Ring in a Teacup Page 6

  And Lucy, to her shame, had allowed two tears to spill over and run down her cheeks. She went hot with mortification when she remembered that, although he had pretended not to see them, turning away to ring the bell and when the same stout man appeared soft-footed, giving some instructions in his own language. Only then had he turned round again so that she had had the time to wipe the tears away. ‘Rest and food,’ he observed cheerfully, ‘and in a few days’ time he’ll be on his feet again. What are we going to call him?’

  ‘You mean you’ll keep him? Give him a home?’

  ‘Why not? My housekeeper has a cat, they’ll be company for each other and Daisy won’t mind.’

  ‘Daisy?’ She had been aware of a strange feeling at his words; could Daisy be the lovely girl who had been at the dance?

  ‘My golden Labrador. Ah, here is Jaap with the milk.’

  The cat’s nose twitched and it put out a very small amount of tongue, but that was all; lapping seemed beyond it. Lucy had dipped a finger in the creamy warmth and offered it and after a minute the tongue had appeared again and this time it licked her finger eagerly, even if slowly. It had taken quite a time to get the milk into the cat and by then it had been tired with the effort. Mr der Linssen, sitting on the side of his desk, watching, had simply said: ‘Good, two-hourly feeds for a day or so, I think,’ and had nodded in a satisfied manner when Jaap appeared with a box, cosily lined with an old blanket. Lucy had watched the little animal carefully laid in it and borne away and in answer to her questioning look, Mr der Linssen had said: ‘To the kitchen—it’s warm there and there are plenty of people to keep an eye on it. I’ll find time to see a friend of mine who’s a vet and ask him to give the beast a going over.’

  He had come to stand in front of her and there seemed a great deal of him. ‘Thank you very much, I’m so grateful.’ She looked down at her sensible shoes, muddied and wet. The damage she must have done to those carpets!

  ‘Well,’ said Mr der Linssen easily, ‘I think we’ve earned a cup of coffee, don’t you?’

  Lucy looked at him, noticing now that he was in slacks and a sweater and needed a shave. ‘You’ve been at the hospital. Oh, you must be tired. I—I won’t have any coffee, thank you, I was going shopping for Mies.’ The name reminded her of their previous conversation and she flushed uncomfortably. But he had chosen to forget, it seemed, for he had spoken pleasantly.

  ‘Only since four o’clock. I’m wide-awake but famished. Do keep me company while I have my breakfast, in any case your raincoat won’t be dry yet.’

  So she had gone with him to a charming little room at the back of the house. It overlooked a small paved yard surrounded with roses and even in the light of the grey morning outside, it was cosy; mahogany shining with polishing and a rich brocaded wall hanging, ruby red, almost obscured by the paintings hung upon it. He had sat her down at a circular table and poured coffee for her, just as though he hadn’t heard her refusing it. And she was glad enough to drink it, it gave her something to do while he made his breakfast, talking the while of this and that and nothing in particular. Presently, when he had finished, she said rather shyly that she should go and he had agreed at once. Remembering that she felt a little hurt, but stupidly so, she told herself. There was no reason why he should wish for her company; he had been helpful and kind and courteous, but probably he had had just about enough of her by then. But he had taken her to see the cat before she went; sleeping quietly before the Aga in the enormous, magnificently equipped kitchen in the basement, and then he had excused himself because he had patients to see and Jaap had shown her out with a courtesy which had restored her self-esteem.

  She had thought about the whole episode quite a lot during the day. The house, what she had seen of it, was every bit as lovely as she had imagined it would be and considering that Mr der Linssen had no time for her, he had been rather a dear. She hoped that she would hear about the cat—perhaps Mies could find out for her. She ate her solitary lunch and then wrote a letter, forgetting that she would more than likely be home before it got there, but she couldn’t settle to anything. She supposed that seeing the house had excited her; she had been so curious about it...

