Cassandra by Chance Read online

  She smiled at him, liking him very much. ‘I’m sure you are, Jan, for I’m sure that it was your help that made all those tedious weeks bearable. We have to go to the hospital, I believe.’

  There was no waiting about when they arrived there—indeed, there was a reception committee which whisked him discreetly through endless corridors, with Cassandra pattering along behind until he spoke to one of the men beside him, who detached himself from the main party and fell back to walk with her, chatting pleasantly in an English as good as her own.

  ‘We shall be glad when Professor van Manfeld returns,’ he told her.

  ‘Oh, is he a professor?’ she wanted to know, thinking at the same time how little she knew about Benedict. ‘I’m sure you will, and he will be glad to come back, I know.’

  She glanced at the broad back in its impeccably cut grey suiting, walking ahead of her along corridors which he most likely knew blindfold; walking away from her. The thought was unendurable. She turned to her companion and asked brightly, ‘How many beds do you have here?’ and made herself listen while he told her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE X-RAYS WERE quickly done, but the get-together in the radiologist’s office afterwards went on for some time. Cassandra had been feeling a little lost until Jan arrived. He had crossed the room to her side as soon as he had seen her. ‘Mijnheer sent for me,’ he explained. ‘I am to take coffee here.’

  She glanced over to where Benedict stood talking to the radiologist and several other men—colleagues at the hospital, she guessed, for they all wore the same conventional suits, the same elegant ties.

  ‘That was nice of him,’ she murmured. ‘He wants you to share in his good news.’

  Jan’s dark eyes rested upon hers for a moment, but before he could speak he was summoned by Benedict’s quiet ‘Jan?’ and left her with an apologetic smile. She watched him being introduced to the other men and thought how like Mijnheer van Manfeld to give credit where credit was due—she deliberately called him that to herself; it would help to prise her loose from the silly situation she had allowed herself to get into. Nevertheless, when he turned his head and said ‘Cassandra?’ she went to him at once, to be introduced in her turn. But presently she slipped to the edge of the circle of people around him and Jan joined her with her coffee cup in his hand, remarking, ‘It is all so strange, is it not, Miss Cassandra, but it is a wonderful hour for Mijnheer.’

  She sipped her coffee. ‘Yes, it is. How proud you must be of your part in getting him well again.’ She looked at Benedict, standing with downbent head, listening to someone or other. ‘Thank you, Jan,’ she said softly.

  ‘Do not thank me, I am only glad that I could at last repay some of the kindness I have received from Mijnheer. He needed my help, just as he needs the love you give him, Miss Cassandra.’

  She stared at his dark, elderly face, the blood leaving her own and then rushing back to flood it from her chin to the roots of her neat hair. She whispered, ‘Oh, Jan, he doesn’t know? He mustn’t—how did you...? I thought I’d been so careful...’

  He gave her a slow reassuring smile. ‘Do not worry, it is not to be seen, only to be felt, you understand. It is a secret which I share with you, and I am proud to do that.’ He sighed. ‘If things had been different, I would have had a daughter of just your age, Miss Cassandra.’

  She forgot her own miserable embarrassment in the sadness of his face. ‘I’ve often wondered. Would you tell me about her one day?’

  He nodded. ‘I should like that. I do not talk of it, you understand, only Mijnheer knows, but I should like to tell you too, about her and my wife...’ He broke off as Benedict called: ‘Jan, come here a moment, will you? There’s something...and where’s Cassandra?’ He turned his head sharply, frowning.

  ‘I’m here,’ she told him quietly, ‘with Jan,’ and stayed where she was until he said decisively: ‘Please come here—I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you weren’t with us.’

  She went and joined the little group, making conversation and listening to Benedict’s voice and, now and again, his laugh. He hadn’t laughed so much in all the time she had known him. He must be overjoyed to return to his own life and his friends once more. She was jerked out of her thoughts by her patient’s voice, requesting her to give him an arm back to the car. There was a little flurry of good-byes and ‘see you tomorrows’ and they set off, this time alone, because Jan had gone on ahead.

