Making Sure of Sarah Read online

  She left the window. Like many old houses, this one was peaceful, and people had been happy living in it, just as she had felt at Mr ter Breukel’s home.

  She wandered round the room, looking at the few pictures on its wall, picking up ornaments and putting them down again. She hoped that she would see Mr ter Breukel again, for she liked him. She examined a small porcelain figure on the bedside table, a charming trifle probably worth a small fortune. She was thinking too much about him and that wouldn’t do. He had been kind, but he was a man to be kind—to an old woman crossing the street, or to a lost dog. Probably he would forget all about her now that she was dealt with—a problem solved…

  The half-hour was up; she went back to the room where the old lady and Suzanne were waiting.

  ‘After lunch, when Suzanne has gone, I will explain your duties to you,’ said her hostess. ‘They are, I believe, not onerous. You will be able to visit your mother at St Bravo’s. I am sure that we shall get on well together.’

  They had their lunch in a sombre room panelled in some dark wood, sitting at a table which would seat ten perfectly comfortably. It was a simple meal, beautifully served, and Sarah, who had been dreading it, found that she was enjoying herself. Old Mevrouw ter Breukel might be getting on in years, but there was nothing wrong with her brain. She was as sharp as a needle: up to date with politics, fashion and the latest books.

  Presently wishing Suzanne goodbye, Sarah assured her that she was going to be happy in her unexpected job. ‘I’ll do my best to please your aunt,’ she said. ‘You’ve been so kind, and so has Mr ter Breukel. Thank you both very much. I’ll let you know when I’m going back to England.’

  ‘Do, though I’ll probably see you before then. I hope you won’t find it too dull.’

  Sarah thought of the uneventful life she led at home. ‘It’s the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in years.’

  Her duties were indeed light: she was to spend a good deal of the day with Mevrouw ter Breukel, reading, writing letters for her, fetching and carrying such odds and ends as the lady wanted, and making sure that she was comfortable and lacked for nothing. In the afternoon she was to have an hour or so free, and there would be plenty of time to go and see her mother.

  Once her duties had been made known to her she was bidden to fetch a book and read aloud until the old lady had her afternoon nap.

  The book took Sarah by surprise. It was the latest Ruth Rendell.

  ‘Juffrouw Telle doesn’t read English well, and it tires me to read. We will read as many books as possible while you are here,’ said Mevrouw ter Breukel surprisingly. ‘Litrik keeps me supplied with the books I enjoy—Jack Higgins, P.D. James, Evelyn Anthony, Freeling. Sit there, child, I hear better on this side. I’m halfway through the book—there’s a bookmark.’

  Sarah found the place and started to read. She had a pleasant voice and the story was exciting; it kept them both absorbed until an elderly woman brought in the tea tray.

  ‘No milk, no sugar,’ commanded the old lady, ‘and I’ll have a biscuit.’

  Sarah drank her tea from a paper-thin cup and answered the questions which Mevrouw ter Breukel fired at her in a soft voice. No, she didn’t have a young man, nor had she any prospect of marrying one, and, no, she didn’t have a job. Her life, outlined for the old lady’s benefit, sounded dull in her ears.

  They dined later, the two of them, in the dark grandeur of the dining room, and Sarah was glad that she had changed into the blue jersey, for Mevrouw ter Breukel was wearing black taffeta and diamonds.

  Told, kindly enough, to go to bed soon after the stoel clock struck ten, Sarah went willingly. She wasn’t tired, but the old lady had observed that occasionally, when she was unable to sleep, she expected someone to keep her company during the wakeful hours. But nothing happened to disturb Sarah’s sleep.

  She was up and dressed by eight o’clock and had gone, as she had been told, to Mevrouw ter Breukel’s room, to find that old lady sitting up in a vast bed, a four-poster, doing a jigsaw puzzle.

  They exchanged good mornings and Sarah spent five minutes picking up bits of the puzzle which had been flung aside before she was told to go and have her breakfast.

