Last April Fair Page 10

  Mrs Cresswell sank into a deeply cushioned chair and sighed with pleasure. ‘The last time I was in a house like this one was when I was ten years old—your Great-Aunt Dora at Weatherby Hall, dear. Such a pity she had to sell it.’

  Phyllida had perched herself on a velvet-covered stool near the fire. ‘Well, I like our house,’ she declared a shade defiantly, ‘it’s beautiful and old and it’s home.’

  ‘Well, of course,’ observed the doctor from the doorway, ‘but home can be anywhere, can’t it? A cottage or a semi-detached or an isolated farm—it’s how one feels about it, isn’t it?’

  She had turned round to face him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly, ‘I didn’t mean to be rude; this is a lovely house and it’s home for you, just as my home is for me.’

  He smiled slowly. ‘I hope that when I marry, my wife will love this house as much as I do. You must explore it one day.’

  He had crossed the room to where a tray of drinks stood on a carved and gilded table. ‘What will you ladies have to drink?’

  He brought them their drinks and went back to get a Coke for Willy and a Jenever for himself. ‘I don’t need to go to the hospital until after lunch tomorrow,’ he told them, ‘and surgery should be over by half past nine. Willy and I thought we might do a little fishing, if you don’t mind being left to your own devices. Lympke will be delighted to take you over the house and there’s plenty to see in the gardens, please go wherever you wish.’ He sat down in a great chair opposite Phyllida. ‘I thought that we might go to the Keukenhof one day soon, it should be at its best now. It’s not far from here and we could leave here after breakfast—I’m afraid I’ll have to be back around tea time, though, for any evening patients I may have at my rooms in Leiden.’

  They dined presently in a room a good deal smaller than the drawing room but still pretty large. It was furnished in mahogany, gleaming with endless polishing and age, and the table silver and glass almost out shone it. They sat at a round table, large enough to take a dozen people with ease, although they occupied only a part of it, sitting near enough to talk comfortably.

  They ate splendidly; caviar for starters, salmon poached in white wine, chicken cooked in cream with a Madeira sauce. Willy hardly spoke, but ate with the deep pleasure of a growing boy who was hungry; it was left to the other three to carry on an undemanding conversation mostly about gardens and growing vegetables and the difficulties of protecting everything from frost. Phyllida, who was a willing but amateur gardener, marvelled at Pieter, who seemed evenly matched against her mother’s expert knowledge. Surely it was enough, she thought a little crossly, that he was apparently a very successful man in his own profession, had a house like a cosy museum and the good looks to turn any girl’s head; he didn’t have to be a knowledgeable gardener as well.

  Even the appearance of a honey and hazelnut bavarois, which tasted even better than it looked, did little to lift her spirits, although she did her best to look intelligent about greenfly and black spot while she ate it. She would excuse herself when they had had their coffee, she decided, on the grounds that she wanted to wash her hair before she went to bed, but in this she was frustrated. Pieter invited her mother to telephone her father, suggested that Willy might like to have an early night so that he would feel fit for a morning’s fishing, and invited her to sit down and keep him company.

  ‘For we don’t seem to have exchanged more than a dozen words,’ he observed pleasantly.

  ‘Well, I’m not mad about gardening,’ she said grumpily, and then remembering her manners: ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s the matter with me—I don’t mean to be so beastly rude to you. I think…’she paused and looked at him with puzzled blue eyes, like a small girl with a problem. ‘I think it’s because all this is a surprise. I thought you’d have a house in a village, a bit like ours—and it’s not.’

  ‘You don’t like it?’ he asked in a gentle voice.

  ‘Oh, I do—it’s out of this world.’ She added shyly: ‘I feel as though I’m trespassing.’

  ‘Oh, never that.’ She wondered why he looked amused and it was on the tip of her tongue to ask why when her mother came back into the room, and soon after they went to bed, leaving him standing at the foot of his magnificent staircase. Her mother had already gained the corridor and was out of sight when he called Phyllida back.

