by Betty Neels
As it turned out, the week wasn’t very busy, for the beds as they emptied were kept that way; the hard core of patients who were left and the emergencies would go to the surgical annexe. But Tabitha was kept busy with the domestic side of the ward, for beds had to be taken down and stored away and everything that could be moved out of the way of the workmen, had to be moved. It was tiring work and a little boring too, although Mr Raynard and Mr Bow kept her busy between them, for Mr Raynard was now promoted to gutter crutches and Mr Bow had a walking iron fixed and although he had crutches too, he had a great objection to using them. She wondered from time to time just how they would manage in the boat. They apparently had no such qualms, nor had Marius.
It wasn’t until the week was half over that he sought her out. She was in the linen room again, attacking the piles of pillows which had to be stacked on the shelves. It was a warm day and the pillows were filled with feathers—there was a good deal of fluff in her hair and she had become hot and untidy and her nose shone. She pushed her cap further back on her head as Marius opened the door and gave him an unwelcoming look, although her heart leapt to see him.
He sounded cheerful. ‘Can you stop what you’re doing for a moment, or shall I talk while you fuss round with those pillows?’
‘If I had known,’ began Tabitha forcefully, ‘just what an upheaval having the ward painted was going to be, I should have done everything in my power to have stopped it. I’m fed up with these wretched things.’ She sat herself down on a pile of blankets, folded her hands in her aproned lap and said: ‘I’m ready.’
Marius settled himself amongst the pillows and began. ‘I did tell you we were travelling on Sunday?’ and she replied patiently: ‘Oh, yes—I know the day. I don’t know at what time, or how, or how much luggage I may bring or whether I should provide my own sandwiches…’
‘Oh, lord, Tabby, forgive me. I quite intended to tell you—when was it? last week some time—and it went right out of my mind.’
He had gone to Chidlake, that was why it had gone out of his mind. She gave him a fleeting look and said nicely: ‘It’s quite all right—there’s still a couple of days if there’s anything I don’t know about.’
He didn’t speak, but sat looking at her for such a long time that she ventured: ‘Is anything the matter?’
He shook his head. ‘On the contrary.’ He smiled slowly, his eyes twinkling, making her heart jump pleasantly; a delightful sensation, but it would never do to encourage it. She asked with a composure she didn’t feel: ‘What time?’
‘Ah, yes—will ten o’clock suit you? You’ll be travelling with Knotty and me—Muriel Raynard will drive their car. Any luggage within reason. How much have you got?’
‘One case and a shoulder bag for odds and ends.’
He looked surprised. ‘There’s room for more than that if you’d like to take another case.’ She shook her head and he went on: ‘We’ll eat on the way and cross by Hovercraft to Calais—it’s the best way with our two invalids. We should be in Veere by early evening, allowing for stops on the way as and when necessary.’ He smiled again. ‘You will of course be my guest.’
Tabitha said thank you rather stiffly and then became rigid as he continued: ‘I think it is only fair to pay you a fee for the period you will be with us; after all, your time won’t be your own for a good deal of that period and you may have already planned a holiday which you have had to give up on our account.’
Tabitha gave him a haughty look. ‘I shan’t come,’ she said instantly, her bosom swelling with indignation. ‘I just shan’t come if you pay me!’ She spoke with such vehemence that Marius’s rather sleepy eyes opened wide and then narrowed again under lifted brows.
‘Why ever not?’ His voice was silky.
Tabitha wondered how she could ever explain. How could she tell him that she was doing it because she loved him very much and it was a chance of being with him, even if only one of a party. And how could she explain the humiliation of being paid like the mother’s help her stepmother had supposed her to be? Perhaps that was how he thought of her. She sat looking at her hands tidily folded in her lap still, and said nothing.
Marius repeated: ‘Well?’ his voice mildly impatient.
