a while and I will show you something of den Haag.’

  The ter Kattes had a large solid house surrounded by a formal garden halfway down a tree-lined avenue of similar size. Mr van der Beek drew up smoothly before its front door and got out to help his sister as an elderly woman came out of the house and down the short flight of steps to the sweep. The housekeeper, thought Patience, and hoped that they would like each other. The woman looked almost severe, like Miss Murch, although she greeted her mistress with pleasure and then came to lift Rosie out of the car. Mr van der Beek, unloading the luggage, paused to introduce her.

  ‘This is Juffrouw Witte, Patience; do you want her to call you Miss Martin or Patience?’

  ‘Patience, please.’ They nodded and smiled at each other as she got out of the car and followed the housekeeper into the house. Mevrouw ter Katte was already inside and her husband had come into the hall to greet her but as Patience hesitated in the hall he came to meet her.

  ‘Patience, welcome to our home! Marijke tells me that you have been a great help on the journey and I am so grateful.’ There was a young girl in a dark dress hovering at the back of the hall and he called to her. ‘This is Bep; she will show you your room, next door to the nursery. When you have tidied yourself and seen to Rosie, come down, and we’ll have a drink before dinner.’ He went on, ‘We dine earlier in Holland, but I dare say you’re hungry.’

  He kissed his small daughter, said something to Juffrouw Witte and handed Rosie over to Patience. ‘Bring her down for a few minutes, will you? Then she can be put to bed and we’ll have a quiet evening.’

  The nursery and Patience’s bedroom were on the second floor at the back of the house, charming rooms, light and airy and very prettily furnished. Patience saw to Rosie and then took her to her own room while she tidied herself, delighted to find that Bep was unpacking her clothes and hanging them away in the fitted wardrobe. She wondered if she would have time to change before dinner; she would have to ask. In the meantime Rosie was to be taken downstairs, presumably to say goodnight before her supper and bed.

  Guided by voices, she crossed the hall with Rosie and entered a large high-ceilinged room, its tall windows elaborately draped, a highly polished floor and comfortable chairs and sofas flanked by solid mahogany lamp tables and display cabinets. The ter Kattes were there and so was Mr van der Beek but she didn’t say much or stay long; Rosie was hugged and kissed and wished goodnight and then went willingly enough back to Patience.

  ‘Come down as soon as she is asleep,’ said Mevrouw ter Katte. ‘Don’t bother to change tonight.’ She smiled at Patience. ‘You have been an angel today; tomorrow we’ll have a few restful hours.’

  Patience bore Rosie back upstairs—a few restful hours sounded nice, and she intended to enjoy them; no one had mentioned days off or free time, but perhaps they might get around to it tomorrow.

  She bathed the little girl, tucked her up and waited until she slept, which was only a matter of minutes, before going to her room to do her face and hair; an hour or two in Mr van der Beek’s company would be reward enough for her busy day.

  He wasn’t there. ‘Julius has gone home,’ explained Mevrouw ter Katte as they sipped their sherry. ‘He has to be at an Amsterdam hospital tomorrow morning, quite early; besides he has so many friends here and they will want to see as much as possible of him while he’s in Holland. After all, his visit is short.’

  So he would go back to England before she did—she would no longer be in his employ, in which case what was to happen to her aunts? Presumably Miss Murch would shake the despised dust of Themelswick off her feet and go back to Chiswick and the house would be closed. The six months were not yet up and he had agreed to rent it for six months, hadn’t he? At least they would have the rent before they put it back on the market.

  She said politely, ‘I expect Mr van der Beek is delighted to see his friends again.’

  ‘He loves his home, too—of course we were brought up there; we go to stay whenever we wish. He has what you call a married couple who look after it when he is not there. I think that sometimes he would like to live there all the time; it would certainly be more suitable a home when he marries. He could go to and fro to England so easily—indeed his work takes him to many countries.’

  The only part of this speech Patience had listened to was the bit about him marrying. Did Marijke mean that he planned to marry or was she speaking in general terms—Patience wanted very much to ask, and she was still framing a suitable question when they went in to dinner.

  Mevrouw ter Katte was as good as her word in the morning. Patience had dressed and fed Rosie as usual when she came into the nursery.

  ‘I feel so well,’ she said happily with the moppet on her lap, ‘and now Juffrouw Witte will take Rosie for an hour or two and you and I will go out together. Domus—our gardener—will drive us and I will show you den Haag.’

  They didn’t go right into the city for, as Mevrouw ter Katte pointed out, Patience could go there by tram if she wanted to see the shops, the Ridderzaal, the Mauritshuis and any of the museums. Instead Domus drove them unhurriedly through the streets until he turned into the Scheveningsweg and towards the sea, going from one end of the boulevard to the other so that Patience might see everything: the Kurhaus with its huge shopping precinct and amusement centre, the hotels and the wide beach with the sea beyond, and at the other end the fishing harbours with fishing-boats moored behind the breakwaters and the ferry terminals. There were one or two fishermen’s wives in traditional costume too in their black skirts and shawls and pretty little white caps, mostly older women, for the young ones liked modern dress.

  They went to Wassenaar next and stopped for coffee at Auberge de Kieviet, which looked like a country inn but which Patience suspected was both fashionable and expensive, and then they returned to drive back through Scheveningen to Kijkduin where, Mevrouw ter Katte told her, they came in the summer for it was a good deal quieter than Scheveningen. She added regretfully that it was time they returned. ‘Rinus will come home to lunch today; his office is in the city and unless he is in the courts he always comes.’

  There were parks near the house. Patience took Rosie out after she had given her her midday meal and eaten her own lunch and the rest of the day went quickly. She was to dine downstairs but she took care not to go down
to the drawing-room until a few minutes before the meal. She didn’t think that nannies dined with the family, although she wasn’t sure about that, and there was no one to ask. As it was, she refused a drink, knowing that she would delay dinner if she had one; tomorrow, if there was an opportunity, she would suggest that if it wasn’t too much trouble she might have her meal in the nursery; she could always say that Rosie might wake up…

  Three days went by, their routine so much like that of Chiswick that Patience sometimes forgot that she was in Holland. The question of dinner had been neatly solved; the ter Kattes had gone out to dine with friends and dinner on a tray for herself seemed logical. Mevrouw ter Katte had wanted her to go down to the dining-room but as Patience pointed out there was no need to give the maid and Juffrouw Witte extra work when she could have her meal in just as much comfort in the nursery, a pleasant cosy room and conveniently close to Rosie. On the next evening old friends had called and stayed to dinner.

  She had little time to herself but she was fond of Rosie and enjoyed looking after her; the surroundings were pleasant and when she had some free time she intended to spend it at the shops. She didn’t dare to buy much, only necessities, but window-shopping was a pleasant pastime.

  She was coming downstairs with Rosie tucked under one arm, dressed for their morning’s outing, when Mevrouw ter Katte came out of the drawing-room with Mr van der Beek.

  ‘Here is Julius—he has come to take you both for a drive. Is that not delightful?’