The Magic of Living Read online

  The doctor wasn’t at lunch. Larissa, sharing the well-cooked, simple meal with her, observed lightly that he had been held up on his morning round. ‘He quite often is,’ she explained, ‘but you know enough about doctors to know that, don’t you?’ She smiled in a friendly way. ‘Which reminds me, I have the plastic pillow-cases. When do we go to the pool?’

  Arabella speared the last of her mushroom omelette. ‘Well, they’re resting now and Hanneke’s there. When I go back I’ll start getting them ready—will two o’clock be too soon?’ She glanced out of the window. ‘The sun’s very warm and there’s almost no wind.’

  ‘Two o’clock it is, then.’

  ‘I could manage on my own, you know, quite easily, one at a time—they’re as light as feathers.’

  The other girl smiled and looked for a moment exactly like her brother.

  ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I like having you here, you and the children. I lead a useless kind of life at the moment, I suppose, but I’m getting married in a couple of months and there’s no point in starting anything—Dirk is in India at the moment, getting a new hospital on its feet—that is the expression, is it not? He’s a doctor also. I think that I am mad to marry him when I have had to live all my life with doctors, first Papa and now Gideon, but at least I know what I am in for.’

  ‘You’ll live in India?’ Arabella was interested in this lovely girl’s future.

  ‘Lord, no. Dirk has a lecturing post to go to in Utrecht—there’s a medical school there—there is a house waiting for us.’

  ‘You must be longing for him to come back,’ said Arabella, unconsciously wistful.

  ‘I am.’ Larissa glanced at her and away again. ‘And you? Do you expect to marry?’

  ‘Me? No.’ Arabella’s voice was falsely cheerful; it was hard to sound as though she didn’t mind that possibility in the least; there were any number of unmarried women in the world and probably they were perfectly happy. The sooner she got used to the idea the better.

  ‘I think I’ll go and start on Billy and Sally, they’re so excited they’ll not be able to control themselves as well as usual. Once they’re in the water, though, they’ll be fine.’

  The bathing party, after a little manoeuvring, got under way; the pool was warm and sheltered, the children, safe in the girls’ arms, shrieked with delight as they floated, their plastered legs looking quite ridiculous in their plastic bags, held as high as possible. It was an awkward business, but seeing their happy faces, Arabella considered it well worth the trouble. She was enjoying herself too, her hair piled anyhow on top of her head, wearing the rather drab blue swim suit which had been all the shop had had to offer her, it did nothing for her at all, whereas Larissa in a brightly flowered bikini brought a good deal of colour to the scene. She was consoling herself that there was no one to see anyway, when a sudden upheaval in the water made her look round, fearful that the awkwardness of floating a child with a leg in plaster had been too much for Larissa. It wasn’t Larissa, however, it was the doctor, swimming slowly towards them from the deep end. He greeted them all affably, turned on his back and remarked:

  ‘This is a splendid idea, Arabella—why didn’t I think of it?’

  Arabella wedged Billy up against the side of the pool, aware of an overwhelming pleasure at seeing the doctor, mingled at the same time with regret that she hadn’t done something about her hair and had been unable to buy a more attractive swimsuit. She had her mouth open to answer him when there was another upheaval, and George, who had flopped in too, came paddling towards them. The pool’s tranquillity was happily scissored up by the cheerful uproar which ensued, with the children screaming delight, George barking and the girls keeping laughing order. The doctor, still on his back with his eyes closed, said nothing; apparently he was taking a nap.

  The children, naturally enough, were unwilling to leave the pool; it was only when the doctor suggested a picnic tea on the lawn while the sun was still warm that they were tempted away, wrapped snugly in enormous towels and carried back to the house, where they were dried, dressed and sat in their wheelchairs again by their three companions. Arabella, shovelling Sally smartly into her clothes, was a little astonished to see how completely the doctor was dealing with Billy; allowing him to do the simple tasks he had been so painstakingly taught, and making short work of everything else.

  Larissa had thoughtfully provided towelling robes for herself and Arabella. Arabella’s was too large and she had bundled it on, the sash pulled ruthlessly tight round her small waist, the sleeves rolled up; her hair, escaped at last and hanging wetly. She had no doubt that she looked a sight, but it was hardly the time to worry about how she looked. Instant glamour was not for her, unlike Larissa, who looked marvellous.

  As for the doctor, he hadn’t bothered with a robe. His powerful shoulders glistened still with water; he looked strong enough to break up his surroundings with one hand should he have a mind to do so, but she saw with a warm feeling that he was very gentle with Billy as well as quick and competent. The warm feeling spread; he would be kind to anything or anyone smaller or weaker than himself, she was quite certain of that. She smiled for no reason at all and began to comb Sally’s hair.

  Larissa had gone to dress. She would be back presently, she had promised, and then Arabella could dress too. ‘I’ll be like lightning,’ she told them as she opened the door and floated away.

  ‘Lightning? That means half an hour at least,’ declared the doctor. He glanced at Arabella, shapeless in her robe, busily tidying the room.

  ‘I’ll stay here,’ he volunteered, ‘while you put something else on.’ He added deliberately, ‘That thing doesn’t suit you at all.’

  Arabella was conscious of annoyance. ‘It happens to be two sizes too large,’ she told him crushingly, ‘and here’s a towel—you’ll catch a chill if you don’t give yourself a good rub down.’

  He grinned, caught the towel she handed him and meekly began to do as she suggested.

  She was back in ten minutes, rather pink from a quick shower, neatly dressed in one of the cotton uniforms Wickham’s had thoughtfully allowed her to take with her because it would be so practical when looking after the children. She had done her hair in a neat little topknot and used only a very little lipstick. She looked very young, much younger than her twenty-two years—like a clean and healthy little girl, her brown face glowing with the exercise, her generous mouth curved happily—because she was happy, completely so.

