Hilltop Tryst Page 12

  ‘Charming, charming. You will come again, both of you, of course!’

  ‘Of course,’ agreed the doctor blandly. ‘We shall look forward to that.’

  Alone again, Beatrice asked, ‘Why did you say that? About us coming again?’

  Two elderly gentlemen were bearing down upon them; Oliver turned to greet them. ‘But we will come again,’ he said over his shoulder, and then, ‘This is the hospital director and a very important man…’

  After that there was no more opportunity to talk together and presently they said their goodbyes, found Ethel and went out to the forecourt where the cars were parked.

  They talked of their forthcoming visit to Cologne, the morning’s reception and of the various people they had met while they ate their lunch. The restaurant was full, and the doctor paused to greet several people as they went to their table, his arm on hers, and invariably they all expressed the hope that they would see them again. ‘We shall be over in London in the autumn,’ said one serious-looking professor, lunching with his wife. ‘You must both come and dine.’

  Beatrice was tempted to point out to Oliver that the various acquaintances who had expressed a hope that they would meet again—and that included her—were mistaken, but she didn’t want to say so in front of Ethel. She kept quiet, ate her lobster thermidor and a towering confection of ice-cream, chocolate and whipped cream, and joined in the small talk.

  It was three o’clock when the doctor edged the Rolls out into the city’s traffic. They drove south, over the Rhine, crossing into Germany at Emmerich and following the road through Xanten to Krefeld, a large industrial town, a blot on the scenery round about them. Presently they stopped in a village and had tea, and Beatrice studied the map.

  ‘There are several roads,’ remarked Beatrice, ‘all going to Cologne.’

  ‘Yes. We shall go back on another route so that you get a chance to see as much as possible of this part of Germany.’

  ‘The Rhine must be lovely.’

  ‘Oh, it is, but you need to get past Bonn. Last time we came I had a day to spare, and we drove along the Rhine, past the Lorelei Rock. Unfortunately there will be no time to go anywhere on this trip.’

  ‘Did you—that is, was your fiancée with you?’

  She was looking at the map and didn’t see the look which passed between her companions. ‘No, but Ethel was.’

  ‘It was gorgeous,’ enthused Ethel, and enlarged upon the beauties of the Rhine at some length, until they got up to go.

  The doctor drove on, turning off the main road to go through Zons, a small medieval town about twenty miles from Cologne. It was a charming place, and he obligingly parked the car for a little while so that Beatrice could stroll through its streets with Ethel on one side and him on the other, pointing out the ancient buildings.

  Cologne cathedral was visible before they had a clear view of the city, its twin towers soaring upwards, and once they reached its heart it seemed to overshadow the old houses with their gabled roofs. But there were a great many modern buildings too, and the streets were bustling with people and traffic. Beatrice didn’t think, at first glance, that she was going to like it as much as she had liked Utrecht, although the sight of the great cathedral was awe-inspiring. The hotel, close to it, was awe-inspiring too, and very grand. She gave it a somewhat doubtful look as they stopped before its splendid entrance, and Oliver said, ‘I agree with you—very five-star, isn’t it? Not quite what I would have chosen, but of course everything is arranged beforehand. At least it is central, and I have no doubt very comfortable.’

  Which it was. Their rooms were on the first floor again but at the back of the hotel, overlooking a quiet square. They were opulently furnished, and Beatrice and Ethel poked their noses into every corner of them. ‘I only hope that my little black number will be up to standard,’ said Ethel with a giggle.

  It seemed they were to follow the same routine as they had in Utrecht, and presently they went down to the brilliantly lit bar and found Oliver waiting for them. ‘The surroundings call for nothing less than champagne cocktails,’ he observed, ‘and I can only hope that you are both hungry, for the menu is sumptuous.’

