by Betty Neels
Deborah unpacked for them both and when Eleanor went to see her father, she went to her own room and tidied herself. Presumably they wouldn’t be going out that evening, so there was no need for her to change her dress. Presently Eleanor came back and Gideon with her.
‘Shall we go down and have a drink, and get a menu so that Eleanor can decide what she wants for her supper, then she might go to bed, don’t you think? When she’s settled perhaps you will join me in the bar again?’
The three of them went downstairs and found the bar crowded, but Gideon sat them down at a table near one of the windows, and ordered lemonade for Eleanor and drinks for Deborah and himself, then laid himself out to be entertaining. It wasn’t until Eleanor had finished her drink and decided what she wanted for her supper that Deborah suggested the two of them might go back to their rooms to which the child agreed readily. It had, after all, been a long and exciting day.
It was half an hour or more before she was in bed, her supper tray on the bed table. ‘I’ll come back to see that you’ve eaten it,’ promised Deborah, ‘and tuck you up.’
Eleanor beamed at her. ‘It’s so nice to have a mother. Will you tuck me up every night?’
‘Well, of course, darling, I expect that Daddy will too when he is at home.’
She watched Eleanor start off on the food and then went down to the bar, feeling shy. She found Gideon standing with several men, deep in talk, but when she came in and he saw her, he broke off what he was saying and came to meet her.
‘Eleanor settled?’ He wanted to know. ‘Most of the commission seem to be staying here, come and meet some of them.’
He took her arm and steered her through the crowded room and introduced her to a handful of men, all older than he, some Dutch, some English. They were charming to her and although she felt a little out of her depth she did her best and was rewarded presently by Gideon’s: ‘Well, you did very well, Debby. You look so pretty in that dress too.’
‘Not pretty,’ she told him sharply, ‘you know I’m not that.’
He said frankly: ‘I’ve never thought of you as pretty, but I see that I was mistaken—you’ve done something to your hair…’
She looked away. ‘The hairdresser showed me how to arrange it.’ She glanced around her. ‘And the light’s dim in here.’
He laughed then, not unkindly, but all the same it hurt. He went on: ‘Shall we have dinner—we can dance if you like.’
‘That would be nice. I’ll just see if Eleanor’s all right, I promised I would tuck her up.’
‘How easily you have fallen into your new role,’ he smiled and got up with her. ‘I’ll come too.’
Eleanor had eaten her supper and was sitting up in bed reading. ‘Bedtime,’ said Deborah firmly and took the book away with a smile. ‘You can wake me up in the morning if you like…’
‘Ah, yes, I’ll arrange for morning tea. Half-past seven? We don’t start until ten o’clock, but I’ve some notes to make first—if we could have breakfast at half-past eight?’
They said good-night and went downstairs once more to the restaurant and were led to a table in the window, not too near the small dance floor. Deborah studied the menu. ‘I could eat everything on it,’ she observed, ‘I’m famished.’
‘Me too. Let’s see—shall we have lobster soup? I think I’ll settle for a steak, but I’m told the poulet l’estragon is excellent—would you care to try it?’
The sharp edge of their appetites blunted by these delicious foods, they danced before going back to their table to enjoy soufflé Harlequin and then they danced again. Deborah was a good dancer, shedding her rather prim appearance once the music started, and Gideon, who for years had only danced when it had been unavoidable, was agreeably surprised.
‘For an ex-nanny, your dancing is quite astonishing. Did you dance for one of those TV dance groups on your days off?’
She said severely: ‘Certainly not, when would I have had the time?’ She added thoughtfully: ‘It would have been fun, though, I do like dancing.’
‘I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that I like dancing too. We must indulge our liking as often as possible, Deborah.’
They lingered over their coffee and it was almost midnight when Deborah went up to bed. Their goodnight was formal as they were in the restaurant, and she was glad of that, anything else would have had her on the verge of tears. ‘And what else did you expect,’ she muttered to herself as she undressed. ‘Be thankful for what you have got and make the most of it.’
