Tempestuous April Read online

  Sieske laughed. ‘Dutch is perhaps a little difficult. Friso merely said that he would call for us tomorrow morning and take us to church.’

  Harriet rang her bell for no reason at all. ‘Not me?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, of course, you. You and me. Mother will stay in case there are calls for Father. I do not know about Maggina and Taeike; I suppose if they want to come, they can.’ She fell to talking about the garden, and Friso’s name wasn’t mentioned again.

  Harriet dressed with care the next morning. Her thin wool dress and coat were almost new and a delicious shade of almond green. They became her mightily; so did the silk turban with its ends tied in a jaunty knot in the nape of her neck; her shoes were good ones and matched her gloves and handbag. She applied Miss Dior with thoughtful care and surveyed herself in the long mirror between the windows; even her critical eye approved of what it saw. She nodded at her reflection and went downstairs; the desire to impress Dr Eijsinck with the knowledge that she was no penniless dowd working powerfully within her. Sieske was in the sitting-room, telephoning Wierd; she looked up as Harriet went in, raised her eyebrows and made a feminine sound of appreciation, echoed by Maggina and Taeike, who appeared, hatted and gloved, in the doorway.

  Sieske had rung off and was about to speak when the front door was opened by a powerful arm and Friso joined them. He gave them a collective good morning, bestowed a brief disinterested glance on Harriet, much as a man would look at yesterday’s newspaper, and disappeared in the direction of the surgery. He reappeared a moment later, agreed casually to Taeike’s urgent request to sit by him in front, and opened the door; as they filed through, he said, feelingly, ‘Great heavens, four of you!’ There was laughter from the Van Minnens and a polite smile from Harriet; after all, he had suggested it, hadn’t he? The ill-conceived idea that she should cry off with a splitting headache was wrecked at birth by his compelling hand helping her far more carefully than was necessary, into the car.

  The church was large, too large for the size of the village, but nonetheless surprisingly full. Dr Eijsinck’s pew was in the very front; it had elaborately carved ends which bore his name written in copper plate on a little white card fixed into a brass holder. He stood, completely at ease, while they all filed past him. Taeike had hung back, but had had to go in first, looking sulky; Maggina went next, then Sieske, who took Harriet’s hand and tugged it gently. The doctor settled himself in the remaining space; there seemed to be a great deal of him at such close quarters. He found the hymn for her in a beautiful leather-bound book he produced from a pocket, while Sieske explained about not kneeling and sitting down to sing and to pray. Harriet felt faintly confused, especially as she wasn’t attending very much to Sieske. How could she, with Friso sitting beside her?

  Even though she didn’t understand a word of the service, she enjoyed it. The doctor and Sieske took care to point out how far they had got in the incomprehensible book she held as she sat between them, listening to Sieske’s pretty voice singing, and to the doctor’s deep one, booming its way unselfconsciously through the hymns. The sermon was long, but the dominee, an enormous white-haired man with a compelling voice, fascinated her. She had the impression that he was haranguing the congregation about their misdeeds, but a cautious glance around showed nothing but rows of guiltless faces—either they hid their feelings well, or he was unnecessarily stern. But whatever he was his voice was beautiful; it rolled around the church, helped by the magnificent sounding board above his head, and she wished she understood him.

  She had been warned beforehand about the two collections; she had her two guldens ready as the elders advanced down the aisle, but then her eye caught the notes in the doctor’s hands—they were almost hidden, but she thought that they were for ten gulden. She looked at Sieske, but she was bending over to pick up a glove. The doctor’s enormous hand took her bag from her, extracted the two gulden pieces, and put one in each of her hands. He said nothing, but he smiled, his grey eyes twinkling, so that she found herself smiling back at him. Just for that moment they seemed to have known each other for ever.