  ‘I forgot this,’ he told her, and kissed her, hard.

  CHAPTER SIX

  PHYLLIDA WENT DOWN to breakfast after a somewhat wakeful night. Naturally enough, being a pretty girl and a perfectly normal one, she had received her share—rather more, perhaps—of kisses. She had enjoyed them too, but somehow Pieter had been different from the others. She had told herself several times during the night that it was because he was older and more experienced, but she knew that wasn’t the answer. She had given up wondering about it then and gone to sleep.

  The doctor wasn’t at breakfast, nor was Willy, who had risen early, breakfasted with his host and then taken himself off to spy out the land around the lake. Phyllida assured her mother that she had passed a dreamless night, ate her breakfast under the fatherly eye of Aap and declared that she was going to explore the gardens; for some reason she felt shy about meeting Pieter and the gardens seemed an unlikely place for him to be in at that hour of the day; he had said something about morning surgery…

  She had half expected her mother to accompany her, but Mrs Cresswell had found a splendid book on gardening in the library. ‘I’ll come out later,’ she decided, ‘when the sun’s really warm.’

  So Phyllida fetched a cardigan and found her way outside. Now that it was morning, and a bright one even if chilly, and she could see everything clearly, she had to admit that the house was charming; solid and unpretentious despite its size, fitting exactly into the surrounding formal lawns and flower beds and trees beyond. Moreover, everywhere she looked there was a blaze of colour; tulips and hyacinths and scilla and the last of the daffodils. She walked round the side of the house, peering into the wide windows of the wing she was passing. She supposed that it must be a ballroom, for it took up the whole area and its floor was waxed wood. The ceiling was painted, although she couldn’t see it very clearly, and from its centre hung a chandelier, its crystals looped and twined into an elaborate pattern.

  There were windows on the other side too and she walked on, rounded the wing and found herself facing a formal garden with a square pond bordered by masses of flowers and sheltered by a beech hedge. There was an alley leading from its far end and she went to look at it. It was arched by more beech, trained to form a tunnel, and that in its turn opened into a charming circle of grass, well screened by shrubs and with stone seats here and there. Right in the middle there was a wheelbarrow, loaded with earth and with a spade flung on top of it. It looked as though someone had just that minute left it there, and she looked round to see if there was anyone about, but she saw no one, neither in the alley from whence she had just come, nor on the neat brick path which led away from the grassy plot on its other side. She sat down on one of the seats and blew on her fingers. It might be the end of April, but it was still chilly unless the sun shone.

  ‘It’ll be pleasantly warm once the morning mist has gone,’ observed the doctor from somewhere behind her.

  She jumped. ‘I thought you were taking your morning surgery.’

  ‘My dear girl, we keep early hours here; surgery’s from eight until nine o’clock and there are seldom more than a dozen patients, often less.’

  He sat down beside her and she said doubtfully: ‘But I thought you had a practice.’

  ‘Well, I have, but I see most of my patients at my rooms in Leiden—this surgery is just for the villages close by.’

  ‘Oh, I see—and you have beds in a hospital too?’

  ‘In several hospitals.’

  She gave him a searching look. ‘I think you must be someone quite important.’ And when he didn’t answer: ‘A consultant or a specialist—or do you teach?’

/>   His eyes were smiling. ‘Some of all three.’ He picked up her hand and held it between his. ‘You’re cold. We’ll walk down to the lake and see if Willy has fallen in, if he hasn’t we’ll bring him back for coffee before we get down to this business of fishing.’

  As they started along the path, he added: ‘I wondered if you would all like to come into den Haag this afternoon, you could look at the shops while I’m at the hospital. I shall only be a couple of hours and I’ll show you where to go.’

  She was very conscious of his hand holding hers; it was firm and warm and impersonal and she wondered again why he had kissed her on the previous evening. ‘That sounds nice,’ she said, her voice cool because she didn’t want to seem too friendly.

  They had come to the end of the path and were crossing rough ground at the end of which she could see the lake, and Willy, sitting on a log by it. Pieter had slowed his pace. ‘My mother and father are coming to dinner this evening,’ he said casually.

