A Little Moonlight Page 5

  He turned into Nieuwe Doelenstraat and stopped before the Hotel de l’Europe.

  ‘Here?’ asked Serena.

  ‘Here.’ He unfastened her safety-belt, got out and opened her door, then marched her to the hotel entrance, stopping to say something to the doorman.

  ‘Your car?’ queried Serena, shocked at the way he had left it there without so much as locking its doors.

  ‘That’s taken care of,’ said the doctor, ushering her into an extremely comfortable foyer with a large lounge beyond. ‘They’ll keep it here for me until I want it.’

  He sat her down at a small table by the window with a view of the river and beckoned a waiter, ordered coffee and took off his car coat.

  ‘We shall return to Amsterdam at the start of next week,’ he announced. ‘I shall be at the hospital here for two or three days and then I have to go to appointments in Leeuwarden. These will keep me there for a weekend or more. You will accompany me, of course.’

  Serena poured the coffee and handed him a cup. ‘What about Mother?’ she asked urgently. ‘I can’t leave her.’

  He sat back comfortably. ‘But you leave her every day, do you not? And it seems that she is perfectly happy without your company.’

  ‘What a very nasty thing to say,’ said Serena. ‘You know as well as I do—’

  ‘Probably better,’ he said suavely, ignoring her cross look. ‘You don’t wish to believe me, but your mother is as fit as you or I. I suspect that she has been bored and with nothing to do has invented ill health. And don’t look at me like that; your mother is a charming woman and still pretty. She should marry again.’

  Serena drew an indignant breath. ‘Well, of all the things to say, I never—’

  He handed his cup for more coffee. ‘You strike me as being an honest girl, Serena, so give me an honest answer.’ He smiled at her eyes widened by his charm and warmth. ‘Your mother is happy in this Mr Harding’s company, is she not? And were you asked to go with them today?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Serena slowly, ‘and no, I wasn’t.’

  ‘Good. Now, having cleared up that small problem, let us enjoy ourselves.’

  He plunged her into the Muntplein, pausing to point out its history, and then swept her on into the Kalverstraat, a narrow, long street lined with shops and bustling with people. Serena’s little beaky nose twitched with pleasure at the sight of the small elegant shops and the doctor, waiting patiently, let her peer into their windows until she glanced at his impassive face. ‘Oh, sorry, I dare say shops bore you—only I haven’t seen any...’

  He took her arm. ‘There are some splendid shops in den Haag. We’re going in here.’ He pointed to the street sign. ‘Begijnsteeg—it leads to some almshouses, the oldest are fourteenth century, and there’s a church which we gave to your country in the seventeenth century.’

  The Begijnhof was beautiful and serene under the autumn sky, its small houses crowded together in a circle round the church. Serena stood very still, feeling its peace. ‘Who lives here now?’ she asked softly.

  ‘Respectable widows and old maiden ladies. You like it?’

  He was watching her face alight with pleasure. ‘It makes you feel contented,’ she said.

  ‘At last we are able to agree upon something.’ He led her back into the Kalverstraat. ‘Now we will visit the Rembrandthuis. It is in the Jewish quarter, and there are other interesting buildings there.’

  The museum appeared closed when they arrived at it, but the doctor beat a tattoo on its door and it was opened immediately. He urged Serena inside. ‘This is Mijnheer de Vries, the caretaker. The museum is closed, but he has kindly allowed us to look round for half an hour.’

  Mijnheer de Vries shook hands, had a short talk about nothing in particular and took himself off.

  ‘Is he a friend of yours?’ asked Serena.

  ‘Yes. Now come and look at these etchings...’

  Half an hour later Mijnheer de Vries joined them. ‘You need a day, two days,’ he said regretfully.

  ‘But half an hour is better than nothing at all,’ said the doctor. ‘I’m grateful...’

  Mijnheer de Vries broke into English. ‘Grateful? It is I who am grateful—you saved my wife’s life...’

  ‘She is well?’

  ‘Almost her old self, thanks to you, Doctor.’

  ‘That is good news. Now we must go. We’re cramming several days’ sightseeing into a few hours.’

