An Old-Fashioned Girl Read online

  She longed to tell him that she needed no coercion. It was like being offered the fairy on top of the Christmas tree. There was something she had to know, however. ‘Will you be in Holland too?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes. For most of the time. I have one or two things lined up… I think it might be best if Rinus goes back with Nanny and settles her with her sister; I’ll drive over as soon as I’m free and take you and Marijke and Rosie with me.’

  ‘Basil?’

  He smiled a little. ‘He has to stay with Dobbs. I spend more time here than in Holland at the moment. He’s fond of Dobbs.’

  She remembered something and asked, ‘Whereabouts in Holland?’

  ‘Rinus lives in den Haag so you would be there.’

  ‘You live there too?’

  ‘No, but Holland is a small country and I live near by.’

  Near by could be anywhere. She sensed a gentle snub and lifted her chin. ‘When would you want me to go?’

  ‘Rinus intends taking Nanny back in two days’ time. Supposing I drive you up to Themelswick so that you can talk to your aunts and collect anything you may want to take with you? I have to go to Norwich so if we leave early you can have the day and I’ll collect you in the early evening.’

  Everything had been planned, she could see that now—he had been very sure of her, but then he must know that she needed the money. She had been, she reflected bitterly, of great convenience to him; first his house and his book and now his niece. It was a great pity that she loved him so much that she would have cheerfully agreed to do anything he asked of her.

  She said now in her sensible way, ‘I expect it will be all right. I’m sure the aunts won’t mind when I explain, and it isn’t as though you were a stranger.’

  He agreed gravely, hiding amusement. He had never met anyone quite like her before. His mother would have called her an old-fashioned girl, but she was sturdily independent and sensible. She was also, at times, remarkably tart. He said now, ‘I’ll drive you up the day after tomorrow while Rinus is still here to give a hand with Rosie. We will leave very early—about eight o’clock…’

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘Now that is settled, shall we have another pot of coffee?’

  He had nothing more to say about the journey to Holland and after due thought she decided not to ask; she might only get another polite snub. Instead they discussed the books they had read, discovering that their tastes were similar; indeed, they agreed upon so many things, reflected Patience, that in other circumstances they might have been really good friends. They were, of course, behaving in a most civil fashion towards each other, but she sensed that there was more to her companion than he was allowing her to see. Possibly he was making an effort to be agreeable so that he could be sure she would agree to go to Holland with Rosie. No sooner thought than said. ‘You need not have taken me out, you know,’ she assured him. ‘I mean I didn’t need buttering up so that I would agree to take Nanny’s place. You must know that I need a job…’

  She looked across the table at him and sat back rather suddenly in her chair. He hadn’t moved but the sudden blaze of anger in his face struck her like a blow. ‘Shall we consider that last remark unsaid?’ he asked softly.

  She made herself look at him. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that—at least, I put it badly, didn’t I?’

  ‘Very badly. Don’t ever talk like that again, Patience.’

  ‘No, I won’t. I hope I haven’t spoilt the evening. I—I’ve had a lovely time.’

  The anger had gone—he was smiling. Perhaps she had imagined the ferocity of it. ‘While you are in Holland you must try and see something of the country. I’m sure that if you ask Marijke you will be able to save up your free time and stay on for a few days after Nanny returns. There is a great deal of interest…’ He began to talk about the lesser-known delights of his country.

  It was late when they got back but Dobbs was still up, ready to offer coffee or drinks. Patience said her goodnights, reiterated her thanks for her dinner, hugged Basil and went up to her room. She glanced back at the top of the stairs; Mr van der Beek was already going out again with Basil. She smiled at his vast back; she would see him again in the morning.

  Rosie was awake early; Patience got dressed, dressed the moppet and bore her downstairs. Dobbs met them in the hall with a cheerful good morning and the offer of a cup of tea for Patience and a glass of milk for Rosie.

  ‘Mr van der Beek left just after four o’clock,’ he told her. ‘Another of those heart transplants. He won’t be home for the rest of the day.’

  It had been nearly midnight when they had got back last night; he wouldn’t have had more than three hours’ sleep. ‘He works too hard,’ said Patience worriedly, and Dobbs agreed, thinking to himself that his boss couldn’t do better than marry such a nice young lady—she wouldn’t stop him from doing his work, he thought shrewdly, but she’d see that life was made as easy for him as possible. Of course he himself, and dear Miss Murch, did their best, but the boss never listened to them—he’d have to listen to a wife…

  He didn’t come home all day, and he still wasn’t home when she put Rosie to bed, changed her dress and went downstairs to the drawing-room. The ter Kattes were there and Rinus got up at once to get her a drink. They had been shopping, and Marijke said, ‘I don’t know what we should have done without you, Patience; we’ve been able to do all the things we had planned thanks to you. I do hope you’ll be happy with us in den Haag. You will be able to have much more time to yourself there; we have a marvellous housekeeper and a maid who adores Rosie, so you will have a free time each day—there is so much to see.’

