The End of the Rainbow Page 12

  "She must have been a great help, after Estelle died."

  "Indeed she was, quite indispensable."

  Olympia thought that she detected dryness in her companion's voice once more. "Elisabeth is a marvellous friend," she declared warmly, "and so gentle and self-effacing. She could have hated me, you know, and made life quite unbearable."

  Aunt Betsy agreed to this in a non-committal manner and asked: "And do you go out much? Waldo has so many friends-and have you visited Amsterdam and The Hague? Arnhem is a delightful place, too, and not so very far away."

  Olympia poured more coffee, gave Ria another biscuit and took time to answer. "Well, Waldo is very busy; he works most evenings. We went to dinner at Wim's house and I met Paul and their wives. And we all went to Zierikzee-Waldo has a friend living there with an English wife, she's very nice. They have a lovely old house…' She became aware that she was babbling and stopped. There were surely other occasions she could tell Aunt Betsy of, but that lady gave her no time to think: "And Waldo has not taken you out excepting on these occasions?"

  "I've been quite happy-I like just being here, and I've heaps to do."

  "What do you do, Olympia?" asked Aunt Betsy inextricably.

  Olympia hadn't expected this cross examination; she said feverishly: "Oh, I talk to Emma about the meals and do the flowers, and of course I have a Dutch lesson every morning, and I go to the shops, and of course there's Ria."

  Her companion made an impatient sound. "You are in fact being a good housewife."

  Olympia raised troubled eyes to the older lady. "I've tried, but I'm not sure that I've been successful." She choked back a wish to tell Aunt Betsy everything-Waldo's impenetrable, reserved friendliness, and all the mistakes she had made, and the time and money she had spent on her hair and her clothes and the care with which she dressed each day in the hope that he would notice, and last but not least, her awful suspicion about the girl in London. Instead she said in a bright voice: "I really should take Niko out for his walk. Would you mind very much if I left you with Ria for a little while?"

  Aunt Betsy didn't mind in the least; going out of the house a few minutes later, Olympia could hear her in lively conversation with her small great-niece. They sounded very happy together. She attached Niko to his lead and followed his chubby, gavotting little figure out of the front door and did a brisk circuit of the Abbey, entering its large courtyard by the further gateway, and so home, her mind busy with an idea which had just entered it. Ria wouldn't be able to go to nursery school for a week or two, so would it not be a splendid idea if someone-Mijnheer Blom, perhaps-should give her a few lessons each morning? She would soon get restless once the novelty of the new doll had worn off and the doll's house palled and the brighter days were coming; she would want to go out playing with her small friends or going for long walks with her and Niko, and she wasn't quite strong enough yet. Mijnheer Blom could give her some lessons to do and perhaps she could sit in the same room while she herself had her Dutch lesson, and it might be a sound footing upon which to build a new relationship between them. She would ask Waldo.

  There was no chance to speak to him alone during lunch, and he was called away directly after it, but that evening, after Ria was in bed and the two ladies were gossiping over the outfit they were knitting for the new doll, there was opportunity enough, for Waldo, instead of going to his study as he usually did, remained with them, reading his paper and joining in their conversation from time to time, but before Olympia saw a chance to mention her plan, Aunt Betsy declared her intention of going to bed and she was barely out of the door before Waldo declared that he had work to do. Just as though, thought Olympia sadly, he couldn't bear to be alone with her, and yet before they married they had spent a lot of time together and he had appeared to have enjoyed her company, but of course, if he had met someone else… She tried not to think about that as she said in a cool voice:

  "If you could spare a moment, Waldo, there is something I would like to talk to you about."

  She had her eyes on her knitting, and didn't see the sudden sharp look he gave her, although his voice was calm enough. "Of course, what is it?"

  "Well, I wondered if it would be a good idea if Ria were to have just a few lessons each day perhaps Mijnheer Blom would teach her for half an hour and then give her some work to do while he gives me my Dutch lessons. You see, once she has got over the excitement of coming home and the new doll she's going to be bored; she's full of energy, and no child of that age would sit still all day unless she's given a jolly good reason-she loves school, doesn't she, and this would be the next best thing, just for a week or two."

