A Star Looks Down Read online

  ' Why, she wondered wearily, were they so sure that it was her fault,

  and why had Alexander been so cruelly angry with her?

  She pulled her hands away and said in a wooden little voice: "Dirk told

  you--I've nothing to add to that.

  I'm very sorry about your patient.

  I hope you'll still be in time.

  ' She didn't look at either of them but went upstairs to her room,

  feeling suddenly exhausted.

  It seemed hours later when Mevrouw Thor becke knocked and came in.

  She said at once: "Alexander left at once to go to Utrecht, but he

  wants to talk to you.

  He will be back tomorrow evening.

  Beth, it is a great disappointment to me that this has happened.

  The children.

  .

  .

  you must understand.

  .

  .

  I almost died of anxiety.

  You have been so good with them too.

  ' She paused and Beth said in a matter-of-fact voice: "You would like

  me to leave, wouldn't you?

  I'll pack my things.

  ' "But you must stay to see Alexander.

  ' Mevrouw Thor becke gave her a sharp glance.

  "I thought--you and he.

  .

  .

  he will wish to see you.

  ' "I can't think of any reason why he should want to see me," said Beth

  steadily.

  "He knows what happened.

  Dirk told him.

  ' If there was bitterness in her voice, her companion didn't notice

  it.

  "Then you will go in the morning?

  You wish to fly, or will you go by boat.

  You have money enough?

  ' "Yes, thank you, and I'll go by boat, there's one at midday from the

  Hock, isn't there?

  ' Beth spoke at random, not caring how she went.

  Mevrouw Thor becke went to the door.

  "Very well, I will arrange for the car to take you to Rotterdam.

  You will be able to manage from there?

  ' "Yes, thank you.

  ' They were both being so polite, thought Beth wildly.

  "May I say goo dA STAR LOOKS DOWN 209 bye to the children?

  I'll tell them I've been recalled to hospital.

  ' Mevrouw Thor becke nodded.

  "I will see that some supper is sent up," she said as she went.

  Beth had been in bed for hours when she remembered that neither of them

  had thought any more about her supper.

  The children were all in the schoolroom when Beth went along the next

  morning to say good-bye, and obviously no one had told them that she

  was going; they clamoured to know why she hadn't had her breakfast with

  them, which gave her a good opportunity to tell them that she was

  leaving.

  She shook them by the hand in turn, explaining exactly why the hospital

  wanted her back, and Marineka and Alberdina complicated matters by

  crying bitterly at her news.

  Even Hubert snivelled a little, so that she was forced to be so bright

  and cheerful herself that she felt that her face would crack with the

  effort of keeping a smile on it, but she managed, even when she said

  good-bye to Dirk, standing a little apart from the others.

  She was surprised when he clung to her hand.

  "You're being sent away?

  ' he asked low voiced.

  "It's because of yesterday, isn't it?

  I told them.

  .

  I am a coward, for I did not speak the truth, Beth.

  I remembered what my uncle said to me that day, when we climbed the

  cliff, and I did not dare to tell.

  ' "What did he say, dear?

  ' asked Beth gently.

  "If I am a good boy, then when my father returns I am to go with my

  mother to meet him; there is to be a reception and much splendour, but

  my uncle said that if I did anything foolish again, I would not go.

  ' He raised miserable eyes to hers.

  Beth's stiff little smile became warm and kind.

  "Don't worry.

  Dirk, it doesn't matter, nothing matters any more.

  ' She sighed.

  "Only promise me that you'll not do anything so foolish again, not when

  your brother and sisters are with you.

  You're the eldest son and when your father's away you have to take care

  of them and your mother.

  You'll be able to have all the adventure you want when you're grown

  up.

  ' He was staring at her.

  "You didn't sneak on me to Uncle Alexander that day, did you?

  I thought you did because he knew all about it--how did he know that I

  had been rude?

  -and so I said that I wouldn't like you any more and that I would pay

  you out.

  Oh, Beth.

  .

  .

  ' Her smile widened.

  "No, I didn't sneak, Dirk, and I expect your uncle guessed that bit

  about you being rude--he's been a boy too, you know.

  It's nice that we part friends, though.

