by Betty Neels
‘You haven’t smashed a car up yet, have you?’ he wanted to know calmly. ‘I can see no reason why you should do so now. Besides, I shan’t let you.’
She was nervous at first, but presently she forgot she was driving a wildly expensive car which wasn’t hers and began to enjoy herself. Only when they rejoined the main road once more did Reilof take over again, assuring her that she drove very well and that once they were back in Holland she should have a car of her own. ‘Nothing too large, though.’
‘But you’ve got two cars already,’ she pointed out.
‘It will be best for you to have your own, all the same,’ he told her reasonably, and began to talk about something else.
They went out each day, sometimes merely pottering through the lanes around the town, sometimes going farther afield, and although Laura still felt a slight constraint between them, she was content that they enjoyed each other’s company well enough, and as she pointed out to herself in the privacy of her room, they were all day and every day together now, and once they were in Holland they would see far less of each other. If they could get through the week without falling out or getting on each other’s nerves, she felt that it augured well for the future.
It was the day before they were due to return that they visited the Blue Pool. They had been recommended to visit it by several people at the hotel, but somehow there had always been other places to see and other things to do, but now, after spending the morning at Lulworth Cove, already over-full of holidaymakers, they decided to find it on their way back to the hotel. They took the narrow road over the hills that wound its way in and out of hamlets, apparently going nowhere. The day had been fine and now in the afternoon it was pleasantly cool as they drove slowly down the narrow lane for the last mile or so of their journey, and even then they weren’t quite there, for there was a narrow, half-hidden track to negotiate before they found themselves in a large clearing with the entrance to the Blue Pool at one side of it.
They parked the car and went through the gates into the grounds surrounding the pool, and at first Laura thought it all a bit overrated; there were some splendid trees and shrubs, true enough, but there was no sign of a pool…they saw it unexpectedly, lying below them, a deep circle of bright blue ringed by a narrow strip of sand and dense shrubs, intersected by a great many narrow paths.
‘How absolutely super,’ exclaimed Laura, craning her neck to see through the bushes, ‘and what a heavenly blue!’
‘The special clay bed,’ Reilof informed her, ‘but don’t ask me more than that, because I don’t know.
It is rather splendid.’ He took her hand and her heart, taken unawares, turned over. ‘There’s a path, shall we explore a little?’
They wandered slowly round the water, catching glimpses of it below them, and as they went they discovered a bench perched high on a bank, and sat down. For some reason there were very few people about, and from where they sat they could hear the distant laughter and cries of some children on the other side of the pool, and all around them the birds singing. It was peaceful as well as beautiful.
‘If ever I wanted to run away from anything,’ mused Laura out loud, ‘and hide, I think I should come here.’
Reilof looked at her sharply. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘No reason really, just a feeling. I don’t usually run away from anything and I can’t imagine having a reason—it would have to be something quite dreadful.’ She smiled at him. ‘We go back tomorrow, you know, and I still don’t know very much about your home.’
‘It will be our home now,’ he observed, and she heard the bitterness in his voice and winced at it. She had tried very hard during the last few days to get to know him better and she believed that they had become friends, but she didn’t know his deepest feelings. He would still be in love with Joyce, she was sure of that, but that was to be expected. She would have to have patience and in the meantime play the colourless part he had offered her.
She sighed soundlessly and then said cheerfully: ‘I’d love a cup of tea—could we try that tea-room we passed as we came in, do you think?’
Forty-eight hours later, sitting beside Reilof once more and with Uncle Wim in the back seat as they drove up to Harwich to catch the ferry to Holland, she decided that on the whole their first week together had gone well. At least they were quite at ease with each other now, and when her godfather had asked her, ‘Are you happy, Laura?’ she had been able to say yes and mean it. She had reservations about the future, of course, but they could be faced later on.