She frowned at her forlorn face in the mirror and got into bed. She had often dreamed of her wedding day, what girl didn’t? But she had never imagined that it would be like this. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she mumbled to herself, her head buried in the pillows. ‘I love him—I have to remember that, and I’ve got years ahead of me to make him love me.’ She closed her eyes and presently two tears squeezed their way down her cheeks. It was all very well to have years and years in which to do that, but she couldn’t think how to set about it. She had no beauty with which to charm him, she would learn to dress well in time, but at present there was nothing about her to catch the eye. She considered herself rather a dull companion, especially for a man such as Gideon. Really all that she was fit for was to be a mother to Eleanor, and that after all was why he had married her. He had never minced matters over that.
But she felt better about it in the morning; Eleanor and her early morning tea arrived together and a few minutes later, Gideon joined her, sitting on the side of the bed and eating the tiny sweet biscuits which had arrived with the tea. It was all very cosy and domestic and a splendid start to the day. And what a day; at the end of it, with a tired but happy Eleanor tucked up in bed, Deborah lay there in the bath and thought about it. They had seen very little of Gideon, but then they hadn’t expected to; he had left them soon after breakfast but not before giving her a street plan, a phone number to ring if anything went amiss, and a fat roll of notes. Her eyes had almost popped out of her head when she had counted them.
The shopping streets were close by the hotel, the two of them had made their way there as soon as Gideon had left them and wandered up and down the arcades, looking in all the windows and finally going into La Bonnetiere to find a dress for Eleanor; dark red taffeta and just the thing for Christmas. After that it became imperative that Deborah should buy herself something too, and since the roll of notes was still comfortably thick, she bought a pleated chiffon dress over a silk slip, it had long tight sleeves and a deep V neckline, so it showed off her pretty figure to advantage. ‘Shoes,’ prompted Eleanor so that slippers had to be searched for and bought, plus a purse which matched exactly added to the parcels.
They had stopped for coffee, purchased a bead necklace Eleanor fancied and then taken a tram towards Scheveningen, got off at Madurodam and spent a fascinating hour touring that miniature city watching the tiny cars and buses travelling through its streets, the ferries in the harbour and listening to the music coming from the church and the opera house. Deborah was just as entranced as her companion and since they had spent far longer there than they had intended, they took a tram back to the city centre and had lunch in a coffee shop; giant pancakes, glasses of milk and enormous cream cakes. Deborah had thought that had Gideon been with them he would have had something to say about unsuitable diets, but it was exactly what they had both fancied and had revitalised them sufficiently for them to pay a visit to the Ridderzaal, where they trailed behind a guide and a dozen or so other people, trying to take in all that they were being told.
‘I liked the morning best, shopping,’ Eleanor had said as they went back through the Binnenhof, past the Vijver pond and made for the hotel. It was almost tea time and Gideon said that he would be back to have tea with them.
He was there, waiting for them and she had been relieved to see that he did no more than raise an amused eyebrow at their parcels and ask if she needed more money for the next day. She had assured him that she had plenty to spend still
and sat quietly while Eleanor had poured out the excitements of the day. Only when she had finished did she ask: ‘And you, Gideon, have you had a good day?’
She had been taken aback at his abrupt answer; he didn’t want to discuss his work, or perhaps he thought that she wasn’t interested, for he started a lively argument with Eleanor about the evening’s programme; bed, he said firmly, there was another day tomorrow and he would book seats for the puppet theatre. ‘You can amuse yourself this evening?’ he asked Deborah, ‘I’ve quite an amount of work to do and one or two people I’ve promised to meet.’
She had said quietly that yes, of course—she had letters to write and a book she had bought that morning and was dying to read. The hope that they might have been going out somewhere that evening where she could have worn the new dress, she buried deep inside her. He hadn’t wanted to know what was inside their parcels and probably her lovely dress would never be worn. Tomorrow she decided, applying careful make-up, they would go to the Mauritshuis because it was one of the places he had suggested they visit, and then they would go shopping again, this time for an outfit which she could wear each and every day and they would dash back to La Bonnetiere and get the fur lined gloves Eleanor had wanted.