  They began to talk about their home and den Haag and presently, since Mr van der Beek wasn’t back, they went in to dinner. The meal was over and they were back in the drawing-room when the phone by his chair rang. Rinus answered it; he spoke in Dutch so that Patience knew that it was Mr van der Beek on the other end. She was steeling herself to the disappointment of not going to Themelswick in the morning when he put down the telephone.

  ‘Julius—he’s staying at the hospital for a while yet. He did a heart transplant early today and wants to keep an eye on the patient. Patience, he says he will expect you to be ready to leave here by half-past eight in the morning. I’ll let Dobbs know and he’ll arrange breakfast for you…’

  Relief flooded through her person but she sounded her usual matter-of-fact self. ‘I’ll get Rosie up and dressed before I go. She could have her breakfast with me and I’ll hand her over at the very last minute.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll collect her—I expect you’ll have breakfast in the nursery. Anyway, Dobbs will arrange everything and let you know.’

  Patience went to her room soon after that to put everything ready for the morning. Dobbs had been waiting for her in the hall. She would be called in good time, he told her; breakfast would be served in the room used as a nursery and she need not worry about anything. He sounded very soothing; it was pleasant to have someone to plan for her, when she had become used to doing that for herself and the aunts.

  She was awakened by Jenny with a cup of tea and the information that breakfast would be on the table by a quarter to eight and, since Rosie for once was still asleep, she got up and dressed—the caramel and cream dress again, well made enough to stand up to the busy day she saw ahead of her. She did her hair with some severity, made sure that everything was to hand and went to wake Rosie.

  They had just finished their breakfast when she heard the house door shut and Basil’s cheerful bark, and a few minutes later Mijnheer ter Katte, true to his word, came to carry off his small daughter.

  ‘Have a pleasant day,’ he said. ‘You will be glad to see your aunts again. Julius came back in the small hours, had his breakfast some time ago and went out with Basil. Are you ready? Can we do anything to help?’

 
; ‘I’m quite ready,’ Patience said, and kissed Rosie’s round cheek. ‘I hope you don’t have too busy a day.’

  ‘Marijke’s feeling so much better that she’s looking forward to it. We plan to take her to St James’s Park to feed the ducks.’

  He went away, leaving her to pick up her jacket and handbag and go downstairs. Mr van der Beek was in his study, on the phone; he paused long enough to say, ‘I’ll be with you in a moment,’ and went back to whatever he was talking about. Presently he hung up, picked up his bag and came into the hall. Dobbs was already there, ready to open the door and give her a friendly good morning as they left the house. Mr van der Beek went round the car and opened her door, invited her to get in and settled Basil on the back seat. As he got in beside her, Patience had a chance to look at him. Impeccably turned out as always, but there were tired lines in his face. He started the car without speaking and she sat silent while he drove through the city and out on to the A12. They were nearing Brentwood before she ventured to ask, ‘Was the operation a success?’

  ‘Yes. A small setback during the day but everything’s all right now.’

  ‘I’m glad. Did you get any sleep? You weren’t home when I went to bed.’

  She didn’t see him smile. ‘Oh, yes, I went to bed, and don’t worry, I had enough sleep to make me a safe driver.’

  ‘That isn’t what I was thinking,’ she said indignantly. ‘You—you work too hard—I told you you were burning the candle at both ends and you are.’ When he didn’t say anything she added, ‘When I was typing your book I had no idea…I imagined you in a splendid consulting-room in Harley Street, sitting with nurses and receptionists running around doing everything for you while you sat behind a desk listening to people complaining about something they hadn’t got.’

  His chuckle held mockery. ‘My dear girl, what a vivid imagination you have. Although I must admit to having rooms in Harley Street I can only confess to one nurse and one receptionist; as to my patients, I’m too busy a man to waste time listening to hypochondriacs. I make sure that is what they are and recommend them to a colleague more fitted to dealing with them than I.’

  She refused to be cowed. ‘Well, no one would know that just from meeting you. You must be very well known.’

  He said without conceit, ‘Among members of my profession perhaps; there is no reason why anyone else should consider me well known.’

  They had bypassed Chelmsford by now and as they approached Witham he slowed the car. ‘Shall we have coffee? There’s a nice little pub here—the White Hart.’

  The coffee was hot and strong; Patience, making polite conversation, had the leisure to mull over all the things she shouldn’t have said. It was too late to do anything about it now and it was obvious that the subject was not to be touched upon again. He kept the talk to trivialities and made no effort to prolong their coffee-drinking. In the car once more, with Basil’s head squeezed between them, he asked idly about the aunts, hoped that she would enjoy her stay in Holland and remarked upon the unusually pleasant spring they were having. Patience made suitable replies and brooded over the problem of loving him. It would be nice, she reflected, if one could express one’s true feelings and never mind the consequences—like a child. Rosie could put her arms round her uncle’s neck and declare that she loved him—something which he obviously enjoyed—but if she were to do it he would recoil in horror. Her face portrayed her thoughts so vividly that Mr van der Beek, glancing sideways at her, asked sharply if she felt all right.

  Themelswick looked just as usual as they drove through the village and on to the house. Miss Murch must have been on the look-out for them, for the door was thrown open as he stopped the car before it.

