An Apple From Eve Page 10

  ‘Sorry about this,’ said the doctor, and she opened her eyes again to see him, head and shoulders through the window, within inches of her. He saw the tears and she was eternally grateful to him for pretending not to. ‘It’s a wonderful city, but you need to potter around on foot. That’s what you would have liked to do, wasn’t it?’

  She nodded, ‘Yes,’ and wiped away the tears with what she hoped was a careless gesture of a hand.

  ‘And another thing, I don’t know a great deal about such things, but it seems to me that clothes interest you very much. You dress very well.’

  He was being kind and she could have flung her arms around his neck. She managed a bright smile. ‘Thank you—but on a nurse’s salary? Though I love clothes.’ She drew a breath and went on steadily: ‘I think Diana has beautiful clothes and she wears them well. You must be proud of her.’

  He didn’t answer, and she looked up to find him staring at her unsmilingly. ‘You’ll like my home, Euphemia,’ he said at length, and smiled then. ‘I’d better go and settle the bills, I suppose. There was no point in staying in the shop, they all spoke English.’

  He turned away and presently emerged with Diana and a salesgirl carrying a dress box. All the way back Diana chattered about the dress she had bought, describing it in detail, pretending to be shocked at its price. ‘Don’t you wish you had someone to buy you some decent clothes?’ she asked Euphemia.

  Her rudeness didn’t deserve an answer and Euphemia didn’t give one.

  They lunched at the villa after all, with Diana dominating the talk at table and then declaring that she wouldn’t rest after lunch as Tane would have to leave directly after tea. She carried him off to the garden, and when Euphemia went down to the drawing-room for tea it was to find Mrs Kellard lying back as usual and to be told that Diana and Tane were having theirs in the garden, so she drank her own tea quickly and went back to her room, suddenly anxious not to see the doctor again.

  Her room overlooked the garden at the side of the house. She heard the Cadillac at the front door, heard the doctor’s voice and Diana’s answering him and a car door bang, but she was too far away to hear what was said. She went back to her chair and got on with the sewing of Diana’s torn dress.

  There was a week left. She threw herself whole-heartedly into the fulfilling of her share of the bargain. She brushed Diana’s hair until it gleamed, rubbed in creams and lotions, persuaded her to swim and to eat more, perversely anxious that she should look her very best for the doctor when he returned. And she was largely successful. Diana was still like a beanpole, but at least she had a healthy colour and a faint tan. She had chosen to wear a silk trouser suit in which to greet him when he arrived and Euphemia, watching from the sitting-room window, had to admit that she looked remarkably pretty. But she didn’t wait to see the doctor greet her as he got out of the car. She had had a week in which to pull herself together and she had done it very well.

  In due course, just before dinner, she went down to the drawing-room and greeted him quietly. He looked tired, she thought. If they had been on their own she would have asked him about his work, but Diana was in full spate, rattling on about this and that and the other thing, not waiting for his replies, intent upon attracting attention to herself. Euphemia wondered if she knew that the doctor wasn’t really listening to her.

  They left the next morning and Euphemia, given two fingers of Mrs Kellard’s hand in a tepid farewell, was grateful for Maria’s warm kiss. She got into the back of the Cadillac with a sulky Diana and didn’t look back, because she didn’t mind if she never saw the villa again. Instead she studied the doctor’s head, even from the back it was worth looking at.

  But it was a pointless exercise. She began to think about the week ahead of her at Myrtle House. It would be fun to be home again with Ellen and the boys; she had had letters from them, spilling over with news about the house and the garden and Mrs Cross, just as though they still lived there. Euphemia began to ponder the future. The doctor had an agreement for a year and almost two months of that had gone already. It wasn’t likely that Diana would want to live there permanently, so that she would have to find someone else, someone who would want it for a longer period, or perhaps she should sell it and buy a smaller house somewhere close by, where they could all live. There might be money over too…

  She hardly noticed going through Customs and boarding the plane; her head was still full of ways and means. They were airborne, she sitting behind the other two, when the doctor turned round to ask if she was quite comfortable. ‘And what’s on your mind, Euphemia?’ he asked softly. ‘You’re not with us, are you?’

