by Betty Neels
‘You wouldn’t be there?’
‘No. I would, of course, drive them both down and bring them back.’
Polly’s eyes were shining. ‘Oh, may I, Mother, please...?’
Mary said nothing at all, but her heart galloped along at a great pace at the mere thought of it. Her mother might say no; she schooled her features into serenity.
‘That would be good for Polly, wouldn’t it? I thank you, Professor, most sincerely. I’m sure it will do her good, and we can manage for a few days without Mary; I’m quite sure she needs a rest too. Their father won’t object, I know. When do you want them to go?’
‘Saturday afternoon? And if you can manage for a week I could bring them back on the following Saturday morning.’
‘Of course. Mary will fill the freezer with meals so that all I have to do is warm them up, won’t you, dear? And Mrs Blackett will clean the house as usual.’
“That’s settled, then.’ He glanced at Mary. ‘May Richard stay with you? He loves the cottage and Nathaniel will look after him.’
He went presently and Mary wandered upstairs in a delightful dream, to peer in cupboards and drawers and decide what to take with them.
She rang Mr Bell that evening; Polly was well enough to leave alone now, and she needed the money. He was delighted to have her back, even when she explained that she would be away again the following week. She heaved a sigh of relief and sat down to think out suitable meals for her mother while she was away.
She enjoyed being back at Mr Bell’s; she was still tired from worry and lack of sleep but she had a week of doing nothing much to look forward to. She put everything ready before she left home on Saturday morning and, since Mr Bell allowed her to go home at three o’clock and the professor had said that he would come for her then, she allowed herself to feel the excitement which had been bubbling up inside her. The face she showed him as she got into the car was serene enough, however.
Polly, still pale, but excited, was waiting for them and, waved on their way by their parents, they got into the car with an equally excited Richard and a calm professor who drove away.
There was no need for Mary to talk on the journey; Polly hardly paused for breath, and when they reached the cottage and got out she stood staring at it. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she cried. ‘It’s just like a dream, Roel; how can you bear to leave it?’
CHAPTER NINE
THE cottage looked at its best—Nathaniel had seen to it. The furniture glowed, there were flowers in all the rooms and the evening sun cast a soft light over everything; Mary paused in the hall and shook his hand and looked around her. ‘It’s quite perfect,’ she said, and he beamed at her.
‘I’m happy that you think so, miss.’ He looked at the professor then, and was rewarded with an approving nod. ‘The bedrooms are ready, sir, and there’s supper laid in the dining-room.’
‘Good, you’ve done excellently, Nathaniel. We’ll bring in the cases and have supper at once for I must get back to town.’ The professor looked at Mary. ‘Would you go upstairs through that small door in the dining-room? Your rooms are at the front. We’ll bring up your bags.’
Their rooms were charming, with sloping ceilings and sprigged wallpaper and satinwood beds and dressing-tables. There was a bathroom between them and Polly ran from one to the other, for once speechless with delight.
The men came up with their luggage and the professor said, ‘Nathaniel will take you round the place later; I’m afraid I haven’t the time; I’ll have to go when we’ve had supper.’
Nathaniel, it seemed, could cook; there was a steak and kidney pie with a light-as-air crust, new potatoes and puréed spinach and after that he served up strawberries and clotted cream with macaroon biscuits. Since the professor was undoubtedly anxious to be off they didn’t linger over the meal.
‘Use the phone whenever you want to,’ he told them. ‘If you run short of money Nathaniel will let you have whatever you need. I’ll be down next Saturday morning. Enjoy yourselves, and please take care of Richard for me.’
They went out to the car with him and he bent to kiss Polly’s cheek. ‘I shall expect to see you looking your usual self,’ he told her. He didn’t say anything to Mary but kissed her—a gentle, unhurried kiss which left her pink and breathless.
