Britannia All at Sea Page 10

  ‘To the Veskes?’

  ‘I imagine not—they will be going away for St Nikolaas.’

  ‘But I can’t…’

  The porter had returned with the wheelchair and Britannia was whisked into it, had her hand shaken once more by the genial Doctor Berens and was wheeled away while she was still gathering her wits. It wasn’t until she had been settled in the car once more, and the professor was driving through the city, that she said again: ‘I can’t…’

  Her companion’s voice was silky. ‘If you do not like the idea of staying under my roof, Britannia, I must point out that the house is large enough to shelter the pair of us with little risk of meeting.’

  ‘Oh, no—it’s not that at all. But if I stay with you I’m—I’m a continuing source of embarrassment to you.’

  His surprise was quite genuine. ‘Why on earth should you be?’ he wanted to know. ‘We shan’t be on our own, you know. It is December—or had you overlooked that? My sisters, their husbands and children, not to mention nursemaids, my mother, an uncle or two and—er—Madeleine will be celebrating St Nikolaas with me.’

  Put like that it made her feel lonely. ‘You’re very kind, but won’t I be a nuisance?’

  His careless: ‘Lord, no—I’ll get a nurse to look after you,’ was really all she needed to round off a horrid morning, but she wasn’t going to let it show. ‘You will be good enough to let me have the bill for her fees,’ she said haughtily, ‘and I should like to be home—among my friends and family—for Christmas.’

  ‘Long before that, I hope,’ he assured her with offhand cheerfulness, ‘and it is your fault, if I may say so, Britannia, that you’re not in the bosom of my family for St Nikolaas—but you turned me down, if you care to remember.’

  Britannia’s bosom heaved under the ample folds of Mevrouw Veske’s anorak. ‘You’re quite awful!’ she snapped. ‘I didn’t turn you down—at least, it was because…you know why it was.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘Couldn’t I please go home?’

  ‘No. Not unless you don’t mind having giddy fits and falling down and spraining the other ankle.’

  They had been travelling fast, now he slowed to turn into the drive. ‘Mevrouw Veske is coming to see you this afternoon, she will bring your things with her. If you can bear to take my advice I suggest that you stay in bed for the rest of today. Emmie will look after you and I’ll bring a nurse back with me this evening.’

  Britannia bit her lip; she had no arguments left and now her head was beginning to ache. She said, ‘Thank you, Professor,’ in a meek voice, and when he reminded her: ‘Jake,’ repeated ‘Jake,’ just as meekly.

  Mevrouw Veske came after lunch, escorted to Britannia’s room by Mevrouw Luitingh van Thien. She was cosily sympathetic, and full of motherly advice and barely concealed excitement, because here was Britannia, as lovely and sweet a girl as she had ever set eyes on, and moreover, she felt sure, as lovely and sweet a girl as the professor had ever set eyes on too, actually guest in his house, and likely to stay for a few days at least.

  She embraced Britannia gingerly with an anxious eye on the bruise, and began to voice her regrets about St Nikolaas: ‘All arranged weeks ago, you understand, my dear,’ she protested, ‘otherwise we would have loved to have had you with us…’

  ‘Your loss is our gain, mevrouw,’ interposed Mevrouw Luitingh van Thien. ‘We shall be delighted to have Britannia with us.’

  ‘She will perhaps be confined to her room?’

  ‘So I understand, but my son is bringing back a nurse this evening.’

  Britannia, sitting up in her pretty bed between her two visitors, thought that it was very evident that however merry the celebrations were to be she was to have no part in them. She said a little desperately: ‘Look, surely I could travel? If someone could take me to the plane…’

  ‘Jake has said that you are to stay here, my dear.’ The two ladies looked at her in a kindly fashion, each of them quite sure in her own way that Jake was right. Britannia gave up, for the time being at least; when the professor returned, she would have another go at him.

  But he gave her no opportunity of doing this; indeed, thinking about it afterwards, she suspected that he had guessed her intention and made sure that she was unable to carry it out, for he had visited her on his return that evening but had stayed only long enough to introduce Zuster Hagenbroek, examine her bruises and ankle, assure her with cool sympathy that no great harm had been done to her person, and that she would be as right as a trivet in no time at all, before going away again, leaving her to the ministrations of Zuster Hagenbroek, a middle-aged, bustling person with a wide smile and kind eyes, who spoke surprisingly good English, assured Britannia that she was perfectly able to massage the offending ankle as well as exercise it, and that Britannia would be up and about before she knew where she was. Precisely the same sentiments as the professor had voiced, but with a great deal more warmth.

