Dearest Eulalia Page 3

  He drove the short distance to the Colonel’s house, got out and went with her to the door.

  ‘Well, goodbye,’ said Eulalia, and offered a hand.

  ‘Not goodbye; we say tot ziens.’ He shook her hand briefly and opened the door for her.

  As he turned away she asked, ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Albania.’

  ‘But that’s… Oh, do take care!’

  He stood looking down at her for a moment, his eyes half hidden under their heavy lids. Just for a moment Eulalia had let her heart speak for itself.

  Driving down to Dover and once on the other side of the Channel, taking the long road home, Mr van der Leurs allowed his thoughts to dwell on a pleasant future.

  * * *

  October became November and brought cold wind and rain and grey skies, none of which lightened Eulalia’s mood. Mr van der Leurs had been gone for a week and she worried about him, and although she told herself that he was old enough and large enough to take care of himself she scanned the papers and listened to the news and wished that there was some way of finding out if he was back home…

  The Colonel, expressing a wish to see him again, had to be told.

  ‘He’ll be back. Miss him, do you, Lally?’

  Arranging his bedside table just so for the night, she admitted that she did, kissed him fondly and bade him sleep well.

  The Colonel, waiting for sleep, thought contentedly that he had no need to worry about Lally’s future; Aderik would take care of it. He drifted off gently and died peacefully as he slept.

  Somehow or other Eulalia got through the next few days. There was a great deal to do—not least the nephew to notify. There were no other family but old friends had to be told, notices printed in The Times and Telegraph, the bank manager, his solicitor informed, arrangements for the funeral made. The nephew arrived after two days, a middle-aged kindly man who needed to be housed and fed.

  There was no question of Eulalia leaving the house until she had made her own arrangements, he told her. He had a wife and four children who would be coming to England shortly but the house was large enough—he had no intention of turning her out of her home. She thanked him, liking him for his concern, and listened politely to his plans. He was an artist of some repute and was delighted to return to London; the house was large enough to house his family in comfort, and there were attics which could be turned into a studio.

  His wife and children arrived in time for the funeral so that Eulalia, opening rooms again, getting ready for their arrival, had little time to grieve. After the funeral he would return to sort out his affairs but his wife and children would remain.

  Tom and Pam couldn’t have been kinder to her, and the children, although circumstances had subdued them, brought the house alive. Somehow, the funeral which she had been dreading turned into a dignified and serene occasion, with the Colonel’s old friends gathered there, making themselves known to Tom and Pam, shaking Eulalia by the hand, asking about her job, telling her in their elderly voices that she was a pretty girl and wasn’t it time she married.

  However, there were still the nights to get through; there was time to grieve then and wonder what the future held for her. She would have to leave the house, of course, despite Pam’s kind insistence that she could stay as long as she wanted to. But at least Jane’s future was safe; she was to remain as housekeeper.

  The Colonel had left Eulalia his small capital—enough to supplement her wages so that she could rent somewhere. But London was expensive; she would have to find somewhere nearer the hospital and even then she would be eating into her bank balance with little chance of saving. Perhaps she should move away from London, find a job in a small town where she could live cheaply…

  She was on compassionate leave from her work but she continued to get up early to go down to the kitchen and help Jane. Still in her dressing gown, her hair hanging tangled down her back, she made tea for them both, laid the breakfast table, fed Dickens and cut the bread while Jane made porridge and collected bacon, eggs and mushrooms.

  The new owners of the house enjoyed a good breakfast and Jane, now that she had a generous housekeeping allowance, was happy to cook for hearty eaters. After the skimping and saving she and Eulalia had lived with, it was a treat to use her cooking skills once more. And her future was secure. The one thing which troubled her was Miss Lally, brushing aside her worried questions as to where she was to go and how she would manage, assuring her that she would have no trouble in finding a nice little flat and making lots of friends.

  She looked across at Eulalia now, a worried frown on her elderly face. She was beautiful even in that elderly dressing gown with her hair anyhow, but she was pale and too thin. She said, ‘Miss Lally…’ and was interrupted by the front door knocker being thumped.

