The Mistletoe Kiss Page 4

  He took the cat to the kitchen and sat him down in front of the Aga.

  'Juffrouw van Moule doesn't like cats,' he told Beaker in an expressionless voice. 'He'd better stay here until she goes back to the hotel. Could you give us supper about half past eight? Something light; if we're going to have tea now we shan't have much appetite.'

  When he went back to the sitting room Anneliese was sitting by the fire. She made a lovely picture in its light, and he paused to look at her as he went in. Any man would be proud to have her as his wife, he reflected, so why was it that he felt no quickening of his pulse at the sight of her?

  He brushed the thought aside and sat down opposite her, and watched her pour their tea. She had beautiful hands, exquisitely cared for, and they showed to great advantage as she presided over the tea tray. She looked at him and smiled, aware of the charming picture she made, and presently, confident that she had his attention once more, she began to talk about their future.

  'I know we shall see a good deal of each other when you come back to Holland in December,' she began. 'But at least we can make tentative plans.' She didn't wait for his comment but went on, 'I think a summer wedding, don't you? That gives you plenty of time to arrange a long holiday. We might go somewhere for a month or so before settling down.

  'Can you arrange it so that you're working in Holland for a few months? You can always fly over here if you're wanted, and surely you can give up your consultancies here after awhile? Private patients, by all means, and, of course, we mustn't lose sight of your friends and colleagues.' She gave him a brilliant smile. 'You're famous here, are you not? It is so important to know all the right people…'

  When he didn't reply, she added, 'I am going to be very unselfish and agree to using this house as a London base. Later on perhaps we can find something larger.'

  He asked quietly, 'What kind of place had you in mind, Anneliese?'

  'I looked in at an estate agent-somewhere near Harrods; I can't remember the name. There were some most suitable flats. Large enough for entertaining. We would need at least five bedrooms-guests, you know-and good servants' quarters.'

  Her head on one side, she gave him another brilliant smile. 'Say yes, Ruerd.'

  'I have commitments for the next four months here,' he told her, 'and they will be added to in the meantime. In March I've been asked to lecture at a seminar in Leiden, examine students at Groningen and read a paper in Vienna. I cannot give you a definite answer at the moment.'

  She pouted. 'Oh, Ruerd, why must you work so hard? At least I shall see something of you when you come back to Holland. Shall you give a party at Christmas?'

  'Yes, I believe so. We can talk about that later. Have your family any plans?'

  She was still telling him about them when Beaker came to tell them that supper was ready.

  Later that evening, as she prepared to go, Anneliese asked, 'Tomorrow, Ruerd? You will be free? We might go to an art exhibition…?'

  He shook his head. 'I'm working all day. I doubt if I shall be free before the evening. I'll phone the hotel and leave a message. It will probably be too late for dinner, but we might have a drink.'

  She had to be content with that. She would shop, she decided, and dine at the hotel. She was careful not to let him see how vexed she was.

  * * *

  The next morning as the professor made his way through the hospital he looked, as had become his habit, to where Ermentrude sat. She wasn't there, of course.

  * * *

  She was up and dressed, getting the house just so, ready for her mother and father. She had slept long and soundly, and had gone downstairs to find that the professor had left everything clean and tidy in the kitchen. He had left a tea tray ready, too; all she'd needed to do was put on the kettle and make toast.

  'Very thoughtful of him,' said Emmy now, to George, who was hovering hopefully for a biscuit. 'You wouldn't think to look at him that he'd know one end of a tea towel from the other. He must have a helpless fiancйe…'

  She frowned. Even if his fiancйe was helpless he could obviously afford to have a housekeeper or at least a daily woman. She fell to wondering about him. When would he be married, have children? Where did he live while he was working in London? And where was his home in Holland? Since neither George nor Snoodles could answer, she put these questions to the back of her mind and turned her thoughts to the shopping she must do before her parents came home.