  ‘And bring me my letters in half an hour or so. Then I shall not need you for a hour or more. Go to the hospital, if you wish, and enquire about your parents. Kaes will look after you and tell you how to get to St Bravo’s.’

  Dismissed, Sarah went downstairs and found Kaes waiting for her. Her breakfast had been laid with great elegance in a small room behind the dining room, and she enjoyed every morsel of it, keeping an eye on the clock. Half an hour later she went back with the post, and found Mevrouw ter Breukel still engrossed in her puzzle.

  ‘Run along now, and be back here by half past ten.’

  The hospital was ten minutes’ walk away, and there were several ambulances parked by the Accident Room entrance. She went up to her mother’s ward and met Sister coming out of the office.

  ‘You have come to see your mother? She has slept well; she will be glad to see you. We are busy today. There has been a multiple car accident, and soon we shall have more patients here.’

  Mrs Holt was sitting by a window. ‘You must do some shopping for me,’ she began, without preamble. ‘I need some more mascara and another lipstick, and see if you can get me a decent magazine; I’ve nothing to read…’

  ‘Don’t they come round with books? I’m sure they’d find you something in English, Mother.’

  ‘Oh, yes, but you know how quickly reading bores me.’

  ‘TV?’

  ‘In Dutch, my dear? You must be joking. I’m to see the consultant this morning. I shall ask to go home.’

  ‘What about my stepfather?’

  ‘Oh, they will arrange to send him home, too, of course. He must be able to travel by now.’

  ‘Have you been to see him?’

  ‘My dear Sarah, I’m not well; my nerves wouldn’t stand it. Sister tells me from time to time how he is. You had better go and see him.’

  Sarah went, unwillingly enough, but she saw it as her duty. It was a waste of time, of course. Her stepfather did not wish to see her. Her visit was brief and she soon made her way back to the entrance, hoping that she might meet Mr ter Breukel; he would be too busy to stop and talk, but it would be nice just to say hello.

  They met on a staircase. She was going down as he was going up, two steps at a time, followed by two younger men in long white coats. He didn’t pause; she doubted if he had seen her.

  He had, of course, but sudden emergencies took no account of personal feelings.

  Sarah had the good sense to see that she had probably been invisible to him; he was so obviously involved in some dire situation. He had looked different, too, and she realised why. He had been wearing grey trousers and a high-necked pullover, and he hadn’t shaved. Perhaps he had been up half the night.

  The whole night, actually.

  There was no time to shop for her mother, and she hurried back to Mevrouw ter Breukel, anxious not to be late.

  The day went smoothly and pleasantly enough, and, to her surprise, quickly. She was kept busy, and when the old lady discovered that she could play chess, after a fashion, the evening hours were fully occupied. Sarah went to bed at length, feeling that the day had gone well. Only it would have been nice if Mr ter Breukel had called to see his aunt.

  A wish, had she but known it, which he would have heartily endorsed.

  But he came the next day. It was the quiet hour or so after tea, and Sarah was setting out the chess pieces, ready for a game after dinner, her neat head bent over the chessboard. He stood in the open doorway, watching her, studying her small person, wanting very much to go to her and gather her into his arms and tell her that he loved her. But not just yet, he warned himself, and went into the room.

  His great-aunt was clearly taking a nap. Sarah turned round and saw him and smiled and put her finger to her lips. He smiled back, took her arm and led h
er to the far end of the room by the window. Only then did he say, ‘Hello, Sarah.’

  She beamed up at him. ‘Hello. Mevrouw ter Breukel will wake presently. Do you want tea or anything?’

  ‘Nothing, thank you. Have you settled down? Not too hard work?’

  ‘I’m very happy, and it isn’t like work at all. Your great-aunt is a darling old lady.’ She spoke in a whisper, and, when he didn’t answer, asked, ‘Have you been busy? There were a lot of ambulances when I went to see Mother yesterday.’

  ‘A day of emergencies.’

  ‘I—I saw you yesterday—you didn’t see me. It was on the stairs. You looked as though you have been up all night.’

  ‘It was a night of emergencies, too. Sarah, before you return to England, I should like to show you something of Holland. I shall be free on Sunday, will you spend it with me?’