  They all shook hands again and the door was shut behind them.

  ‘Do you mean to say that he opened up the museum specially for us?’ asked Serena.

  ‘Yes.’ The doctor hailed a taxi and popped her inside and got in beside her. ‘There is time for a trip on the canals before lunch,’ he told her, and ten minutes later helped her on board one of the excursion boats. There weren’t many passengers. Serena sat and gaped and goggled at the lovely old houses lining the canals, rather squashed since the doctor’s bulk took up most of the seat. There was a guide on board, explaining everything in three languages, and the doctor sat silent, watching her rapt face, wondering idly how it was that he had thought her a plain girl. The beaky nose was rather charming, and her eyes were really beautiful with their long sweeping lashes. He had no idea why he had had a sudden urge to take her out for the day, and he was already half regretting it. He could have spent the weekend in Friesland with his mother, visited his sisters and brothers, looked up one or two friends, and instead he had elected to spend a day with a mouselike girl who lived a dull life with a selfish mother. However, she wasn’t dull and her tongue could be astringent at times. He smiled a little, and Serena, peeping at him, hoped that he wasn’t finding it as boring as she had first thought.

  They had lunch after the canal tour. They had it in the grill-room, Le Relais: tomates suisses, tender steaks with tiny peas and new potatoes, and crème caramel almost hidden in a mound of cream. Serena did justice to all of it, drank the claret she was offered and poured their coffee with a contented sigh. It had been a pleasant meal, she reflected. The doctor, when he chose to be so, could be entertaining, and his manners were excellent. She asked, like a trusting child expecting a treat, ‘Where else are we going this afternoon?’

  He told her with grave courtesy, ‘I thought the Rijksmuseum. It’s a must for anyone who comes to Amsterdam.’

  ‘Oh, yes—sixteenth- and seventeenth-century paintings, but aren’t there some galleries of porcelain and silver too?’

  ‘Indeed there are. So many tourists go to see the paintings and quite forget the other exhibits. If you are ready we will go.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We have the rest of the afternoon.’

  Serena walked beside him out into the street again. ‘Of course you’ll be going out this evening,’ she observed composedly, and to his sharp, ‘Why do you say that?’ she went on, ‘Well, you must know any number of people, and because you’re Dutch I dare say you have family here as well; you wouldn’t want to waste your evening.’

  ‘Are you saying that I am wasting my day?’ His voice had an edge to it.

  ‘Good heavens, no, that would be very ill-mannered of me, wouldn’t it? I’m having a lovely time and I’m most grateful, but if I were you, I don’t think I’d want to take me out.’

  ‘Why not, Serena?’ His voice was silky.

  ‘Well, for one thing you’ve seen all this before, haven’t you? And for another, I’m not witty or fascinating or amusing, and I’m nothing much to look at...’

  ‘What an abominable girl you are!’

  ‘Am I? I don’t mean to be, but we could get on much better together if we just took it for granted that you’re you and I’m me.’ She gave him an anxious look. ‘If you see what I mean?’

  He laughed then and stopped in the middle of the pavement and turned her to face him. ‘Did I say you were abominable? I’ll
say it again, for want of a better word.’ He turned her round and marched her along until they reached the museum, where they spent over two hours while he explained meticulously the portraits and landscapes, the silver, the porcelain and the glass and furniture.

  An early dusk was falling as they left. ‘Tea?’ he asked as they reached the pavement. ‘Dikker and Thijs are fairly close by on the Prinsengracht.’ He took her arm and crossed the busy street. ‘And let me add that there is plenty of time before my evening date.’

  ‘Then I’d love a cup of tea.’

  They had their tea in the elegant surroundings of Dikker and Thijs, and Serena took care not to linger too long over it, something which didn’t miss the doctor’s sharp eyes, and since it was by now almost dark they took a taxi back to the hotel, waited while the Bentley was driven round from wherever it had been all day, and presently drove back to Mevrouw Blom’s house.

  The doctor got out with her, thumped the knocker and listened civilly to her thanks, and when Mevrouw Blom opened the door he bade Serena goodnight with casual friendliness and waited politely until she had gone indoors.