  * * *

  They knew about the bomb, of course; it had been on TV and in the papers. But when Emmy had phoned her parents she had told them very little about it, and had remained guiltily silent when her mother had expressed her relief that Emmy had been on day duty and hadn't been there. Now that they were home, exchanging news over coffee and biscuits, the talk turned naturally enough to the bomb outrage. 'So fortunate that you weren't there,' said Mrs Foster.

  'Well, as a matter of fact, I was,' said Emmy. 'But I was quite all right…' She found herself explaining about Professor ter Mennolt bringing her home and him making tea.

  'We are in his debt,' observed her father. 'Although he did only what any decent-thinking person would have done.'

  Her mother said artlessly, 'He sounds a very nice man. Is he elderly? I suppose so if he's a professor.'

  'Not elderly-not even middle-aged,' said Emmy. 'They say at the hospital that he's going to marry soon. No one knows much about him, and one wouldn't dare ask him.'

  She thought privately that one day, if the opportunity occurred, she might do just that. For some reason it was important to her that he should settle down and be happy. He didn't strike her as being happy enough. He ought to be; he was top of his profession, with a girl waiting for him, and presumably enough to live on in comfort.

  Her two days went much too quickly. Never mind if it rained for almost all of the time. Her father was away in the day, and she and her mother spent a morning window shopping in Oxford Street, and long hours sitting by the fire-her mother knitting, Emmy busy with the delicate embroidery which she loved to do.

  They talked-the chances of her father getting a teaching post near their old home were remote; all the same they discussed it unendingly. 'We don't need a big house,' said her mother. 'And you could come with us, of course, Emmy-there's bound to be some job for you. Or you might meet someone and marry.' She peered at her daughter. 'There isn't anyone here, is there, love?'

  'No, Mother, and not likely to be. It would be lovely if Father could get a teaching post and we could sell this house.'

  Her mother smiled. 'No neighbours, darling. Wouldn't it be heaven? No rows of little houses all exactly alike. Who knows what is round the corner?'

  * * *

  It was still raining when Emmy set off to work the following morning. The buses were packed and tempers were short. She got off before the hospital stop was reached, tired of being squeezed between wet raincoats and having her feet poked at with umbrellas. A few minutes' walk even on a London street was preferable to strap-hanging.

  She was taking a short cut through a narrow lane where most of the houses were boarded up or just plain derelict, when she saw the kitten. It was very small and very wet, sitting by a boarded-up door, and when she went nearer she saw that it had been tied by a piece of string to the door handle. It looked at her and shivered, opened its tiny mouth and mewed almost without sound.

  Emmy knelt down, picked it up carefully, held it close and rooted around in her shoulder bag for the scissors she always carried. It was the work of a moment to cut the string, tuck the kitten into her jacket and be on her way once more. She had no idea what she was going to do with the small creature, but to leave it there was unthinkable.

  She was early at the hospital; there was time to beg a cardboard box from one of the porters, line it with yesterday's newspaper and her scarf and beg some milk from the head porter.

  'You won't 'arf cop it,' he told her, offering a mugful. 'I wouldn't do it for anyone else, Emmy, and mum's the word.' He nodded and winke
d. She was a nice young lady, he considered, always willing to listen to him telling her about his wife's diabetes.

  Emmy tucked the box away at her feet, dried the small creature with her handkerchief, offered it milk and saw with satisfaction that it fell instantly into a refreshing sleep. It woke briefly from time to time, scoffed more milk and dropped off again. Very much to her relief, Emmy got to the end of her shift with the kitten undetected.

  She was waiting for her relief when the supervisor bore down upon her, intent on checking and finding fault if she could. It was just bad luck that the kitten should wake at that moment, and, since it was feeling better, it mewed quite loudly.

  Meeting the lady's outraged gaze, Emmy said, 'I found him tied to a doorway. In the rain. I'm going to take him home…'

  'He has been here all day?' The supervisor's bosom swelled to alarming proportions. 'No animal is allowed inside the hospital. You are aware of that, are you not, Miss Foster? I shall report this, and in the meantime the animal can be taken away by one of the porters.'