  The next day or two passed pleasantly enough, the pain was less now and although her face was all colours of the rainbow down one side from eye to chin, Britannia’s headache had gone. She sat out of bed on a chaise longue before the fire, playing endless games of cards with Zuster Hagenbroek, writing reassuring letters to her mother and father, and sustaining lengthy visits from the professor’s mother, who, now that she had got to know her better, proved not to be in the least severe.

  Of the professor she saw very little and never alone, either he came when Zuster Hagenbroek was on duty, or was accompanied by his mother or Emmie, and even then he didn’t stop long, confining his conversation to her state of health, the weather, and any instructions he might have for Zuster Hagenbroek. Just as though, thought Britannia sadly, they were strangers.

  It was on the following morning, after a particularly pointless conversation with him which had led to an almost sleepless night on her part, that the first of the visitors arrived for St Nikolaas—the professor’s eldest sister, Emma, a young woman of thirty-five or so, accompanied by three daughters ranging from twelve years to six. There was a very small son, too, already whisked away to the nursery by his nanny: ‘But you shall see him later,’ said his proud mother, ‘though you mustn’t let the children bother you.’

  She was very like her brother, tall and graceful and elegant, and, unlike him, warmly friendly. They were getting to know each other when another sister arrived, to be introduced as Francesca. She had two children, six-and seven-year-olds, who shook Britannia’s hand and exhibited endearing gap-toothed grins before they were led away for their lunch. But the mothers remained until Marinus brought drinks upstairs, sitting around happily gossiping in their excellent English until Zuster Hagenbroek came in with Britannia’s tray. Eating the delicious little meal, she reflected that perhaps St Nikolaas wasn’t going to be so bad after all. And for the rest of that day it wasn’t; the professor’s youngest sister Corinne arrived before tea with a placid baby boy who slept through the not inconsiderable noise which his numerous cousins made. Dumped on Britannia’s lap while his mother went on some errand, he tucked his head, with its wisps of pale hair, into her arm and closed his eyes. He had, she thought, the faintest resemblance to his uncle.

  And presently the professor came home. Britannia, watching his sisters launch themselves at his vast person with cries of delight, wished with all her heart that he would look like that for her, laughing and relaxed and content, but when he broke loose at length and came across to where she lay on the chaise longue, and she looked hopefully up into his face, it was to meet cold eyes and an unsmiling mouth, although he asked her civilly enough if she had had a pleasant day and how she did. Conscious of three pairs of eyes upon them, she answered quietly that yes, her day had been pleasant, and she did very well, adding a conventional hope that he had had a good day at the hospital.

  His ‘So-so,’ was laconic in the extreme.

  She didn’t see him for the rest of that evening, although his sisters poked their heads round the door from time to time, for there wa
s a good deal of coming and going getting the children to bed, and when the various husbands arrived just before dinner, they were brought along to be introduced before everyone trooped downstairs to the dining room. But not Britannia; she thought wistfully of the family party downstairs and wished she were there too, but that of course was impossible; dressing would have been a bit of a problem, she reminded herself sensibly, and then there was the question of getting someone to carry her downstairs, and as no one had suggested it, presumably no one had thought of it, either. She ate her dinner in solitary state because Zuster Hagenbroek had the afternoon and evening free and wouldn’t be back until bedtime.

  Emmie came to take her tray and ask her if she wanted anything, but she had all she wanted; books, magazines, a book of crossword puzzles to solve, cards for Patience, all arranged on the little table beside her. She played a game of Patience, cheating so that it came out, and then lay back with her eyes closed. She kept them closed when the door opened and someone came in because if they thought she was asleep they wouldn’t feel guilty about not entertaining her. No one else came, not until Zuster Hagenbroek returned and that astute lady, taking one look at Britannia’s lonely face, embarked on a description of her visit to her family in Arnhem, which lasted through the preparations for bed and until she put out the light, saying firmly that Britannia was tired and must go to sleep immediately. She sounded so sure that she would do as she was told that Britannia did just that.