  The restaurant, when they reached it, was even more brilliantly lit than the bar. Beatrice took her seat at the window-table reserved for the doctor and studied the menu. It was indeed sumptuous. She chose cold watercress soup with cream, and then worked her way through the elaborate menu; far too much choice, she reflected, but perhaps the Hotel Excelsior Ernst had to live up to its five stars. Then she settled for grilled sole with a white wine sauce, straw potatoes and petits pois à la flamande. Ethel chose chicken, and the doctor, without looking at the menu, asked for fillet steak with vigneronne. The waiter looked quite upset as he removed the menus, their choice was obviously too modest, although the wine waiter treated the doctor’s choice of a bottle of red burgundy for himself and a bottle of Chablis Grand Cru for the ladies with the respect it deserved. Beatrice, tasting hers, declared it to be a very nice wine, unaware that it had cost more than twenty pounds a bottle.

  She and Ethel chose the same sweet, a light peach tart which they pronounced to be perfection, but the doctor took his choice of the cheeseboard. Beatrice would have been content to have sat over coffee, but Oliver had some work for Ethel, so she declared herself tired and wishful of an early night and, armed with the guide to Cologne with which Oliver had thoughtfully provided her, left the restaurant with every sign of eagerness to get to her room. The three of them stood in the foyer for a moment, then Ethel went away to get some papers she needed and Beatrice made to follow her up the staircase. Oliver’s large hand on her arm checked her.

  ‘I shall have very little time to myself tomorrow,’ he told her, ‘but if you don’t mind eating a snack lunch in a hurry, we’ll have it together.’ He frowned in thought. ‘Now, where shall we meet? Somewhere you can find easily.’ He smiled. ‘The cathedral, of course. Inside the main door and the centre nave. Half-past twelve?’

  ‘Oh, that would be nice. Are you sure that you can spare the time?’

  He smiled again. ‘Oh, indeed I can. Goodnight, Beatrice. I don’t want to say it, but I must.’ He picked up her hand and kissed it gently. ‘Sleep well.’

  Undressing slowly, Beatrice did her best to sort out her thoughts. They were a bit muddled; Oliver was beginning to loom rather large in them and, while she told herself that it was gratitude that she felt for him, she couldn’t deny that he attracted her. ‘I shan’t sleep,’ she declared to her reflection in the ornate looking-glass as she slapped cream on to her face.

  She got into bed and slept within seconds.

  Breakfast was a businesslike meal and brisk. Oliver was brisk too, while Ethel perused her notebook. They got up to go long before she was finished, and Oliver said, ‘Don’t forget to be in the cathedral, half-past twelve.’

  He got up and was gone before she could say a word.

  She spent the morning finding her way around the city. There was a street of shops close to the hotel, and she wandered down to it, looking at the windows and doing sums in her head, changing German marks into pounds and deciding that everything was rather expensive. All the same, she was tempted to buy a leather belt for Ella and a silk scarf for her mother. She still had an hour to spare by the time she reached the cathedral, so she found a small café and had coffee and tidied herself. Then she sat for a little while, looking around her at the vast place. It was magnificent, and presently she got up and walked around, clutching her guidebook and stopping every few yards to consult it. It took quite a long time. She was surprised when she looked at her watch to see that it was very nearly half-past twelve, and she hurried back to the central nave. She was at the wrong end, of course, so she hurried towards the great door, and half-way there was brought to a standstill by Oliver’s hand.

  ‘I would have waited for you, Beatrice,’ he said, half laughing.

  ‘Yes—well…’ she was breathless with her haste and the pleasure of
seeing him again ‘…I thought I was late, and you said you wouldn’t have much time.’

  ‘There’s a coffee-shop in an arcade near here. I dare say we can get something there. I’ll be finished by six o’clock; the three of us can meet in the bar at seven o’clock. Tomorrow evening there’s a dinner at the town hall; you’ll come, won’t you? And the following day I shall be busy until the afternoon—there’s a reception at three o’clock. I’ll fetch you from the hotel. We’ll leave for Copenhagen the next morning.’

  While she was listening he was steering her out of the cathedral and through the crowds outside into a nearby arcade to the coffee-shop. It was almost full and very noisy, but he found a table against one wall and sat her down. ‘Coffee—and what would you like to eat?’

  She looked at the counter behind them, loaded with rich cakes and pastries and a variety of breads and rolls. She said, ‘I’ll get fat—all that cream… I’ll have a brioche and butter. I’m not hungry.’

