The Final Touch Read online

  The ring was a sapphire set in diamonds, old-fashioned but beautiful. What was more it fitted her finger.

  ‘It’s beautiful, and thank you very much.’ She added softly, ‘I hope your granny would have liked me.’

  ‘I am quite sure of it. Now let us get down to details.’ He had it all planned, all she had to do was to buy herself whatever clothes she needed. ‘One other thing—have you enough money?’

  ‘Yes, oh, yes, thank you.’

  He nodded carelessly. ‘You will of course get all the clothes you want when we are married. Later on I will discuss ways and means with you; in the meantime, spend what you wish.’

  She thanked him, thinking all the while that it was a good thing she wasn’t Eunice, who would have taken him at his word and bought up half the boutiques in the city.

  They had their dinner presently after the children had come downstairs to say goodnight and their wedding wasn’t mentioned again, only when she got up to go away back to the hospital he said casually, ‘The girls will want new dresses for the wedding—will you see to that? Take them to La Bonneterie, will you, and let them choose within reason? It has always seemed to me that Miss Bloom dressed them rather soberly—I’ve an account there, so please get what they need and charge it.’

  He drove her back and saw her into the hospital before going in search of Wim van Beek, who was still on duty. His goodnight was cheerful and brisk. He wore the air of a man who had arranged things to suit himself and was pleased with the result. She had no doubt that once she was out of sight he would have forgotten her. She might be making the mistake of a lifetime, and yet some deep feeling urged her to accept the future.

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHARITY’S engagement caused something of a stir in the hospital. Her friends among the nurses were frankly envious but not unkindly so, for she was well liked and, although Cor van Kamp would have ridiculed the whole thing if he had had the chance, the snide remarks he let fall were received with amused contempt, for Mr van der Brons was popular too and respected throughout the hospital. There was a whip-round for a wedding present and plans for those who could to attend the wedding. However, the plans came to nothing since no one was able to discover just when it was to take place. Mr van der Brons, although respected and liked, was nevertheless known to keep his private life private; not even Wim van Beek could summon the courage to ask him outright about the wedding. Mr van der Brons was of course aware of this, going on in his placid way, accepting congratulations with a bland smile which somehow prevented anyone’s asking questions.

  As for Charity, she smiled and suggested that Mr van der Brons would tell them.

  There was almost a week before the wedding and on the days when she was off duty in the afternoon she went along to the house on the gracht to have discussions with the children about the arrangements and what exactly they wanted to wear. For ten-year-olds they had very definite ideas. Miss Bloom had never allowed them to choose their clothes and now Charity had to persuade them not to decide upon anything too outrageous. She spent some time with the children at La Bonneterie and, by dint of cunning and diplomacy, persuaded them into sapphire-blue velvet dresses, matching fine wool jackets and velvet berets. She considered the price astronomical but their father had said buy what they wanted… As for herself, she combed the shops for an outfit which would suit both her person and her pocket. Her first choice—a suit in some sort of silky material—didn’t seem practical; the weather had turned very cold with occasional flurries of snow, and she was wise enough to know that her nondescript looks would suffer if she shivered throughout the ceremony. It was almost lunchtime and she was feeling desperate and peevish when she saw what would do very nicely in one of the small smart boutiques in P.C. Hoofstraat. A suit in fine wool, a shade darker than the children’s outfits, beautifully cut and with a matching blouse in oyster crêpe de Chine.

  It was far more money than she had intended to pay but standing in front of the mirror, studying her person, she saw that it did something for her. The saleslady nodded approval and mentioned in excellent English that she just so happened to have the very hat to go with it.

  She was quite right, it was a dear little hat, adding elegance to Charity’s mildly brown locks, and she handed over a sizeable wadge of notes without a qualm. She was almost penniless by the time she got back to the hospital, but she had added patent-leather pumps, a matching handbag and black kid gloves, soft as silk and the reason for her having only a few gulden in her purse.