  Her welcome was warm. ‘There’s coffee all ready and waiting and some of my gingerbread. The ladies are in the drawing-room…’

  She glanced at Patience and Mr van der Beek said, ‘I want a word with Miss Murch, Patience; you go ahead and I’ll join you presently.’

  The old ladies were delighted to see her, although they wanted to talk about their stay in their old home in preference to hearing about her news. Mrs Perch brought in the coffee, lingered for a moment to ask about her fine job in London, and went away, to be replaced by Mr van der Beek, who said all the right things, drank a cup of coffee and sampled the gingerbread before excusing himself with the plea of business in Norwich.

  ‘I’ll be here soon after six o’clock,’ he told Patience. ‘We’ll drive straight back—I’ll have to go to the hospital later on this evening.’

  He went away, leaving her to explain to the aunts about her trip to Holland.

  ‘How very kind of them to invite you,’ murmured Aunt Polly, who, being slightly deaf, had got it all wrong, and Patience, rather than get tangled up in a welter of explanations, let that pass. Her aunts were happy; indeed, they seemed younger, living without worries in their own home again, and it was obvious that Miss Murch was being more than kind. She went to find her presently and thanked her warmly. ‘There is not too much work for you?’

  Miss Murch bridled. ‘Certainly not, Patience. They’re real old-fashioned ladies and such as they never give any trouble.’ She studied Patience’s face. ‘You look well. Kept you busy, I dare say—that little Rosie is a handful.’

  After lunch Patience went down to the house in the village to fetch her passport and one or two things to supplement her wardrobe. The little house, after the quiet luxury of the house at Chiswick, was depressing; her aunts would be silently unhappy when they had to return to it once more. She shut the door and tried not to think of the future but just be content with the present. Not too difficult; she would be sitting beside Julius in a couple of hours’ time and that was enough to blot out everything else.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE AUNTS HAD enjoyed a comfortable snooze while she had been in the village; now they were ready for their tea and a chat.

  ‘You will come back here, dear, when you return from Holland?’ Aunt Bessy wanted to know.

  It would be cruel to explain that they would all have to go back to the poky little house again; time enough for them to be told when she returned. She replied vaguely and mentioned that she had met Mrs Dodge.

  ‘She misses you both very much,’ she told them. ‘She would like to be someone’s housekeeper now she’s widowed—I dare say she is lonely.’

  They discussed Mrs Dodge at some length, indeed they were still recalling titbits of kindly village gossip when Mr van der Beek arrived.

  He had said soon after six o’clock when he left and he was as good as his word. She went to say goodbye to Miss Murch and receive several messages for Dobbs at the same time, while he sat down with the air of a man who had all the evening before him in which to do nothing, and listened to the old ladies telling him at some length that life for them at the moment was the acme of perfection. Patience, back again, watched him sitting there, to all intents and purposes with nothing more on his mind than the small happenings in Themelswick, while underneath she was quite sure he was aching to be gone.

  The aunts paused and she took the opportunity of bidding them goodbye and presently, after various small delays, they got into the car and drove away.

  Patience felt Basil’s gentle breath on the back of her neck. It reminded her to ask urgently, ‘Have you had your tea? I should have thought—and did Basil want a drink?’

  He had hardly spoken to her at the house and now he said with a laugh, ‘Thank you, I had tea; so did Basil. You enjoyed your day and explained to your aunts?’

  ‘Yes. I had a lovely time. I’m not sure if they quite understood everything, but they’re perfectly happy that I should be going to Holland and only too delighted to stay on at the house.’

  ‘Good.’ He had no more to say after that, but his silence was friendly and she hesitated to break it. He was driving fast and she guessed
that he was anxious to get to the hospital. It didn’t matter to her; just sitting beside him made her happy, not completely happy of course, but it would do—it would be better than nothing, and besides she had a good deal to think about herself.

  As they reached the outskirts of London she said quietly, ‘You want to go to the hospital, don’t you? Would you go there first? I can get a bus to Chiswick. It will save you going there and then back again; that would be such a waste of time…’

  He said at once, ‘I am anxious to go to the hospital as soon as possible but I shan’t be there for long—just a quick check-up. We’ll go there and you can come in and wait for me. You won’t mind a few minutes’ delay?’

  ‘Not a bit.’

  The hospital was in the heart of the city. He drove into the forecourt, parked in the consultant’s bay and invited her to get out.

  ‘What about Basil?’

  ‘He minds the car.’ Indeed, the astute animal had already climbed over into the driver’s seat. ‘Come along.’

  The entrance hall was impressive but she was given no time to look around her—she was urged into a lift and, when it stopped, hurried along a corridor and then another with passages left and right so that she was quite confused. If he forgot that she was waiting for him—and he well might—she would never find her way out of the place. She was relieved when he turned into a final passage and thrust aside the swing door at its end, to be met by three people, two youngish men in white coats and a stout middle-aged woman who was undoubtedly Sister. How did they know that Mr van der Beek was coming? she wondered as he introduced her briefly, asked whether she might sit in Sister’s office, and left her in the care of a young nurse, who opened the nearby door and invited her inside.