  The professor came the next morning after breakfast, examined the ankle and pronounced it to be mending well. ‘I will take the strapping off tomorrow,’ he promised, ‘put on an elastic stocking and you can try a little—a very little, weight on it. Exercises and massage as usual today, and see that you rest it.’ He gave her a pleasant nod, added a few instructions to Zuster Hagenbroek, and went off, leaving Britannia with a number of questions she wanted answered and hadn’t even had the chance to ask. To get away as quickly as possible was her one wish; whatever the professor had felt for her had obviously been transitory, for now he treated her with the scrupulous politeness of a good host entertaining a guest he didn’t really want. And she must be a great embarrassment to him too, and hadn’t he said that Madeleine de Venz would be there for St Nikolaas? Britannia pondered her problems until a headache threatened and then was fortunately prevented from worrying any more for the moment by the arrival of the professor’s sisters, wandering in in ones and twos, some with their children, all talking cheerfully about the evening’s festivities.

  The morning passed pleasantly, and Britannia, with the prospect of an equally pleasant afternoon, ate her lunch with appetite, submitted to Zuster Hagenbroek’s massage and exercises and then obliged Corinne by minding the baby for a while while his mother went off to help organise the evening with her mother. He lay in the crook of her arm, smiling windily at her from time to time and making tiny chirruping noises, and presently fell asleep, and because she was afraid to disturb him by reaching for her book, she closed her eyes too.

  It was Madeleine’s voice which roused her from her doze. ‘What a picture!’ declared her sweet, high voice from the doorway. ‘Mother and child—only of course Britannia isn’t a mother—in any case she looks quite unsuitable for the role with that bruise.’

  Britannia turned her head. The professor was standing there and so was Madeleine, elegant—breathtakingly so—in a red fox jacket and a suede skirt. She said ‘Good afternoon,’ politely and hated the professor for not reproving the girl for her rudeness. She barely glanced at him, but fixed her eyes on his top waistcoat button and said quietly: ‘Please don’t wake the baby.’

  The professor spoke softly to his companion and Madeleine gave him a surprised look which turned to ill-humour. Britannia had no idea what it was she snapped in answer, but she turned on her heel and went and he came into the room.

  ‘Corinne seems to be making use of you,’ he observed mildly.

  ‘She had to do something or other, and the other children are out in the grounds with the two nannies.’

  He sat down cautiously on the chaise longue beside her injured ankle, and said to surprise her: ‘I’m sorry that Madeleine was rude—she’s a highly strung girl and doesn’t always choose her words. You didn’t look very pleased to see us.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘Jealous of the fox jacket?’

  Britannia wiped away a dribble on the baby’s chin. ‘What a silly question,’ she said coldly. ‘How could I be jealous of anyone who wears the skin of a trapped animal?’ She added austerely: ‘I hope you had a good day at the hospital.’

  ‘You know, if you didn’t ask me that each day when I get home, I should feel positively deprived. Yes, I had a good day. I’m home early because everyone in Holland who can get home does so on St Nikolaas. Zuster Hagenbroek will be going to the bosom of her family in half an hour or so; she will come back quite late, I expect.’

  ‘I’m glad she can go home.’ It was a pity she couldn’t think of anything else to say; the conversation so far had hardly sparkled.

  ‘And how will you manage?’ he asked blandly.

  ‘Very well. I’m perfectly able to look after myself.’ She added with a rush: ‘I’m well enough to go home, if you would be so kind as to arrange it.’

  ‘All in good time, Britannia. You have enough to read? I daresay my sisters have called in on you…’

  ‘Yes, thank you, and yes, they have. I enjoyed it.’ She wouldn’t look at him while she sought for something else to say. Since he appeared to have settled himself he could at least help the conversation along.

  The little silence was broken by Corinne’s whirlwind entry. ‘You dear girl,’ she exclaimed warmly, and: ‘Hullo, Jake—here, take your nephew and give Britannia a rest.’ She dumped her son in the professor’s arms and sat down on a low chair by the fire. ‘Well, we’re all ready and the children are in such a state of excitement I should think they’ll all be sick later on.’ She glanced at them both. ‘Having a nice chat, were you?’ she asked. ‘Did I interrupt something?’

  The professor didn’t bother to answer it, it was Britannia who said: ‘No—we were only passing the time of day.’

  ‘Oh, good. I told Emmie I’d have tea with you, Britannia, do you mind? I can’t stand having to sit and listen to Madeleine dripping platitudes in that sugary voice.’