CHAPTER SIX
IT WAS most unfortunate that by the time they reached Harwich, the weather had changed very much for the worse; clouds which had been hovering on the horizon all day suddenly massed themselves together, blown by a freak gale, bringing not only rain with it, but thunder and lightning as well. Laura didn’t like storms, and she paled a little with each flash and moved, almost without knowing it, nearer Reilof, so that when they went on board she sighed with relief and went straight to her cabin before joining her companions in the bar.
‘Tonic water?’ suggested Reilof with a sidelong glance at her pale face, and when they had finished their drinks and Uncle Wim had voiced his intention to go to his cabin without delay, Reilof suggested that they might go on deck for a little while. The rain had ceased by now and the storm was a mere muttering in the distance, and only the wind howled and sighed around them. Laura, her hair in a splendid tangle, clung to a nice solid rail and looked with loathing at the heaving water below.
‘It’s going to be rough,’ she observed in a hollow voice, and was irritated by her companion’s cheerful, ‘Oh, I imagine so—there’s a gale force wind.’ He dismissed this disquieting news carelessly and went on, ‘Take a look behind you, Laura; you won’t be seeing England again for a little while.’
She didn’t care if she never saw it again. She said in a carefully controlled voice, ‘I’m going to be sick,’ and Reilof, who had never been sick in his life, gave her a startled look, said: ‘My God, so you are,’ and proceeded to deal with the situation with a calm matter-of-factness which, if she hadn’t been feeling quite so ghastly, would have earned Laura’s approbation. As it was, she was only too thankful to have someone there to hold her head, and presently, when the worst was over, to help her down to her cabin. Here she made a great effort to pull herself together, but Reilof took no notice at all of her rather halfhearted protestations that she was feeling fine, but laid her out on her bunk, took off her shoes, covered her with a blanket, wiped her face with a damp towel and rang for the stewardess. Laura didn’t see him go, for the cabin was revolving and dipping in a most alarming manner and she had shut her eyes; when she opened them again it was the kindly face of the stewardess which she saw hovering above her.
‘Yer ‘usband says yer ter ‘ave this, Mrs van Meerum,’ she said in a cheerful cockney voice, ‘a nice drop o’ brandy.’
‘Ugh,’ said Laura, drank it obediently and mumbled that she would be sick again at any moment, then went soundly to sleep.
She slept until shortly before they landed and woke to a still tossing ship which miraculously didn’t matter any more, although she felt very hollow. But fortified by the tea and toast the stewardess had brought, she made shift to make herself presentable, so that when Reilof came to fetch her she looked much as usual, although still wan, in sharp contrast to his own elegant appearance, for he had the look of a man who had slept all night and who had, moreover, the time to spare in which to make a leisurely toilet.
That he had remained awake for the greater part of the night and had visited her half a dozen times at least during it was something she didn’t even guess at. During the whole of her life she had never been cosseted by her parents even though they had loved her; the cosseting had all been for Joyce and she had long ago become used to it, so that now it never entered her head that anyone, and certainly not Reilof, should concern themselves about her. She wished him good morning in a composed manner, beg
ged his pardon for making a nuisance of herself on the previous evening, and accompanied him on deck where her godfather was waiting. He, it turned out, had slept like a log and had never felt better. The two men, thought Laura, standing between them, looked quite disgustingly healthy, which put her at a disadvantage, although neither of them mentioned her seasickness, merely hoping that she felt well before they embarked on a discussion as to the best road to take when they disembarked.
The boat was full and most of the passengers were already crowding into the saloon, anxious to rejoin their cars on the car deck, but Reilof seemed unaware of this; he leaned against the ship’s rail, one arm flung carelessly across Laura’s shoulders while he argued lazily with Uncle Wim, and pausing now and then to point out something of interest to her as the ferry crept to its berth at the quayside. Only then, when the first rush of passengers had subsided, did he usher his companions back to the car.
