by Betty Neels
She laughed and handed it back to him. ‘That’s absurd, but thank you for letting me hold her. Is there anything I can do to help you?’
‘Don’t tell me there’s time on those small hands of yours. No, nothing at the moment. I have a very capable secretary who comes in each morning.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘But if she’s unable to come for any reason, then you may find yourself filling yet another gap.’
Constantia finished her coffee and got up. ‘Rietje is going to show me where everything is in the kitchen—just in case she isn’t here some time or other. I expect I’ll see you later.’
He opened the door for her and she went through it with the tray carefully balanced, her mind already busy with the small chores to be done before the children got home for their dinners.
It was that afternoon, when she came back early from walking the dogs and found the house quiet, that she wandered into the sitting room. Rietje had disappeared, gone home, Constantia presumed, the three dogs had settled down in their baskets for their afternoon snooze, and Constantia felt a little lonely. She circled the room, looking at the portraits on the walls—ancestors, she presumed; ladies with corkscrew curls and rich silk dresses, gentlemen staring at her from the canvas, their blue eyes and high-bridged noses reminding her forcibly of the doctor. Uncles and aunts, she thought vaguely, and remembered that there was a tear in Elisabeth’s anorak.
She could mend it, and possibly tidy the children’s clothes as well. She went into the hall and made for the staircase and came face to face with a short spare man of middle age, bearing a tray loaded with what she recognised as the massive silver set out on the side table in the dining room. A thief? The owner of the house desirous of retrieving his more precious possessions? She came to a halt and asked in her halting Dutch, ‘Wie bent U?’ and added, ‘Goeden middag,’ just in case he wasn’t a thief.
It was a little disconcerning to be answered in almost perfect English. ‘Good afternoon, miss. I am sorry if I have startled you.’ He paused and went on: ‘The owner likes me to polish the silver each week. The doctor may have forgotten to tell you.’
She smiled her relief. ‘Oh, he did, but then he was up most of the night and busy this morning. Can I do anything to help, and would you like a cup of tea?’
‘Thank you, no, miss. Rietje will have left the coffee ready on the stove should I require a cup. My name is Tarnus.’
She smiled again. ‘Well, Mr Tarnus, don’t let me hinder you.’ She started for the stairs again and then turned round to ask: ‘Does the owner of this house ever come here? It’s such a beautiful place, I don’t know how he can bear to be away from it. If—when you see him, please will you tell him how absolutely super it is?’
Mr Tarnus’s rather solemn face cracked into a smile. ‘Indeed I will, miss.’
‘He won’t know who I am—Doctor van der Giessen asked me to be mother’s help while the children are staying here. I—I had just left another job.’
Her companion bowed his head slightly. ‘I’m sure the children will be delighted to have you here, miss. There is a great deal to do in the house now that they are here.’
‘Yes, I’m sure there is. Rietje is showing me how best to help, and they’re such very good children and most careful of everything in the house.’
‘So I understand, miss.’
She started up the staircase. ‘Well, goodbye, Mr Tarnus.’
‘Goodbye, miss.’ He went on his way and she, watching him, thought that he looked like a rather super butler, the kind one saw on the films, and which she had never quite believed were true to life.
The children came tumbling in at teatime, laughing and shouting and wanting their tea and then her help with their simple homework. Elisabeth had no homework, of course, so she sat quietly, dressing her dolls while Constantia and the boys sat at the nursery table, doing arithmetic. And when they had finished, Constantia found a jigsaw puzzle to keep them busy while she examined the dolls’ wardrobes and promised a new dress or two for the dolls.
‘I’ll go and buy some stuff tomorrow,’ she promised. ‘Pink, I think, don’t you? And perhaps a knitted cap and scarf—it’s still chilly…’ She gave Elisabeth a hug because she was a nice cuddly little girl and the pair of them went to help with the puzzle. They were all crouched on the floor, working away at it, when the doctor came in.