  ‘I will not tolerate discourtesy towards my guests, Corinne,’ observed the professor severely.

  She made a face at him, got up and took her small son from him and tweaked her brother’s imposing nose. ‘You old humbug,’ she said. ‘I may be fifteen years younger than you, but I’ve got eyes in my head, you know. Are you going to the sitting room for tea?’

  ‘You have never grown up, my dear, have you? No, I have some work to do.’ He added with some force: ‘And no remarks about that, if you please.’

  He smiled at her, nodded to Britannia and went away, and Corinne, settling down in her chair again, remarked: ‘He’s an old dear, isn’t he? Bad-tempered, of course, but then so was Father, and he hates to be bested, though I don’t suppose anyone’s ever succeeded in doing that; he’s so clever, you see, and he knows just about everything, although he hasn’t a clue how to manage his love life,’ she added artlessly. Her blue eyes smiled into Britannia’s. ‘He’s a super brother and he’ll make a gorgeous husband to the right girl. Do you like Madeleine?’

  ‘I don’t know her.’ Britannia had almost been caught off guard. ‘She’s very beautiful, isn’t she?’

  ‘So are you.’

  Britannia pinkened a little. ‘Thank you. Tell me, how is it that you all speak such wonderful English?’

  ‘We had a nanny—a fierce old bird; and then we had a governess, and Father always made us speak English at meals, and Jake kept it up, and now we’re all married and none of us have lost the habit. You don’t speak any Dutch?’

  Britannia shook her head. ‘No—well, about six words, and if someone says something easy like “Are you cold?” very slowly, I can understand t
hem. Otherwise it’s hopeless.’

  ‘You’ll learn. Here’s tea, and I’m famished.’ Corinne handed Britannia the baby. ‘Tuck him under your arm, will you, and I’ll pour.’

  Alone again after tea, Britannia lay listening to the distant small voices echoing up the staircase; there were a lot of children—she could imagine how excited they must be, although she was a little uncertain as to what exactly was to happen. She had been going to ask Zuster Hagenbroek, but that dear soul had already gone and although Emmie had been in once or twice to see if she wanted anything, her Dutch just wasn’t up to asking; even if it had, she would never have understood.

  But she was to find out. She was reading by the light of the table lamp beside her when the professor returned. ‘The Sint arrives in ten minutes—do you want to comb your hair or anything before I take you downstairs?’

  ‘Me? Downstairs? Why?’

  ‘My dear good girl, you don’t really imagine that I—or anyone else for that matter—would leave you sitting here alone when St Nikolaas comes to call?’

  ‘I’m not dressed.’

  His eyes swept over her pink woolly housecoat with its ruffled neck and velvet trimming. ‘You are a good deal more dressed than most of the ladies downstairs.’ He walked over to the dressing-table and came back with a hairbrush and a mirror. ‘Here you are. Where do you keep the things you put on your face?’

  She was studying her face, a normal size now but still blue and yellow all down one side. ‘I’m a fright. They’re in the bathroom, on the shelf.’

  She brushed her hair and tied it back neatly, powdered her nose and applied lipstick. ‘There, am I all right?’

  He picked her up and started for the door. ‘My darling girl, not only are you all right, you’re quite breathtakingly beautiful.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE PROFESSOR’S REMARK, coming as it did after several days of coldness, so astonished Britannia that she stayed quiet as he took her downstairs and across the hall, this time not to the sitting room but down a wide passage at the side of the staircase, with doors on one side and a big arched door at its end. Outside this he paused, kissed her hard and swiftly and pushed the door open with his foot. The room was very large, with enormous windows with crimson curtains drawn across them to shut out the chilly dark evening. The floor was of polished wood with a great centre carpet and the furniture was satinwood, upholstered in shades of rose and cream and blue. Britannia, laid gently on to a sofa drawn up to one side of the great hearth, stared around her with great interest. It was a very grand room and the people in it looked grand too. The women had dressed for the occasion and she quite saw what Jake had meant when he said that she was more dressed than the other ladies present, for whereas she was muffled to the throat in cosy wool, they were in long evening gowns, beautiful garments such as she had often gazed at in Fortnum and Mason’s windows or Harrods, and the men were in black ties to complement them. Very conscious of her prosaic appearance, she smiled rather shyly at Mevrouw Luitingh van Thien, who came across the room to sit beside her.