  She assured him that she was very comfortable adding that she was busy thinking.

  ‘What about, I wonder?’

  She met his intent blue eyes briefly. ‘Nothing important,’ she assured him.

  What with coffee and sandwiches, magazines and newspapers, a garrulous old lady sitting next to her and Diana feeling sick, the flight went quickly, and they were taxiing towards Schiphol airport before she had settled down to do anything, much less have a good think. Euphemia followed Diana off the plane and the doctor shepherded them both through the Customs, saw that their luggage was collected and led them to the entrance.

  The Bentley was parked within a few feet with a stolid youngish man sitting at the wheel. He got out when he saw them, greeted the doctor with a broad grin, ducked his head to Diana, who ignored him, and did the same to Euphemia, who smiled back and said, ‘Hullo’. The man dealt with the luggage, ushered them into the back of the car and then got in beside the driver’s seat where the doctor was already.

  Had they far to go? Euphemia asked Diana.

  ‘Somewhere near Hilversum, I don’t know how far.’

  ‘About half an hour,’ said the doctor over his shoulder as he joined the motorway. He turned off on a roundabout presently and joined another motorway going south, then left that too to take a quieter road which presently gave them a glimpse of water. ‘Loenerveensche Plas’, he informed them. ‘I daresay you remember it, Diana.’

  ‘Well, I don’t—I saw so many lakes last time. Are we nearly there? I’ve a most frightful headache.’

  Euphemia, well prepared, handed eau-de-cologne sachets and promised aspirin as soon as they arrived, then took a look at the lake. There were a number of sailing boats on it and it looked peaceful and pleasant in the sunshine. The country had altered too, the flat green fields had given way to heath and woodland, and when the doctor took a narrow road running away from the water the woods thickened so that they came to the very edge and instead of the neat farmhouses with their huge barns there were elegant villas not wholly visible through the trees.

  The road was a brick one and narrow and there was almost no traffic, and although she had noticed a signpost to Hilversum, Euphemia doubted if it went to that town. More probably it would end at a main road. They went round a wide curve and she saw a village at the end of it—a small village, more of a hamlet, although it had a high-steepled church at its centre. The doctor had slowed to go past its few cottages, but once on the other side of the green he gave the car its head once more, hardly slackening speed as he turned it into a drive, past a gatehouse guarding open wrought iron gates. Euphemia was still staring at them from the back window when Diana said: ‘I shall see that those gates are kept shut when we’re living here,’ to which remark the doctor made no answer. Perhaps he hadn’t heard.

  The drive ran straight as a ruler to the house—a large square edifice of the William and Mary period, its red brick glowing in the sun, its tall wide windows sparkling, the flowers in the beds arranged symmetrically around it, adding a rainbow of colour. Euphemia sighed soundlessly. She had guessed that the doctor was comfortably off and that he probably lived in a villa of some sort, but she hadn’t expected this. He must be rich, taking it all for granted. No wonder he was going to marry Diana! She would be so right for such a splendid place; it wouldn’t be just a question of falling
in love with some girl, she would have to be able to cope with his way of living too. Euphemia had no doubt that Diana would fill the bill admirably.

  The doctor brought the Bentley to a purring halt before the shallow steps and the double doors at their top were opened as he did so. The man who did it had one arm, Euphemia noted with interest as she got out and followed the others up the steps, going slowly so that she could have a good look round as she went. She found the doctor waiting patiently in the doorway. ‘This is Domus,’ he told her, and she shook hands, careful to do it left-handed to accommodate Domus’s one arm, and wishing that she might be left alone for just a few minutes to gaze round the hall, a circular apartment with a broad staircase facing the door and a gallery above. But she was given no chance. She and Diana were swept towards a pair of doors, embellished with marquetry and massive brass handles, and urged to go through them.