She looked up briefly and shrugged her shoulders. She couldn’t tell him and she wasn’t going to embark on a lot of lies. She repeated: ‘I shan’t go,’ and as an afterthought, ‘There’s a good agency in the city—there’s sure to be someone…’
‘Oh, Tabby,’ his voice was kind and quiet too. ‘Something’s hurt you and I’m not sure—’ he stopped and frowned, his grey eyes suddenly alert. ‘Someone has put an idea into your head. No, don’t deny it, it’s written all over your face. Another idée fixe.’ He leaned forward and put a large, wellshaped hand over hers. ‘Tabby, we’re friends, aren’t we? Do you suppose I would trade on our friendship in order to get something for nothing?’ He cupped his other hand around hers, so that they were both held fast in a firm grip. ‘You don’t suppose I’m doing Raynard’s work for nothing, do you?’
‘Well, yes—actually I do,’ said Tabitha, and he gave a great shout of laughter.
‘Tabby, you’re as bad as my young nieces!’
Tabitha looked at him with round eyes. ‘Are you an uncle?’ she asked, much struck.
‘Yes, of course—how can I avoid it with a brother and sister, both married?’
‘How many? Nephews and nieces, I mean.’
‘Seven, though the youngest is too small to appreciate me yet.’
‘Why am I as bad as your nieces?’
‘Because you speak your mind with the directness of a child on occasion, and at other times, when it suits you, you are so obscure I can’t even pretend to understand you.’
Tabitha digested this in silence; perhaps it was a good thing, he was far too quick at guessing her thoughts as it was. She kept quiet, conscious of his hands on hers.
‘Having disposed of that red herring,’ he said blandly, ‘let us settle this vexed question of fees. I won’t say another word about them, Tabby, as long as you come—you may make any conditions you like, for you must see that we can’t do without you.’
And I wish that were true, thought Tabitha. She asked bleakly: ‘Why?’
His voice was still bland, but now it was persuasive too. ‘My dear Tabby, surely you can see that for yourself. You manage them both perfectly—they’re at the stage when they need constant restraint for fear they undo all our hard work; Knotty is convinced that crutches are an affront to his dignity and Bill Raynard has only to get his hands on a gouge and chisel to go hobbling up to theatre and get started on the next case. I know they’ll be under our eyes in Veere, but I fancy we shall still have our work cut out.’ He squeezed her hands and it was as though he squeezed her heart. ‘Please, Tabby,’ his voice wasn’t bland any more, just friendly.
‘Well—of course I want to come, it was only…’
He didn’t let her finish. ‘Good girl! I think that, despite our two patients, we shall have a very good holiday. The weather promises fine; we can sail every day if we wish and there’s plenty of room for us all in the house. Hans is a splendid cook, he’ll enjoy himself.’
‘Hans?’
He let go of her hands and got to his feet. ‘Hans is to me what Meg is to you—he’s been my friend since I was a very small boy; he taught me to sail and drive a car. He taught me to skate too, and a great many other things besides, and when my parents died and I went to live in the house in Veere he was there, and he’s been there ever since. You’ll like him.’
‘I can’t speak Dutch.’
‘Hans speaks a peculiar English which you will have no difficulty in understanding. I must go, I’ve several things to do. I’ll be on the ward in the morning—our last operating day, is it not?’
He smiled at her briefly and had gone so quickly that her own goodbye was still on her lips as the door shut behind him.
Tabitha was awake early on Sunday morning. She got up,
made tea for Meg and herself and went into the sliver of garden behind the flat. The dawn mist had rolled away, leaving a blue sky which looked as though it had been freshly painted. The sun was already warm, even for a July morning, the gay little border of flowers Tabitha had so assiduously cultivated appeared to be embroidered along the edges of the grass plot upon which she stood, although Podger knew better; for he wandered amongst them sniffing delicately. But when she went back indoors he went with her and sat on the end of her bed while she dressed and then accompanied her to the kitchen to share the breakfast Meg had got ready.
Tabitha had decided on a French navy dress, banded with white, in which to travel, it was cool and uncrushable and plainly cut; she matched it with flat-heeled sandals and a bright scarf of coral patterned with blue and white, just in case her hair became unmanageable, and when Marius arrived she was glad that she had taken pains with her appearance, for he said at once: ‘You look stunning, Tabby, and exactly right.’ It was only a pity that he himself wasn’t stunned but went on to suggest that he might get Mr Bow out of the car and bring him in to have a cup of Meg’s coffee.