  He said thoughtfully: "That might be a good idea, Olympia. I'll speak to Blom." He added: "That's clever of you, dear girl."

  She was quick to take his meaning. "You agree that it might help us to be friends-having lessons together? I thought that too, and it's something I want above everything else-I'd do anything."

  He was leaning against the door, his hands in his pockets. "Yes, I know that. Another matter-I wondered if we might invite Wim and Paul and the girls over for dinner one evening while Aunt Betsy is here? Elisabeth too." He smiled slowly. "It will give you a chance to show off your cooking as well as your Dutch."

  She agreed pleasantly and wondered if he would have thought of it if Aunt Betsy hadn't suggested it first. "Which day?"

  "Sunday evening? That would be the simplest for me; I'm on call and it's easier to be home. Will you see about inviting everyone?"

  She said that yes, she would and went on to wish him good night.

  "You haven't forgotten that I'm going to Utrecht in the morning? If I'm back in time, how about a run in the car during the afternoon? Aunt Betsy might like that."

  Olympia started to pack up her knitting, turned out the lamp on the table beside her, and got to her feet. "I imagine she will be delighted. You might take Ria with you."

  His eyebrows rose. "But of course you will come with us too."

  She swept past him, her colour becomingly high. "No, I will not!" she snapped. "Just because we have a guest staying and you feel like entertaining her, places you under no obligation to do the same for me." She hurried across the hall and actually had a foot on the bottom stair when she was caught, turned round and held firmly.

  "Now, now," said the doctor at his most placid, and then: "You know, you should lose your temper more often, it's highly becoming." He kissed her lightly. "Now go to bed and don't be a silly girl."

  He spoke with a bland good nature which hurt almost as much as his impersonal kiss had done.

  It was just as well, she thought later, that he couldn't see her now, crying with helpless rage as she got ready for bed.

  She went down to breakfast early, piled the doctor's post tidily, sat the dressing-gowned Ria in her chair, then took her own place at the table and began to write out a menu for the coming dinner party, but she didn't get far with it, indeed she wasn't giving it her whole attention; she was listening for Waldo's steps in the hall as he came back from his walk with Niko.

  He wished her a cheerful good morning, good-naturedly allowed himself to be half smothered by Ria's embrace, and sat down to his breakfast. Aunt Betsy, declaring that she had reached the age when she might indulge herself in small whims, took hers in bed, so that the meal was dispatched with a minimum of talk, the doctor muttering from time to time over his letters and Ria piping up with some childish observation. Olympia poured her husband's coffee, set the toast rack ready to his hand, buttered bread and added a wafer of cheese for Ria, and crumbled toast on her own plate as she drank her coffee. She looked up presently to find Waldo looking at her over a sheaf of papers.

  "You're not eating," he observed pleasantly. "Do you feel all right?"

  "Yes, thank you."

  "Then have some toast, dear girl, we don't want you to lose any of those very attractive pounds." He passed her the toast and she obediently took some as he went on: "I'll lunch in hospital and be back about
two o'clock." He got up, preparing to go. "We will go to Veereit's a delightful place and only a few kilometres away. We can have tea there and drive back through Domburg. I'm afraid I must be back for evening surgery, though."

  "I think," said Olympia, addressing his shirt front, "that I may not have the time to come with you…the dinner party, you know."

  "In that case we'll cancel the dinner party." His voice was bland, and when she peeped at him it was to find him smiling at her so that her heart lurched around her chest like a thing gone demented.

  "I'll come," she told him.

  He came round the table, dropped a kiss on Ria's dark head before she felt his hand on her shoulder. "Spoken like a true friend, my Olympia." The hand was gone, too quickly. With a brief good-bye he was gone.

