Never Too Late

by Neels, Betty

  ‘Sibella?’

  ‘She’ll be all right, she’s had her jabs, but keep an eye on her. She can still get it, but only slightly.’ He looked suddenly tired. ‘It’s the other children I’m so worried about.’

  ‘Are you a paediatrician? I thought you had a practice...?’

  ‘Oh, I have, but I’m not a children’s doctor. But there are any number of children coming to the clinic.’

  Prudence said, ‘Oh, I see,’ although she didn’t really, and then: Til go along and see if Sibella’s finished her supper. Is there anything else you’d like me to do before dinner?’

  ‘No, thanks. I’ll have to go out again presently, but we’ll have dinner first.’

  When Sibella was safely tucked up in bed, Prudence went along to her own room. She changed, as she had done each evening so far, into one of the wool dresses and then, with rather more care than usual, did her face and brushed her fiery head until it gleamed. She didn’t look too bad, she told her reflection in the looking glass—not that Benedict would notice; he looked at her, of course, but with a casual friendliness which did nothing for her ego. But that was just what made working for him so nice, she mused, going downstairs.

  Over dinner they talked; they shared a lot of common interests and those they didn’t they argued about, Benedict with placid good sense tinged with amusement, Prudence in her usual hotheaded fashion, and it made for a very enjoyable meal. They were sitting over their coffee when Benedict asked: ‘What do you plan to do on Saturday afternoon?’

  ‘I thought I’d take the car and drive around a bit— I came through some very pretty country, I’d like to explore it.’

  ‘A good idea. Why not take the whole day? And in the evening?’

  She hesitated. Should she ask about having dinner as usual or should she say that she was going to stay out for the evening? The prospect of finding somewhere to eat and having a meal on her own wasn’t inviting.

  Benedict was watching her face. He said smoothly: ‘If you’re not doing anything much, I’m having a few old friends for dinner, I’d like you to come as my guest.’ He sat back in his chair. ‘Sitska will get Sibella to bed and see to her supper and so on.’

  Prudence stared back at him thoughtfully. ‘Are you just being kind?’ she wanted to know.

  ‘Certainly not, and I think you’ll like the people who are coming.’

  ‘Well then—yes, I’d love to!’ She added with engaging candour: ‘I was wondering what to do about meals...’

  ‘I should have thought of that. Come and go as you please when you are free, though once you’ve got to know a few people I daresay you’ll get asked out from time to time.’ He studied her expressive face and went on: ‘Sibella and I were wondering if you would like to come with us on Sunday—I know the morning is your own, but we rather thought we’d go out to lunch. There is a nice place on the road to Amersfoort?’

  ‘Thank you, but won’t I be...well, you don’t get Sibella to yourself very much, do you?’

  ‘As much as any other father, I imagine. Will you come?’

  She agreed. Suddenly the weekend promised to be rather fun.

  The weather was turning colder, but the sky was blue and the sun shone when she got up on Saturday morning. She was out of the house soon after nine o’clock without seeing either Sibella or Benedict, who, Ork told her, had gone riding together. And that was another possibility, Prudence thought, getting into her car and driving carefully out of the town.

  There were odds and ends of shopping she intended doing, and since Benedict had said that they would be going towards Amersfoort on Sunday, she chose to go in the other direction, to Zutphen. It was no distance, twelve miles or so along a main road which still contrived to be delightful, and once parked in the town, she wandered around its twisting streets, admiring the gabled houses and gateways. And presently, after coffee in an elegant cafe, she went along to Saint Wallburg Church to inspect its chained library and afterwards went to a hotel close by Gravenhof for lunch— a wildly expensive meal, but after all, she had spent very little money so far. She did her shopping next, taking her time and then having tea before driving back to Appeldoorn. She had enjoyed her afternoon and it was nice to have something to do with her evening.

  She garaged the car in the converted stables at the back of the house, sliding it carefully between Benedict’s super model and a small, not very new Renault. There were bicycles in one corner too and a long wooden shelf against the furthest wall holding an assortment of tennis racquets, skates, skis, carefully covered, and an inflatable dinghy. Except for the skis, they were all in need of small repairs and a good clean. Prudence, peering at them, decided that one day, when she had the time, she would give them all a good going over; they were all of them expensive and it was a sinful waste to leave them lying there.