The room at once became a happy chaos of children and dogs with the doctor in the centre; he bore his small relatives’ greetings with placid good humour, made much of the dogs and then turned to Constantia.
He was tired, she saw that immediately, although he was immaculately turned out; she found herself wondering who cleaned his shoes and pressed his suits. Rietje perhaps, although how could she find the time?
He was speaking to her and she wasn’t listening. ‘I’m terribly sorry,’ she said, ‘I was thinking about something…’
‘Nothing important,’ his tone was casual, ‘I only wanted to know how you had found your first day as—what was it? Mother’s help.’
‘I’ve enjoyed every minute of it. You’re tired, would you like some coffee?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve some work to do—I’ll be in the study if you want me, but I’ll stay here for a little while. I expect you’d like to get the children’s supper.’
She agreed cheerfully, although she would have liked to have stayed, but after all, she wasn’t a member of the family; they had admitted her to their circle with ready friendliness, but that didn’t mean that she could abuse it. She went to the kitchen and got the simple meal ready—milk and biscuits, for the children had had a big tea. She set the dinner Rietje had made ready in the oven, too, and went along to the dining room to set the table.
Rietje had advised her to do that; the kitchen, in her opinion, was no place in which the doctor should eat his dinner. Constantia wasn’t quite sure if she was supposed to share it with him—true, she had done so previously, but that might have been kindness on his part so that she would feel at home. She would have to find out, and what better time to do so than the present?
She went back to the nursery and found that he had taken her place on the floor, doing the jigsaw with the children. He looked up as she went in and enquired: ‘Supper ready?’ He got to his feet and went on, ‘I’m off to my study.’
Constantia stood in the doorway. ‘I’m not sure about something,’ she said in a little rush. ‘Rietje said I was to give you dinner in the dining room, that you mustn’t eat in the kitchen—at least, I’m sure that’s what she said. Do—do you like to have it alone? I mean, I know I had dinner with you last night, but then it was the first day and I expect you wanted me to feel at home. But if you usually eat your dinner alone I daresay you’d prefer it.’
He heard her out without interruption. ‘Constantia, I should have made myself clear before this. Of course we will take our meals together—regard it as part of your job if you wish, for I shall undoubtedly pour out the day’s troubles into your ears. Moreover, I shall expect intelligent comments. As for Rietje, she’s a tyrant.’
‘Oh, she’s not,’ declared Constantia warmly, ‘she’s wonderful and quite right—of course you must take your meals in the dining room now I’m here to help. She couldn’t possibly have managed on her own, but I’m another pair of hands and now there’s no reason why you shouldn’t.’
He dropped a gentle hand on to her shoulder. ‘Very fierce,’ he observed. ‘If the little Delft dragon would smile—’
Constantia smiled, feeling suddenly absurdly light-hearted.
‘That’s better. Are we dining at the usual time?’
‘Yes. Shall I let you know? You’ll be in your study?’
‘Please. I’ll say goodnight to this lot and leave you to cope.’
It was exactly half-past seven when she tapped on the study door. The children had been good, but like all children, very lively, especially at bedtime. She had just had the time to go to her room and tidy herself and change from the tweed skirt
and sweater she had worn all day to one of the two dresses she had with her; a brown corduroy pinafore dress with a fine pink woollen blouse under it. She found the doctor sitting back in his chair, his large feet on the desk, an untidy mess of papers scattered around him. The desk was an enormous one, beautiful Chinese lacquer with a tooled leather top and a great number of drawers on either side, and looking at it, Constantia had the strong feeling that despite the scattering of papers, if she were to look inside those drawers they would be in apple-pie order. There were, she thought, two sides to the doctor—his worn-out car and well-worn sheepskin jacket were in direct contradiction to his expensive tailored clothes and the well-polished shoes; his casual, cheerful manner hid, she fancied, a very determined and resourceful mind.
He got to his feet, scattering even more papers, as she went in and she found herself going a little pink at his: ‘You look nice—I like that thing. You have no idea how pleasant it is to have a mother’s help about the place.’
