An Apple From Eve Page 11

  He looked so ferocious that she pulled away from him, but was unable to budge an inch. ‘Don’t lie to me of all people, Phemie.’

  He was right, of course, although he couldn’t know why she found it almost impossible to lie to him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she told him. ‘It was a lie. It’s not the ward, it’s something private I can’t talk about.’

  He dropped a light kiss on the top of her head. ‘That’s better. Promise me you’ll not do that again.’ His blue eyes searched her face. ‘I’ll never lie to you, Euphemia, because I wouldn’t be able to.’ His hands dropped from her shoulders and he smiled. ‘I’m glad you like this room, I use it a great deal when I’m home. The house is rather large just for one…’

  She said eagerly: ‘Oh, of course it is, it needs some children,’ and then stopped again and went on awkwardly: ‘Are you home very much?’

  ‘Not as much as I used to be. Now that I live at Myrtle House I’m perfectly content to spend my weekends and free days there.’

  They were crossing the hall again towards another big double doorway.

  ‘Oh yes, because of Diana. I do hope she’ll be happy there.’ She glanced at him as she spoke, hopeful of an answer, but all she got was, ‘Don’t fish, Euphemia,’ as he opened the doors and they went into the dining-room.

  This was large and on the gloomy side, its heavy mahogany table ringed with a dozen chairs, its massive sideboard laden with chafing dishes, muffin dishes, dishes with silver covers, an enormous tray laden with a silver coffee service.

  ‘Heavens!’ cried Euphemia, quite overcome with so much grandeur, and the doctor laughed.

  ‘Overwhelming, isn’t it? But I haven’t the heart to banish them to the store rooms—besides, Domus loves cleaning them.’

  ‘Why has he only got one arm?’

  ‘He lost the other during the war. I got him fitted with an artificial arm, but he only wears it on Sunday when he goes to church.’

  He crossed the room and went to stand before a wall covered in portraits. ‘Come over here and look at some of these paintings—all family.’

  ‘The nose gets handed down, doesn’t it?’ observed Euphemia. She paused in front of a small portrait of a young woman dressed in the style of the thirties. ‘That is your mother, isn’t it? She’s pretty.’ She turned round to look at him. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that, but I mean it, I wasn’t just trying to—curry favour.’

  ‘I know that. She was very pretty when she was younger, and I think she still is. My father is of the same opinion.’

  ‘He’s nice too. Who is this man with the funny hat and the little dog?’

  ‘Another Tane, a dandy in his day, I believe, which may account for the hat.’

  Euphemia laughed. ‘It’s a dear little dog, though I’d rather have Boris.’

  The beast, hearing his name, wreathed himself round her, his tongue hanging out, and she bent to pat him. Just for the moment she was quite happy; somehow when she was with Tane she didn’t bother about the future.

  They wandered all over the house, strolling in and out of rooms, some used, some not, though it was hard to tell the difference because they were all maintained to perfection. They had done the ground floor thoroughly and were on their way upstairs when the Stoelklok on the wall below them struck the hour.

  ‘Seven o’clock? It can’t be—oh, my goodness, whatever time do you have dinner?—and I promised I’d wake Diana!’ Euphemia went bounding up the remainder of the staircase and was caught at the top by the doctor’s long arm from behind her.

  ‘Dinner is at eight, and don’t put on anything too grand. Mother’s not changing.’

  ‘No, all right. Thank you for showing me your house—it’s so beautiful.’ She said suddenly, urgently, and not aware that she called him by name, ‘Tane, you must marry soon, it’s all being wasted.’

  He didn’t smile, only his eyes gleamed with amusement. ‘Funny you should say that, I shall marry at the first opportunity; I decided that quite recently.’ He put out a finger and touched her cheek gently. ‘Come down for drinks as soon as you are ready.’

  Diana was still dozing, but she woke in a temper, declaring that she was still tired. ‘And not nearly enough time to change for the evening,’ she grumbled, and when Euphemia pointed out that there was no need to do more than change into a short dress, she lifted a shoulder and said she would wear exactly what she wanted. Euphemia went away then to her own room and showered and put on a plain pale cotton dress which, while not this year’s, was still something to be reckoned with, and went back to Diana’s room, to find her preening herself before the pier glass. She was wearing an orange brocade jump-suit and a great many gold bangles.

  ‘Pretty stunning, isn’t it?’ she wanted to know.

  ‘It’s spectacular,’ agreed Euphemia, and added carefully: ‘It’s a bit dressed up for this evening, isn’t it? Tane said his mother wouldn’t be changing…’

  Diana turned round to look at her. ‘Who said you could call him Tane?’ She gave a sniggering laugh. ‘Don’t tell me that the starchy Miss Blackstock has been turned on at last, and what a pity he doesn’t even know you’re there…’ She turned back to the mirror. ‘And I’ll wear what I damn well please. I’m not ready—go on down do.’

  So Euphemia went downstairs to the drawing-room, where the doctor and his parents had been joined by a guest; a rather stout man of middle height, with a florid face and prominent blue eyes. He was introduced as Cor de Vries, and the doctor said easily, ‘Cor met Diana when she was here some months ago and it seems a good opportunity to renew their acquaintance.’

  Euphemia murmured politely and thought Cor to be pompous, wondering what there was about him that could make him a friend of Tane. Chalk and cheese, she thought, and went and sat between the doctor’s parents.

  They were telling her of their own home, only a few miles away, when the door opened and Diana came in. Old Mijnheer van Diederijk paused for a second at the sight of her, then went on with what he was saying, and his wife’s face didn’t alter, although Euphemia had heard the quick breath. As for the doctor, he went forward to meet Diana without a comment, saying cheerfully that he knew that she would be delighted to meet Cor again. ‘You got on very well,’ he commented. ‘I hope you’ll become fast friends.’

  He got Diana a drink, stayed talking to the two of them for a few minutes and then joined his parents and Euphemia.

  They went into dinner presently and Euphemia, taking a close look at Cor de Vries, decided that he wasn’t quite her cup of tea, although Diana appeared to find him a delightful companion. He tended to monopolise the conversation, making pompous jokes and laughing heartily at them, and talking about himself, so that presently she decided that he was a conceited bore, an opinion certainly not shared by Diana. The girl was positively animated, laughing with him, listening to his boasting, taking only a small part in the general conversation. Euphemia, keeping up her end with the small talk, wondered how the doctor could stand the man, and surely he would object to Diana being monopolised so blatantly. If he did, he was concealing it admirably.

  They returned to the drawing-room for coffee when the leisurely meal was finished, and Euphemia, remembering the sparse meals at Jerez, sighed happily at the memory of lobster soup, duckling cooked in brandy and Curaçao and served with fresh pineapple, the artichaut Clamart, the pommes de terre Beray, and all these culinary masterpieces topped with a purée of chestnuts with whipped cream. She found the doctor beside her as they crossed the hall and smiled widely at him. ‘What a heavenly meal,’ she told him, ‘after all those cold chickens and lettuce leaves, and I’m not sure what I was drinking, but it was quite delicious.’

  He dropped an arm lightly round her shoulders and her heart doubled its beat and colour crept treacherously into her face. ‘Glad you enjoyed it,’ he observed. ‘You must come and meet Martje, my cook—she’s always complaining that she hasn’t enough work to do.’

  He saw her to a chair near his mother an
d drifted away, and presently she heard him laughing with Diana and Cor de Vries at the other end of the room. It was late when Cor declared that he must leave. He bade everyone a pompous goodbye and Tane and Diana went with him to the door and didn’t come back. Euphemia could hear Diana’s trilling laugh from somewhere outside and after a little while the doctor came indoors again to join them. ‘Diana’s gone to bed,’ he told them. ‘Euphemia, I suggest that you do the same, you must be tired.’

  She got quickly to her feet, blushing a little because of course he wanted her out of the way so that he could talk to his parents. She said her goodnights composedly, politely and genuinely regretful that she wouldn’t see the doctor’s parents again, and made for the door. The doctor reached it at the same time and went into the hall with her.

  ‘What did you think of de Vries?’ he asked her.

  She hadn’t expected that and she hesitated, trying to find the right answer. ‘He seemed very nice,’ she said lamely.

  The doctor gave a crack of laughter. ‘My dear girl, is that all you can say about him? Or are you afraid of offending me?’ He glanced down at her. ‘Yes, that’s it, isn’t it?’

  ‘Well—yes, I thought he was a friend of yours and that you liked him.’

  ‘Phemie, my dear, he is an unutterable bore and so full of himself it’s a wonder he doesn’t burst. I cannot stand him at any price.’

  ‘Oh—then why…?’ She stopped; she was being nosey and would get a snub for it.

  ‘I’m not going to tell you that.’ He bent and kissed her gently. ‘Goodnight, Euphemia.’

  His face was very close. She mumbled: ‘You mustn’t—oh, you mustn’t,’ and kissed him back.

  She should have slept dreamlessly in her lovely room; instead she tossed and turned, her head crammed to bursting with incoherent thoughts, none of which made sense. Thank heaven, she muttered over and over again, that tomorrow would see the last of him. Once at Heathrow she could say her goodbyes and that would be that. She had quite forgotten that she would see him often enough at the hospital. As it was, comforted by the thought that she would forget him as from the very next day, she dropped off into an uneasy doze, only to wake to the realisation that life without him would be unthinkable.

  It was still very early, but she knew she wouldn’t sleep again. She got out of bed and looked out of the window at the garden below, beautiful in the pearly morning light. You fool, she told herself savagely, where’s your pride? What would Father have said? Her father, having been a soldier, would have said, ‘All’s fair in love and war!’ which didn’t seem the right answer.

  Euphemia leaned out as far as she could to view the great expanse of garden round the house, grateful for the cool morning breeze. ‘And to think that I actually considered finding a way to stop him marrying Diana!’ she muttered. ‘I must have been mad—and conceited.’

  She withdrew her person from the rather hazardous angle at which she had been leaning, then poked her head out again as the doctor called her name.

  He was below her window, in slacks and a thin sweater, Boris weaving in and around his legs. ‘Come on down, it’s heavenly, and I want to show you the garden.’

  ‘No,’ said Euphemia, and withdrew her head, only to put it out again because Boris barked. He had a loud bark and was proud of it, and since his master did nothing to stop him, he went on making a terrible noise.

  ‘Be quiet, do!’ hissed Euphemia. ‘You’ll wake everyone up.’

  ‘Then you’d better come down, because he won’t stop once he’s started,’ observed the doctor cheerfully.

  ‘You should train him.’ She had to raise her voice to be heard above the din. ‘All right, but I’ll be ten minutes.’ She added carefully: ‘Wouldn’t Diana like to…’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ he admonished her. ‘She never lifts her head off the pillow before ten o’clock.’

  Euphemia showered, threw on her clothes, tied her hair back and thrust her feet into sandals, telling herself all the time that she was behaving badly; that Diana certainly wouldn’t like it if she knew, and that she wasn’t being fair to the girl. Not that she had any chance of diverting Tane’s attention. All the same, although it wasn’t war, it was certainly love, so fairness didn’t come into it. She crept through the wide corridors and down the stairs and out into the garden through the garden doors, where she found Tane and Boris waiting.

  She said with dignity: ‘Good morning. I only came because Boris was making such a din.’ She glanced at him as she said it and saw the smile on his face; it wasn’t a nasty smile at all, it was a smile to set a girl’s heart thumping. She prudently looked away and remarked that it was a beautiful morning.

  ‘Better than at the Villa,’ he agreed. ‘Come and see the roses. When I was at Myrtle House the garden there was a riot of colour.’

  ‘Yes, it looks lovely in the summer—I asked the boys to keep it in good order for you. You’ll be going back there in eight days’ time?’

  He nodded. ‘I have to go on to Birmingham tomorrow and then I shall be back here for a couple of days—which reminds me, your fees have been sent to Myrtle House.’

  He took her arm and guided her down a narrow grass path between high hedges; it opened on to a circular bed, crammed with roses, and Euphemia exclaimed with delight. They strolled round it, pausing to examine the specimens which caught her eye, and they had almost completed the full circle when the doctor asked: ‘Had you ever thought of selling Myrtle House, Euphemia?’

  She looked at him in horror. ‘No—at least, when Father died and I discovered that we hadn’t any money, I thought I’d have to do that, but now I think I can manage. When you go, I’ll have to find another tenant, of course, but as long as I can let it to someone that will pay for the mortgage. It simply mustn’t go out of the family.’

  ‘And how many more years has the mortgage to run?’ And when she told him: ‘A good slice of your life, Euphemia—is it worth it?’

  She bent to sniff at the superb example of Wendy Cussons. ‘Yes, of course it’s worth it; I want the boys to have it. Ellen will marry her curate, I feel sure, and the mortgage will be paid by the time Nicky marries. If he doesn’t then he and Billy can live there…’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘Oh, I’ll be all right—I’ve got a good job.’

  ‘You have an aversion to marriage?’

  She frowned a little, disliking the blandness of his voice.

  ‘Of course not, but—no one’s asked me since Father died and I’ve no intention of burdening anyone with things like a mortgage.’

  ‘Is there someone you would like to marry?’ he persisted.

  Euphemia wandered on a few paces and examined a charming group of miniature roses; if she said yes he would want to know who, and he had a tiresome way of wearing one down…and if she said no that would be a lie, and she found she couldn’t tell him lies easily. ‘Your roses are really magnificent,’ she observed in a voice reminiscent of the lady of the manor at the local flower show.

  He laughed. ‘Put in my place, am I? Do I know him?’

  She didn’t quite meet his eyes. ‘I’m not going to answer that either.’

  He took her arm. ‘There’s rather a nice pond at the end of this path. I can find out easily enough, you know.’

  Her voice shook a little. ‘But if I ask you not to, you won’t, will you?’

  They had reached the pond, ringed with water flowers and ferns and housing a number of small water fowl. The doctor took his hand from her arm and flung an arm around her shoulders. ‘I can’t think why you object so strongly—after all, I have an interest in you. You’re my landlady—and this man, whoever he is, might decide to buy the house and then where should I be?’

  She said earnestly: ‘I promise you that won’t happen,’ and then forgetting everything else but his comfortable presence, ‘He won’t ever marry me. He’s…he’s…’

  ‘Ah, the eternal triangle.’ His voice was soothing and just sufficiently impersonal,
although there was a glint of laughter in his eyes. ‘But take heart, Phemie, there is nearly always a way out.’

  ‘Not for me, there isn’t. Isn’t that a mandarin duck in those reeds?’

  ‘Yes, there are a pair—nice, aren’t they? In the cold weather we get any number of visitors. Some of them come back year after year, some of them stay—there are quite a variety here. Kingfishers too. This pond empties into a stream at the boundary of the grounds—there is some good fishing to be had.’

  He went on to talk about the surrounding countryside and told her something of the history of the house as they walked back again, to be met at the side door by Domus, informing them that breakfast was in the small dining-room if they cared to have it.

  Love, thought Euphemia, tucking in to rolls and toast and croissants spread with ham and cheese and black cherry jam, and drinking several cups of delicious coffee, was supposed to take your appetite away; hers had never been better.

  It was still early. They had almost finished their breakfast when Tane’s mother and father joined them. There was no sign of Diana, and when Mevrouw van Diederijk wanted to know where she was, Domus murmured in her ear, something which surprised her, for she observed: ‘Well, I suppose she is tired and she told me that she had been very ill with the mumps—but she has had two weeks’ complete rest.’ The lady’s gentle voice conveyed the suggestion that she herself had never needed two weeks’ rest, and she went on in a tone of satisfaction. ‘You were up early, Euphemia, I hope it wasn’t because you couldn’t sleep?’

  ‘I like the early morning,’ Euphemia told her, ‘even when I’ve slept all night.’ She looked up as she spoke and found the doctor’s eye bent upon her, so that she instantly felt guilty of telling a fib about sleeping well and went pink.

  There was time to go to the kitchens and meet the doctor’s cook after breakfast, although Euphemia had hesitated; she had taken up most of his morning so far, she didn’t think Diana would like it if he were absent when she got downstairs. But he had swept her along, through the hall and the green baize door at the back of that noble apartment, and she had found herself in the kind of kitchen any woman would have envied. It was very large and at a first glance looked old-fashioned, with its scrubbed table in the centre and a vast dresser against one wall, but tucked away so as not to spoil the homely effect were all the modern gadgets one could wish for. Moreover, there was a second smaller room where the washing up was done, and that in its turn led to a small pantry where the china and silver were kept. Euphemia browsed happily with the cheerful Martje in attendance, while the doctor sat on the table swinging his long legs and eating the cheese straws his cook had just fetched from the oven.