  They had a delightful afternoon. Veere, in the spring sunshine, looking like a mellow watercolour painting from the Golden Age. They parked the car and strolled round the tiny place, then climbed the stone staircase in the Campveerse Toren Hotel, to sit at a table in the window and drink their tea. The window overlooked the harbour and the cobbled street beside it, lined with beautiful old houses. Waldo pointed to one of them. "A friend of mine lives there-a doctor," he observed. "Marius van Beek-haven't seen him for years. He married an English girl, a charming little thing called Tabitha. Paul told me that they were in England for a few weeks, otherwise we could have called to see them. I'll bring you over again when they're back."

  "What is Tabitha like?" asked Olympia.

  "Small, quiet, one of those faces which isn't pretty until you get to know it well. She's just had another baby, that makes a boy and a girl."

  "That makes two English girls living quite near."

  "There are others, too, I believe-I hear of them from time to time, but until now I've never bothered, but I'll find out more about them if you like."

  "A splendid idea," pronounced Aunt Betsy in her cosy voice. "Besides the pleasure it will give Olympia, it will be splendid for Ria; she will make new friends. It doesn't do for a child to grow up lonely."

  She looked at them in turn, her blue eyes limpid, and the silence shouted at them until the doctor said smoothly: "You're probably right, Aunt. And now if we have finished, how about taking a quick look at Domburg?"

  The rest of the day was agreeable enough; the doctor, his little party safe home again, went away to his surgery. Ria was bathed, given her supper and whisked away to bed, leaving the two ladies to retire to their rooms to tidy themselves for dinner and then meet downstairs, where they sat knitting like two Furies and talked gentle nothings until Waldo came home again. And after dinner, since he declared that he had no work to do, he kept them company over the coffee cups and presently suggested a game of Scrabble, played in Dutch, of course, so that Olympia's knowledge of that language might be further improved.

  She worried a good deal over the dinner they were to give; true, she knew the guests well enough to make light of anything which might go wrong, but like any young wife, she was anxious not to let her husband down. She spent a good deal of time closeted with Emma, worried as to what she should wear and booked an extra appointment with her hairdresser. Aunt Betsy was leaving them on the day following the dinner party; she had friends coming to stay with her, she said, and added in her cosy way that young married people should be left to themselves and she for one had no intention of playing gooseberry for more than a few days. "Not that I have needed to," she finished rather tartly, so that Olympia blushed and Waldo looked first surprised and then amused.

  They all went to church on Sunday morning, a custom which Olympia was beginning to enjoy, partly because she sat next to Waldo during the lengthy sermon, and partly because the hymns were sung so slowly that she had a splendid opportunity to practise her Dutch, singing them. Aunt Betsy, regal in grey wool and mink, marched along with Ria holding her hand, leaving Olympia and Waldo to walk together. It was a chance to tell him how successful Ria's lessons were proving. "Mijnheer Blom is such a nice man," she said warmly, "and Ria likes him besides, it makes her feel very important, drawing her letters and counting beads while I sit close by having lessons too."

  The doctor agreed rather absently. "That's a pretty hat," was all he said, and before she could show surprise at this remark: "We don't seem to see much of Elisabeth just lately." His voice held a faint query.

  "She said she had a lot to dohe didn't say what, she's coming this evening, though. Do you want to see her specially?"

  She heard his chuckle. "No-no more than one always likes to see old friends. And if you meant are we going to retire into a corner with a bundle of legal papers, no, we aren't."

  She felt awkward, because that was just what she had been thinking. Which made her deny it all the more hotly. "She depends on you quite a lot, I expect, for advice and so on."

  "And do you depend on me, Olympia?"

  The church bells pealed out, almost drowning her voice. It was necessary to be truthful and she stopped so that she might look at him. "I try not to," she told him seriously. "It wouldn't do, would it?"

  "Why not?" His voice was very quiet.

  "Well…" She paused; the bell had stopped-they would be late. "You know why as well as I do." She started to walk on. "We shall be late."