  ‘With you? You mean all day?’ The delight in her face changed to regret. ‘But I can’t; I’m here to be your aunt’s companion.’

  ‘But like all companions you are entitled to a free day each week. Besides, Suzanne is coming to spend the day here, and you won’t be needed.’

  When she would have protested, he added casually, ‘I think we might enjoy each other’s company.’

  ‘Yes, well—but there must be other people—I mean friends you’d rather be with.’

  ‘They are always here. You will go home shortly, and I think that you deserve at least a brief glimpse of Holland!’

  ‘Well, thank you. I would like it very much.’ And, Sarah being Sarah, she added, ‘I’m afraid I’m not a very interesting person to be with. I mean, I’m not clever or witty. You might get bored…’

  Mr ter Breukel’s expression of calm interest didn’t alter. ‘After the rush and hurry of St Bravo’s I dare say I shall find your company restful. Shall we say nine o’clock on Sunday morning?’

  ‘All right. But I must ask Mevrouw ter Breukel’s permission.’

  She was interrupted by that lady’s voice demanding to know what they were talking about, and when she was told she observed that it suited her very well. ‘For if Suzanne is to spend the day with me I’ll not need Sarah here as well. Take her through the Veluwe, Litrik, and show her how lovely it is there.’

  She offered a cheek for his kiss. ‘Sarah, go for a walk, or amuse yourself for half an hour or so. We will have our game of chess after dinner.’

  When Sarah had gone, and he had shut the door behind her, she said, ‘Litrik, I may be an old woman but I still have my wits about me. You’re in love with the girl, aren’t you?’

  He came and sat down opposite to her, speaking Dutch now. ‘Yes, my dear. I knew that the moment I set eyes on her.’

  ‘But she has no idea of that. Only she likes you very much indeed, I think.’

  ‘Perhaps I am too old for her.’

  ‘That’s not going to stop you…’

  Mr ter Breukel laughed. ‘No, it’s not!’

  CHAPTER THREE

  SARAH woke on Sunday to a fine spring morning. True, the sky was a very pale blue and held no warmth, but the tiled roofs of the houses around her sparkled and the air, when she leaned out of the window, was fresh.

  At nine o’clock precisely she was borne away in the discreet luxury of Mr ter Breukel’s Rolls, unaware of her companion’s delight at her company since he had greeted her with casual friendliness and now began almost immediately to describe the various parts of Arnhem as he drove out of the city: the war memorial at the Rhine Bridge, the parks, the old houses which had survived the destruction of the War, the zoo.

  Sarah craned her neck from side to side, anxious not to miss anything.

  He drove north presently, through the High Veluwe national park, taking the narrow by-roads through the woods and stopping for coffee in Apeldoorn, where he walked her to the palace of Het Loo.

  The park was open and they wandered to and fro, explored the stable block, which was open to the public, and then got back into the car to drive on to Zwolle. Here they lunched at a small restaurant housed in an ancient house by the Stads Gracht, once a moat and now a canal, and were served koffietafel—a basket of various rolls and bread and slices of cheese on a vast platter, cold meat and sausage, hard-boiled eggs and a salad, accompanied by a pot of coffee.

  Sarah eyed the table with pleasure; the morning’s sightseeing and her pleasure in her companion’s company had given her an appetite, moreover she felt happy. Somehow in Mr ter Breukel’s placid company the future became vague and unthreatening.

  They travelled on presently, through Meppel and into Friesland, to stop for tea in Sneek, and then had a brief glimpse of the lake before driving on to the coast. It was chilly here, and the North Sea looked grey and forbidding.

  ‘Lovely in the summer,’ Mr ter Breukel told her. ‘Those islands you can see are popular with families. There are splendid beaches for children. You like children?’

  Sarah was unaware of how wistful she looked. ‘Oh, yes…’

  Children, she thought, and dogs and cats and a donkey, and an old house with a huge garden—and a husband, of course. And what chance had she of getting any of them? The future, so pleasantly vague, suddenly became only too real.