  ‘Postman’s early,’ said Eulalia, and went to open it.

  Mr van der Leurs stood there, looking larger than ever in the dim light of the porch lamp.

  Eulalia stared up at him, burst into tears and flung herself into his arms. He held her close while she sobbed and snuffled into his cashmere overcoat, unheeding of the early morning wind whistling around them. But when she had no more tears, sucking in her breath like a child, he swept her into the house, shut the door and offered her his handkerchief, still with one arm around her.

  ‘Grandfather died,’ said Eulalia into his shoulders. ‘I’m sorry I’ve cried all over you but, you see, I didn’t know it was you and I was so glad…’

  A muddled speech which Mr van der Leurs received with some satisfaction. ‘Tell me about it, Eulalia.’ He propelled her gently into the kitchen, nodded pleasantly to an astonished Jane and sat Eulalia down at the table.

  ‘You don’t object to me coming into your kitchen? Eulalia is rather upset. If I might just stay and hear what has happened…’

  ‘It’s a blessing that you’ve come, sir.’ Jane was already pouring boiling water into a teapot. ‘You just sit there for as long as you like and don’t mind me.’

  So he pulled out a chair and sat down beside Eulalia. Nothing would ever dim her beauty, he reflected: tousled hair, pink nose, childish sniffs and wrapped in a garment which he supposed was a dressing gown, cut apparently with a knife and fork out of a sack. He asked quietly, ‘When did the Colonel die, Eulalia?’

  She gave a final sniff and sipped some tea and told him. Her voice was watery but she didn’t cry again and he didn’t interrupt her. Only when she had finished he said gently, ‘Go and get dressed, Eulalia. Tell Tom that you are going out to have breakfast with me and will be back later.’

  When she hesitated he added, ‘I’m sure Jane thinks that is a good idea.’

  Jane said at once, ‘Just what she needs—to get away from us all for a bit, talk about it, make a few plans.’

  She gave Mr van der Leurs a sharp look and he smiled. ‘Just so, Jane!’

  Lally went to the door. She turned round when she reached it. ‘You won’t go away?’

  He got up and opened the door for her. ‘No, I won’t go away, but don’t be long; I’m hungry.’

  A remark which made everything seem perfectly normal. Just as it seemed perfectly normal to find the Bentley outside. It was only as they were driving through the early morning traffic that Eulalia asked, ‘How long have you been back?’

  ‘I got to Schiphol late last night, went home and got the car and took the late night ferry from Ostend.’

  ‘But you haven’t been to bed. You haven’t got to go to St Chad’s and work…?’

  ‘No. No, I wanted to see you.’

  She said faintly, ‘But don’t you want to get some sleep?’

  ‘Yes, but there are several things I want to do first. We’ll go to Brown’s and have breakfast.’

  It seemed that he was known there. The doorman welcomed them with a cheerful ‘Good morning’, summoned up someone to park the car and held the door open for them. It was quiet, pleasantly warm inside and for the moment free of people. They sat at
a table by a window and an elderly waiter assured them that the porridge was excellent and did they fancy kedgeree?

  It wasn’t until they were eating toast and marmalade and another pot of coffee had been brought that Mr van der Leurs made any attempt at serious conversation. Only when she asked him how long he would be in London did he tell her that he would be returning to Holland that evening.

  When she protested, ‘But you can’t—you’ve not been to bed; you must be tired,’he only smiled.

  One or two people had come to eat their breakfasts, exchanging polite ‘Good mornings’ and opening their newspapers. Eulalia leaned across the table, anxious not to be heard.

  ‘Why have you brought me here?’

  ‘To eat breakfast,’ he said promptly, and smiled when she said crossly,

  ‘You know that isn’t what I mean.’

  He said, suddenly serious, ‘You know that if I had known about the Colonel I would have come at once?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t know quite how I know that, but I do.’

  ‘Good. Eulalia, will you marry me?’