  It so happened that when she went into the house through the garden door she bumped into Benedict, on his way out. With the merest hint of a hullo she plunged into the matter. Those skates and things in the garage—they’re far too good to leave lying around— they need a clean...’ She stopped, because he was laughing at her. ‘What’s so funny about that?’ she wanted to know tartly.

  ‘You sound like a wife—you see what happens when a man lives on his own!’

  ‘But you don’t—there’s Ork and Sitska and Betje and old Mevrouw Smit and the garden boy...’

  ‘And you, Prudence. You’re filling a gap very nicely.’ He smiled down at her. ‘Dinner’s at eight o’clock, but come down for drinks first, won’t you? Have you had a good day?’

  ‘Lovely. You went riding?’

  ‘Yes, Sibella has her own little pony—we stable him and my own horse just outside the town. Do you ride, Prudence?’

  She went red. ‘Well, yes.’ She glanced at him through long lashes. ‘I wasn’t fishing, truly I wasn’t, and if you suggest that I should go riding, I’ll refuse.’

  ‘So we’ll say no more about it,’ he said gently, to her great discomfort. ‘See you later.’

  There was an envelope on the dressing table in her room with a typed statement and one week’s wages. It looked a great deal in Dutch guldens and for a moment it diverted her thoughts from Benedict, but not for long. A good man to work for; kind and thoughtful, but remarkably casual at times, and always expecting one to work just that little bit harder. He worked too hard himself, of course. He ought to marry again, she decided as she lay in a too hot bath, but not that awful girl Myra—someone calm and sensible who would love Sibella and see that he didn’t overtax his strength. No, that was silly. Benedict had the kind of strength that never got overtaxed. Prudence began to dress, thankful that her mother had persuaded her to put in the evening skirt and several blouses. She chose a cream chiffon one with a high pie-frill neck and deep cuffed sleeves. It had a tucked front and tiny pearl buttons and was a splendid background for her hair and eyes.

  She went downstairs just after half past seven, to find Benedict in his chair reading a newspaper, a glass on the table beside him. He got up and pulled a smaller chair closer to the cheerful fire. ‘Have a drink,’ he suggested, ‘and I’ll tell you about the people who are coming. They all speak English, by the way, so you won’t have to sit around looking like a beautiful stranded goldfish.’ He ignored her look and went on blandly: ‘Two colleagues of mine and their wives, my godmother, an old lady in full possession of her wits, and a professor of surgery from the hospital. They’re all nice people, at least I think so, and we share the same opinion on a number of things, don’t we?’

  ‘Do we? I hadn’t thought.’

  ‘No? But we agreed wholeheartedly about men who weren’t jealous when their girl-friends spent too much time talking to other men.’

  ‘There is no need...’ began Prudence, her voice rather high, and was interrupted by Ork at the door announcing Dr and Mevrouw Brand.

  They were Benedict’s age, the Doctor a little thin on top already, his long thin face lighted by a warm smile, his wife made
up for his thin length by being large and cosily plump, with a round face and bright dark eyes. Within two minutes Prudence felt quite at home with them, and it was the same with the next guests to arrive, Dr and Mevrouw Penninck, a good deal younger and both good-looking. They were all talking with the ease of old friends when Mevrouw van der Gulp was announced.

  She was small and thin, with white hair beautifully dressed and bright blue eyes, wearing something black and elegant, her fingers sparkling with rings. She kissed Benedict as though she really enjoyed it, greeted the others and looked at Prudence. ‘Introduce this beautiful creature,’ she commanded, and Benedict did so. ‘I hope you’ll be very happy, my dear,’ she observed, ‘working for Benedict. He’s a slavedriver, you know, but you look quite capable of dealing with him.’