  She went to the professor’s house one evening soon after to spend some time with the little girls and then, when they had gone to bed, to dine with Tyco.

  They had slipped into a pleasant relationship; they found enough to talk about for they were interested in the same things, although Charity regretted that Tyco made no effort at serious conversation. She knew very little about him; in fact, she wasn’t sure that she had even glimpsed the real Tyco behind his placid manner but somehow when she had from time to time plucked up courage to ask him about his life, he had blandly avoided an answer. Perhaps when she met his family she would learn more. Common sense told her that it was madness to marry a man she hardly knew—that wasn’t quite true, of course; she knew him for a kind man, generous and patient, much liked by his patients and the hospital staff. He was a good father too and she felt in her bones, despite occasional doubts in the small hours, that he would be a good husband. That he liked her she was sure but she wasn’t the be-all and end-all of his life. She supposed that years ago they would have called it a marriage of convenience.

  He made no attempt to keep her when she suggested that she should go back to the hospital, but drove her back, saw her as far as the nurses’ home and reminded her that he was operating in den Haag in the morning. ‘I dare say I shan’t see you tomorrow,’ he said, ‘but do go home if you like. Jolly will bring you back. I shall be very late home.’

  ‘I’ve a few things I need to do,’ said Charity rather too quickly, ‘but if I may I’ll see Teile and Letizia on Friday morning and make sure their dresses are quite all right. A kind of dress rehearsal…’

  ‘Do that. I dare say we’ll see each other on Friday.’ He bent and kissed her cheek. ‘Goodnight, Charity.’

  On Friday morning, since she was off duty until three o’clock, she went to see the children and spent a happy hour or so helping them to try on their new clothes, and since there was no sign of Tyco she left just before lunch with the plea that she still had to pack her things. Which wasn’t true; she had already done that but if he came home and found her there she thought he might feel that she should be invited to stay for lunch.

  On duty again presently she was told that he had gone to Leiden to do a skin graft on a patient who had been sent there from Amsterdam. There was no sign of him for the rest of the day and she went off duty that evening feeling uncertain and worried about everything. She had bidden everyone on the unit goodbye, listened composedly to a good deal of teasing from her friends at supper that evening, and now she went to her bed, her cases packed and ready to be sent to her new home, her wedding outfit hanging in the wardrobe. It was a bit late in the day, she thought desperately, but there was still time to change her mind. She must have been mad to have agreed to marry Tyco; supposing his family didn’t like her? Supposing he were to fall in love with another woman? Someone who would take on the role of his wife with more success than she could hope to? She got into bed, still worrying, and was still lying awake when Zuster Hengstma tapped on her door and summoned her to the telephone. ‘I said you were in bed, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer.’

  Who was ‘they’? asked Charity to herself, nipping smartly downstairs. Eunice? Her stepmother? Miss Bloom, her mother miraculously restor
ed to health and on her way back—in which case she herself would not be needed, would she?

  She picked up the receiver and said ‘Yes?’ in a sharp voice which covered disquiet.

  ‘I have got you out of bed,’ said Mr van der Brons, and he sounded as though he were laughing, ‘but I want you to have a good night’s sleep and I am willing to wager a month’s fees that you are tossing and turning and trying to make up your mind whether to creep away during the night or write me a polite note saying that you had had second thoughts.’

  Charity, suddenly feeling light as a feather, beamed on the telephone. ‘How ever did you know? And you are quite right—I was just being silly.’

  ‘Now go to bed again and sleep, Charity, and mind you’re quite ready in the morning.’

  He rang off before she could say goodnight. He might at least have waited until she had done so. She would have felt better about it had she known that he was on his way to scrub for an emergency which had just been admitted. As for Mr van der Brons, although he had made time to ring her, guessing that she might be feeling uncertain at the last moment, his powerful brain was almost wholly concerned with the patient on the operating table.