  He gave the order. ‘Nor I, although I believe that if I were to enter your mother’s kitchen at this moment and smell bacon sizzling in its pan I’d be famished.’

  Over their simple meal he told her about the journey to Copenhagen. ‘Hanover, Hamburg, Lubeck and Copenhagen.’

  ‘It’s miles—why don’t you fly?’ she wanted to know.

  ‘Driving gives me a respite between one lecture and another. You don’t find it too tiring?’

  ‘Me, heavens, no! I’m loving every moment.’ She added, ‘I liked Utrecht.’

  ‘One of my favourite seminars! Did you do any shopping here?’

  ‘A belt for Ella and a scarf for my mother. Everything’s rather expensive.’

  ‘I dare say you’ll find something more to your taste in Copenhagen. Brussels isn’t cheap, either.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Have you something to do this afternoon?’

  ‘I thought I’d just wander round. I suppose I couldn’t come to your lecture?’

  ‘Of course you can, though it will be in German. You can sit with Ethel, she’ll be delighted.’

  Beatrice got to her feet. ‘Oh, thank you. You don’t mind? Ethel has to take notes, doesn’t she?’

  ‘Oh, yes, but not all the time.’

  They walked together through the crowded streets and down a narrow side street bordered on one side by the hospital where he was to lecture.

  ‘There’s a side door,’ he told her, and ushered her through a narrow archway and into a covered passage which led to the main building. The passages seemed endless to her, and the faint hospital smells revived memories of her father’s illness; she was relieved when he opened a swing door and she found herself standing with him at the side of a large assembly hall.

  ‘Ethel’s sitting near the front. There she is.’ He led the way down the aisle and tapped his secretary on the shoulder.

  She turned a beaming face to them. ‘Beatrice—oh, how nice, have you come to hear the lecture?’ She turned a suddenly severe face on the doctor. ‘You are cutting it fine, doctor—barely ten minutes. Have you your notes?’

  ‘In my pocket. Ethel, take Beatrice to tea when I’ve finished. I’ll see you both back at the hotel.’

  He disappeared and Beatrice sat down beside Ethel. ‘Do you understand German as well as being able to speak it? I mean, the kind of German Oliver uses when he lectures?’

  ‘Bless you, yes. My father was in the army, he was stationed here for years and I went to school here. It comes in handy. Do you want me to translate?’

  Beatrice shook her head. ‘Even in English I don’t suppose I’d understand the half of it. I’d just like to listen.’

  Ethel gave her a quick look. ‘Yes. Well, he’s got a lovely voice.’

  Oliver looked frightfully different somehow when he came on to the platform. Remote and so assured, and at the same time self-effacing. She understood nothing of what he was saying, of course, but he spoke fluently and without haste, and several times the crowded hall burst into laughter. The lecture lasted a long time, and Beatrice allowed her thoughts to wander. Would the girl he was going to marry accompany him on these lecture tours? she wondered. And later on, when they had children, would they stay at home and she with them, or would there be a nanny, a nice, old-fashioned type, so that his wife could travel with him? Or perhaps he would give up lecturing… They wouldn’t stay at the Hotel Excelsior Ernst, though; they would go to small, quite quiet places and spend as much time as possible together.

  Ethel’s hissed whisper, ‘He’s finished the lecture, now they ask questions,’ brought her back to her surroundings, and she sat listening and watching with awe as Ethel scrawled shorthand on page after page of her notebook.

  ‘Do you have to type all that?’ she whispered.

  Ethel nodded. ‘I get paid an enormous salary,’ she added.

  ‘You must be worth every penny of it.’

  Ethel nodded again, entirely without conceit.

  Finally it was all over and they slipped out into the street, and Ethel led the way to a coffee-shop not far from the hotel.

  ‘It had better be coffee. Shall we have one of those enormous cakes?’