Old Knotty, he explained, was very anxious to meet Meg and see his friend Podger again. So Mr Bow was helped into the sitting room and sat in a Windsor chair by the window because it was high enough for him to get up again without too much heaving and pulling, and Meg came in with the coffee while Tabitha fetched Podger and they all sat for half an hour talking pleasantly, just as if they weren’t going anywhere at all. Tabitha felt quite relieved when Marius suggested they should go.
‘Well, I suppose we had better make a start,’ he said. ‘We’re meeting the others at Funtingdon for lunch.’
‘Where’s that?’ asked Tabitha.
‘A mile or so this side of Chichester. We have to turn off the main road to reach it.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I suggested half past twelve—we’ve plenty of time.’
‘How far is it?’ Tabitha liked to know things and it was already half past ten.
‘A hundred miles or so—we can put on a bit of speed after lunch. I’ve booked on the five o’clock Hovercraft from Dover. It’s roughly another hundred miles once we’re on the other side, allowing for stops and the ferry at Breskens. We should be home in good time to enjoy supper, but there’s no hurry; if Knotty gets tired or the Raynards feel it’s too much of a trip, we can rack up for the night wherever we happen to be.’
It was evident that he had the whole journey planned; Tabitha, being handed into the front seat of the Bentley, decided not to bother about it any more; there was no need. She looked in her handbag to make sure that she had her passport and then leaned through the window to give Meg a parting kiss while Mr Bow took a dignified farewell of Podger, who showed a tendency to join the party. Marius finally laid him in Meg’s arms, where he lay with his eyes shut, until they drove away.
They arrived at Funtingdon before the others, parked the car and set about the slow business of getting Knotty inside to the table Marius had reserved, but they had barely sat down when the Raynards’ big Rover drew up beside the Bentley and Marius went out to help Bill Raynard. When they were all sitting round the table Marius suggested drinks while they ordered food. They ate lobster Thermidor and fresh fruit salad with lashings of cream and drank a light white wine and that sparingly because of the drivers, and presently, after coffee, Tabitha and Muriel Raynard went away to do their hair and faces again. Sitting before the mirror in the comfortable powder room, Tabitha felt a small glow of content. It had been fun coming up from the flat; Marius had been an excellent companion and so had Mr Bow, who from the comfort of the back seat had had quite a lot to say for himself. Besides which, when the Raynards had arrived, they had seemed really glad to see her. She heaved a sigh and powdered her nose with care.
‘Happy?’ asked Mrs Raynard. ‘I’m looking forward to this holiday, aren’t you? Even with a couple of stiff legs in the party it should be great fun.’ She turned to smile at Tabitha. ‘And do call me Muriel, and I know Bill wants you to call him Bill.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly—I mean, he’s a senior surgeon…’
‘He calls you Tabby,’ observed Muriel reasonably.
‘Yes, I know. But so does everyone—even the patients behind my back.’
Muriel gave her a shrewd look. ‘What about Marius—you don’t call him Mr van Beek, do you? Though I suppose you do on the ward, or do you say sir?’
Tabitha smiled. ‘Well, yes—actually, I do.’
‘Then you can do the same with Bill, can’t you? We’re out of hospital now. I suppose the men will talk bones some of the time, but we can always go away and leave them to it. I wonder if there are any good dress shops in Veere?’
They walked back, still talking, to the table and found that Marius had got his companions into the cars again and was leaning over the Bentley’s bonnet, studying a map. ‘If we’ve kept you waiting we’re sorry,’ said Tabitha quickly for both of them, and hopped into the car as he opened the door.
‘Don’t you know by now that I’m a patient man?’ he wanted to know as he got in beside her and started the engine.