  ' They shook hands again and with a final wave to them all she slipped

  out of the room.

  She could hear the little girls' wails as she hurried down to the hall,

  where Mevrouw Thor becke was waiting, but Beth paused only as long as

  was polite; her heart was frozen inside her and she couldn't think; she

  had had her copybook blotted, even though she hadn't done it herself,

  and there was nothing left to do but tear out the page.

  The boat was full of cheerful holiday makers and it seemed a long time

  before it docked at Harwich, but at least she had had the time to make

  some plans; she would go back to St Elmer's, of course, back to the

  Recovery Room and the busy rushing life between her work and the shabby

  little flat, but she knew that she wouldn't be able to stay there.

  William would be ready to move on soon, she would give up the flat when

  he did and go somewhere right away Canada or New Zealand the other side

  of the world; she couldn't get further away from Alexander than that.

  She went through Customs hardly knowing that she had done so and

  boarded the train, and because she hadn't slept the night before, she

  slept at once, and didn't wake until the train crawled between the

  blackened brick lined approach to Liverpool Street.

  She tidied herself perfunctorily, not caring in the least how she

  looked, her violet eyes enormous in her pinched white face, her hair

  struggling from its confining pins.

  She lugged her case on to the platform and stood, aimless, while the

  passengers pushed and jostled past her.

  She noticed none of them; she was thinking about Alexander again.

  * * * Profess or van Zeust rounded off his lecture with his usual

  brilliance, nodded briefly to his audience and left the lecture hall.

  It was not yet twelve o'clock, but he had already done a teaching

  round, been to see the patient he had operated upon the previous

  evening and briefed his housemen, and now, after lunch, there would be

  a heavy outpatients clinic.

  But outside the lecture hall he stopped, asked his astonished registrar

  if he would be good enough to take his afternoon's work for him, and

  made for the entrance.

  He had driven the Aston Martin that morning; he thanked heaven for that

  now as he got into the car and
began the drive to Willemstad.

  He drove at speed; the emergency case had forced him to leave without

  seeing Beth the evening before, but nothing was going to stop him

  seeing her now.

  It was Dirk who saw him when he reached his house and came leaping

  downstairs two at a time to meet him.

  "Hullo," said the profess or.

  "You'll break a leg if you come downstairs at that rate," and then at

  the sight of his nephew's face: "What's wrong, boy?

  ' Dirk drew a deep breath.

  "Mother said she couldn't telephone you because you would be busy and

  couldn't be interrupted, but she must have, because you're here.

  ' His uncle eyed him thoughtfully.

  "Your mother didn't telephone me.

  Dirk.

  I've come to see Beth.

  ' The boy gulped, holding back the tears in his eyes because his father

  and this well-loved uncle had told him that boys often didn't cry.

  "It's about Beth, Uncle Alexander.

  She's-she's gone, and it's my fault.

  ' He looked apprehensively at the tall man before him and was reassured

  by his calm.

  "Gone, has she?

  In that case let's go somewhere quiet and you shall tell me all about

  it.

  ' Dirk hung back.

  "You'll be angry.

  ' "Probably, but you'll take it like a man, I fancy, and you'll feel

  better once it's off your chest.

  ' They crossed the hall together, the very large man and the small boy,

  and went into the study, a room seldom entered by anyone when the

  master of the house was absent.

  The profess or seated himself on the edge of the desk between the

  windows and said comfortably: "When you're ready, boy," and smiled.

  He looked so placid that Dirk took heart.

  "I took the boeier," he began.

  "I wanted to make Beth frightened--I made the others go with me, and

  when she found us and tried to stop me I wouldn't, so she came too.

  We had already cast off and she had to swim in all her clothes.

  ' He paused to look at his uncle who was studying his shoes, his face

  hidden, but

  "Go on," he was encouraged with no sign of anger.

  "What happened next?

  ' the profess or added casually.

  "Can Beth swim?

  ' "Only just she's a girl, you see she flounders.