  ‘You asked me once already…’

  ‘In somewhat different circumstances. Your grandfather knew of my intentions and thought it was a good idea.’

  She stared at him. ‘After I told you I wouldn’t…’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You mean you were going to ask me again?’

  ‘Of course.’ He sounded matter-of-fact. ‘Shall we go for a walk and talk about it?’

  When she nodded, he added, ‘I’ll book a table for lunch here. I’ll drive you back on my way to the ferry afterwards.’

  It was as if he had lifted all her worries and doubts onto his own shoulders, she reflected.

  They walked to Hyde Park. There were few people there: dog owners and joggers and a few hardy souls who had braved the chilly November morning. Mr van der Leurs hardly spoke and Eulalia, busy with her chaotic thoughts, hardly noticed. They had walked the length of the Serpentine before he said, ‘It is high time that I married, Eulalia, but until I met you I hadn’t given it much thought. I need a wife—a professional man does—but I want a friend and a companion too, someone sensible enough to see to my home, to be a hostess to my friends, and cope with the social side of my life. You know nothing of me but if we marry you may have all the time you wish for to get to know me.’

  Eulalia said gravely, ‘But doesn’t love come into it?’

  ‘Later, and only if you wish it…’

  ‘You mean you would be quite happy to have me as—as a friend until I’d got used to you?’

  He hid a smile. ‘Very neatly put, Eulalia; that is just what I mean. And now let us look at the practical side. You have no home, no money and no prospects, whereas I can offer you a home, companionship and a new life.’

  He stopped walking and turned her round to face him. ‘I promise you that I will make you happy.’

  She looked up into his face. ‘I believe you,’ she told him, ‘but have you considered that you might meet a woman you could fall in love with?’

  ‘Yes, I have thought about that too. I am thirty-eight, my dear; I have had ample time in which to fall in love a dozen times—and out again.’

  ‘I’ve never been in love,’ she told him. ‘Oh, I had teenage crushes on film stars and tennis players but I never met any young men once I’d left school and gone to live with Grandfather. I know almost everyone at St Chad’s. But I’m just the canteen lady; besides, I’m twenty-seven.’

  Mr van der Leurs restrained himself from gathering her into his arms and hugging her. Instead he said, ‘It is obvious to me that we are well suited to each other.’

  He took her arm and walked on. Since he was obviously waiting for her to say something, Eulalia said, ‘You asked me to marry you. I will.’

  And she added, ‘And if it doesn’t work out you must tell me…’

  He stopped once more and this time took her in his arms and kissed her gently, a very light, brief kiss. He said, ‘Thank you, Eulalia.’

  They walked on again with her arm tucked under his. Presently he said, ‘I shall be away for several days after which I can arrange for a day or so to be free. Would you consider marrying by special licence then? I know it is all being arranged in a rush and in other circumstances I wouldn’t have suggested it. But I can see no good reason for you to remain any longer than you must at Tom’s house. I’m sure he would never suggest that you should leave before you are ready but you can’t be feeling too comfortable about it.’

  ‘Well, no, I’m not. Tom is very kind and so is Pam but I’m sure they’ll be glad to see me go. I shall miss Jane…’

  ‘Is she also leaving? She may come with you, if you wish.’

  ‘Tom has asked her to stay as housekeeper and she has agreed. She’s lived there for years.’

  They were retracing their steps. She glanced up at him and saw how tired he was. She said warmly, ‘I’ll be ready for whatever day you want us to marry. Must I do anything?’

  ‘No… I’ll see to everything. If you would give me the name of your local clergyman and his church, as soon as everything is settled I’ll let you know.’ He added, ‘It will be a very quiet wedding, no bridesmaids and wedding gown, no guests…’

  ‘I wouldn’t want that anyway. It would be a sham, wouldn’t it? What I mean is we’re marrying for…’ She sought for words. ‘We’re not marrying for the usual reasons, are we?’

  He reflected that his reasons were the same as any man in love but he could hardly say so. He said merely, ‘I believe that we shall be happy together. And now let us go back and have our lunch…’

  They had the same table and the same waiter—a dignified man who permitted himself a smile when Mr van der Leurs ordered champagne.