One of the last off, once they had cleared the little town he shot the Rolls ahead, and when they joined the motorway a few miles further on he outstripped everything ahead of them. ‘It will be a dull trip,’ he warned Laura, ‘motorway all the way, but it’s quick and your godfather is anxious to get home—he lives quite close to us. We’ll drop him off first.’ He glanced at her. ‘Once we’re through Rotterdam we’ll stop for coffee.’ He added with a faint smile, ‘I daresay you’re feeling a little empty.’
Laura admitted to hunger. ‘But don’t stop on my account,’ she begged him, ‘if Uncle Wim wants to get home…’ She added, ‘Is it far?’
‘About sixty miles—no distance. We shall be home in time for a very late breakfast. All the same, we’ll stop.’
He drew up before a pleasant-looking road house just off the motorway very shortly after, and although it was still early the coffee when it came was hot and fragrant and creamy. Laura had two cups and a kaas broodje besides and got back into the car feeling almost her own self again, so that she was able to obey her godfather’s gentle demands to look at first one landmark, then another. The motorway might be dull, but the flat country around them made it possible to get a wide view of it, as well as getting a distant glimpse of the various towns and villages they skirted. They bypassed Utrecht, the doctor barely slackening speed, and took a side road to Baarn; the country was prettier here and wooded, and there were large villas tucked away almost out of sight of the road. Laura craned her neck in her efforts to see everything, and when her godfather warned her that they would be passing the royal palace in only a few moments, she begged Reilof to slow down just a little. ‘Only for a moment,’ she pleaded, ‘just so that I can see it.’
He laughed and did as she asked, pointing out at the same time that as they lived quite close by, she would be able to see it as often as she wished in the future.
‘Oh, are we almost there?’ she wanted to know, and felt a small thrill of excitement and apprehension. Supposing the house was awful—it might even be a flat; she had never thought of asking and now it was too late. And supposing the housekeeper he had told her about didn’t like her, or she didn’t like the housekeeper? What if none of his friends liked her—worse still, his family? Her gloomy thoughts were brought to a halt by Reilof’s quiet: ‘There’s the palace.’
He had slowed the car’s splendid rush only momentarily, and a moment later he had put on speed again and presently, at a busy crossroads, had taken the left-hand fork to stop within a minute or two to slide the car gently into a tree-lined avenue of pleasant houses, each standing in its own garden. Halfway down he turned again, this time through a white-painted gateway, and drew up before a white-walled villa with a thatched roof: Doctor van Pette’s house. Its door was instantly opened by an elderly, gaunt woman, who bustled out, bursting into speech as she came. The two men greeted her like an old friend, and Reilof said: ‘This is Miekje, your godfather’s housekeeper—she rules him with a rod of iron and he loves it. We have been asked to go in, but I think we should go straight home now. Wait there while I take the luggage in.’
Laura bade her godfather goodbye, promised to see him at the first opportunity, and sat quietly while his bags were taken indoors and Reilof made his own goodbyes before getting in beside her once more.
‘He’s tired,’ he said abruptly. ‘I’ve sent him straight to bed—a day’s rest won’t do him any harm.’
‘He’s not ill?’ she asked sharply.
‘No—but he’s had a couple of coronaries, you know, and he’s well into his seventies.’ He smiled at her. ‘I have the greatest dislike of my patients taking risks.’
‘Oh, he’s your patient—I should have guessed that, shouldn’t I?’
They were back on the main road again; a magnificent one, lined with great trees backed by woods through which she caught an occasional glimpse of a house. ‘Where are we now?’ she wanted to know.
‘Halfway between Baarn and Hilversum.’ He slowed to cross the road and go through an open gateway between tall brick pillars, and she said: ‘Is this it?’ in such a scared voice that he said instantly, ‘There’s no need for you to worry, Laura.’
The drive was short, bordered by shrubs and ornamental trees, and beyond its curve the house came into view.
‘Well, I never!’ exclaimed Laura with a surprise which brought the doctor to an abrupt halt.
‘You don’t like it?’ he asked quietly.