  It seemed that they were to go back to Friso’s house after church; a few people were coming in for drinks; it was all very like life in the village at home. Harriet followed the others through the main door into the tiled hall, and allowed a small neat man with a wrinkled face to remove her coat and take her gloves, and then shook hands with him when Maggina introduced him as Wim without explaining who he was. He didn’t follow them into the drawing-room, so presumably he was the manservant Aede had mentioned. She lingered for a moment at the door; she would have dearly liked to have explored the hall and the doors on either side of it, and still more, the carved staircase curving up to the floor above. There were a number of portraits on the walls too. She turned reluctantly to encounter the vast expanse of the doctor’s waistcoat, and spoke to it with a hint of apology. ‘I was just looking at the hall. It’s rather—rather beautiful.’ She blushed fiercely; even to her own ears the remark had sounded pretentious. ‘Not that I know anything about it,’ she added, inadequately, making it worse.

  He stood aside for her to enter the room and said politely, ‘I’m glad you like it. Come and have a glass of sherry,’ and ushered her across the expanse of carpet to where the others were sitting. She had barely taken two sips when the door opened again, and the dominee came in, followed by several other people who apparently were on terms of good friendship with Friso. Harriet shook hands with them rather shyly, and was relieved when they immediately spoke in English, showing a kindly interest in her which she found very pleasant, if surprising. She was passed from one to other little group until she fetched up by the dominee, who asked a great many questions in quite perfect and beautifully spoken English, and only interrupted himself when the lantern clock on the wall beside him struck the hour in a delicate faraway fashion. ‘So late!’ he exclaimed, ‘I must go, but with regret. We must meet again before you return, Miss Slocombe.’ He engulfed her hand and shook it so that the bones protested and went away, to be replaced at once by an elegantly dressed little woman, who wanted to know, surprisingly, if Marks and Spencer were still selling those rather nice quilted dressing-gowns…she had bought one on her last visit to London; she would certainly get another if they were still available. Harriet, who did a good deal of her own shopping there, was able to give her the news that they were, and the absorbing topic of clothes kept them happily occupied until there was a general movement of departure.

  Harriet found herself going through the door with the doctor, hazily uncertain as to how this had happened; she had thought that she was surrounded by other people; they appeared to have melted away. They paused on the step outside, watching everyone sort themselves into their cars. There was another car there now, a dark blue Bentley, with Wim sitting in the driving seat. She said without much thought, ‘Is that your car, too, the Bentley?’ She glanced up at him, to encounter a cool glance from the grey eyes.

  ‘Yes. Wim will take you back. I’m sorry that I cannot, but I have guests for luncheon.’ He put his hands in his pockets, lounging against the side of the door. ‘By the way,’ he said, ‘you look very smart—I’m much impressed. But then I was meant to be, was I not, Harriet?’

  She took her glove off, and then put it on again with care; her voice shook only a little when she replied, ‘How detestable you are! I hope I shan’t see you again, Dr Eijsinck.’ She started to walk towards the car, and he walked with her.

  ‘You’re a shocking liar,’ he remarked cheerfully. He saw them all into the car, ignoring Taeike’s still sulky face, then put his head through the open window next to Harriet.

  ‘I should have asked you to lunch, Harriet, then you could have met the brunette.’ He grinned at her. Before she could think of an answer the car had started.

  ‘What did he mean?’ asked Taeike sharply. Harriet was far too busy with her own thoughts to notice the edge of the girl’s voice. ‘Oh, it was just a joke,’ she said care
fully, and fell to talking about the various people she had met.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THEY SET OFF for Delft the following morning, shortly after breakfast; a meal during which each member of the family had added his or her quota to the list of sights that Harriet simply had to see. She wrote them down in her neat handwriting with a pen borrowed from Dr Van Minnen, on a leaf torn from his pocket-book. It was a lengthy list by the time she had finished it; she looked up to make some laughing remark and encountered Taeike’s stare from the other side of the table. For a brief, unbelieving second Harriet thought she saw hate in the pretty little face, and then told herself she was mistaken as Taeike’s face broke into a sweet smile as she said in her deliberate English, ‘I hope you have a lovely day, Harriet.’