  Charity slept soundly, rose betimes and was ready and waiting when Zuster Hengstma came to fetch her. Her cases had already gone; now she went down to the entrance where Professor ter Appel was waiting to drive her to the church and give her away. There was a small crowd waiting for her; friends among the nurses, Hoofdzuster Kingsma and even the directrice, all wishing to express their hopes for her happy future. She turned to look at them all as Professor ter Appel shot away from the entrance, conscious that she was leaving the known for the unknown and not very sure about it despite Tyco’s words. Perhaps it was fortunate that the professor was a bad and ill-tempered driver, for she was kept fully occupied in maintaining calm as he hurtled between trams, overtook other cars, frequently shaking his fist at the drivers and whipping through traffic lights with seconds to spare, all the while keeping up a muttered monologue. Yet the moment he stopped outside the church and got out of the car to help her out he was once more an affable middle-aged man, beaming at her in a fatherly fashion and telling her not to be nervous.

  There was an old man in the church porch, the verger, she supposed, who handed her a pretty little bouquet—lily-of-the-valley, pink roses, orange blossom and blue hyacinths—and wished her well before pushing open the inner door of the little church.

  Tyco had promised her a quiet wedding and he had kept his word. Wim van Beek was there as his best man, his wife, the Jollys and Teile and Letizia and, edging past Charity as she stood beside the professor in the doorway, the directrice, Hoofdzuster Kingsma and Zuster Hengstma, who slid into their seats as she started down the aisle.

  Tyco turned round and smiled at her and she smiled back, suddenly quite sure that everything was going to be all right. She smiled at the children too and then took her place beside Tyco, listening to the rector’s quiet voice without hearing the words. She looked at the ring on her finger and then up at Tyco and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze and smiled very faintly. She signed the register with a steady hand and then stood beside him while Wim and Jolly took photos and everyone told her how pretty she looked and what a delightful wedding it had been.

  She had no idea what was to happen next until Tyco said cheerfully, ‘Well, shall we all gather at the house? Charity and the children come with me and we can squeeze in the rector. Wim, will you take the directrice? And Nel and Zuster Hengstma can go with Professor ter Appel.’

  The Jollys had already driven away and when they all reached the house, Jolly was there at the door to admit them.

  Somebody, she didn’t know who, had taken a great deal of trouble. The drawing-room welcomed them with a blazing fire, charming arrangements of flowers and a table laden with drinks and canapés. Once they were all assembled Jolly came in with champagne in an ice bucket and there was the pleasant ritual of toasting the bride and groom. Charity, who had been too excited to eat any breakfast, felt the champagne whizz round her head and ate one of canapés which Nel was handing round in the doubtful hope that it might mop up the wine. By the time Jolly appeared to say that lunch was ready everyone was in the best of spirits and trooped across the hall to sit around the table, their tongues nicely loosened by the champagne.

  Charity, led to the foot of the table opposite Tyco, had the feeling that she shouldn’t be there, but Professor ter Appel on one side of her and Wim on the other kept up a steady flow of conversation so that she had no chance to feel awkward, and the sight of Tyco, sitting at the head of the table, looking for all the world as though he got married every day of the week, steadied her. The food dispelled the light-headed feeling that she had had; lobster mousse, with a champagne sauce, noisettes of lamb with a garlic-flavoured sauce and biscuit glace with fresh raspberries and as a finale more champagne and a wedding-cake borne in by Jolly, who was followed by the household staff. Charity and Tyco cut it together amid a good deal of hand-clapping and cheerful chatter before Jolly sliced it neatly and it was handed round to everyone there. It was nice, thought Charity, to see what she supposed to be the gardener tucking into a large slice and drinking down his champagne with gusto. Everyone went back to the drawing-room after that for coffee and more talk, and, sitting beside Tyco, she began to enjoy herself. She didn’t feel married but she felt very content; his placid good nature had the effect of soothing her and the children’s delight at having her in the family gave her a pleasant feeling of being wanted, of belonging.