  'Don't you dare,' said Emmy fiercely. 'I'll not allow it. You are-'

  It was unfortunate that she was interrupted before she could finish.

  'Ah,' said Professor ter Mennolt, looming behind the supervisor. 'My kitten. Good of you to look after it for me, Ermentrude.' He gave the supervisor a bland smile. 'I am breaking the rules, am I not? But this seemed the best place for it to be until I could come and collect it.'

  'Miss Foster has just told me…' began the woman.

  'Out of the kindness of her heart,' said the professor outrageously. 'She had no wish to get me into trouble. Isn't that correct, Ermentrude?'

  She nodded, and watched while he soothed the supervisor's feelings with a bedside manner which she couldn't have faulted.

  'I will overlook your rudeness, Miss Foster,' she said finally, and sailed away.

  'Where on earth did you find it?' asked the professor with interest.

  She told him, then went on, 'I'll take him home. He'll be nice company for Snoodles and George.'

  'An excellent idea. Here is your relief. I shall be outside when you are ready.'

  'Why?' asked Emmy.

  'You sometimes ask silly questions, Ermentrude. To take you both home.'

  Emmy made short work of handing over, got into her mac, picked up the box and went to the entrance. The Bentley was outside, and the professor bundled her and her box into it and drove away in the streaming rain.

  The kitten sat up on wobbly legs and mewed. It was bedraggled and thin, and Emmy said anxiously, 'I do hope he'll be all right.'

  'Probably a she. I'll look the beast over.'

  'Would you? Thank you. Then if it's necessary I'll take him-her-to the vet.' She added uncertainly, 'That's if it's not interfering with whatever you're doing?'

  'I can spare half an hour.' He sounded impatient.

  She unlocked the door and ushered him into the hall, where he took up so much room she had to sidle past him to open the sitting-room door.

  'You're so large,' she told him, and ushered him into the room.

  Mrs Foster was sitting reading with Snoodles on her lap. She looked up as they went in and got to her feet.

  'I'm sure you're the professor who was so kind to Emmy,' she said, and offered a hand. 'I'm her mother. Emmy, take off that wet mac and put the kettle on, please. What's in the box?'

  'A kitten.'

  Mrs Foster offered a chair. 'Just like Emmy-always finding birds with broken wings and stray animals.' She smiled from a plain face very like her daughter's, and he thought what a charming woman she was.

  'I offered to look at the little beast,' he explained. 'It was tied to a door handle…'

  'People are so cruel. But how kind of you. I'll get a clean towel so that we can put the little creature on it while you look. Have a cup of tea first, won't you?'

  Emmy came in then, with the tea tray, and they drank their tea while the kitten, still in its box, was put before the fire to warm up. George sat beside it, prepared to be friendly. Snoodles had gone to sit on top of the bookcase, looking suspicious.

  Presently, when the kitten had been carefully examined by the professor and pronounced as well as could be expected, he thanked Mrs Foster for his tea with charming good manners, smiled at Emmy and drove himself away.

  'I like him,' observed Mrs Foster, shutting the front door.

  Emmy, feeding the kitten bread and milk, didn't say anything.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ANNELIESE found Ruerd absent-minded when they met on the following day-something which secretly annoyed her. No man, she considered, should be that while he was in her company. He was taking her out to dinner, and she had gone to great pains to look her best. Indeed, heads turned as they entered the restaurant; they made a striking couple, and she was aware of that.

  She realised very soon that he had no intention of talking about their future. She had a splendid conceit of herself-it never entered her head that the lack of interest could be anything else but a temporary worry about his work-but she had the sense to say no more about her plans for the future, and laid herself out to be an amusing companion.

  She considered that she had succeeded too, for as he drove her back to the hotel she suggested that she might stay for several more days, adding prettily, 'I miss you, Ruerd.'