  Mies came home presently with the news that the receptionist would be back in the morning so that she would be free once more, and they fell to planning the day. ‘And we’ll get Willem to take us to the bioscoop,’ declared Mies, and then said a little crossly: ‘Oh, well, isn’t he taking you this evening? I forgot. Not that I care, I see too much of him, he is always under my feet.’

  So Lucy felt a little guilty as she and Willem, who was free after all, walked down Churchilllaan to the nearest bus stop. Mies might not love Willem, but she had got used to him being around; he had been her slave, more or less, for years, and anyway, she had said that she wanted to marry Fraam. It was all rather muddled, thought Lucy, waiting beside Willem to cross the street. There wasn’t much traffic about, for the weather was still wet and chilly; she watched the cars idly. Mr der Linssen’s Panther de Ville or the Rolls for that matter, or failing those, his Mini would be preferable to a bus ride. The Rolls slid past as she thought it, with him at the wheel and Mies beside him. Mies didn’t see her, but he did. His smile was cool and she looked away quickly to see if Willem had seen them too. He hadn’t, and a good thing too, she decided. Bad enough for her evening to be spoilt, although she wasn’t quite clear as to why it should be. There was certainly no reason for Willem to have his evening spoilt too.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  AT BREAKFAST THE next morning Mies monopolised the conversation. She had, quite by accident, she explained airily, met Fraam when she went out to post letters and he had taken her to the hospital to pick up some notes he had wanted before bringing her home. It was only after a lengthy description of this that she asked nonchalantly if Lucy had enjoyed herself.

  Lucy answered cautiously. It was a little difficult; she had promised to help Willem to capture Mies’ attention and she fancied that Mies wasn’t best pleased that he had taken her out, but, on the other hand, if Mies was really in love with Mr der Linssen and he with her, surely they should be allowed to stay that way? And in that case what about Willem?

  ‘Willem is nice to go out with,’ she observed, aware that it was a silly remark. ‘I expect you go out with him quite a lot.’

  Mies shrugged. ‘When there is no one else.’

  ‘He wondered,’ persisted Lucy, ‘if we might all go out this evening—just for a drink somewhere.’

  She was a little surprised at Mies’ ready agreement. ‘Only it must be dinner too,’ she insisted. ‘We will go to ’t Binnenhofje, the three of us—Papa has an engagement and will not be home; it will be convenient to go out.’

  ‘It sounds lovely,’ agreed Lucy, ‘but didn’t you tell me it was wildly expensive? I mean, Willem...’

  ‘Do not worry about Willem, he has plenty of money, his family are not poor. I will telephone him and tell him to book a table for eight o’clock.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve anything to wear,’ said Lucy worriedly.

  ‘The patterned skirt and the pink blouse,’ Mies decided for her, ‘and I—I shall wear my grey crêpe.’ She got up as she spoke. ‘I shall telephone now.’

  And she came back presently with the news that Willem would be delighted to take them out and would call for them in good time. ‘And now what shall we do with our day?’ enquired Mies. ‘You have bought presents already? Then we go down to the hospital; there is something I have to deliver for Papa—a specimen.’

  Lucy didn’t mind what she did; she enjoyed each day as it came, although she did make the tentative suggestion that they might go to the clinic just once more before she went home.

  ‘But why?’ asked Mies. ‘You have seen it.’

  ‘Yes, but I found it very interesting.’

  ‘Well, there is no time,’ said Mi
es positively. ‘Today is Friday and on Saturday you go home. Why do you want to go?’

  ‘I said—it’s interesting, but it doesn’t matter, Mies. I’ve had a simply super time, you’ve been a dear—you must come and stay with us...’

  ‘If I am still unmarried,’ said Mies demurely. ‘And now we go out. We can take a bus and walk the rest of the way.’

  Lucy agreed readily although at the back of her mind was the vague idea that she wanted to see Mr der Linssen just once more before she left Amsterdam. She wasn’t sure why, perhaps to make sure that he was as taken with Mies as she was—apparently—with him. But now it seemed unlikely that she would see him again, not to speak to, that was. Possibly she would attend another of his lectures in the future and watch him standing on the lecture hall platform, holding forth learnedly about something or other. Pray heaven she wouldn’t be on night duty.