  They had a delightful hour, the two of them, discussing clothes and make-up and the tour so far. ‘Very successful,’ observed Ethel. ‘But then, they always are.’ But she didn’t talk about Oliver, and Beatrice knew that even if she asked questions about him she would be very politely sidetracked. Ethel might earn a splendid salary, but that had nothing to do with her loyalty to the doctor. Discretion, thought Beatrice, was probably her middle name.

  They didn’t hurry back to the hotel, but stopped to examine the shop windows. In the foyer, Ethel said, ‘You’ll be all right on your own for an hour? I’ve these notes to type.’

  ‘And I’ve kept you from them,’ said Beatrice contritely. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. It was fun. There’s only one lecture tomorrow, so I shall have time to get my typing done. There’s a lecture on the following morning, but I’m free in the afternoon and we don’t leave till the day after that.’

  Dinner that evening was a light-hearted affair. Getting ready for bed later, Beatrice reflected that Oliver was a delightful companion with a quiet sense of humour which was never unkind. She went to sleep confident that the next day would be just as delightful as that day had been.

  In this she was disappointed, for after breakfast Oliver went away and she saw nothing of him until the late afternoon; she filled her day with more sightseeing and window-shopping, and after a late cup of tea with him and Ethel she went away to dress for the evening. It would be the satin skirt and blouse again.

  There were far more people at the dinner than there had been in Utrecht. She found herself between two youngish men who spoke impeccable English and were flatteringly attentive. Oliver sat across the table from her with a handsome, well-dressed woman on either side of him, and although he caught her eye and smiled at her once or twice he seemed to be quite content where he was. She felt a surge of peevishness, and responded rather more warmly than she had intended to the younger of the two men.

  The dinner lasted a long time and there was a great deal of it. They rose from the table at last after a series of speeches—one from Oliver—and stood around in the adjoining room, talking. Oliver had joined her once more, and her dinner partner, still with her, asked politely, ‘You are engaged to be married to the good doctor?’

  ‘Heavens, no!’ said Beatrice, and added coldly, ‘Dr Latimer is a family friend.’

  ‘Of course. A pity that you cannot stay longer in our beautiful city. I would have given myself the pleasure of showing you its various splendid buildings.’

  Beatrice, well aware that Oliver’s eyes were on her face, smiled with charm and allowed her eyelashes to sweep down on to her cheeks and up again. For some reason, she wanted to annoy him. ‘That would have been delightful. If I should return, perhaps you will ask me again.’

  He wished her goodbye and kissed her hand, and she smil
ed again very sweetly. She didn’t like him very much, but since they were unlikely to see each other again that didn’t matter. She enlarged on his charming manner as they went back to the hotel, until Oliver spoilt it all by remarking placidly, ‘A nice enough fellow—married with four children and a very stout wife.’

  Beatrice swept through the foyer ahead of him and stopped at the foot of the staircase. ‘You could have said so hours ago,’ she pointed out with a snap.

  ‘My dear girl, who am I to put a damper on your pleasures?’

  ‘Oh, pooh.’ She tossed her head. ‘Goodnight, Oliver.’

  She debated whether to have a headache the next afternoon and not go with him to the reception, but in this she was forestalled by his unexpected appearance at the table where she and Ethel were having lunch.

  ‘I’ll come for you both,’ he told them, ‘and if you feel a headache coming on, Beatrice, take a couple of Panadol and lie down for an hour.’

  He smiled at them both and wandered away again, and Ethel said, ‘He never seems to get tired. Have you got a headache? You’d better go and rest, and I’ll call you in good time.’

  It was difficult to be annoyed with Oliver for more than a few minutes, for the simple reason that he ignored the fact that one was cross in the first place. She and Ethel were ready when he came for them and, truth to tell, she enjoyed the reception. Everyone there was very hearty and friendly, and the little cakes were delicious. Although Oliver left her from time to time, he was always at her elbow just when he was needed. The evening passed with the three of them enjoying another elaborate dinner while they discussed their stay in Cologne and their journey north on the following day.

  ‘I’ve allowed two days to get to Copenhagen,’ explained Oliver casually. ‘We shall go as far as Salzhausen, just south of Hamburg, tomorrow and do the rest of the journey on the following day.’