  He didn't answer, but presently, sitting squeezed rather tightly beside him because Aunt Betsy was sharing their pew as well as Ria, she was uncomfortably aware that he looked at her from time to time, long thoughtful stares and quite unsmiling. The impulse to slip her hand into his was so sharp that she clenched her gloved hands together on her lap, so that they shouldn't escape.

  They walked back as they had gone, with Aunt Betsy sailing majestically ahead with Ria, deep in conversation. But Olympia and Waldo were silent; they had walked half-way across the Abbey courtyard before Waldo slowed his pace. "Olympia," he began in the bland voice which she recognized as inflexible, "you didn't answer my question."

  But she didn't have to; Joanna came hurrying to meet them, spoke urgently to the doctor and hurried away again. "Mevrouw Ros," said Waldo, "has chosen this moment to go into labour-I'm afraid that I must leave you, dear girl. Let us catch up with Aunt Betsy and then I will go on ahead-and do not wait lunch for me; Mevrouw Ros, as I should know after aiding her on four happy occasions, is not to be hurried."

  He strode off, leaving the three of them to make a more leisurely progress while Olympia, limp with relief at not having to answer his questions, wondered what she would have told him if Joanna had not arrived at such an opportune moment.

  He didn't come home until they were having tea, and after she had made sure that he had all he needed for his comfort, she excused herself and repaired to the kitchen to make sure that everything was going just as it should. She had chosen the meal with care; a pate made to Emma's own recipe for starters, turbot for the main course, boiled delicately, decorated with lobster coral and cucumber, and served with a rich and creamy lobster sauce, new potatoes and a green salad on the side, with a sprinkling of red peppers to make a splash of colour, and for afters she had fallen back on apple pie once more because everyone seemed to like it. She had made it of ample size with a mouth-watering crust, and there was cream, served in the William and Mary silver cream jugs, which together with the rest of the table silver, used as a matter of course by the doctor, were a neverending source of delight and pride to her.

  She had decided on an amber-coloured jersey dress in a simple style which set off her slender shape to great advantage and made a splendid background for the coral brooch, and when she was dressed a glimpse in the mirror assured her that her efforts had been worth while. She wasn't a vain girl, but she would have been blind not to see the difference in her appearance since she had married Waldo. She nodded her head with pleased satisfaction, sprayed herself discreetly with Madame Rochas and went along to see if Ria was asleep before she went downstairs to wait for her guests.

  There was still half an hour before they could be expected to arrive; she ins
pected the table a little anxiously, found it perfect, and went into the sitting-room. There was no one there, but the bright fire in its wide hearth and the soft glow of the lamps welcomed her in the early dusk. She wandered round restlessly, picking things up and putting them down again until Waldo's step in the hall sent her flying to sit in a chair, ready to greet him with cool composure despite her racing pulse. He came in unhurriedly, very elegant in his dark grey suit, and stood looking down at her. "That's charming," he remarked. "I like the colour." His look became thoughtful. "Stay where you are," he begged her. "I shan't be a moment."

  She had no time to wonder what he was about; he was back within a moment or so, a long leather case in his hand which he gave to her.

  "I should like you to have these," he told her. "They were my mother's-indeed, all the van der Graaf wives have worn them for many generations. They should go well with that dress."

  She opened the box under his eye. There was a coral necklace inside-a three-stranded rope of vivid pink, fastened by a round clasp of coral and pearls set in an intricate gold filigree. There was a bracelet too, a solid gold band set with cabuchon corals with pearls between.

  Olympia touched them lightly with her fingertips and asked: "For me'? You mean that you are giving them to me?"

  He was leaning over the back of his chair, staring at her. "Yes-are you not a van der Graaf wife?"

  "Yes, but you have given me so much."

  He answered her in astonishment. "I? But I have given you nothing."

  She began painstakingly to list his gifts. "My engagement ring and the brooch," she touched it with a hand as she spoke, "and that Dior scarf I liked and all my clothes and that funny china angel and my suede handbag, and…'

  He held up a large hand in mock horror. "Stop, I beg of you! I had forgotten the half of them such trifles. Come here and I will fasten the necklace for you.