  It was another wet day; she put on her raincoat and the sensible shoes, wondering about the cat. She could of course telephone Mr der Linssen’s house and find out. She tied a scarf under her determined little chin and joined Mies in the hall.

  The bus was packed and they had to stand all the way so that the short walk at the end of it was welcome even though it was wet. The hospital looked gloomy as they approached it and it wasn’t much better inside. Lucy, told to stay in the entrance hall while Mies went along to the Path. Lab., wandered round its sombre walls. Mies was being a long time; Lucy had gone round the vast echoing place several times, perhaps she had some other errand or had met someone. Willem, or Mr der Linssen? And had it been arranged beforehand? she wondered. She paused to stare up at a plaque on the wall. She couldn’t understand a word of it, but probably it extolled the talents and virtues of some dead and gone medical man.

  Advancing footsteps and voices made her turn round in time to see Mr der Linssen coming down the central staircase, hedged about by a number of people, rather like a planet with attendant satellites. He passed her within a foot or so, giving her a distant nod as he went and then stopped, spoke to the man beside him and came back to her, leaving the others to go on. He wasted no time in unnecessary greetings but: ‘You return to England tomorrow, do you not?’

  She nodded, studying him; he looked different in his long white coat; she liked him better in slacks and a sweater... ‘How’s the cat?’ she asked.

  ‘Making a good recovery. He has the appetite of a wolf but a remarkably placid disposition.’

  ‘He’s no trouble?’ she asked anxiously. ‘You really are going to keep him?’

  He frowned. ‘I told you that I would give him a home. Have you any reason to doubt my word?’

  Very touchy. Lucy made a vigorous denial, then sought to lighten the conversation. ‘Mies is here—she went to the Path. Lab.’

  Mr der Linssen nodded carelessly. ‘She comes frequently with specimens from her father’s clinic.’ He seemed to have nothing to say and Lucy wondered just why he had stopped to speak to her. She tried again. ‘I expect you’re very busy...’

  ‘Offering me a chance to escape, Miss Prendergast?’ His voice was silky. ‘But you would agree with me that not to say goodbye to you would be lacking in good manners?’

  This wasn’t a conversation, she thought crossly, it was questions and answers, and how on earth did she answer that? She said carefully: ‘Well, I’m glad you stopped to say goodbye, and considering, it was kind of you to do so.’

  ‘Considering what?’

  She looked up at him and glimpsed an expression on his face she had never seen before. It had gone before she could decide what it was, to be replaced by a polite blandness. And that told her nothing at all.

  She said in a serious voice: ‘You said once that you tried not to see me but somehow we keep meeting—it’s silly really, because we don’t even live in the same country. I was surprised to see you at the clinic—I never thought...but I’ve tried to keep out of your way.’

  ‘Have you indeed? I wonder...’ His bleep interrupted him and she heard his annoyed mutter. She was taken completely by surprise when he bent and kissed her fiercely before striding away to the porter’s lodge across the hall and picking up the telephone there. He was racing up the staircase without so much as a glance in her direction, and all within seconds. Lucy was still wondering why he had kissed her when Mies arrived.

  ‘Was I a long time?’ She looked smug. ‘I met Fraam.’

  Lucy, accompanying her out of the hospital entrance, forbore from saying that she had met him too. For the last time, she reminded herself.

  She wondered, as she dressed that evening, if their dinner party was going to be a success; three wasn’t an ideal number, Mies could surely have found another man. Lucy, determined to do justice to the occasion even if she was going to be the odd one out, took time to roll her hair into elaborate curls again. And it was worth the effort, for the hair-do added importance to her pink blouse and patterned skirt. Not that it mattered, since there would be no one to see. She wondered too how Willem would behave; was he going to carry on pretending that he was gone on her or would he devote himself to Mies?

  She took a last look at herself in the looking glass and went along to borrow the brown cloak again, for she had nothing else.