  They went over the Afsluitdijk, Sieske sending the Mini racing along its length while she pointed out the opposite coast and explained about the dijk. Harriet listened and looked at the quiet water lapping at the dijk’s edge, and watched the birds pottering along between the stones of the dijk itself. It was all very quiet and peaceful. There were very few cars, and those tore past them, their only aim to get to the other side as quickly as possible. They went through the giant sluices and were on dry land again; pretty enough, but not to be compared with Friesland. She told Sieske so, to have her remark greeted with delight.

  ‘You speak like a true Friesian,’ she glanced sideways at Harriet. ‘I believe you like my country, do you not?’

  ‘Very much,’ said Harriet. She was thinking of Friso Eijsinck.

  ‘And the people?’ went on Sieske.

  ‘I like them too,’ said Harriet. She went pink and turned a flurried attention to the landscape, which unfortunately hardly merited any comment, so she fell back on the safe and ever-engrossing topic of her friend’s wedding, and if Sieske thought that the subject had been changed rather suddenly, she gave no sign.

  They had plenty of time. Wierd was to meet them after lunch, and it was barely half past nine when they reached the further shore. Sieske decided to take the by-roads across the polders; it would give Harriet a chance to see the new farms the Government had built on the reclaimed land. The country was neat and orderly and new to the point of bareness, but the farms looked prosperous and well cared for, but presently they left the polders behind and in due time reached Broekop-Langendijk, much more to Harriet’s liking, for it was nothing but a complex of canals crisscrossing in all directions, held together by a great many bridges. The canals were alive with a number of small boats and an occasional large one—to her enchanted eye it looked like the backdrop to some gigantic musical show. Sieske, who knew the way very well, crossed the main road just above Alkmaar and took the road to the dunes until it emerged on the other side of the Velsen tunnel and they were back on the main road again. But now there was a great deal to see; the bulb-fields were showing their colours, not perhaps at their perfection, but nonetheless a delight to the eye. Harriet gazed at everything in sight and never stopped asking questions, which Sieske, her eyes on the road, answered with great good nature and in some detail.

  They parked the car in a narrow cobbled street in Delft; its bonnet hanging precariously over the canal beside it. Harriet eyed the quiet water below; the car wheels were only a few inches from the edge—but apparently everyone parked in the same manner; it made more room, Sieske explained. They strolled to the market place, and found a tiny coffee shop behind a pastrycook’s, and drank their coffee and made their plans.

  ‘I wish you’d come with us this afternoon,’ said Sieske for the hundredth time.

  Harriet shook her head. ‘I’d love to potter off by myself if you don’t mind, Sieske. I’ll meet you for tea—only write down the name of the café.’

  Presently they wandered off, standing to gaze at canals and bridges and old houses, of which there were a great many; until they stopped for lunch in the courtyard of a small restaurant next to the Prinsenhof Museum. Here they parted, Sieske to meet Wierd, Harriet to explore the museum so conveniently close by. Her afternoon went too quickly; there was no time to see even half the things on her list because she idled along one street after the other, each one looking more like something out of Grimm’s Fairy Tales than the last; even the sight of the inhabitants in modern dress didn’t quite disillusion her. She became hopelessly lost, which didn’t matter at first until she glanced at her wrist-watch and knew that she was going to be late for tea. She was forced to show the name of the café Sieske had written down for her to the only person in sight, a short thick-set man coming towards her on the opposite side of the narrow cobbled street—he wore a semi-nautical cap and an oil-stained shirt, its buttons strained to bursting point across a powerful chest. She addressed him, absurdly, in English. ‘Excuse me, but would you tell me how to find this café?’