  ' He went on in a shamed little voice: "We laughed at her and she must

  have been frightened." His uncle didn't reply, and something about his

  silence made Dirk hurry on. "I never meant to go so far, but the wind

  caught us and we couldn't turn back; we did try, but we almost

  capsized. We got frightened then, and Beth was scared too, but she

  didn't cry." "But you managed to steer some sort of course. Let us

  see, Bruin esse wasn't, too far, was it, or couldn't you beach the

  boat?" "We tried, ever so many times, but we couldn't get the engine

  to do anything, and Beth doesn't know anything about sailing, so it was

  a bit difficult. I did remember about Bruin esse, but the wind was too

  strong, and besides, we couldn't see the land." "So?" "So I steered

  and Beth found a chart of the engine and she got it to go. We were

  almost at Brouwershaven by then, so we that is, Beth, sailed into the

  harbour; she did something to the engine and it stopped and she got the

  sails down too, but we did bump one or two yachts.

  Will Papa be very angry?

  ' "Furious, I daresay, but I suggest that we don't tell him until he is

  home again after his arrival at the airport.

  ' Nephew and uncle exchanged glances.

  "And now I want to know why you allowed Beth to take the blame.

  Dirk.

  ' The boy nodded, sucking in his breath.

  "Yes, Uncle.

  You see, I was afraid you would remember what you said would happen if

  I did anything silly again, like climbing that cliff, and--and I

  thought that Beth had sneaked on me and told you I'd been disobedient

  and rude.

  .

  .

  ' The profess or inspected his nails.

  "She didn't sneak; she asked me not to punish you.

  It was a pretty low-down thing to do, wasn't it.

  Dirk?

  ' "Yes--I'm sorry; I like her very much.

  When she came to say good-bye she was nice.

  I wanted to tell someone then, but she said I wasn't to--she said it

  didn't matter--no, what she said was

  "Nothing matters any more" , but when she'd gone I knew I'd have to

  tell you and I asked Mama to telephone you.

  Are you very angry.

  Uncle Alexander?

  How will you punish me?

  ' The profess or had got to his feet and put a hand on the boy's

  shoulder.

  "I'm not going to punish you, boy," he said quietly.

  "You've had enough already, I fancy.

  Your father must know, of course--later, as I said.

  Just promise me that you won't risk anyone else's life again, nor your

  own unless the circumstances call for it.

  Word of a Dutchman.

  ' They shook hands solemnly and the profess or said: "It takes pluck to

  own up.

  I'm glad you did.

  ' He walked to the door.

  "Now I must be off.

  ' "Where to.

  Uncle?

  ' "Why, England, of course, to find Beth.

  ' His nephew smiled shakily.

  "Oh, super!

  ' "Let us hope so," agreed the profess or.

  "Any idea how she went?

  ' "I asked Mother.

  From the Hock by the midday boat.

  ' His uncle grinned suddenly.

  "That means about eight o'clock at Liverpool Street.

  If I cut a few corners and go from Ca lais with the Hovercraft--tell

  your mother where I've gone, and not a word about our little talk,

  we'll deal with that later.

  Tot ziens.

  '1 The crowd had thinned now; people had found family or friends, and

  those who had none had formed an orderly queue for the taxis.

  Beth picked up her case and looked around her; she supposed that she

  would have to go somewhere.

  St Elmer's; but wouldn't it look a bit strange turning up unheralded at

  half past eight in the evening?

  She would go to the flat and hope that William wouldn't be there.

  She started walking slowly along the platform and looked up to see the

  profess or walking very fast towards her.

  Her first thought was that fate had played a cruel trick on her.

  He often came to London; it would have to be this very day and time,

  and in all the city's vastness, they had to meet here.

  She turned round and hurried, hampered dreadfully by the case, in the

  opposite direction.

  No use, of course.

  She was caught, the case taken from her and dumped on the platform, and

  she was twirled round, to be wrapped tenderly in Alexander's arms and

  kissed.

  It was like having every happiness there was in the world, rolled into

  one and handed to her on a plate.

  All the same, after an endless moment, she made herself say

  "No," in a half-hearted way.

  "Yes," said the profess or, 'my darling girl, yes.

  People kiss on railway stations, hadn't you noticed?

  ' He k
issed her again, and Beth, who could think of nothing to say,

  kissed him back and then coming a little to her senses, said fiercely:

  "You didn't even ask me!

  I couldn't stay another minute.