  ‘The lobster Thermidor is to be recommended,’ he suggested.

  So they ate lobster and drank champagne and talked about this and that—rather like a married couple who were so comfortable in each other’s company that there was no need to say much. Eulalia, spooning Charlotte Russe, felt as though she had known Aderik all her life, which was exactly what he had intended her to think. She liked him and she trusted him and in time she would love him but he would have to have patience…

  He drove her back to the house presently and spent ten minutes talking to Tom before leaving. He bade Eulalia goodbye without wasting time and drove away, leaving her feeling lonely and all of a sudden uncertain.

  ‘What you need,’ said Pam, ‘is a cup of tea. We’re delighted for you—Tom and I would never have turned you out, you know, but you’re young and have your own life and he seems a very nice man. I’m sure you’ll be happy. What shall you wear?’

  ‘Wear?’

  ‘For the wedding, of course.’

  ‘I haven’t any clothes—I mean, nothing new and suitable.’

  ‘Well, I don’t suppose you’ll need to buy much; your Aderik looks as though he could afford to keep a wife. Tom told me that his uncle has left you a little money. Spend it, dear; he would have wanted you to be a beautiful bride.’

  ‘But it’ll be just us…’

  ‘So something simple that you can travel in and wear later on. You go shopping tomorrow; he might be back sooner than you think and you must be ready.’

  So the next morning Eulalia went to the bank and, armed with a well-filled purse, went shopping. It wasn’t just something in which to be married that she needed; she was woefully short of everything. She went back at the end of the day, laden with plastic bags, and there were still several things which she must have. But she was satisfied with her purchases: a wool coat with a matching crêpe dress in grey and a little hat in velvet to go with them, a jersey dress, and pleated skirt and woolly jumpers and silk blouses, sensible shoes and a pair of high-heeled court shoes to go with the wedding outfit.

  Tomorrow she would get a dressing gown and undies from Marks & Spencer. The question of something pretty to wear in case Aderik took her out for an evening was a vexatious one.
She had spent a lot of money and there wasn’t a great deal left, not sufficient to buy the kind of dress she thought he might like—plain and elegant and a perfect fit. She had seen such a dress but if she bought it it would leave her almost penniless and she had no intention of asking Aderik for money the moment they were married.

  This was a tricky problem which was fortunately solved for her. Tom and Pam gave her a cheque for a wedding present, explaining that they had no idea what to give her. ‘I’m sure Mr van der Leurs has everything he could possibly want, so spend it on yourself, Lally.’

  It was a handsome sum, more than enough to buy the dress, and what was left over she could spend on something for Aderik and tell him it was from Tom and Pam.

  Trying the dress on, Eulalia smiled at her reflection in the long mirror. It was exactly right; the colour of old rose, silk crêpe, its simple lines clinging to her splendid shape in all the right places. Perhaps she would never wear it; she had no idea if Aderik had a social life but it would be there, hanging in her wardrobe, just in case…

  She displayed it to Tom, Pam and Jane, and packed it away in the big leather suitcase which had belonged to her grandfather. She was quite ready now.Aderik hadn’t phoned or written but she hadn’t expected him to do so. He was a busy man; he had said that he would let her know when he was coming and it never entered her head to doubt him.

  He phoned that evening, matter-of-fact and casual. He would be with her in two days’ time and they were to marry on the following morning and travel back to Holland that evening. ‘You are well?’ he wanted to know. ‘No problems?’

  ‘No, none, and I’m quite ready. The Reverend Mr Willis phoned to say he was coming to see me this evening. I don’t know why.’

  ‘I asked him to. I don’t want you to have any doubts, Eulalia!’

  ‘Well, I haven’t, but it will be nice to talk to him. I’ve known him a long time.’

  ‘I’ll see you shortly. I’m not sure what time I’ll get to London.’

  ‘I’ll be waiting. You’re busy? I won’t keep you. Goodbye, Aderik.’