  The room was large and lofty and splendidly furnished, and yet it gave the instant impression of being lived in. There were books and magazines and things scattered around, a dog of no known breed prancing to meet them and a cat sitting cosily in the middle of one of the elegant sofas. Euphemia smiled, feeling instantly at home, and became aware that there were two people in the room—an elderly man sitting in a winged chair by one of the open windows and a plump little lady, middle-aged, but still pretty with grey hair and blue eyes, who jumped to her feet and cried: ‘Tane, how lovely to see you—and Diana, of course.’ Her eyes slid to Euphemia and her face broke into a wide smile. ‘And this is Euphemia.’

  Her son gave her a bearlike hug. ‘You didn’t mind coming over, Mama?’

  ‘It seemed a good opportunity.’

  He smiled at her as if he were sharing a secret with her and turned to shake his father’s hand, before drawing Diana forward. ‘You know Diana, of course, and this is Euphemia—my mother and father. They live a few miles away and since I shan’t be home for a few weeks they’ve come over for dinner this evening.’

  Euphemia liked them both, but beyond greeting them pleasantly and uttering a few conventional remarks, she stayed quiet. After all, it was Diana’s right to take the stage. Which she had done, instantly and with an expertise which Euphemia couldn’t help but admire. She chattered on and on, being amusing and wistful by turns, hardly pausing for anyone else to say anything, making the mumps sound like a dreaded plague she had barely escaped from with her life. She gave an account of her stay at Jerez which, although amusing, bore little semblance to the truth, and ignored Euphemia completely. It was when the tea tray was brought in that she paused, long enough for Mevrouw van Diederijk to take the conversation into her own hands, and this time Euphemia was included. Not that they talked about anything much; it was the gentle kind of conversation her own friends indulged in over a cup of tea, neither witty nor clever, and she was perfectly at home in it, whereas Diana, no longer the centre of interest, sat sullenly, saying almost nothing. The elegant little meal was hardly over when she put down her cup.

  ‘You’ll have to excuse me, I’ve got a headache and I must lie down. If I could go up to my room? Euphemia, come with me and find the aspirin, and you can unpack my overnight bag at the same time.’

  There was a small silence as Euphemia got to her feet. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said easily. ‘It’s been quite a journey, hasn’t it?’ She looked at Mevrouw van Diederijk. ‘You won’t mind, mevrouw?’ She smiled nicely at her, thinking what a dear she was. ‘You’ll be glad to have a talk with your son.’

  Mevrouw van Diederijk’s eyes twinkled. ‘As a matter of fact I shall, my dear, but I hope you will come down as soon as you can and join us.’

  Her husband had got to his feet. ‘I met your father once, years ago,’ he boomed at her, his English as good as his wife’s, although the accent was more pronounced. ‘We must have a talk.’

  Euphemia murmured and hurried to the door because she could see Diana was getting impatient. As she reached it Diana said: ‘Tane, why do you keep all this ghastly furniture?’ She tapped him playfully on the sleeve. ‘Just wait till I get my hands on this place! I’m going to throw it all into the attics—we’ll have some decent modern pieces.’

  ‘Over my dead body,’ said the doctor quietly, and Diana laughed. Euphemia, glancing into his face, saw that he meant it.

  They went first to Diana’s room, led there by a cheerful round body who nodded and smiled to make up for her lack of English and showed them into a room at the side of the house. It was large, with windows overlooking the garden, and furnished rather heavily with a mahogany bed and bow-fronted chest, as well as an enormous dressing table and a couple of small velvet-covered chairs. Diana flung herself down on the bed and told Euphemia to draw the curtains. ‘Why on earth did Tane have to invite his parents here today?’ she demanded. ‘They’re so dull and straitlaced they bore me. I’ll take care that they don’t come too often once we’re married.’ She swallowed the aspirins Euphemia was holding out. ‘Not that I intend to live here for more than a week or two each year, buried in the country. I shall tell Tane so too. We can live in London just as well—after all, he works there almost as much as he does here.’