  Prudence murmured politely, not at all sure what to say. The old lady was rather a dear and she thought she was going to like her, but it would hardly do for her to comment about Benedict. She was saved from enlarging on her mumbling by the arrival of the last guest. Professor Herrisma was of middle height and thickset, with a handsome face and greying hair. He knew everyone there and while he was greeting Prudence she had a chance to look at him. She liked what she saw, and she liked him even better when Benedict introduced him to her and he stayed to talk for a few minutes. They didn’t say much, the usual questions and answers about her arrival and whether she liked Appeldoorn and where did she live in England, but she was left with the feeling that she would like to know him better.

  The dinner table being round, conversation was for the most part general. Prudence, between Dr Brand and Professor Herrisma, enjoyed every word of it. She enjoyed the food too, and the glass of Burgundy she had with the roast pheasant served to put her into excellent spirits. All the same, she made no effort to attract attention: that would never do.

  They sat around and talked later, and no one went home until past midnight, and then reluctantly. And by then they were all calling her Prudence and she had invitations to go to lunch on the following two weekends, and as Mevrouw van der Gulp left she signified her intention of taking Prudence to Arnhem before the weather worsened. ‘There’s a great deal to see there, child,’ she said in her clear voice, ‘and some splendid shops. I live just outside the city, so it will be easy enough to come and fetch you.’

  ‘I have a car,’ said Prudence. ‘I expect I could drive to your home if you would like that.’

  ‘Excellent. Something shall be arranged.’ She turned to Benedict. ‘Give my love to Sibella, my dear—you must all come over for tea one Sunday.’

  Professor Herrisma went last of all because there was some small matter he and Benedict wanted to discuss, but when Prudence wished them both goodnight, Benedict said: ‘Don’t go, we shall only be a few minutes.’ So she went back to the drawing room and sat by the dying fire, nicely drowsy.

  They were as good as their word; they were back within ten minutes, although they didn’t sit down. After a few minutes’ desultory talk Professor Herrisma bade them goodnight. ‘A delightful evening, Benedict, and many thanks.’ He took Prudence’s hand and shook it carefully as though it might break. ‘I hope we shall meet again, Prudence. If you are interested in hospitals I shall be delighted to show you round the surgical side—perhaps you could manage an afternoon next week?’ He smiled into her eyes. ‘And do please call me Everard—to be called Professor makes me feel fatherly, and I assure you that I do not feel in the least paternal!’

  Prudence, aware that Benedict was listening, smiled delightfully. ‘I should love to go over the hospital, though the afternoons are a bit awkward.’

  She was interrupted by Benedict’s cheerful: ‘Oh, I’m sure we can spare you for a couple of hours. Doesn’t Sibella have dancing class on Wednesdays? That should give you a couple of hours.’

  ‘Well then, thank you Pro...Everard.’

  She was crossing the hall to go upstairs when Benedict came from the porch, shutting the great door behind him. ‘Well, well,’ he remarked with a wicked gleam in his eyes, ‘my old friend seems to have taken a fancy to you, Prudence. He’s been a bachelor for the best part of forty years, but you seem to have caught his eye.’

  She had stopped by the stairs. For some reason she was put out—more than that, furious. ‘Don’t be vulgar,’ she begged him. ‘I think Everard is a very nice person and I’m glad I met him. And I’m delighted that he’s asked me to go round the hospital with him.’

  Benedict crossed the hall and came to stand in front of her. ‘What a touchy girl you are,’ he observed mildly. ‘I suppose it’s the red hair.’ He bent suddenly and kissed her cheek. ‘I think somehow your future is settled for you, Prudence. Now go to bed.’

  She couldn’t think of an answer to that, so she went, not looking back.

  Chapter 4

  Prudence didn’t sleep very well, she was in fact nicely tired, but the annoying thought that Benedict hadn’t suggested that she might like to see round the hospital kept her awake. He had welcomed Everard’s invitation with the greatest good humour, but somehow it rankled that he hadn’t been the first to suggest it. There was no reason why he should suggest it, of course. There was another reason why she couldn’t get to sleep—what on earth had Benedict meant about her future being settled? He surely wasn’t thinking that Everard Herrisma was seriously interested in her. Love at first sight was some thing best left to novels; she and Tony had been friends for some time before he had even hinted at marrying her, and although she had been more than half in love with him, she couldn’t recall being swept off her feet. The whole idea was absurd, and if Benedict hadn’t made such a silly remark she wouldn’t have given it another thought; just because you were attracted to someone and he to you it didn’t mean that you were going to plunge into marriage or even an affair.