‘How did you manage?’ she wanted to know.
‘Oh, I caught up on my reading and notes and so on, at night.’ Jeroen spoke casually. ‘We’ll have a drink, shall we?’
She had done her best with dinner. The dining room looked welcoming, with the pink-shaded wall sconces casting a glow over the table laid with the silver and fragile china and glass. She had brought up the food from the kitchen as Rietje had suggested, and put it on the hot plate hidden behind a screen in a corner of the room; lobster soup, steak grilled with black peppers, baby new potatoes and broccoli. Rietje was a magnificent cook. There was a fresh fruit salad for dessert and the coffee tray was ready in the kitchen. Constantia saw with pleasure that the doctor was pleased. He went away and came back presently with a bottle of claret, remarking that only the best wine in the cellar was worthy of such an occasion.
‘I didn’t cook it,’ she told him, ‘Rietje did all that, I just laid the table. Oh, that reminds me; I met a man in the hall this afternoon, he had all the silver on a tray. He spoke English and I liked him, he said he was called Tarnus and came to clean the silver for the owner.’ She was helping herself to potatoes and didn’t look up to see the expression on her companion’s face. ‘I expect you know him.’
‘Er—yes,’ agreed Jeroen. ‘He’s been with the family for some considerable time. He considers the silvercleaning one of his most important tasks.’
‘I expect he likes doing it—it’s so lovely. Perhaps he hasn’t enough to do for your…the owner?’
The doctor said smoothly, ‘Very probably.’ And after a pause: ‘I usually take the dogs for a walk after dinner.’
Perhaps she was asking too many questions, Constantia thought uneasily, or did he find her boring company after all? She said rather too hastily: ‘Do you want your coffee first or when you come in?’
‘Before I go, please. Would you like to come with us?’
Now he was being polite. She said stiffly: ‘No, thank you, it’s been quite a long day, but I’ve enjoyed it…’
She made polite conversation while they drank their coffee in the sitting room, and when he had gone with the dogs, whisked herself back to the dining room to clear away their meal. She had washed up, terrified of breaking something, and was setting the table for the children’s breakfast in the kitchen when he returned. His ‘What are you doing?’ seemed to her to be a little unnecessary, but she answered him equably.
‘Getting ready for the morning.’
His eyes swept round the room. ‘Where are the dinner things?’
‘Washed up and put away. I was very careful; Rietje showed me where everything goes.’
‘I didn’t intend you to wash the dishes, Constantia. They would have been cleared in the morning.’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘Well, I could wait until the morning if you wish, but it’s much easier to wash up directly a meal’s over, you know. Besides, there are the breakfast things to do in the morning and the children to see to. But of course I’ll leave them if you want me to.’ She bent to pat Prince’s head.
‘You make me sound like a tyrant,’ said the doctor. ‘In future we’ll do the dishes together and share the dogs’ walk, unless you’re too tired.’
She looked across the room and smiled at him. ‘That would be nice—and I’m never tired. But don’t you have things to do in the evenings? I mean, go out with friends or something?’ She stopped herself. ‘How silly of me; of course you couldn’t get out because of the children. Well, you can now, for I’ll be here.’
He smiled but didn’t say anything and she thought, rather crossly, that she knew almost nothing about him; his family, his friends, his work. That he was a contented man seemed obvious, but surely he wouldn’t be quite happy to live in someone else’s house for the rest of his life, maybe—? And he wasn’t married; perhaps there was a girl, though. Constantia pictured someone tall and stately and beautiful, sweeping round the lovely old house in beautiful clothes, although if the doctor was as poor as Mrs Dowling had said, she might have to make those for herself.
The silence was lasting too long; so she said briskly: ‘I think I’ll say goodnight—I expect you’ve some work to do.’
‘I did it before dinner,’ he responded. ‘I was hoping for half an hour of your company, but if you’re tired…?’ He left the question in the air for her to answer.
‘Shall I make some more coffee?’ she asked happily.
‘That would be nice. I’ll come with you and carry the tray.’
So they spent an hour together, and Constantia, led on by her companion’s casual questions, told him about her aunt and the rather unpleasant woman who had taken possession of her home. ‘I couldn’t stay,’ she explained. ‘I felt as though I was trespassing.’
‘An unpleasant person. You were comfortable at the hospital?’
Looking back on it, she agreed that she had been comfortable. Her room had been adequate, she had had a number of friends and never lacked for invitations in her off-duty, and she had done quite well in her work, but it was only now that she realised that she hadn’t been happy. Something had been missing, that was why she had left the hospital and joined an agency. She forbore from saying so, though. She had, she decided, been talking too much. She got up and collected the coffee cups and made a polite little speech about being grateful and hoping that she hadn’t taken up his time, and assured him that she would be delighted to mind the children in the evenings if he wished to return to his normal social life.
She was surprised at his shout of laughter. ‘I do believe you’re trying to marry me off, Constantia— I can’t think of any other reason for your enthusiasm for sending me out in the evenings. But joking apart, I shall be glad of a chance to renew one or two of my evening outings.’
He came and took the tray from her and bore it to the kitchen and stayed to help her clear it away. In the hall she wished him goodnight, and because he reminded her, added Jeroen. She was half way up the staircase when he called after her.
‘Thank you, Constantia, for all you have done today. I hope it’s a good augury for the future. Do you feel that you can bear to stay?’
She turned to look at him. He was leaning against the carved banisters, his hands in his pockets; he looked solid and safe and very handsome.
‘Yes, I’ll stay,’ she told him.
The days followed each other with astonishing rapidity. There was no news of Constantia’s passport or of her money and bag, but somehow that didn’t seem to matter very much. The police had it in hand, they had said, and there was nothing to do but be patient. The children, getting to know her, became a shade naughtier but nonetheless delightful, and she was rapidly picking up a few words of Dutch. The children delighted in teaching her for one thing, and Rietje took pains to tell her the names of everything she came across in the kitchen and during her chores around the house. The doctor she saw for only a short time each day; she had been a little disappointed when he had taken her at her word and spent two or three successiv
e evenings out. She wondered where he went, for on each occasion he had changed into a dinner jacket, left her to eat her solitary dinner and returned long after she had gone up to bed. He must have a great many friends, she decided, after all, and she had in all fairness urged him to return to his usual life now that the children were in her care.
But at the end of the week, on Saturday, he stayed home. They all went for a walk in the afternoon and had a noisy tea in the kitchen afterwards, and then went upstairs to the nursery and played spillikins with the children. They went to bed a little later because there was no school in the morning and when at last Constantia had chivvied them lovingly to their beds and tucked them up for the night, she went down to the kitchen where, as usual, Rietje had left a beautifully cooked meal ready for her to warm up. The doctor had disappeared—back to the children, she discovered, hearing distant squeals of laughter coming from the top of the house.
And on Sunday he stayed home too, appearing at breakfast a little late because he had taken the dogs for their walk first, and then organising everyone to wash up and make beds so that they could all go to church. Constantia, who had suggested that she might be excused from joining them, was swept up to her room, bidden to put on her outdoors things and then borne downstairs again without quite knowing how it had happened, although she was glad it had.
They sat in a row in a high-backed pew, and the children were almost too well-behaved to be true; their shrill treble voices deafened her on one side, while the doctor’s deep boom obliterated all sound from the other. She sat through the unintelligible sermon contentedly enough, Elisabeth’s small hand tucked into hers, while her thoughts wandered happily over the past week. It had been one of the best weeks of her life, she concluded, and sensing Jeroen’s eyes upon her, turned to smile at him.
It was at breakfast on Monday that he announced that he would be away for the whole of that day and return the following morning. His instructions to Constantia were clear and concise, and over and above them he told her that Tarnus would be sleeping in the house, Rietje too.