  ‘Your mother and father?’ Surprise made her repeat his words like an idiot. ‘Oh, I didn’t know—that is, do they live here?’

  ‘They have a house on the coast near Scheveningen. My father is a doctor but retired now. I have two brothers and two sisters—my sisters are married, both living in Friesland, my youngest brother is in Utrecht, finishing medical school, and Paul, who is a year or so younger than I, is married and lives in Limburg—he’s a barrister.’

  He hadn’t volunteered so much information in such a short time since they had met. Phyllida digested it slowly. Presently she asked: ‘Then why do you live here, all alone in this great house?’

  ‘When my father retired he and my mother went to live on the coast because the house—a charming one—is close to the golf course and he enjoys a game. It was always understood that they would go there eventually and it’s like a second home to us all, as we spent our holidays there when we were children.’ He sat down beside her. ‘And as I’m the eldest son, I took over here. I don’t regret it.’

  ‘It’s very large for one person.’

  His eyes were almost shut. ‘Yes, but it’s surprising how a clutch of children fills even the largest of houses.’

  ‘But you haven’t any children.’

  ‘Something which can be remedied.’ He changed the conversation so abruptly that she was startled. ‘I think you’ll like the shops in den Haag—will Willy be bored?’ He turned to look at her. ‘I could take him with me; I’ll get someone to take him round one or two of the more interesting wards until I’m ready—he’s really keen on becoming a doctor, isn’t he?’

  She agreed, secretly put out. She would have been interested too, and she might have found out something of his life while she was there; his working life, but it seemed that he didn’t want her to know. Well, if he wanted to be secretive, let him. ‘I said I’d go and find Mother,’ she told him.

  They had a splendid afternoon wandering round the shops, buying inexpensive trifles to take home, drinking tea in a smart café and then walking back to the spot where Pieter was to pick them up. The journey home was occupied almost exclusively by Willy’s observations about what he had seen, the doctor’s mild replies and Phyllida’s slightly cool ones, which she regretted when he asked her in the friendliest possible manner if she would go with him on the following day in order to choose a birthday present for his younger sister.

  ‘I’ve no ideas at all,’ he assured her, ‘and if you would be so kind as to advise me…’

  She agreed at once, and the rest of the ride was taken up with a lighthearted discussion between Willy and his host concerning the chances of them landing a good sized pike when next they fished the lake.

  Phyllida was a little apprehensive about meeting Pieter’s parents; while she dressed she tried to imagine what they would be like and failed; the doctor was an enormous man, probably his parents would be of a similar size, on the other hand, very small women quite often had large sons. She put together a mental picture of his mother, small and dark and terribly smart. She combed her fringe smooth, put on a thin wool dress in a flattering wine shade, and went downstairs.

  Her mother and Willy were already there, she could hear their voices through the half open drawing room door—other voices too. Aap, appearing suddenly, opened the door wide, and she went in.

  The master of the house was standing against one of the display cabinets, one hand in a pocket, the other holding a glass, his long legs crossed, his shoulders wedged against the dark woodwork. He was talking to a very tall, very large lady, with elegantly dressed white hair, handsome features and what Phyllida described to herself as a presence. Across the room, talking to her mother and brother, was an elderly man, as large and powerfully built as the doctor and just as good-looking. The three of them made a formidable trio, and she wondered briefly if his brothers and sisters were the same size; no wonder they lived in such an enormous house.

  The doctor came to meet her, his compelling hand urging her forward to where his mother was standing. That lady surprised her very much by saying mildly, before any introductions had been made: ‘My dear, I’m sure Pieter didn’t warn you about us—being so large, you know—when the whole family are together I’ve known people turn pale at the sight of us.’ She laughed, a deep rich chuckle which transformed her austere appearance.

  Why, thought Phyllida, taking the offered hand, she’s just like Mother, only larger.