  She smiled at him and thrust the piece of paper under his nose. He read it very slowly, addressed her cheerfully, unintelligibly and at some length, and caught her arm in a massive paw. She trotted along beside him, having rather a job to keep up in her high heels and wondering if perhaps she had been a little foolish. Supposing he hadn’t understood? She looked around and recognized nothing at all. They seemed to be going up and down a great many streets, each of them exactly like its fellows. She tugged his arm so that he stopped, showed him the paper again and felt relieved when he smiled hugely, showing some terrible teeth, and caught hold of her arm again, walking faster than ever. They turned a corner and she heard the hum of traffic and presently saw the main road before them. They came to a halt and he pointed to her left and smiled again. Harriet decided that he was rather nice and wished she could have thanked him in his own language. She managed a Dank U and remembered the packet of English cigarettes in her handbag. She pulled them out to offer him, then shook his hand because everyone shook hands in Holland and it seemed the polite thing to do. Before she turned the corner again she turned round and they waved to each other like old friends. The café was very close, she could see Sieske and Wierd looking rather anxiously in the opposite direction. Sieske turned round and saw her and said with her usual calm, ‘There you are. We were wondering what had happened.’

  Harriet told them as they sat over their tea, and they laughed a great deal and ate a number of cream cakes because they looked so delicious and Wierd was anxious that they should. Afterwards they walked slowly back to the car and on the way Harriet stopped to buy postcards so that Sieske and Wierd could say good-bye without her there to watch. By the time she had caught up with them they had reversed the car on to the road and she felt a secret relief that she hadn’t been sitting in it; it would be so easy to accelerate into the canal instead of reversing. She got in and they went slowly down the street, waving to Wierd as they went, and then out of the town and on to the motorway. It was still quite early, just after five, and they were ahead of the great surge of traffic which would pour on to the roads after the day’s work. They made good time, not stopping to dawdle and look at the view as they had done in the morning; they were half-way across the Afsluitdijk and it was almost eight o’clock when Harriet saw the AC 428 coming towards them, very fast. Not so fast, however, that she was plainly able to see Friso Eijsinck wave a careless gloved hand as they passed. The black-haired girl beside him stared straight ahead of her and took no notice at all. Sieske said placidly, ‘That was Friso.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Harriet in a calm voice which quite hid her own astonishment at the feelings their encounter had stirred up. ‘What sort of fish do they catch in the Ijsselmeer?’

  She had asked that question already on the way to Delft that morning. She was conscious of Sieske looking at her before she replied. ‘Eels, mostly. Do you know who that girl was?’

  ‘No,’ said Harriet, ‘and I’m not in the least interested.’

  ‘No? Well, I suppose not. But you fit into everything so well here, I keep forgetting that you’re not going to stay.’ She slowed down to go through the outskirts of Harlingen. ‘There’s no reason why you s
hould be interested in people you may never see again.’

  Harriet swallowed and said carefully, ‘No.’ She felt like bursting into tears, which she told herself was very silly of her. Instead she said too brightly,

  ‘It was fun today, but I like Friesland. Does Wierd know yet where he’ll be working after you’re married?’

  It was a red herring which lasted until they reached home.

  They were all sitting round the table eating the meal Mevrouw Van Minnen had made the rest of the family wait for, when the front door was opened and closed again with a thud followed by silence. Harriet dissected her chop with all the care of a young surgeon performing his first operation. Only one person shut the door like that, and only one person, despite his size, walked so lightly that it was impossible to hear him. She had got her breath nicely under control by the time the door opened and Friso walked in. He returned a cheerful Dag to the chorus of greetings, and added, presumably for her benefit, ‘Hullo.’

  She looked up briefly and said ‘Hullo’ before returning to her chop, while Taeike jumped up and made room for him at the table, and Maggina ran to get a fresh plate and Mevrouw Van Minnen made haste to serve him. He sat down beside Taeike, ruffling her hair as he did so, and accepted his supper with every sign of content. Harriet passed him the pepper and salt and when he asked, ‘Did you have a good day in Delft?’ replied in a composed voice that yes, she had enjoyed herself immensely.