The End of the Rainbow Page 10

  So now she had the excuse of asking him about various small items in the post each day, so that sometimes he stayed just a little longer, but not often, and never, she felt sadly, of his own wish. But she had the bit between the teeth now with two visits to the hairdresser each week and something different to wear every day and a quite reckless extravagance in perfumes. It wasn't until the evening before Ria was to come home that he came back from his study with Niko at his heels to find her on the floor with her knitting spread out around her, poring over the pattern. She made a pretty picture in her red corduroy shirtwaister with her beautifully dressed hair, frowning a little in an effort to understand what she was reading.

  She looked up as he came in and then down at the pattern again, because he looked so large and assured standing there smiling at her, that she longed to run into his arms-and that wouldn't do at all.

  "Need some help?" His voice was casual.

  "Well, yes-you see, it's a knitting pattern and I can't quite understand it."

  "If it's knitting, I don't suppose I shall either, but I'll have a look." He got down beside her and read the instructions, a hand on her shoulder, his face very close to hers. When he had solved it for her he asked: "For whom is this marathon knitwear, dear girl?"

  "Well, I thought I'd make you a pullover for the winter, you know, but Elisabeth said that you only wore cashmere ones from London and it would be a waste of time, and I expect it is, only I wanted to." She added breathlessly: "You've given me so much-whatever happens, I'll never forget that, nor be able to thank you enough."

  She found herself on her feet, his hands at her waist. "What a dear kind girl you are, and Elisabeth is quite mistaken; I always wear a thick sweater in the winter when I go into the country. I should like to have it very much, it will be something to remember for years."

  She spoke to his chin. "The next line goes: "To remember with tears"-it's a bit from a poem by William Allingham."

  "The dreary fellow!" He kissed her suddenly and fiercely and then let her go. "There, there's something you can remember without tears, I hope."

  He grinned at her and went back to his study and at dinner, half an hour later, he appeared to have forgotten that he had ever kissed her. A passing whim, she told herself and entered enthusiastically into his plans for Ria's return. But perhaps he hadn't forgotten after all, for later that evening as she was on the point of going to bed, he had wished her good night and added, "You look sweet, and you smell sweet, Olympia," he touched her hair lightly, "and this-this is charming. You have changed in these last few weeks." He laughed suddenly. "Or is it I who have changed? And now you are knitting me a sweater."

  Olympia almost held her breath-had she been so obvious in her efforts to capture his attention? She said woodenly: "It was only an idea-I mean, I can turn it into something else."

  "Don't do that-I promise you that I shall wear it."

  When she was in bed, she went over the conversation, word for word. What had he meant by changing? And had he meant for the better?

  And he had admitted that he had changed too. Had he been hinting about the girl in London, but in that case why had he told her that she looked sweet? To soften the blow, as between friends? She closed her eyes, half asleep; perhaps she had imagined the girl in London.

  But she hadn't. Up early the following morning because she had several things to do before Ria came home, she went down to the sittingroom, still in her dressing gown and slippers; she had forgotten to fetch the new dress she had made for Ton the doll; it was in her work table in the sitting-room, and if she didn't get it now, it might get forgotten. She would take it up to Ria's room and put it by her bed, where it might be seen when the little girl got home.

  The house was quiet, and because Niko would still be asleep in his basket in the kitchen she was extra careful to creep soundlessly down the stairs and across the hall. She was almost at the sitting-room door when she saw that the study door was open and that Waldo was there; she could hear his voice. He was on the telephone and his voice was low and clear. After the first few words she stood still as a mouse, shamelessly eavesdropping, for he had said with soft urgency: "Don't telephone here any more, the risk is too great." And presently he went on: "I'll ring you, and when you write, send your letters to the surgery. My wife sorts my post and I don't want her to discover anything at this stage." There was a pause and Olympia imagined the pretty voice in his ear. There was a hard lump in her chest, rising into her throat and threatening to choke her. She swallowed it back and waited for his next words.