  Mies looked lovely, but then she always did. The grey crêpe was soft and clinging and feminine and, unlike the gown she had worn to the dance, demure. Lucy, admiring it, thought that it might please Willem mightily.

  It did. When he arrived at the flat he could hardly take his eyes off Mies, and he certainly didn’t notice her marked coldness towards him. And if he’s going to drool all over her all the evening, he’ll never get anywhere, thought Lucy crossly, and then told herself that she was silly to bother, she wouldn’t see them again for a long time, and by then they would either have married or have forgotten each other.

  Binnenhofje was a smart place. Lucy immediately knew herself to be a trifle old-fashioned in her dress the moment they were inside its door. The younger women were wearing rather way-out dresses and the older ones were elegantly turned out in the kind of simple dress which cost a great deal of money. True, there were one or two tourists there, easily recognisable in their uncrushable manmade fibres, but all the same, she felt like a maiden aunt. She corrected herself; like the parson’s daughter. Which naturally put her in mind of Mr der Linssen and she had leisure enough to think about him, for Willem and Mies were deep in a conversation of their own for the moment. But presently they remembered that she was there, excused themselves laughingly on the plea that they had been reminiscing and began a lighthearted chatter which lasted them through the starters and the Sole Picasso.

  It was while Lucy was deciding between crêpes Suzette and Dame Blanche that she happened to look up and see Mr der Linssen sitting at a table on the other side of the restaurant. He had a stunning redhead with him this time, but he wasn’t looking at her, he was staring at Lucy who was so surprised that she dropped the menu and ordered a vanilla ice cream—something, she told herself silently, she could have had at home any time and wasn’t really a treat at all. She took care not to look at him again, something she found extraordinarily difficult because she wanted to so badly, but it wasn’t for a little while that she realised that Mies knew that he was there, which would account for her animated conversation and her gorgeous smile, as well as the casual way her gaze swept round the place every minute or so. He hadn’t been staring at her at all, Lucy concluded, but at Mies; they had both known the other was to be there.

  They must be terribly in love. She frowned. In that case why hadn’t they dined together? The redhead couldn’t be anyone very important in his life if he was so smitten with Mies, and poor Willem could have taken her out without Mies planning this dinner and no one would have been any the wiser, and much happier. For Willem had seen him now; Lucy could see him thinking all the things she herself had just mulled over, because he
looked puzzled and worried and then put out. He made it worse by asking Mies if she knew that Fraam was sitting nearby and when she said Oh, yes, of course, wanted to know if she had known before they had arrived at the restaurant.

  Mies gave him one of her angelic smiles. ‘Willem, that’s why I wanted to come.’

  Lucy plunged into what she could see was fast becoming a ticklish situation.

  ‘I thought it was a farewell dinner party for me,’ she said lightly, and was instantly deflated by Mies’ ‘Oh, Lucy, that was a good reason for coming, do you not see?’

  She swallowed her hurt pride. ‘Then why not have just dined with Mr der Linssen? Willem and I would have been quite happy in a snack bar.’

  Mies said huffily: ‘He already had a date, I found that out, but now he can see me, can he not, and that is better than nothing.’

  Willem had remained silent, but now he began to speak. It was unfortunate for Lucy that he did so in his own language, but whatever he was saying he was saying in anger—nicely controlled, but still anger. Something which so surprised Mies that she just sat and listened to him, her lovely mouth slightly open, her eyes round. What was more, she didn’t answer back at all. Lucy, her coffee cooling before her, sat back and watched them both and was glad to see that Mies was actually paying attention to Willem, even looking at him with admiration. When he had at last finished she said something softly in quite a different voice from the one she usually used when she spoke to him, and then smiled. Lucy was pleased to see that he didn’t smile back, only went on looking stern and angry and somehow a lot older than he was, then turned to her and said with great dignity: ‘I am sorry, Lucy, that we have spoilt your last evening here. You were quite right, you and I would have had a pleasant evening together. Mies has behaved disgracefully. I have told her that she is spoilt and has had her way far too long; it is time that she grew up, and I for one do not wish to have anything to do with her until she has done so.’