They arrived in Dover with time to spare even though they had stopped for tea in Hawkhurst, and Tabitha had been impressed at the way in which Marius, without once lifting his voice or appearing in the least impatient, had contrived to get his party attended to in the shortest possible space of time; he had merely smiled charmingly, inviting co-operation from whoever it was attending to his wants. He was, she reflected, rather like that on the ward; she herself had run willingly at his bidding without being aware of it. It was the same on the Hovercraft; sitting beside him as they drove out of Calais, she decided it was either a gift or a lifelong habit of expecting those around him to do as he wished. A little of both, perhaps.
The late afternoon was very warm. Mr Bow was snoring gently behind them and Tabitha, looking through the back window of the Bentley, could see the Rover on their tail and Mr Raynard asleep beside his wife. She said, thinking aloud: ‘I daresay they’ll both be all the better for a quiet day tomorrow.’
‘Now you know why we were so insistent that you should come,’ said Marius blandly. ‘I agree with you wholeheartedly and I shall leave it to you to see that they do.’
‘Has your house a garden? They could lie in chairs…’
‘There’s a small garden. It’s walled—we’d have them climbing over it the moment we left them alone! They came to sail, remember, and sail they will, even if they’re half dead.’ He turned a laughing face to hers. ‘The water is just across the street from the house. If you could persuade them to sit near the boat clubhouse—it’s only a stone’s throw away from the house—we could get on with making ready to sail and you’d be near enough to see what they were up to.’
It sounded wonderful. Tabitha said so, her pretty voice high with excitement. ‘How far can we sail?’ she wanted to know.
‘All over the Veerse Meer. We’ll take food with us and spend the whole day—there are any number of places where we can tie up.’ He gave her a smiling look, his grey eyes twinkling down at her so that her happiness threatened to choke her. ‘Glad you came?’ he asked.
She nodded and smiled at him and then looked away quickly for fear she should let him see just how happy she was, but he didn’t look at her again, for there was, for the moment, no speed limit and he gave his attention to getting as much out of the big car as he could, only slowing down from time to time when the Rover fell too far behind.
They passed through Dunkirk and on to Ostend where the road became a vilely surfaced one of cobblestones so that Marius slowed down to avoid shaking Mr Bow too much, but once they were through the town and had left the trams and shops and hotels and the little gay villas behind, he put his foot down once more as they drove on to Knokke and Breskens, pausing only briefly at the Customs at Sluis.
‘Now we’re in Holland,’ said Marius as they left the Customs post behind them and drove on up the straight road
to the bustling little town, where he dropped to a crawl to enable Muriel to keep just behind him, for although the town was small it was full of people and cars and stalls and shops doing a roaring trade.
‘But it’s Sunday,’ said Tabitha, astonished, ‘and almost seven o’clock.’
‘It’s also the first town over the border,’ Marius explained. ‘The Belgians come over to shop because it’s cheaper, and the shops open on Sunday and stay open until late to catch as many customers as possible. So everyone is pleased.’
‘I see the windmill’s still standing,’ said Mr Bow from the back seat.
Marius glanced briefly over his shoulder and smiled. ‘Yes—but it’s been turned into a restaurant. Do you find the town altered much, Knotty?’
‘A great deal, but then it’s many years since I was last here. It will be interesting to see how rusty my Dutch has become.’
‘You shall try it out on Hans.’
Tabitha twisted round in her seat the better to address Mr Bow. ‘Is it hard to learn—Dutch? I’ve always imagined it was, because people talk about double Dutch.’
They both laughed and Mr Bow said in his pedantic way: ‘Yes, it is hard, my dear young lady; not only is it spoken in the back of the throat, but the verbs are kept until the end of a sentence, which makes for incredible misunderstandings when first learning the language.’
‘All the same,’ she said robustly, ‘I’d like to have a try, though I suppose everyone speaks English.’
‘No, they don’t,’ Marius remarked. ‘Veere isn’t a tourist centre for foreigners—the Dutch go there for the sailing, but it’s too quiet for more than a fleeting visitor’s tour. We get boats from England, of course, as well as France and Belgium, and although a number of people speak English or at least make themselves understood, there are any number who don’t—you should be able to put in quite a lot of practice.’
‘By all means,’ chimed in Mr Bow. ‘You never know how useful the knowledge might be to you in future years.’