  She slept at last, disturbed by dreams which tantalisingly faded the moment she woke up.

  As it was Sunday, breakfast was a rather more leisurely meal and since church wasn’t until ten o’clock, Prudence had time to herself afterwards while Benedict and Sibella took Henry for his walk. She wandered upstairs to her room, finished a letter, poked at her hair and did her nails again, wishing that she was with the others, but she hadn’t been invited, presumably because Benedict supposed she wanted to be on her own since it was her free morning. Standing at the window, watching the trees behind the house bending and bowing to the wind, she wondered if she could do something about it; it was strange, but she felt a little aimless. She liked the busy days and even though she had enjoyed her outing to Zutphen she had felt rather lonely; it would have been fun to have had a companion to talk to. Perhaps Benedict would agree to her dropping her free half days and just taking an hour or two off for shopping when they could be fitted in.

  A subdued bustle in the hall indicated that they were back, and a moment later Henry came racing upstairs and pushed into her bedroom door. Following him came Sibella.

  The child flung herself at Prudence. ‘I like it when you are with me.’ She picked up Prudence’s jacket from the bed. ‘Now we go to church.’

  They drove there in the Aston Martin, and after the service and an interval of brief chat amongst people Benedict knew in the congregation, they drove out of the town, down a broad, tree-lined road with glimpses of country houses on either side, their grounds merging into the woods beyond.

  Prudence, stretching her pretty neck to see everything, remarked on the charm of their surroundings. ‘It must be lovely to live here, but I like your house too, although it’s too large for you...’ She stopped and went pink. ‘So sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.’

  Benedict glanced at her sideways. He said quietly: ‘Another good reason why I should take a wife, and then before she could reply: ‘That hideous brick house on your left, a perfect example of mid-Victorian taste, belongs to Everard—now there’s a man who needs a wife too.’

  Something in his voice made her peep quickly at him. His profile was calm and unsmiling. All the same,
she blushed again.

  The restaurant wasn’t far. De Echoput was well known for its excellent food and most of the tables were already occupied, but Benedict had booked and they were led to one at once in a corner window with a splendid view of the restaurant itself as well as the charming grounds surrounding it. That Benedict was known there was obvious, for Sibella was made much of, allowed to choose what she wanted whether it was on the menu or not, and given a glass of lemonade while her elders made their choice over their own drinks. Even in Dutch money, everything was wildly expensive, and Prudence searched fruitlessly for something reasonable. Benedict, watching her over his own menu, smiled very faintly. ‘I’m going to have lobster soup—and I suggest that you have the same, Prudence, and they do a delicious duckling in brandy sauce. I don’t know about you, but all that singing has made me hungry!’

  Thankfully she agreed and turned her attention to Sibella, who couldn’t make up her mind between chicken in a cream sauce or steak tartare.

  ‘I should have the chicken, we had steak for dinner only a day or so ago. Look, they’ve got aubergines, you like those.’

  It was a pleasant meal, any gaps in the conversation being instantly filled with Sibella’s chatter, and presently, since the afternoon was still fine, they drove on, turning off into a side road after a mile or two towards Barneveld and then taking a country road across the Veluwe towards Dieren.

  Benedict drove slowly through the narrow lanes, sometimes hemmed in on all sides by dense woods, sometimes with nothing but heath all round them. ‘It’s a bit like the New Forest,’ said Prudence. ‘Yes—nice, isn’t it? And right on our doorstep. It’s quite something in the winter when we’ve had snow.’ Then he turned to smile at her. ‘Shall we have tea out or go home and have a picnic round the fire?’

  ‘Oh, home,’ said Prudence. Benedict’s faint smile came and went. ‘Right. We’ll turn off here and wander back through the woods towards Hoenderloo and pick up the road there.’