. It was easy to slip into the peace of their days. They slept soundly, despite Mary’s certainty that she would lie awake every night and think about Professor van Rakesma. His kiss had meant something—something he hadn’t been able to put into words in front of Polly and Nathaniel. However, she told herself that she might be thinking it meant more than he had intended.
Strangely, the thought didn’t worry her; she slept soundly every night and got up to eat a splendid breakfast and walk to the village with Polly and a happy little dog to do the shopping for Nathaniel. Her other offers of help he gently refused.
‘It’s a real pleasure to have you young ladies here, miss, and I’ve time enough to see to everything. The professor has been down once or twice to see about the alterations you suggested. Very satisfactory they are too; the kitchen’s a fair treat to work in—and if you would care to see my bed-sitting-room?’
It had been furnished exactly as she had suggested too, and was as cosy as she had envisaged. ‘You’re happy here.’ It was a statement not a question.
‘Indeed I am, miss. I don’t suppose the professor told you about me? I was down and out, you see; they found me in the park and brought me to St Justin’s and he examined me. A heart attack, it was. He saved my life and then bless me if he doesn’t offer me this job.’ His nice, elderly face was very earnest. ‘Cut my right hand off for him, I would.’
‘I know,’ said Mary. ‘I know exactly how you feel.’ They smiled at each other before she said briskly, ‘Shall we go to the village and get those chops for you? He’s a splendid butcher, isn’t he?’
Polly was in her element; she had made friends in the village almost at once, besides which there was Richard to take for walks and the lovely garden in which to sit and do nothing. Every now and then she would say, ‘I wonder what Roel’s doing now?’ Mary never answered, although she wondered too.
He was making careful plans which involved a good deal of telephoning on Mrs Rigley’s part and several sessions with his senior registrar, as well as a number of phone calls to his home in Holland. It also meant a visit to Mr and Mrs Pagett...
The week was too quickly over; one day had slipped into the next and each one had been more delightful than the last. All the same, Mary longed for the weekend and Professor van Rakesma’s arrival. ‘And for heaven’s sake call him Roel,’ begged Polly, her own exuberant self once more. ‘I do.’
He came on Saturday morning just as Nathaniel was getting the coffee. It was a lovely morning and he came straight through the house and out into the garden to find them sitting on the wooden bench at the far end.
Richard saw him first and rushed round in circles, barking his pleasure, while Polly raced across the lawn to fling herself at him.
‘I’m well again—see? I’m getting fat; Nathaniel’s such a marvellous cook. Mary’s getting fat too!’
He dropped a kiss on her cheek and stared across her head at Mary, on her feet now and coming towards them. ‘Not fat,’ he said, ‘just nicely curved in all the right places.’
The remark made her blush. All the same, she said, ‘Hello, you’re just in time for coffee. Would you like it out here? I’ll go and tell Nathaniel...’
‘I’ll go,’ said Polly, leaving Mary staring at him. After a moment she said, ‘We’ve had a lovely week; Polly’s quite well again and I feel fit enough to spring-clean the house and dust every one of Mr Bell’s books.’
‘Good. I’ve been talking to your parents; another week off won’t hurt, Polly—but not here. I’m going over to Holland on Monday—will you both come with me?’
When she opened her mouth to speak he said, ‘No, don’t say anything until I’ve finished. Pleane is longing to see y
ou both again and my mother will be delighted to meet you.’
He had spoken in a matter-of-fact way and she did her best to answer him in the same vein. ‘It sounds very tempting, and how kind of you to think of it, but we haven’t got passports...’
‘Visitors’—obtainable at any post office.’
‘Yes, well—but I’ve been away from home for a week; I really ought to stay—and—and...’
‘Do the washing and the dusting and cook the meals? I know. Will you leave that side of it to me? Maisie—remember her?—would love to spend a week with your parents; she likes a change from nursing now and then.’
‘But she is NHS. They’d never allow her to come.’
‘NHS? I don’t remember saying that she worked for the NHS. She works for me and several other consultants who may need a private nurse from time to time.’