She had been surprised when there was a knock on the door and Gideon walked in. ‘Eleanor’s settled? You’ve arranged for her to have supper up here?’
Deborah laid down her powder puff. ‘Yes, I did wonder if we might have dinner together, just the two of us, but I thought you might not like that. But I shan’t be long over dinner and I’ve promised her I’ll read to her when I get back.’
He leaned against the dressing table, looking down at her. ‘My dear Deborah, do I detect reproach in that remark? I explained to Eleanor before we came that she would only stay up for dinner on one or two occasions. Now if you are ready, shall we go down?’
She had put on one of the dresses she had bought before they married; not particularly fashionable but pretty. She stood up now, hoping that he would at least notice that she was wearing something different, but he went to the door and held it open for her without a word.
She drank her sherry talking nothings to the same men she had met the previous evening and ate her dinner without appetite. As soon as she had finished her coffee, she said in a cool voice: ‘I will go back to my room now, you must be wanting to—to do whatever you want to do. Goodnight, Gideon.’
He got up with her and followed her out of the restaurant and walked through the foyer to the stairs. He halted there while she teetered, on the lowest tread, not wishing to be impolite but wanting to go.
‘You haven’t told me about your day,’ he observed blandly. ‘Did you buy anything interesting?’
‘Eleanor told you about her dress.’
‘And you?’
‘Oh, I bought a dress too.’
‘And lunch—where did you go?’
She gave him a guilty look. ‘Well, it was quite late by the time we’d looked round Madurodam. We went to one of those coffee shops in the arcades—we had pancakes with bacon in them, milk to drink and chocolate cakes with whipped cream.’
He gave a subdued shout of laughter, bent his head and kissed her hard and suddenly, wishing her goodnight he walked away, leaving her looking guiltily round to see if anyone had noticed. The foyer was almost empty and nobody was looking her way. Perhaps he’d had too much to drink, she mused going slowly upstairs, but upon reflection she knew that to be absurd. She reflected with satisfaction that she hadn’t kissed him back although the temptation had been great. The less she thought about the whole episode the better; she hurried to Eleanor’s room and began to read the ‘Wind in the Willows’ in a calm, quiet voice.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE SECOND DAY was as good as the first, better in fact, for Deborah found a wool jersey separates outfit in a green which exactly matched her eyes. The price made her shudder, but trying it on she was instantly aware that it did something for her. Her hair lost its sandy colour and became pale auburn, her eyes shone like emeralds and the cut of it turned her from mundane dowdiness into instant chic. She and Eleanor marched out of the shop their hearts light, and her purse even lighter. Not so light, however, that she wasn’t able to purchase a hat to go with the new outfit, and in an exactly matching shade of green; a ridiculous trifle which when perched on her neat head transformed it immediately to the very pinnacle of fashion.
They had their elevenses, bought the gloves and a fur cap for Eleanor and then mindful of Gideon’s instructions once more, went to the Mauritshuis where they gazed at the Rembrandts, Vermeers, Jan Steen and an enormous canvas by Paulus Potter—the bull—they retraced their steps to study it for a second and third time, bewitched by its size and its lifelike style.
Eventually Deborah said with reluctance. ‘We really must go,’ and added: ‘We’d better have lunch at the hotel, your father didn’t quite approve of our meal yesterday.’ She blushed as she said it, remembering how he had kissed her. ‘At least I don’t think he did.’
They had their lunch and then went to Deborah’s room, where she tried on the green outfit and the hat while Eleanor sat on the bed watching her, her fur cap on her head, the new gloves in her hand. Deborah was rotating slowly and a little anxiously, craning her neck to see the back.