  ‘Is there anyone about?’ Benedict wanted to know. Cassandra peered behind her, in front of her and even sideways at the blank walls on either side of them. ‘No,’ she said at length.

  He said disconcertingly, ‘Cassandra, you know how happy I am, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I know. I’m happy too and so is Jan, and so will Penny and Andrew be happy when I tell them, and everyone else who knows you.’

  ‘You minded me looking at you at Viske’s, didn’t you?’

  She lied briskly, ‘No, why should I? I—I told you that I was a plain girl so that I knew that it wouldn’t be too much of a shock to you.’

  He said simply, ‘It was a great shock. I—Is there someone coming?’

  She looked behind her. ‘Yes, your partner.’

  ‘Cornelius? Damn!’ They stood waiting for him to catch up with them and then went on together, but now Mijnheer van Tromp had Benedict’s arm, talking urgently in Dutch, and Cassandra walked sedately beside them, wrapped in her own thoughts. So he had had a shock, had he? Hadn’t he believed her, then? She had been quite honest and told him that she was plain; what more could she have done? Perhaps he had thought that she was playing some pleasant little joke. Her too-sharp nose wrinkled at the absurdity of it.

  They were at the entrance before Benedict said to her, ‘Forgive us, Cassandra, this was a little urgent business which couldn’t be postponed.’ He shook hands with his partner, just as though he wouldn’t see him again for days—a silly custom, she thought crossly, shaking everyone by the hand on every possible occasion. All the same she smiled as she took Mijnheer van Tromp’s hand when he offered it; he was nice, she liked him better each time she saw him.

  They travelled back as fast as they had come, with Jan singing a little song under his breath and Benedict sitting silent. And this time she kept her hands folded primly on her lap.

  At the house, Benedict paused to say, ‘Tomorrow again, then. My new glasses should be ready by then—if everything is all right, I shall put them on and drive the car back myself. You will both come with me of course.’

  They went up the three steps to the already opened door, where Miep was waiting and who, on being told the news, burst into a flood of happy tears so that Benedict had to pat her enormous shoulders to quiet her. ‘Champagne tomorrow when I get back,’ he told her. ‘I think it’s a little previous to have it today, don’t you? Where’s my aunt?’

  At lunch Benedict was polite but a little absent-minded. No doubt he was making plans, Cassandra decided, pecking at the delicious food on her plate. She was quite startled when he asked her if she would read some extracts from The Lancet and World Medicine to him that afternoon.

  ‘Even when I leave off these dark glasses,’ he explained, ‘Viske won’t hear of me reading for more than half an hour or so a day to start with, so I must cram in as much as I can.’

  ‘Before I go,’ added Cassandra silently as she agreed cheerfully to do as he asked.

  She was half way through a particularly dry article on Henoch’s Purpura when there was a knock on the door and the beautiful Juffrouw van der Plas swept in, exquisitely groomed, very sure of her welcome and towing a companion. Another pretty girl, Cassandra saw with a sinking heart, blonde too, her hair falling round her shoulders, her suede, fur-trimmed jacket, gaily embroidered, pulled tight over suede slacks stuffed into high boots. She was hung with chains and bracelets which tinkled with every movement
she made. They played a positive tune as she raced across the room, flung her arms round Benedict’s neck and kissed him, and her companion, not to be outdone, did the same. Cassandra, watching silently, knew that he was annoyed and she made a little movement so that Juffrouw van der Plas turned to look at her—a kind look, such as she would have given a small child or a puppy or anything else which was to be vaguely noticed. Cassandra took instant exception to it; it would have been nice if she could have said what was on her mind. Instead she asked coldly:

  ‘Am I to remain, Mijnheer van Manfeld?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ His voice was sharp. ‘You will stay exactly where you are.’ He took no further notice of her but said something at some length to the two girls, who looked bewildered, faintly amused and slightly regretful. Cassandra was surprised when they got up, shook him by the hand, smiled at her—quite differently this time, she didn’t fail to notice—and went away.