  Pieter had been standing between them, now he said placidly: ‘I don’t think Phyllida is easily frightened, Mama.’ He smiled a little. ‘What will you drink, Phylly?’

  He fetched her a sherry and took her to meet his father. It was like talking to Pieter, they were so very alike; the same hooded blue eyes, the same firm mouth and patrician nose, only his hair, still thick, was quite white.

  She sat beside him on one of the vast sofas, while the others gathered together on the other side of the hearth, and he talked of nothing much in particular, putting her at her ease, and presently when Aap came to announce dinner, they went, still laughing and talking, to take their places round the beautifully appointed table. Phyllida, sitting beside the elder of the van Sittardts with Willy on her other side and Pieter’s mother next to him, noticed with some amusement that her brother was getting on splendidly with his neighbour, which left her mother and Pieter, talking quietly together.

  The evening was an unqualified success; the magnificent dinner helped, of course, and the glass or two of claret she drank with it, but even they wouldn’t have been of much help without the easy charm of her host and his parents. She found herself quite anxious to meet the rest of the family.

  Only one thing marred the evening for her. Sitting round the fire, drinking their coffee, Mevrouw van Sittardt took advantage of a pause in the talk to ask: ‘And have you seen Marena yet, Phyllida? I feel sure that you must have, as she spends a great deal of her time here. She and Pieter are very old friends—lifelong, one might say, and he has grown accustomed to be at her beck and call at all times.’

  The lady smiled as she spoke, but Phyllida had the strong impression that she would have preferred to have ground her teeth. She said that no, she hadn’t met the girl in question yet, and glanced at the doctor, sitting with her mother. He looked as blandly impassive as usual, but she had no doubt that he had heard every single word, for his mother had a clear and ringing voice. She wished very much to ask about this Marena; it seemed strange that if she were such a close friend— perhaps more than a friend—Pieter should never have mentioned her. It wasn’t her business anyway, she told herself sternly, and plunged into an account of their shopping expedition that afternoon; probably she would never see the girl.

  She was wrong. They met the very next day, after Phyllida and the doctor had returned from a highly successful search for the birthday present. The afternoon had been fun although short, for he had had a number of private patients to see at his rooms in Leiden, and hadn’t been able to pick her up until the middle of the afternoon. Never
theless, the next hour or so had been delightful, especially when she discovered that there was no reasonable limit to the amount he might be called upon to spend. They chose a pendant finally, a dainty thing of gold with a border of rose diamonds, and then had tea before going back home, where Willy had immediately waylaid them and badgered them into a rather wild game with Butch, the nondescript old dog who was Pieter’s devoted slave. Phyllida had cast off her jacket the better to run faster and was tearing across the lawn towards the house with Butch in hot pursuit when she saw a girl watching them from the terrace. She was small and slight, with large dark eyes and a pouting mouth, expertly made up; she made Phyllida feel tall and fat and untidy. Untidy she certainly was, for the sun had come out and was shining warmly so that her face was flushed and her hair blew wildly around her head, sadly in need of a comb.

  The girl smiled charmingly as she crossed the lawn to join them, but there was malice with the charm and Phyllida sensed that the girl had already decided that there was no competition for her to fear. Her eyes spoke volumes for Phyllida to read—this guileless outdoor type with great blue eyes and a gentle mouth and a fringe like a little girl wasn’t Pieter’s type. The smile widened as she reached Pieter, tucked an exquisitely cared for hand under his arm and said in accented English: ‘Darling Pieter, have you missed me very much? And how good it is that you have friends to amuse you while I am not here.’ She gave his arm a little pat and gave a trill of laughter. ‘But now I am.’

  He smiled down at her. ‘Nice to see you, Marena— how’s the painting?’

  She made a charming face. ‘Not good, not good at all. I need your opinion, otherwise I shall destroy all that I have done. Will you come and look at them?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Still at the studio, are you?’ He turned to Phyllida. ‘Phylly, meet Marena. She paints, and she’s good at it, too.’ His amused gaze swept over her untidy person and she flushed. She said politely: