Nanny by Chance Page 11

  The doctor, watching her enjoyment, thought briefly of Christina, who would have refused for fear of adding a few ounces to her slimness. Araminta appeared to have no such fear. She was, he conceded silently, a very nice shape.

  ‘That was a lovely tea,’ said Araminta, walking back to the car. ‘I’ve had a marvellous afternoon. Thank you very much. And your aunt and uncle have been very kind.’

  He made a vague, casual answer, opened the car door for her and got in beside her. When she made some remark about the street they were driving along, he gave a non-commital reply so that she concluded that he didn’t want to talk. Perhaps he felt that he had done his duty and could now revert to his usual manner. So she sat silently until they had reached the house, and then there was no need to be silent, for the boys wanted to know if she had enjoyed herself, what she had thought of Leeuwarden and, above all, what kind of cakes she had had for tea.

  She was glad of their chatter, for it filled the hour or so before they sat down to their meal. They had had a wonderful afternoon, she was told. They had fished in the lake with their great-uncle, and gone with their great-aunt to see the kitchen cat with her kittens—and did she know that there were swans on the lake and that they had seen a heron?

  She made suitable replies to all this and then sat with Mevrouw Nos-Wieringa and listened to that lady’s gentle flow of talk. There was no need to say anything to the doctor, and really there was no need even to think of that, for he went away with his uncle for a time to look at something in the study, and when they came back they were bidden to the table.

  As a concession to the boys, the meal was very similar to an English high tea, and the food had been chosen to please them, finishing with a plate of poffertjes—small balls of choux pastry smothered in fine sugar. Araminta enjoyed them as much as the boys.

  They left soon afterwards. The boys eager to come again with their mother and father, the doctor saying that he would spend a weekend with his aunt and uncle when next he came to Holland. Araminta, saying all the right things, wished very much that she would be coming again, too.

  The boys were tired by now, and after a few minutes of rather peevish wrangling they dozed off, leaning against Humphrey’s bulk. The doctor drove in silence, this time travelling back via Meppel and Zwolle, Hardewijk and Hilversum, so that Araminta might see as much of Holland as possible.

  He told her this in a disinterested manner, so that she felt she shouldn’t bother him with questions. She sat quietly, watching his large capable hands on the wheel, vaguely aware that she was unhappy.

  It was dark by the time they reached Utrecht, and she urged the sleepy boys straight up to bed with the promise of hot milk and a biscuit once they were there. They were still peevish, and it took time and patience to settle them. She was offering the milk when the doctor came to say goodnight, and when he added a goodnight to her, she realised that he didn’t expect her to go downstairs again.

  She thanked him for her pleasant day in a dampened down voice, since he was obviously impatient to be gone, and when he had, she tucked up the boys and went to her room.

  It wasn’t late, and she would have liked a cup of tea or a drink of some sort. There was no reason why she shouldn’t go down to the kitchen and ask for it, but the thought of encountering him while doing so prevented her. She undressed slowly, had a leisurely bath and got into bed. It had been a lovely day—at least, it would have been lovely if the doctor had been friendly.

  She fell asleep presently, still feeling unhappy.

  The boys woke early in splendid spirits so that breakfast was a lively meal. The doctor joined in their chatter, but beyond an austere good morning he had nothing to say to Araminta.

  It’s just as though I’m not here, she reflected, listening to plans being made by the boys to go shopping for presents to take back with them.

  ‘You must buy presents, too,’ they told Araminta. ‘To take home, you know. We always do. Uncle comes with us so’s he can pay when we’ve chosen.’

  ‘I expect Miss Pomfrey will prefer to do her shopping without us. Let me see, I believe I can spare an afternoon this week.’

  ‘Mintie?’ Paul looked anxious.

  ‘Your uncle is quite right; I’d rather shop by myself. But I promise you I’ll show you what I’ve bought and you can help me wrap everything up.’

  Suddenly indignant, she suggested that the boys should go and fetch their schoolbooks, and when they had gone she turned her eyes, sparkling with ill temper, on the doctor.

  ‘Presumably we are to return to England shortly?’ she enquired in a voice to pulverise a stone. ‘It would be convenient for me if you were to be civil enough to tell me when.’

  The doctor put down the letter he was reading. ‘My dear Miss Pomfrey, you must know by now that I’m often uncivil. If I have ruffled your feelings, I am sorry.’ He didn’t look in the least sorry, though, merely amused.

  ‘We shall return in five days’ time. I have various appointments which I must fulfil but the boys will remain with me until their parents return within the next week or so. I hope that you are agreeable to remain with them until they do? You will, of course, be free to go as soon as their parents are back.’

  ‘You said that you would arrange for me to start my training…’

  ‘Indeed I did, and I will do so. You are prepared to start immediately? Frequently a student nurse drops out within a very short time. If that were the case, you would be able to take her place. I will do what I can for you. You are still determined to take up nursing?’

  ‘Yes. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I’m not sure if the life will suit you.’

  ‘I’m used to hard work,’ she told him. ‘This kind of life—’ she waved a hand around her ‘—is something I’ve never experienced before.’

  ‘You don’t care for it?’

  She gave him an astonished look. ‘Of course I like it. I had better go and see if the boys are ready for school.’

  That morning she went shopping, buying a scarf for her mother, a book on the history of the Netherlands for her father and a pretty blouse for her cousin, who would probably never wear it. She bought cigars for Bas, too, and another scarf for Jet, and a box of sweets for Nel and the elderly woman who came each day to polish and clean. Mindful of her promise to the boys, she found pretty paper and ribbons. Wrapping everything up would keep them occupied for half an hour at least, after their tea, while they were waiting impatiently for their uncle to come home.

  They were still engrossed in this, sitting on the floor in the nursery with Araminta, when the door opened and the doctor and Mevrouw Lutyns came in.

  The boys ran to him at once and Araminta got to her feet, feeling at a disadvantage. Mevrouw Lutyns was, as always, beautifully dressed, her face and hair utter perfection. Araminta remembered only too clearly the conversation she had had with the doctor in Leeuwarden and felt the colour creep into her cheeks. How he must have laughed at her. Probably he had shared the joke with the woman.

  Mevrouw Lutyns ignored her, greeted the boys in a perfunctory manner and spoke sharply to the doctor. He had hunkered down to tie a particularly awkward piece of ribbon and answered her in a casual way, which Araminta saw annoyed her. He spoke in English, too, which, for the moment at any rate, made her rather like him. A tiresome man, she had to admit, but his manners were beautiful. Unlike Mevrouw Lutyns’.

  He glanced at Araminta and said smoothly. ‘Mevrouw Lutyns is thinking of coming to England for a visit.’

  ‘I expect you know England well?’ said Araminta politely.

  ‘London, of course. I don’t care for the country. Besides, I must remain in London. I need to shop.’ Her lip curled. ‘I don’t expect you need to bother with clothes.’

  Araminta thought of several answers, all of them rude, so she held her tongue.

  The doctor got to his feet. ‘Come downstairs to the drawing room, Christina, and have a drink.’ And to the boys he added, ‘I’ll be back again presently
—we’ll have a card game before bed.’

  They went away and Peter whispered. ‘We don’t like her; she never talks to us. Why does Uncle like her, Mintie?’

  ‘Well, she’s very pretty, you know, and I expect she’s amusing and makes him laugh, and she wears pretty dresses.’

  Paul flung an arm round her. ‘We think you’re pretty, Mintie, and you make us laugh and wear pretty clothes.’

  She gave him a hug. ‘Do I really? How nice of you to say so. Ladies like compliments, you know.’

  She found a pack of cards. ‘How about a game of Happy Families before your uncle comes?’

  They were in the middle of a noisy game when he returned. When she would have stopped playing he squatted down beside her.

  ‘One of my favourite games,’ he declared, ‘and much more fun with four.’

  ‘Has Mevrouw Lutyns gone home?’ asked Paul.

  ‘Yes, to dress up for the evening. We are going out to dinner.’

  He looked at Araminta as he spoke, but she was shuffling her cards and didn’t look up.

  Two days later the boys went with their uncle to do their shopping, leaving Araminta to start packing. She had been happy in Holland and she would miss the pleasant life, but now she must concentrate on her future. Her mother, in one of her rare letters, had supposed that she would go straight to the hospital when she left the doctor’s house. Certainly she wasn’t expected to stay home for any length of time. All the same, she would have to go home for a day or so to repack her things.

  ‘We may be away,’ her mother had written. ‘There is an important lecture tour in Wales. Your cousin will be here, of course.’ She had added, as though she had remembered that Araminta was her daughter, whom she loved, ‘I am glad you have enjoyed your stay in Holland.’

  Neither her mother or her father would be interested in her life there, nor would her cousin, and there would scarcely be time for her to look up her friends. There would be no one to whom she could describe the days she had spent in the doctor’s house. Just for a moment she gave way to self-pity, and then reminded herself that she had a worthwhile future before her despite the doctor’s doubts.

  For the last few days before they left she saw almost nothing of the doctor. The boys, excited at the prospect of going back to England, kept her busy, and they spent the last one or two afternoons walking the, by now, well known streets, pausing at the bridges to stare down into the canals, admiring the boatloads of flowers and, as a treat, eating mountainous ices in one of the cafés.

  They were to leave early in the morning, and amidst the bustle of departure Araminta had little time to feel sad at leaving. She bade Jet and Bas goodbye, shook hands with Nel and the daily cleaner, bent to hug Humphrey, saw the boys settled on the back seat and got in beside the doctor.

  It was only as he drove away that she allowed herself to remember that she wouldn’t be coming again. In just a few weeks she had come to love the doctor’s house, and Utrecht, its pleasant streets and small hidden corners where time since the Middle Ages had stood still. I shall miss it, she thought and then, I shall miss the doctor, too. Once she had left his house she wasn’t likely to see him again. There was no chance of their lives converging; he would become part of this whole interlude. An important part.

  I do wonder, thought Araminta, how one can fall in love with someone who doesn’t care a row of pins for one, for that’s what I have done. And what a good thing that I shall be leaving soon and never have to see him again.

  The thought brought tears to her eyes and the doctor, glancing sideways at her downcast profile, said kindly, ‘You are sorry to be leaving Holland, Miss Pomfrey? Fortunately it is not far from England and you will be able to pay it another visit at some time.’

  Oh, no, I won’t, thought Araminta, but murmured in agreement.

  Their journey was uneventful. They arrived back at his London home to be welcomed by Briskett, with tea waiting. It was as though they had never been away.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  BRISKETT handed the doctor his post, informed him that there were a number of phone calls which needed to be dealt with at once, took the boys’ jackets and invited Araminta to go with him so that he might show her to her room.

  ‘The boys’ are in their usual room. They’d better come with you, miss; the doctor won’t want to be bothered for a bit. Had a good time, have you? Hope the boss took time off to show you round a bit.’

  ‘Well, yes, we went to Friesland.’

  He turned to smile at her, his cheerful rat face split in a wide smile. ‘Nice to have him back again, miss. Here’s your room. Make yourself at home.’

  It would be difficult not to feel at home in such a delightful room, thought Araminta, with its satinwood bed, tall chest and dressing table. The curtains and bedspread were white and pale yellow chintz, and someone had put a vase of freesias by the bed. The window overlooked the long narrow garden, with a high brick wall and trees screening it from its neighbours.

  She would have liked to linger there, but the boys would need to be seen to. They had been good on the journey, but now they were tired and excited. Tea and an early bedtime were indicated, unless the doctor had other plans. She went to their room, tidied them up and took them downstairs.

  The study, where she had first been interviewed by the doctor, had its door open. The doctor was at his desk, sitting back in his chair, on the phone, and speaking in Dutch. Araminta’s sharp ears heard that. He looked up as they went past.

  ‘Go into the sitting room. Briskett will have tea waiting. I’ll join you presently.’

  So the boys led her across the hall into quite a small room, very cosy, where Briskett was putting the finishing touches to the tea table.

  ‘I’ve laid a table,’ he told her. ‘I don’t hold with little nippers balancing plates on their knees. Just you sit down, miss, and I’ll give the boss a call.’

  The doctor joined them presently, ate a splendid tea and then excused himself with the plea of work. ‘I have to go out,’ he told the boys, ‘and I don’t think I’ll be back before you go to bed, but I’m not doing anything tomorrow morning; we will go to the park and feed the ducks.’ He glanced at Araminta. ‘I’m sure Miss Pomfrey will be glad of an hour or two to get your clothes unpacked.’ He added casually, ‘I expect you would like to let your parents know you are back in England; do ring them if you wish.’

  She thanked him. ‘And, if you don’t mind, I’ll go and unpack the boys’ night things. I thought an early bedtime…’

  ‘Very wise. I’m sure Briskett will have something extra special for their supper.’

  ‘Perhaps I could have my supper at the same time with them?’

  ‘You would prefer that? Then by all means do so. I’ll let Briskett know. You’ll bathe them and have them ready for bed first? Shall I tell him seven o’clock?’

  ‘That would do very well, thank you.’ She hesitated. ‘Are you going out immediately? If you are, then I’ll wait and unpack later.’

  He glanced at his watch. ‘Half an hour or so, but I need to change first.’

  ‘If I can have ten minutes?’

  ‘Of course.’

  She unpacked the overnight bag, put everything ready in the boys’ bathroom and whisked herself back downstairs with a minute to spare. The doctor bade the boys goodnight, nodded to her and went away. She was in the boy’s room, which overlooked the street, when she heard him in the hall and went to look out of the window. He was getting into his car, wearing black tie, looking remarkably handsome.

  ‘I wonder when he gets any work done,’ reflected Araminta. ‘Talk about a social whirl.’ She knew that wasn’t fair, he worked long hours and he was good at it, but it relieved her feelings. She hoped lovingly that he wouldn’t stay out too late; he needed his sleep like anyone else…

  She sighed; she had managed all day not to think too much about him and it had been made easier by his distant manner towards her, but loving him was something she couldn’t alter, eve
n though it was hopeless. No one died of a broken heart; they went on living like everyone else and made a success of their lives. Something which she was going to do. But first she must learn to forget him, once she had left his house. Until then, surely it wouldn’t do any harm if she thought about him occasionally?

  The boys came tumbling in then, and she allowed stern common sense to take over.

  Life in London would be very different from that of Utrecht. For one thing there would be no school in the mornings.

  Their parents would be returning in a few days now, and the boys were excited and full of high spirits; she filled the mornings with simple lessons and the afternoons with brisk walks, returning in time for tea and games before bedtime. The doctor was seldom at home; as Briskett put it, ‘Up early and home late. No time for anything but his work. Good thing he’s got a bit of social life of an evening. You know what they say, miss, “All work and no play”…’

  But the doctor still found time to spend an hour with the boys each evening, although it was very evident that he had no time for Araminta. His brief good mornings and good evenings were the extent of his conversations with her. And what else did she expect? she asked herself.

  They had been back in England for three days before he told her that the boys’ parents would be arriving in two days time.

  ‘Perhaps you would be good enough to remain for a day or so after their return; my sister is bound to wish to talk to you, and their clothes and so on will need to be packed up. She will be glad of your help.’

  Three days, thought Araminta, four at the outside, and after that I shan’t see him again. ‘Of course I’ll stay on, if Mrs Ingram wishes me to,’ she told him.

  She was surprised when he asked, ‘You will go home? Your people expect you?’

  ‘Yes.’ She didn’t add that they would probably still be away. Her cousin would be there, of course, and she supposed she would stay there until she heard from the hospital. Which reminded her to add, ‘You told me that there was a chance that I might be accepted at the hospital…’