  "Send the bills to me," his deep voice sounded unhurried, "and get whatever else you want at Harrods-I've an account there." There was another pause, during which Olympia's imagination ran riot, but she checked it to hear him say: "I'll come over within the next few days, we shall need to go to the solicitor once more, I imagine." He was silent then until, apparently in answer to a question, he said quietly: "I've no idea, but be there waiting for me. Good-bye."

  Olympia fled back upstairs as silently as she had come, the entire conversation dancing before her in letters of fire, his voice still in her ears. Her own fault for listening, she told herself bitterly, but who but a saint would have walked away after those first few words?

  She walked straight through her bedroom and into the bathroom, where she ran a bath and lay in its warmth, fighting to keep calm. After a little while she dressed and did her hair with extra care, her face too, remembering as she did so how in the old days she had swept her brown locks into a severe bun and used only a minimum of make-up because she never had the money to buy it, and now her dressing table held a truly splendid collection of pots and jars, all of which she had bought, using them assiduously in the unspoken hope that their contents would turn her into a beauty. They hadn't quite achieved this, but at least they had done a great deal for her, although nothing at the moment could disguise her miserable white face completely. She tried out one or two smiles, rubbed her cheeks to give them colour, and went downstairs to breakfast.

  Waldo wasn't down yet, or perhaps he was already out with Niko. Almost guiltily she sorted through the post, arranged it in the piles he liked and retired to her own chair to read a letter from Aunt Betsy. It was a cheerful missive, full of a miscellany of news written with a dry humour and in a beautiful copperplate hand. Olympia found herself chuckling over it and when Waldo came in a few minutes later, she was able to greet him quite naturally. It was easy after that, for he had his letters to read and what conversation there was concerned Ria.

  "I'll be back here at ten-thirty," he warned her. "Could you be ready by then? I'll fit in as many visits as I can after we have brought her home, but I may be late for lunch."

  Olympia was ready and waiting as the Daimler nosed its way into Balans and stopped to pick her up. Everything had been done; Ria's favourite lunch was in the course of preparation, Niko, neatly collared and wriggling on the end of his lead, was beside her, Ria's room, gay with flowers, was ready and Ton's new dress was on its miniature coathanger by the bed. She got into the car beside Waldo knowing that so far, at least, the day, on the surface at least, was going according to plan. If she was a little silent, her companion didn't appear to notice it and the journey was a short one. They went into the hospital together and up to the ward where Ria was waiting for them, and Olympia, in her best Dutch, thanked the nurses and Sister and handed over the small gifts she had brought with her. She talked to the houseman too, a nice young man who made her feel very much at her ease; she left him quite reluctantly when they finally went; he had made her feel attractive and worth talking to and she had needed that reassurance badly. Waldo, save for the one or two unexpected moments when he had actually seemed interested in her as a young woman and not as a faceless friend who ran his house for him, had remained remote even though he was as kind and placid as he always had been. Twice on their short journey to the hospital it had been on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she had overheard his conversation that morn
ing and beg him to explain, even if that meant hearing about the girl in London-anything rather than his reserved friendliness, but she hadn't had quite enough courage.

  She got into the back of the car with Ria and Niko, and having quietened her youthful companions, remarked, for something to say: "That was all very successful, wasn't it?"

  He glanced at her over one massive shoulder. "Very-but did you have to be quite so forthcoming with young Wiltem'?"

  She answered him with an attempt at lightness, covering her astonishment as best she could. "The houseman? But he was so friendly-I liked him."

  "That was obvious, but there was no need to show it so openly."

  He was driving through the busy morning streets and he didn't turn round, but from the glimpse she had of his profile she could see that he was angry. But then so was she; she had done nothing to justify his remark; laughed a little and talked a little with a pleasant young man of her own age who had made her feel good. Temper rose in a splendid wave within and a fine selection of angry retorts scalded her tongue, but she held them in check; it was Ria's homecoming and nothing must spoil that. She said in the mildest voice imaginable: "If you want to tick me off, perhaps you'll do it later on."