  ‘A good day?’ asked Mevrouw Blom. ‘All are out, for dinner also, but I will get you a fine meal very soon.’

  Serena stood in the hall. ‘I’m not hungry, Mevrouw Blom. If I could have a sandwich or something presently?’

  The kind soul nodded. ‘A sandwich, yes, and a bowl of my oh, so good soup, also some coffee. And there is a programme on the televisie that you will like. Take off your coat and then come down, eh?’

  Serena went to her room. The house was very quiet and the room was chilly. She hung her coat away and put on a pair of soft slippers, and went to look at herself in the small looking-glass.

  ‘I’m surprised he spent the whole day with you, my dear,’ she remarked to her reflection. ‘He must have been bored. I wonder where he’s going this evening? Dinner? Dancing? The theatre? With some lovely creature who can make him laugh...’

  She wandered over to the window and looked out at the rooftops around her, feeling lonely, but she didn’t stay there long. ‘Don’t you start being sorry for yourself, my girl!’ she said loudly. ‘You’ve had a marvellous day and a heavenly lunch and you’ve seen a great deal. What more can a girl want?’

  She didn’t answer her question, but went downstairs, ate her sandwiches, congratulated Mevrouw Blom on her simply delicious soup and sat down before the TV.

  ‘You are happy?’ asked Mevrouw Blom anxiously. ‘I have my brother with me, or I would sit with you...’

  ‘I’m fine, Mevrouw Blom. I shall enjoy the television, and that was a delicious supper.’

  So when Mevrouw had gone she was alone, watching a discussion between several clever-looking men, but since they were speaking their own language she couldn’t understand what they were saying. It didn’t matter, she had a lot to think about; the canals and the lovely old houses lining them, the museum, the hotel and the shops and, of course, the doctor.

  Then she glanced at the clock above the stove. He would be dining somewhere by now, and opposite him there would be an elegant, beautifully dressed girl who would call him darling—what was the Dutch for darling? she wondered—and make him laugh. The restaurant, in her mind’s eye, would be magnificent with candles on the tables and soft music, and it stood to reason that the food would be superlative. She felt a little sad thinking about it all, especially the doctor.

  Marc Dijkstra ter Feulen, eminent medical man, top of his profession and a baron in his own right, was, strangely enough, thinking about Serena. Strangely, because his attention should have been centred on the very pretty woman sitting opposite him. She was nibbling Melba toast while she gave him an amusing account of the trip she had just taken to the South of France. Now if it had been Serena sitting here, he mused, she would have ignored the Melba toast and tucked into the splendid meal without any nonsense about putting on a pound or two. Come to think of it, she was just right as she was. He frowned faintly, remembering that he had expected to have a boring day sightseeing with her, but in fact he had enjoyed himself...

  ‘You may well frown,’ said his companion. ‘I thought it was disgusting having to wait more than an hour for the plane. I do so dislike tiresome journeys.’ She smiled at him. ‘Are you going to be here for long, Marc? We haven’t seen each other for ages.’

  ‘Another few days at the Hague, and then to Leeuwarden before I go back to London.’

  ‘No days at your home? You work too hard. You need a wife to keep an eye on you.’

  He said indifferently, ‘I’m far too busy. Would you like to dance?’

  * * *

  SERENA WENT TO bed rather early. The clever men had given way to an American film which she remembered seeing a long time ago. Besides, the film had Dutch subtitles which made it all very confusing. She had a shower and washed her hair, then got into bed and went to sleep at once.

  * * *

  IT WAS STILL quite early when she woke. She peeped into her mother’s room and found her sleeping soundly, so she dressed and went quietly downstairs. Mevrouw Blom was setting out cups and saucers for breakfast.

  ‘You sleep well? Good. You want your breakfast? I think no one will come down for a long time, they came home late—one o’clock this morning. Your mother is asleep?’

  Serena nodded.

  ‘She goes with Mr Harding to Scheveningen today. He wishes to examine the pier. You will go too?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. I’ll see if Mother’s awake after I’ve had breakfast.’