  Presently Jolly brought in the tea tray and shortly afterwards the guests started to leave. As Wim and his wife, the last to go, went through the door, Charity said, ‘What a lovely wedding; thank you very much, Tyco!’

  At his casual, ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it, my dear,’ she felt reassuringly warmed, so it was all the more disappointing when he told her that he would have to go back to the hospital that evening. ‘However, I should be back for dinner—I’ll phone if I’m held up and perhaps you will ask Mrs Jolly to keep everything hot. Before I go, have you seen your room yet? I should have thought of that earlier. Teile and Letizia will show it to you, won’t you, liefjes? And bed at the usual time, please; it has been an exciting day.’

  Looking at his calm face, Charity thought it unlikely that he had been excited; satisfied perhaps, that everything had gone according to his plans, but she had no illusions about herself. There was nothing about her to excite him—that was why he had chosen her. There was no chance of her disturbing the life he had organised so successfully. He had never pretended to be anything but a friend, marrying her for the sake of the small girls, sure that they would get on well together. She had wondered at his choice of her but now she thought she knew why. She said cheerfully, ‘It was a delightful party and they both looked very pretty, didn’t they? I’ll see that they’re in bed at the usual time but I’m hoping they’ll help me to unpack before they have their supper.’

  ‘Oh, good. I’ll be up to see you when I get home,’ he promised the children and bent to kiss them and then kissed Charity’s cheek too.

  Her room was charming and blissfully comfortable. The children opened drawers, inspected the enormous clothes cupboard along one wall, took her on to the balcony outside the French windows so that she could admire the surprisingly long garden beneath them, and then took her on a tour of the bathroom, white and pearly pink and housing every conceivable aid to beautifying one’s person. Then they helped her unpack, remarking with the candour of youth that she didn’t seem to have many clothes. ‘Never mind,’ said Letizia kindly, ‘Papa will buy you all the things you want to have.’

  She eyed Charity’s scant wardrobe, laid out tidily on the pastel pinks and blues of the bedspread. ‘I suppose you didn’t go to parties a great deal?’

  ‘Well, no. I never had much time, you know; it’s quite a long day at
the hospital.’

  ‘We’ll come shopping with you and tell you what you must buy,’ said Teile. ‘Papa will pay.’

  They had their supper and long-drawn-out baths, but she had them tucked up in bed presently, kissed them goodnight and went back to her room to do her face and hair rather anxiously. Perhaps it would be a good thing if she were to have a perm and go somewhere to have a professional make-up. Rather disheartened by the ordinary face which stared back at her from the looking glass on the tulipwood dressing-table, she went downstairs to find Tyco sitting in his chair, reading the paper.

  He got up as she went in. ‘I’m just back and hopefully I shan’t need to go in until Monday.’ He came to her and took her hands in his. ‘I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am that I had to leave you on our wedding-day…’

  ‘An emergency? Of course you had to go.’

  He smiled down at her. ‘I can see that you will be an exemplary wife. Yes, one of the teenagers—remember? We had to have him back in Theatre, but just now I think he’ll do. Wim is on duty and he’ll let me know if things go wrong again, but I don’t think they will.’

  He sat down opposite her and Jolly came in beaming.

  ‘Champagne cocktails,’ said Tyco and, when Jolly had gone, ‘How pleasant it is to sit here with my wife; you are a very restful person, Charity.’

  She sipped her drink. ‘Oh, am I? I have very little conversation, you know.’

  He smiled a little. ‘To come home to someone who isn’t going to chatter and is willing to listen to me while I ponder the day’s work is any man’s dream. Were the children good?’

  ‘Delightful. They are dears.’

  ‘I think so too. Next week, if you wish, you must all go shopping—I’ll open an account for you at La Bonneterie and de Bijenkorf and arrange for you to have a cheque-book. We had better go to the bank together—perhaps on Monday—I’m not operating until two o’clock and the round should be over by midday.’