  He didn't answer her, but when they arrived at the house, stalked inside with Ria, leaving her to follow with Niko. And Elisabeth was waiting for them; a surprise Olympia wasn't sure she was pleased about or not. It did mean, of course, that there would be less need for Waldo to maintain a friendly front in front of Ria; it also meant that Ria would get far too tired and excited. But Elisabeth was charming and very understanding. She sat quietly on the• sofa beside Ria, holding her hand, and when they had had coffee and the little girl had calmed down a little and Waldo was on the point of leaving, she produced a prettily wrapped package, remarking in her soft voice that she hadn't known what to bring Ria and the moment the little girl had opened it she would go-perhaps Waldo would give her a lift as far as the Markt?

  The ribbons of the gay little package were untied and the contents lifted out-a doll's dress, exquisitely made, an exact replica of the one Olympia had fashioned with such care, only this one put hers completely in the shade; there was a matching hat too and a tiny handbag and even a jacket. Olympia, asked to admire it by a delighted Ria, did so with commendable enthusiasm. It was of course pure coincidence that Elisabeth should have made something so exactly like hers, for how could she have seen it? Olympia had kept the little garment safe in her work-table all the time-well, perhaps not all the time, but even if Elisabeth had seen it she would never have played such a sly trick; the very idea was laughable, it was one of those quirks of fate. She saw the two of them off and then, on some excuse or other, ran up to the child's room and took the doll's dress on its absurd little hanger and stuffed it into the top drawer of the great painted commode on the landing outside her bedroom. She could get rid of it later.

  It was during lunch that Ria asked her in a polite, hurt little voice why she hadn't given her a present too, and Waldo had looked up sharply as though he had suddenly been struck by the same thought, but he made no remark beyond chiding the little girl gently and then plunging into an account of Niko's behaviour while she had been away, so that there was no need for Olympia to reply. And what could she have said? she asked herself miserably, staring down at her plate, willing herself not to burst into childish tears. She was beyond the explaining she would have to do in Dutch for a start. It would sound like an excuse and if she produced it now, Ria-and Waldo too, for all she knewwould probably think she was merely copying Elisabeth in an inferior way. Her temper, never far from the surface since Waldo's unfortunate remarks that morning, rose again; a strong desire to throw something at him replaced her wretchedness. Her eye roved the table; there was a heavy cut glass decanter within reach-or the snuffle dish with the remainder of its delicious contents still sticking to it. Her hand itched to pick it up… Waldo's voice, sounding surprised, brought her to her senses.

  "Olympia?" it held faint inquiry, "is something the matter?"

  A silly remark and she longed to tell him so. Had he forgotten his nasty remarks already? She had not. She contented herself by saying:

  "The root of the matter is in me. That's from the Psalms, I believe. Should I take Ria up to rest? If Niko goes with her, I think she will be quite happy and perhaps go to steep."

  He carried the child upstairs and left Olympia to attend to her small wants, tuck Ton, resplendent in her new outfit, in beside her, and lift Niko on to the foot of the bed. "I'll be back in a few minutes," she said cheerfully in her halting Dutch, "to see if you are asleep," and was disconcerted at the look Ria gave her as she bent to kiss her. It was disappointment and a kind of resignation. She waved from the door and puzzled about it as she went downstairs.

  On the landing below Waldo was standing with the top drawer of the commode open and in his hand was the doll's dress. He said nothing, but looked at her inquiringly, the ridiculous garment held carefully in one large, well-tended hand.