She turned to stare up at him. ‘Like it?’ she whispered. ‘Like it? It’s magnificent. I don’t know what I expected and you didn’t tell me…it’s a bit scaring, actually.’
‘Oh, never that, my dear girl—it’s old and rambling at the back, and I suppose it’s a little on the large side, but it’s never scared anyone in its long life.’
He spoke lightly, laughing at her, and she made haste to explain: ‘Not the house—it’s just that I’m going to live in it, and it’s rather grand.’ She added with faint annoyance, ‘You could have told me!’
‘I never thought about it,’ he answered her suavely, and she knew, just as though he had told her in so many words, that he hadn’t wanted to; probably he had planned to tell Joyce, describing to her every stick and stone lovingly…
For something to say, she asked: ‘It’s old—eighteenth century?’
‘Yes—the first half. Anyone who had any money at all then built their houses in some pleasant country spot not too far from Amsterdam—twenty miles or so—even in those days it wasn’t a great distance.’
He had stopped the car on the wide gravel sweep before the great door, and while he was getting out she had another good look. The house was large, with a flat face, a stone balustrade and a large wrought-iron balcony above the front porch. Its windows were enormous, shining in the morning sun, set in precise rows across its face. She suspected that the rambling bit he had mentioned was at the back because she could just see a half-hidden wing to one side with much smaller windows set haphazard into its wall. And all around were green lawns and vast flower beds, so that she asked him, ‘However many gardeners do you keep?’
He looked surprised. ‘Two—oh, and a boy, I believe.’
‘Don’t you know?’
‘I’m ashamed to say that there are several things I don’t know about my own home—you see, of late I have been away a good deal; I leave things to Piet.’
Laura was beside him now, at the foot of the steps leading to the door. ‘Piet?’
As if in answer to her question, the door opened and a portly man, no longer young, with white hair and very blue eyes, appeared on the top step. He beamed a welcome at Reilof, who shook him by the hand and exchanged some laughing greeting with him before saying, ‘Well, Laura, you wanted to know who Piet was—this is he. He has been with my father and mother all their married life, and now he looks after me. I’m sure he will do the same for you.’ He added reassuringly, ‘He speaks English.’
Laura let out a little breath of relief and extended a hand. ‘Oh, how very nice,’ she exclaimed. ‘How do you do, Piet.’ She smiled at him
and received a fatherly beam in return as he shook her hand.
‘And if you are wondering why he isn’t looking after my father instead of being here, I should tell you that his son performs that office.’
As he spoke Reilof had ushered her inside, leaving Piet to close the great door behind them, and she found herself in a square hall with doors on either side and a carved staircase at the back, flanked by arched doors presumably leading to the back of the house. It was a handsome and lofty apartment, its walls panelled in white-painted wood, picked out with gilt and lighted by delicate crystal wall sconces. A magnificent grandfather clock in a tulip-wood case stood between two double doors on one side, and against the opposite wall was a side table in carved and gilded wood, flanked by two armchairs upholstered in needlework tapestry.
But she had little time to study these treasures, for Reilof took her arm and opened one of the double doors, urging her into a room, just as lofty and with two enormous windows draped in a rich terracotta velvet. The same colour was predominant in the Anatolian carpet and the comfortable chairs scattered about its vast floor; it was a pleasant contrast to the silvery wood with which the walls were panelled and the golden satinwood of the large rent table set between the windows. The same wood was used for the bow-fronted wall cabinets on either side of the marble fireplace, the silver and porcelain they displayed winking and glowing through their glass doors. There were a number of small tables, too, and another great wall cabinet of superb marquetry. A beautiful room, and Laura, pausing to take it all in on its threshold, was aware that all this magnificence was hers to live in now. It was a daunting thought, and she looked at Reilof with a touch of uncertainty.
‘I hope you’ll love it as much as I do,’ he said gently, just as though he knew what she was thinking. ‘This is the drawing room; we’ll have our coffee and something to eat in the small sitting room, through here.’