  She took as long as possible over her rolls and cheese and coffee, and then went back upstairs. And this time, as she went into her mother’s room, Mrs Proudfoot lifted a sleepy head from her pillow.

  ‘Darling, up already? Going somewhere nice, are you? We’ll have a nice long chat this evening.’

  ‘Yes, Mother. Have a lovely day.’

  Mrs Proudfoot’s head sank back on the pillow again and she slept soundly.

  The day stretched ahead, and it had to be filled. Church, Serena decided, only which one? She knew at once. The English church in the Begijnhof, of course. There were notices in the hall concerning the times of the various entertainments, the whereabouts of restaurants and museums and when church services were held. She found what she was looking for and decided that if she walked smartly she would be there in time.

  ‘I’ll be back for lunch,’ she told Mevrouw Blom, and since it was a cold day got into her coat and crammed her one and only hat, a not very becoming felt, on to her head, then hurried out into the street.

  There were few people about, and she remembered the way from the drive she had had with the doctor. With minutes to spare she found herself a seat in the little church and sat back, breathing rather hard, for the last few hundred yards had almost been at a trot.

  There was quite a large congregation, and presently she looked around her. Mostly elderly people with a sprinkling of children wedged between parents. Her gaze wandered—and came to a surprised halt. Well in front, towering head and shoulders above everyone else, was Dr ter Feulen.

  The congregation knelt, and she took the opportunity to peep at him through her fingers. He wouldn’t see her, and thank heaven for that; he was most unlikely to turn round and stare about him during the service, and the moment the choir and the vicar had gone out she would nip out.

  She stood with everyone else, and while she sang the hymn thanked her stars that she had seen him; to have come face to face with him would have been upsetting, to say the least. He might even think that she was following him around!

  She settled down to listen to the sermon, and at the end of it, not having heard a word, sang the last hymn, anxious to be gone. None the less, she couldn’t do that before she had breathed a humble little prayer apologising for not giving the service her full attention.

/>   The doctor, casting a keen eye around the church, saw her at once; he was waiting for her as she went out of the church.

  Serena walked straight into him and came to an abrupt halt. ‘Oh, dear!’ she said, and then, ‘I had no idea that you would be here,’ she told him earnestly.

  ‘Why should you?’ He didn’t tell her that he had gone to the church on an impulse, guessing that it was the most likely place to find her.

  ‘It’s a nice day,’ said Serena inanely. ‘I’ll say goodbye.’

  A large hand on her arm stopped her from moving away. ‘Coffee? There is a Brown Café here, the coffee is very good. If you intend walking back to Mevrouw Blom’s then you must have a drink first.’

  She had every intention of refusing, but she was given no chance. He had turned her round and walked her down the steeg to the coffee shop, then he sat her down at a small table and ordered coffee before she could think of a graceful refusal.

  Over their delicious coffee he asked, ‘And what do you intend to do today? An outing with your mother?’

  She said too quickly, ‘Oh, I expect so. When I left she was only just awake—she was out rather late last night.’

  ‘I dare say she has planned a pleasant afternoon for you. You will be ready to leave, with everything that you might need for a week, for den Haag at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. Don’t keep me waiting.’

  She eyed him thoughtfully. ‘Did Miss Payne ever keep you waiting?’

  ‘Never.’

  Greatly daring, she asked, ‘And if I do?’

  ‘The question doesn’t arise; you won’t keep me waiting.’ He sounded so absolutely sure of it that she found herself agreeing.

  It was pleasant sitting there, but she refused a second cup, thanked him politely and took her leave. He walked with her to the end of the Steeg, and watched her walk away.

  She walked briskly, wishing to give the impression that she was actually going somewhere, which meant that presently she found herself lost in a tangle of narrow streets leading from the Leidsestraat. Presently she found herself on the Herengracht and turned north instead of south, so that crossing a bridge she found herself in Spuistraat and eventually came out into the Dam Square. It was almost twelve o’clock, and Mevrouw Blom served lunch then. Serena stood uncertainly, not quite sure which way to go. The sight of a taxi solved her problem. She waved it down, gave the address in her carefully learned Dutch and was whisked back just in time.