She thought about that. ‘Were you paying her, then? When she came to Great Aunt Thirza’s house? Because if you were I owe you money for her fees.’
‘By all means pay me back, but later. We’re discussing a brief trip to Holland at the moment. Will you come?’ And as she hesitated and Polly came dancing out he said, ‘Polly, would you like to come to Holland with me? Just to round off your convalescence?’
‘Me? And Mary? Roel, you darling, of course I would. When are we going?’
‘You can’t disappoint Polly,’ said the professor unfairly.
‘Well, if you think she needs a little more time before she goes back to school... You’re sure your mother won’t mind? I mean, she doesn’t know anything about us.’
‘I imagine Pleane has told her a very great deal.’
‘Where do you live?’ she asked, aware that she stood no chance against the two of them, and not much caring.
‘In the north—Friesland. A small village near Leeuwarden.’ He didn’t offer more than that and she didn’t like to ask.
‘Mary, say you’ll come,’ said Polly. ‘You must, just think—just lovely to see another country; Mary, you must, you must!’
The Professor added quietly, ‘Yes, Mary, you must.’
She nodded slowly. ‘Very well, it would be most—most interesting. Just for a few days.’
‘A week.’
‘Will you be there?’ She couldn’t resist asking that, not seeing the gleam in his eyes.
‘Yes, most of the time. I shall have to go to Leeuwarden, and down to Amsterdam and The Hague, but I shall have some time to show you something of Friesland.’ He added, ‘Besides, Pleane will be there.’
They drank their coffee then, and presently Polly took him away to look for water voles living by the little stream which bordered the end of the garden, and Richard went with them, leaving Mary alone with her thoughts.
She was mad to agree to go, she knew that; she would probably meet Ilsa, who would demonstrate the fact of her impending marriage to him in no uncertain way. She would put up with that just for the delight of being with him for a little longer. I’ll come back home, she reflected, and go back to Mr Bell and make myself indispensable to him. And in a few months, when Father’s book is published and everything’s all right again, I’ll take the librarian’s exams and make a career for myself.
Even as she thought about it she knew that it was highly unlikely; there would never be enough money to make it possible. She choked back self-pity and went to find Nathaniel. They had become firm friends during the past week and she wanted to be sure that he would look after himself properly when there was no one at the cottage.
They drove back to Hampstead after lunch. Nathaniel had given her a bunch of flowers from the garden and wrung her hand. ‘I hope I’ll see you again, miss, that I do—and the young lady too. It’s been a pleasure looking after you.’
She thanked him, told him to take care of himself, and got into the car beside the professor, and, with Polly chattering away from the back of the car and Richard expressing his pleasure at being with his master again, they drove back through the fading summer countryside.
‘It must be beautiful here in the autumn,’ said Mary, making conversation.
‘Yes, indeed.’ He wickedly allowed her to wring the subject of the autumn—indeed, of all the seasons—dry.
‘Can you be ready by Monday, early afternoon?’
‘I expect so, if I start as soon as we get home.’ She sounded a bit tart. ‘It isn’t very long. And I must phone Mr Bell...’
‘Ah—well, I was there during the week and mentioned that you might be going with me; he thought it a splendid idea.’
‘Did he? Did he really?’ She hoped that she wouldn’t get the sack after so much time away from the shop. It was as well for her peace of mind that she didn’t know that Mr Bell had already engaged a suitable applicant in her place. ‘For,’ Professor van Rakesma had told him, ‘I intend to marry Mary.’
Mr Bell, a romantic at heart, had been delighted.
Her mother and father were delighted too to see her back, but enthusiastic about their trip to Holland. ‘Maisie came to see us today,’ said her mother. ‘Such a very nice person; she will do the housekeeping while you’re away, dear, so we shall be quite comfortable.’ She turned to Roel. ‘You’ll stay for tea, Roel?’