  Mr ter Breukel took her arm and walked her back to the car. In some way his hand on hers dispelled her gloomy thoughts. The future didn’t matter, not for the moment at any rate.

  He drove back over the Afsluitdijk, gave her a glimpse of Alkmaar and raced south, bypassing Amsterdam. ‘You shall see that another time,’ he told her casually. ‘There’s rather a nice place where we can have dinner just outside Utrecht.’

  The ‘nice place’ was a seventeenth-century mansion, very splendid, overlooking a pond and tucked away in the centre of a small wood. Sarah, led away to a well-equipped cloakroom, did her hair and face, wishing for chestnut curls and a pretty face as she did so, wishing too that she was wearing a smart outfit worthy of her companion and her surroundings. She told herself in her sensible way not to be silly, and joined Mr ter Breukel in a large, rather old fashioned lounge to sip her sherry while they discussed what they should eat.

  Sarah, with gentle prompting from Mr ter Breukel, chose tiny pancakes filled with goat’s cheese, sole served with a champagne sauce, and chocolate and almond pudding. She ate with a splendid appetite, her tongue nicely loosened by the white wine he had chosen, so that by seemingly casual questions he was made the recipient of a good deal of information concerning her life at Clapham Common. Not that she complained about it; it was what she didn’t say that gave him an insight into its dullness. He was impatient to rescue her at once, but that, of course, was impossible. He must rely on a kindly Fate and his own plans.

  Sarah looked up and caught his eye and smiled, and he schooled his features into a friendly glance and made a casual remark about their surroundings. He wondered what the surrounding diners would do if he were to swoop across the table and pick Sarah up and carry her off. Somewhere quiet, where he could kiss her at leisure. He smiled then, and Sarah said, ‘Oh, it’s lovely here. I shall remember it all when I get back home.’

  ‘Good. You have only seen a small part of Holland, though.’

  And all she was likely to see, thought Sarah. He hadn’t suggested that he would take her out again, and she hadn’t expected him to. But supposing he thought that she had hoped he would. She had done her best to be good company, but probably he had found her rather dull, and after all he had been more than kind.

  Suzanne was still at the house when they got back.

  ‘I’ve helped Great-Aunt to bed,’ she told them. ‘We’ve had a lovely day, gossiping and playing backgammon. Did you two enjoy yourselves?’

  Her brother said gravely that for his part he had had a most interesting day, which Sarah considered was neither one thing or the other.

  ‘It was lovely,’ she told Suzanne. ‘I’ll have so much to remember when I get back home.’

  She bade them goodnight presently, before they drove away, and then
went to her room and went to bed, remembering every minute of the day. Mr ter Breukel hadn’t said anything about seeing her again, but of course they were bound to meet, even if it were only to make arrangements for her mother and stepfather’s return to England. Besides, she reminded herself, he visited his great-aunt frequently.

  But there was no sign of him. She had caught the occasional glimpse of him in the distance when she had visited her mother at the hospital, but he’d been so far away that only the size and height of him had made her sure that it was he. Certainly he didn’t visit his great-aunt again, nor were there any messages concerning the transfer to England of her mother.

  Mrs Holt, while still complaining bitterly, had settled down at last to the quiet routine of the hospital, and Sister had assured Sarah that she should be fit to return home very shortly. And her stepfather, although one of the worst patients the ward sister assured Sarah that she had ever had to nurse, was fit to travel.

  ‘You will be told when arrangements have been made,’ she said to Sarah kindly.

  The best part of a week went by; there was no news of Juffrouw Telle’s return, and when Sarah saw Suzanne, which was frequently, that young lady professed to know nothing.

  It was on an early morning, when Sarah went down to her breakfast after peeping in to see if the old lady was still sleeping, that she found Mr ter Breukel sitting at the table in the small room where she took her meals when she was alone. Everything necessary for a good breakfast was arranged around him, and a folded newspaper was beside his plate.

  Sarah paused in the doorway, delighted to see him but not sure if she was welcome. She said, ‘Hello,’ and then, more sedately, ‘Good morning, Mr ter Breukel.’