  All he said was, 'Why not stay? Perhaps I can get tickets for that show you want to see. I'll do my best to keep my evenings free.'

  He drew up before the hotel and turned to look at her. She looked lovely in the semi-shadows, and he bent to kiss her.

  She put up a protesting hand. 'Oh, darling, not now. You always disarrange my hair.'

  He got out, opened her door, went with her into the foyer, bade her goodnight with his beautiful manners and drove himself back home, reminding himself that Anneliese was the ideal wife for him. Her coolness was something he would overcome in time. She was beautiful, he told himself, and she knew how to dress, how to manage his large household in Holland, how to be an amusing and charming companion…

  He let himself into his house and Beaker and Humphrey came into the hall.

  'A pleasant evening, I trust, sir?' asked Beaker smoothly.

  The professor nodded absently. Humphrey had reminded him about the kitten and Ermentrude. He frowned; the girl had a habit of popping into his thoughts for no reason. He must remember to ask about the kitten if he saw her in the morning.

  * * *

  Emmy, still refreshed by her days off, was a little early. She settled down before the switchboard, arranged everything just as she liked it and took out her knitting. She was halfway through the first row when she became aware that the professor was there. She turned to look at him and, since it was a crisp autumn morning and the sun was shining and she was pleased to see him, she smiled widely and wished him good morning.

  His reply was cool. He took his spectacles out of his pocket, polished them and put them on his commanding nose in order to read the variety of notes left for him at the desk.

  Emmy's smile dwindled. She turned back and picked up her knitting and wished that she were busy. Perhaps she shouldn't have spoken to him. She was only being civil.

  'It's Friday morning,' she said in a reasonable voice, 'and the sun's shining.'

  He took his specs off, the better to stare down at her.

  'The kitten-is it thriving?'

  'Yes. Oh, yes, and Snoodles and George are so kind to it. Snoodles washes it and it goes to sleep with them. It's a bit of a squash in their basket.' She beamed at him. 'How nice of you to ask, sir.'

  He said testily, 'Nice, nice…a useless word. You would do well to enlarge your knowledge of the English language, Ermentrude.'

  'That is very rude, Professor,' said Emmy coldly, and was glad that there was a call which kept her busy for a few moments. Presently she turned her head cautiously. The professor had gone.

  I shall probably get the sack, she reflected. The idea hung like a shadow over her f
or the rest of the day. By the time she was relieved, Authority hadn't said anything, but probably in the morning there would be a letter waiting for her, giving her a month's notice.

  She went slowly to the entrance, wondering if a written apology to the professor would be a good idea. She began to compose it in her head, pausing on her way to get the words right so that the professor had plenty of time to overtake her as she crossed the entrance hall. He came to a halt in front of her so that she bounced against his waistcoat. Emmy, being Emmy, said at once, 'I'm composing a letter of apology to you, sir, although I really don't see why I should.'

  'I don't see why you should either,' he told her. 'What were you going to put in it?'

  'Well-"Dear sir", of course, to start with, and then something about being sorry for my impertinence.'

  'You consider that you were impertinent?' he wanted to know.

  'Good heavens, no, but if I don't apologise I dare say I'll get the sack for being rude or familiar or something.'

  She received an icy stare. 'You have a poor opinion of me, Ermentrude.'

  She made haste to put things right. 'No, no, I think you are very nice…' She paused. 'Oh, dear, I'll have to think of another word, won't I?' She smiled at him, ignoring the cold eyes. 'But you are nice! I suppose I could call you handsome or sexy…'

  He held up a large hand. 'Spare my blushes, Ermentrude. Let us agree, if possible, on nice. I can assure you, though, that you are in no danger of being dismissed.'

  'Oh, good. The money's useful at home, you know.'

  Which presumably was why she was dressed in less than eye-catching fashion.

  'The matter being cleared up, I'll drive you home. It's on my way.'

  'No, it's not. Thank you very much, though; I can catch a bus…'

  The professor, not in the habit of being thwarted, took her arm and walked her through the door.