He shook his head. ‘There are some patients I must see this evening. I’ll be here on Monday afternoon—we’ll catch the night ferry from Harwich.’
Presently he took his leave and Mary, who hadn’t forgotten his kiss, received his casual nod with a cool one of her own. He hadn’t meant it, she thought bitterly. Then, since she was a fair-minded girl, she thought, why should he? He was going to marry Ilsa. He had probably been amusing himself. She didn’t quite believe that, though.
The weekend was a frenzy of activity; the washing machine laboured non-stop, Mary ironed and pressed and packed once again, and put the house to rights after Mrs Blackett’s half-hearted onslaughts with the furniture polish. She made neat lists for Maisie’s guidance too, and on Monday morning hurried to the shops with the last of the housekeeping money to buy groceries.
She had forgotten that she would need money in Holland so it was an agreeable surprise when her father called her into his study. ‘You’ll need pocket money,’ he told her. ‘My publishers have advanced me something on royalties; take this, my dear, and don’t worry. I have sufficient to keep us going nicely for some time.’
‘Father, how splendid. I’m so glad. You won’t need to give Maisie much; I’ve stocked up with quite a lot of food. You’re sure that you and Mother will be all right?’
‘Quite sure, my dear. You’ve earned this holiday; enjoy yourself.’
The professor arrived punctually, this time without Richard, and this time Mary said firmly that she would sit in the back. He made no demur, and as they drove to Harwich he and Polly chatted almost without pause. Mary, replying to the odd remark thrown at her from over a shoulder, told herself that she didn’t mind.
She wasn’t sophisticated enough to ignore the delights of the ferry. She and Polly shared a cabin which they considered the acme of comfort, and then joined the professor at dinner. Neither of them had any fears about seasickness; they enjoyed every morsel put before them, drank the glass of wine he chose for them and went to their beds, to sleep soundly until the stewardess wakened them early the next morning with tea and toast.
They were among the first away, and the Rolls, once on the motorway, travelled fast. They were approaching Delft when he suggested coffee and parked the car in the great square in the centre of the lovely little town, and took them to a small café overlooking it. As well as coffee, he ordered krentenbollen, a rich version of the currant bun, and they sat for a while, eating them and watching the cars going to and fro, while he told them of the Nieuwe Kerk, towering over one end of the market square.
They drove on presently, going north, bypassing Leiden and then Amsterdam, making for the Afsluitdijk motorway which would bring them to Friesland.
The countryside was different here, with wide open fiel
ds separated from each other by narrow, water-filled ditches; the farms, with their great barns built on to them at the back, looked prosperous, and there were cows everywhere. Every now and then there was a glimpse of water too.
‘The lakes,’ said the professor. ‘We live beside one.’
He turned away from the main road presently, along a narrow brick road, which led away into the distance to a cluster of trees. When they were reached they were found to surround a village built beside a large stretch of water.
‘Is this your home?’ asked Polly.
‘Yes, just a little further.’ He drove through the village street, lined with small houses with shining windows and spotless white curtains, and, when the road rounded a bend, drove between stone pillars, along a short drive and stopped before a gabled house. Its flat front was pierced by several rows of large windows, the front door was massive and solid, and there was a wrought-iron balcony above it.
Mary’s heart sank; it was all so grand. They hadn’t got the right clothes for a start; his mother wouldn’t approve of them...
The front door was flung open and Pleane came running out to fling her arms around her brother’s neck. ‘Roel, you’re here at last. Polly, come on—come with me. Mary, it’s lovely to see you.’
She went ahead with Polly, and Roel turned to Mary. ‘This is my home, Mary,’ he told her. ‘Welcome to it.’
After that everything was all right. True, his mother at first glance looked rather formidable, for she was tall and stout and her blue eyes bad the same direct look as her son’s, but her welcome was warm; they were led away to tidy themselves, up a grand curving staircase, along a wide landing and into two rooms overlooking the grounds at the back of the house.