  When the front door had clanged shut after them she got to her feet.

  ‘Shall I wipe the lipstick off your face, Mijnheer van Manfeld?’ she asked, very coldly.

  ‘For God’s sake, yes—and stop calling me Mijnheer van Manfeld with every other breath.’

  She went and stood before him and got out her handkerchief, said briefly: ‘Put out your tongue,’ damped her handkerchief and scrubbed the offending marks away. By the time she had finished he was shaking with laughter.

  ‘And now what’s the matter?’ she wanted to know.

  But he refused to tell her, merely shaking his head, so that she observed crossly, ‘I can’t think why you couldn’t have spent an hour or so with your friends. After all, they were kind enough to come and see you...!’

  ‘They came because they had heard that I’m—er—normal again. Do you suppose they would have bothered if I were to remain blind?’ He lifted a lazy hand and caught hers. ‘Do you know,’ he said slowly, ‘I think my tastes have changed—in people, I mean—and it is your doing, Cassandra.’ He put up his other hand and took off his dark glasses and when she said, ‘No—you mustn’t—Mijnheer Viske said...’ said, ‘Be quiet, dear girl.’

  She stood like a slender statue, staring into his eyes. They were grey and searching; under their gaze she felt her colour rise slowly until her face was flooded with a delicate pinkness. She whispered:

  ‘Oh, please—you shouldn’t! He said not...sup-posing it should do harm? And after all these weeks.’

  He smiled. ‘The harm’s done, Cassandra, if that is what you call it. Why did you tell me that you were plain?’

  She pulled her hand away. ‘Well, I am,’ she mumbled.

  It would have been so nice if he had denied this hotly, instead he put his glasses on again with a little laugh and said: ‘Would you mind finishing the article—the interruption was pleasant enough, but ill-timed.’

  She picked up The Lancet and found her place. ‘They are two of the prettiest girls I’ve seen,’ she assured him, ‘and if I’d been you I would have thrown The Lancet into the waste paper basket and asked them to stay for tea.’

  ‘Yes?’ He sounded amused and his face was bland. ‘But you see I can have the pleasure of seeing any of my friends whenever I wish, but I fear that none of them are capable of reading about Henoch’s Purpura with any degree of intelligence, and you are, Cassandra.’

  She read the rest of the article in a prim voice, stopping and re-reading bits of it when he asked her to do so, and when she had finished he thanked her pleasantly.

  ‘And where will you spend Christmas?’ His question was such a surprise that she dropped The Lancet.

  ‘With Rachel, I suppose.’

  ‘You look forward to that?’ his voice was hatefully silky, she wondered what he would say next, she hadn’t long to wait. ‘An excellent opportunity to become better acquainted with John Campbell,’ was what he said.

  ‘I have no wish...’ she began crossly, and then changed it to: ‘I doubt if there’ll be much time; clergymen are notoriously busy at Christmastime.’

  His voice became even silkier, and she saw that he was smiling. ‘Do you not have a saying in your language—“Love will find a way’’?’

  She got to her feet, ‘You’re being most unpleasant,’ she told him. ‘I’m sure I don’t know why. There’s no point in me sitting here while you think up nasty remarks to needle me. There is,’ she went on, a little breathless, ‘no point in my remaining here, in Holland—you won’t need a nurse now and you have friends enough to entertain you and give you any help you may need.’

  He was standing too. ‘So I have,’ he agreed smoothly, ‘and you are quite right, I shall have no further need of you as a nurse after tomorrow.’

  Cassandra felt wretched; she had known that he would tell her that she was no longer needed, but she need not have precipitated it. She reached the door and took hold of its brass knob, where it was instantly held fast by his own hand. He had moved with lightning speed and now he loomed over her, standing relaxed, almost lazily, though his hand was firm enough on hers. He had taken off his dark glasses again, too.

  She looked at him a little wildly. ‘You mustn’t,’ she begged him. ‘You should keep them on until tomorrow—that’s twice in ten minutes.’