‘Is it a bit tight?’ she wanted to know and heard Eleanor giggle and then Gideon’s:
‘Certainly not—it’s er—a most pleasing fit.’ And when she whisked round to stare at him: ‘I didn’t startle you? this afternoon’s meeting has been adjourned and I came back here on the chance of finding you.’
He came further into the room and deliberately turned her this way and that. ‘Delightful—who would have thought… Keep it on, Deborah, such an attractive outfit deserves a new top coat.’ He turned to his daughter. ‘Get your coat, love, we’ll go shopping.’
‘We’ve been shopping most of the morning,’ said Deborah faintly. ‘At least we did go to the Mauritshuis…’
‘Splendid, that leaves us all the more time to shop now.’
He bustled them out of the hotel and towards the shops, where presently in the cathedral calm of a very select boutique, Deborah found herself trying on coats in tweeds, fine wools, cashmere…she chose a rich chocolate brown cashmere. She had tried to see the price on its label but Gideon said softly: ‘No, Deborah, there is no need for that.’ A remark which made her blush rosily. She supposed that in time she would buy things without bothering to look at their price and with female logic she chose a beret thrust through with a quill, which the saleslady assured her was intended to be worn with the coat. She stared at her reflection in the large mirror finding her image almost unrecognisable; this highly fashionable woman staring back at her didn’t seem to be her at all, she looked, well, not pretty but certainly worth a second glance.
But Gideon merely glanced once, his ‘very nice’, was to her ears, decidedly tepid. She swallowed disappointment and said in a bright voice: ‘May we buy Eleanor a dressing gown? We saw such a pretty one this morning—it was in one of the arcades…’
So they went in search of that before having tea in an elegant little tea shop and then going back to the hotel to dine early and go to the Puppet Theatre. Eleanor sat entranced and so did Deborah; Gideon hardly looked at the stage but watched their faces, his own was impassive.
They stayed for two more days, into which they crammed enough sight seeing to satisfy the most seasoned of tourists. Indeed they enjoyed the tour of the city’s canals so much that they went a second time, this time with Gideon for company, and on their last day Deborah took Eleanor to the Costume Museum, where they inspected bygone fashions and spent a great deal of time poring over the dolls houses before shopping for presents to take home. Eleanor was allowed to stay up for dinner on their last evening and pronounced it to be the best holiday she had ever had, didn’t Deborah agree?
Deborah said serenely: ‘By far the best—it’s been wonderful, though I’m sorry that y
our father had to work so hard.’
‘No need to waste pity on me,’ declared Gideon carelessly, ‘I daresay I should have been bored with nothing to do.’ A remark which left his daughter quite unmoved and to which Deborah took the greatest exception.
She said chattily: ‘I expect you’ll be glad to get home again?’
‘Yes, although I shall have to be in London for several days at a time.’ He was watching her narrowly. ‘But I’m sure that you will be able to fill your days.’
Deborah didn’t answer, but Eleanor said at once: ‘Oh, yes Daddy, there’s heaps to do—I’ll never be lonely again now we’ve got Deborah. Miss Timmis said how nice it will be just to be a governess and concentrate on teaching me things. She doesn’t like long walks you know, or swimming or going shopping…’
Her father laughed. ‘I can see that Deborah is going to lead a strenuous life. Now how about going to bed, love?’
Deborah got up at once and an attentive waiter pulled back her chair as Gideon got to his feet too. ‘I’ll come up with you,’ she began and was interrupted by his: ‘But come down again, won’t you? I thought we might dance for a while?’
They danced for a long time and when Deborah suggested that she would go to bed she had been reminded with gentle blandness that they were, after all, on their honeymoon.
He had looked at her with a small mocking smile as he spoke and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hit him or burst into tears, instead she said brightly, ‘Den haag is such a lovely place for a holiday, though I expect you know it well.’
‘Next time we come we must go further afield; I’ve had several invitations for us both to visit associates here—some of the old country houses are charming.’