  To all of which Euphemia said nothing. She very much doubted if Tane would like any of the changes with which Diana was going to alter his life, but it was hardly her business to say so, and if he wanted this girl for his wife that wasn’t her business either. She said woodenly: ‘I’ll unpack later, you’ll be able to sleep a little now, I expect,’ and got herself out of the room.

  The little round woman was waiting for her and led her back along the gallery to the other side of the house, and opened the door of a room at the front of the house this time—a much smaller room, but so pretty that Euphemia exclaimed over it. It had two tall windows leading on to a small balcony and the furniture was white with pink and blue brocade curtains and bedspread, pink lampshades and a thickly piled carpet on the floor. The bathroom was pink too, and equipped with everything she could have asked for. She smiled her thanks at the little woman who crossed the room and opened a wall closet and waved a hand inside. Euphemia’s few things had been unpacked and hung away. She prowled round the delightful room when she was left on her own and decided that it must have belonged to a daughter of the family. It was a girl’s room, a family room too, lovingly cared for. She sniffed at the roses on the table by the bed, combed her hair and did her face, then went downstairs.

  The doctor was lounging in the hall. ‘My mother and father are having a rest before dinner and it’s too early to change, so I thought you might like to see something of the house.’

  She had been unable to stop the smile which curved her mouth at the sight of him, but she managed to keep her voice coolly friendly.

  ‘I should like that very much.’ She was standing beside him now at the foot of the stairs. ‘It’s very beautiful—if it were mine I wouldn’t want to leave it.’

  He said, apologetically almost: ‘I do have my work,’ and bent to pull the dog’s ears. ‘I suppose I could rearrange that so that I could live here permanently.’

  Euphemia began: ‘But Di…’ and stopped, not quite in time, for he took her up. ‘Diana doesn’t like it here.’ His voice was silky, offering a challenge, she thought, so she said hastily: ‘I like your dog—what’s his name?’

  ‘Boris. Where would you like to start?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  ‘Then the little sitting-room, I think. Have you all you want in your room?’ He sounded a polite host, and she answered just as politely.

  ‘Yes, thank you. It’s such a pretty room, too. And it looks lived in, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘It’s my youngest sister’s room, I thought you might like it.’ He opened a door on the opposite side of the hall. ‘In here.’

  It was a small room as rooms went in that large house, with a little bay window with a cushioned window seat, a small chimneypiece and several comfortable chairs and tables, a lovely glass-fronted cabinet along one wall and a s
mall upright piano against the other. ‘Oh, I like it!’ declared Euphemia. ‘It’s cosy.’

  ‘And old-fashioned?’ It was a question.

  ‘Not in the least—one could sit here and sew or play the piano or play cards with the children.’ She stopped, because her imagination was running away with her.

  ‘Go on,’ prompted the doctor softly.

  She moved away and bent to look at the silver on display in the cabinet, not looking at him. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I was only remembering when we were all children.’

  ‘You were happy? So was I.’ His voice was suddenly harsh. ‘I hope my children will be as happy.’

  She stared up at him, wondering if Diana had told him that she didn’t intend to have any, not even one. Her kind heart was wrung with pity for him. Now that she’d got to know him, he wasn’t cold and arrogant and tiresome at all, he was like any other man wanting a wife and children. Probably, once one had got behind that reserve of his, he was quite fun… She wished she didn’t love him quite so much, but just being with him for an hour was wonderful, and she must be thankful for small mercies.

  She still didn’t think that he loved Diana, not enough to marry the girl, but it seemed equally obvious that he was going to marry her anyway, and she could quite see why. She stood looking at a very beautiful silver loving cup, her back to him, so far away in her thoughts that she uttered them aloud: ‘Everything’s such a muddle!’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘AND WHAT EXACTLY do you mean by that?’

  The doctor had whisked her round and held her in front of him, his hands still on her shoulders.

  Euphemia said wildly: ‘Nothing, oh, nothing…I was thinking out loud—it slipped out. The ward—I was worrying about the ward…’