  ‘So it is. I think all the excitement must have gone to my head, don’t you? So you must allow me a little license.’

  He swooped suddenly and she was caught in an arm which pulled her close, and kissed. The kiss was thorough, and if anything had been needed to confirm her feelings for him, it would have done so a hundred times over.

  He loosed her as suddenly as he had held her. ‘A little relish for the ogre,’ he observed, and opened the door. She went through it without looking at him; he wouldn’t have had much opportunity to kiss girls while he had been on his enforced holiday, so it was natural that he should rectify the omission, and possibly he was regretting the brevity of his visitors’ stay. But that had been his own fault. She hurried upstairs, not sure where she was going, but it really didn’t matter as long as she could get away from him and the penetrating look from those grey eyes.

  When she went down for tea an hour later, Benedict told her, ‘Van Tromp is coming for dinner, and I should be glad of half an hour of your time, Cassandra—just before dinner, I think. Shall we say the library at half past six? Wear something pretty, you’ll be off duty by then.’

  She wore the blue patterned dress and for the first time was sorry she hadn’t brought something more suitable for the evening with her. Mijnheer van Tromp was there as well as Benedict. They had been deep in conversation as she entered—about her, she felt sure, a feeling justified when Benedict said, ‘Hullo—we’re talking about you.’

  She advanced into the room, confident that her calm manner quite disguised all her other feelings. ‘I thought so,’ she remarked pleasantly. ‘One can always tell. What did you wish to see me about?’

  He answered with no hesitation. ‘You realize, of course, that I shall be returning to work in some form or other in a few days. Sooner than I had expected, as it happens, for I have just heard from Viske that everything is entirely satisfactory. It only remains for a general check-up tomorrow.’

  She was a little impatient. Did he really suppose that she didn’t know she was about to be given the sack? She said tartly, ‘I quite understand. When do you wish me to leave?’

  He contrived to look hurt. ‘Cassandra Darling,’ he said patiently, ‘as usual you have leapt ahead and rushed over your bridge before you came to it. I was going to make you a rather nice speech of thanks. As it is, and since you want it that way—yes, dear girl, I am giving you the sack, for the very good reason—’ his voice had become silky again, ‘that even if you wore a uniform round the clock, once I have discarded my dark glasses, no one is going to believe that I need a nurse.’

  He smiled at her, a mocking little smile whic
h had the effect of increasing her ill humour out of all bounds.

  ‘Well,’ she uttered, ‘you really are—of all the—I can’t find words...’

  ‘Good,’ he sounded brisk, ‘that will give me a chance to talk.’

  ‘I don’t want to hear any more. I’m very glad that you are quite recovered and will be able to work again, I’m quite ready to...’

  ‘Perhaps if I might interrupt your interesting little discussion?’ suggested Mijnheer van Tromp soothingly. ‘There is something I wish you would do for me, Cassandra. My surgery nurse—she leaves tomorrow. I have another one coming, of course, but not for a little while. I was wondering if you would consider—as you are already here—filling the vacancy until she could take over? Your lack of Dutch will make very little difference, I fancy—my secretary answers the telephone for a good part of the day; you would have merely to admit my patients, give injections, find notes and so forth—quite simple.’ He looked at her hopefully. ‘I should be glad to pay you the same fee as you receive from Benedict.’

  Cassandra could think of nothing at all to say; the sheer unexpectedness of it had taken her breath and woollied her wits; she wasn’t even conscious of thinking sensibly about it. She asked at last, ‘Should I really be of use?’

  ‘I should be eternally grateful,’ stated Mijnheer van Tromp.

  ‘Well then, I’ll be glad to help out for a little while.’ She wasn’t sure if she had meant to say that, but now it was said and she smiled at him, missing the look of triumphant satisfaction upon Benedict’s face, ‘When would you want me to start?’

  ‘The day after tomorrow. My nurse will be there in the morning and will show you what there is to be done.’