  "If you must know," said Olympia crossly, "I made it for Ria-for her doll-but Elisabeth had made exactly the same one and so much better-and all the other things with it-the hat and the dear little jacket, even a handbag…' She gulped, frowned fiercely at him and stalked to the stairs and ran down them, and because she wanted to get away from him, rushed into the kitchen, shutting the door behind her with a decided snap. It was a disappointment that he made no effort to come after her; she heard the front door close within minutes, and when he returned, at teatime in honour of Ria's return, he was his usual placid self. They played cards after tea, just for half an hour, a noisy game of Happy Families, before Ria was borne away, .quite willingly, to bed.

  It would look foolish if Olympia were to knit the sweater when they were so out of tune with each other. She dressed carefully in a soft blue jersey dress, went downstairs and established herself in the small chair by the fire, for it was a cool evening. The room looked beautiful with its lamps casting a soft glow on the gleaming furniture, and the logs spluttering cheerfully in the hearth, but Waldo wasn't there. She picked up Vogue and began to leaf through it, but the models looked impossibly thin in their gorgeous clothes, almost ill; she had been thin like that, now she was becoming positively plump. Perhaps, she thought idly, she should go on a diet.. Before their marriage she would have asked Waldo's advice and he would have laughed about it and she would have laughed with him. Thinking about it, Waldo hadn't laughed a great deal just lately.

  He came in presently, but not before his secretary had telephoned from the surgery to ask where she could find him, and when Olympia, anxious to be helpful, said that she would give him a message the moment he came in, she had been asked to tell the doctor that there had been an urgent telephone call from London, and would he ring back as soon as possible.

  She gave him the message as soon as he gat in, in a wooden little voice which defied him to say anything at all; she wasn't surprised when he came back presently to tell her that he would have to go to London on the following day but hoped to be home again within two days.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  As a small, lonely girl she had learned to hide unhappiness deep in her mind and fill the rest of it with matter-of-fact thoughts. She said now in a sensible voice: "I'll pack a bag for you. Will you take the car?"

  He stared at her as though he hadn't expected her to say that. "No, at least, only as far as Schiphol, I can leave it there and pick it up on my return. I'll be away at the most for two nights. I can take morning surgery before I go and Wim and Paul must manage between them until I get back."

  He crossed the room to stand in front of her chair. "Olympia, do you want to know why I am going to London?"

  She kept her eyes on the fashionable model staring at her so disdainfully from the magazine cover. Did the elegant creature have problems too? she wondered. "But you don't want to tell me," she reminded him.

  "No, I don't, but my reasons for not doing so are purely selfis
h and possibly a little foolish-nevertheless, if you insist…'

  "But I don't." She heard her voice, nice and cool and calm, but she didn't dare to look at him. "Elisabeth is coming to dinner—-her mother is away for the night and she sounded lonely." She heard the small impatient sound and asked quickly: "You don't mind"?"

  "No, why should I mind? She is like one of the family." His voice had a strange note in it, and on an impulse she asked: "Were you ever in love with her?"

  He sounded utterly astonished. "With Elisabeth? Good lord, no!"

  But Elisabeth had been in love with him, probably stilll was. Olympia was all at once certain of that and wondered now why she hadn't known it sooner. Poor Elisabeth, unselfishly helping her in every way, giving advice, being her friend, cushioning her against the small awkward happenings which cropped up from time to time. True, sometimes the advice and corrections had been given when there had been other people to listen, and she had felt a fool, but Elisabeth hadn't realized that.

  Her thoughts coloured by her friend's kindness, she welcomed her even more warmly than usual, and when Elisabeth embarked upon advice concerning the spring-cleaning, listened humbly, trying to remember all that she was saying. Only when she had gone, with Waldo escorting her to her car, did Olympia have a sudden uprush of rebellion; to spring-clean in the house was nonsense, it was always spotless under Emma's and Joanna's daily attention. Besides, the routine cleaning of curtains and carpets and the enormous chandelier in the sitting-room and the smaller one in the diningroom was undertaken at regular intervals. There would be no spring-cleaning, Olympia decided.