  The doctor gave her a long thoughtful look, but all he said was a cheerful ‘See you,’ as he went away to dress.

  They gathered presently in a sunny corner of the garden to eat a large and—because of the children—protracted tea. Finally the doctor lay back on the grass and closed his eyes again, and this time Arabella had no doubt that he really was asleep.

  ‘He was up last night,’ said Larissa softly, ‘and I’m sure he didn’t get any lunch today, for he wouldn’t answer when I asked him.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know who will look after him when I marry Dirk; Emma is a darling, so is Hanneke, but they have their work to do. He’ll have to get married.’

  ‘Well, why doesn’t he?’ asked Arabella in a whisper, as she wiped Sally’s sticky hands, and knew as she said it that she didn’t relish the idea of him marrying at all.

  Larissa shrugged elegant shoulders. ‘He knows a great many girls, but he never seems serious with any of them.’

  ‘Though women are angels, yet wedlock’s the devil,’ quoted the doctor unexpectedly, his eyes still shut.

  Arabella turned an indignant face to his supposedly sleeping one, ‘Well!’ she exclaimed indignantly, her bosom heaving with her strong feelings. ‘What a thing to say—and how can you possibly know, if you’re not…’ She stopped; perhaps he had been, even though Larissa had said that he was a bachelor.

  ‘No, I’m not,’ he agreed placidly, ‘but I get around, you know, and I’m very observant.’

  His sister laughed, ‘Don’t sound so
horribly smug!’ She was playing cat’s cradle with infinite patience with Sally.

  He opened one eye. ‘I? My dear sister, I merely quoted the poet Byron.’

  ‘You aren’t in the least like him, anyway,’ declared Arabella astringently, picking up, for the hundredth time and with no sign of impatience, the ball Billy was throwing with awkward, jerky movements. He couldn’t manage to catch it, of course, but just to throw it was an achievement which she praised gently each time she put it back into his hands.

  The doctor’s thick brows lifted. ‘Hardly—I have no romantic dark looks, I’m afraid, and I burst with rude health.’

  ‘I meant your character,’ Arabella pointed out painstakingly, and he opened both eyes. ‘That is a charming compliment,’ he told her blandly, ‘it deserves a reward. I shall take you to Arnhem to shop on Saturday.’

  The stammer came back with a rush. ‘H-how k-kind, but I have very l-little money, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Ah, I forgot to tell you, someone or other at Wickham’s asked me to advance you your salary for the month. Does that make sense to you?’

  His eyes were closed again, his face placid. Her salary wasn’t due for a week or more, but perhaps the office had thought it would be easier if she were paid while she was in Holland.

  ‘Did they? That would be Mr Windham from the office, I expect. How thoughtful of him! It will be nice to have some money.’

  The doctor’s closed lids flickered very slightly. ‘I’ll bring it with me when I come home this evening,’ he promised drowsily.

  The money turned out to be a good deal more than she had expected and she said so, to be told that Wickham’s had considered that she might need to replace anything lost or damaged during the accident, and she was to regard it as a payment for that purpose; she could sign a form to that effect when she returned. She accepted this explanation without further argument, merely observing that she supposed the hospital was insured against such unfortunate happenings.

  ‘Oh, undoubtedly,’ replied the doctor. ‘Do you want to go alone to shop or shall Larissa come with us?’

  Arabella hesitated. Perhaps he didn’t fancy her company for several hours on end; on the other hand, there was nothing to prevent him from leaving her in a shopping area and collecting her after a reasonable interval. She had few qualms about the language difficulty; there was certain to be someone in one of the larger stores who could speak English, and she had taken the trouble to understand the money. After due thought she said: ‘Well, I c-could m-manage very well by myself, you know. If you w-would be so k-kind as to set me d-down close to one of the b-bigger shops, then I could meet you again when I’d finished.’

  The doctor was showing Sally a picture book he had brought with him. ‘So you could,’ he agreed mildly.

  It was raining on Saturday. Arabella covered the jersey dress with the despised raincoat, stood meekly by while the doctor gave his careful instructions to Hanneke, reminded his sister of her responsibilities, and then ushered Arabella out to the car. It was not yet eleven o’clock, for she had been up early and given the children her full attention so that she might be ready when the doctor wished to leave. She got into the car with the pleasurable feeling of a child going on a treat. Arnhem was a bare twelve miles away. She joined happily in the doctor’s small-talk and when they reached Arnhem looked about her with a good deal of interest. It was a pleasant city with fine buildings and plenty of shops; she could hardly wait to begin on the modest list she had drawn up of the things she really needed; dull articles mostly, for her common sense warned her that despite a whole month’s pay and extra besides in her purse, it wouldn’t be much use going back to Wickham’s penniless. Presumably she would have to pay her own fare back, even if they gave it to her later…

  She was frowning over her muddled little sums when her companion remarked casually: ‘You don’t need to keep any money back for your fare—we’re to see about that for you from this end. Where would you like to go first? Boutiques? A large store?’ He cast a look at the nondescript raincoat. ‘How about a new mac for a start?’ He didn’t wait for her reply, but swung the car neatly into a space beside a parking meter and before she could think of a suitable reply, had steered her across the pavement to a row of shops on the other side. Into one of these he walked, taking her with him, and fetched up without hesitation in the rainwear department. Here he lifted an imperious finger at a sales lady, murmured briefly, and then went to sit on a heavily upholstered settee in the centre of the vast, carpeted area, leaving Arabella, still struggling to tell him that she had no intention of buying a raincoat, and horribly impeded by the stammer.

  The sales lady was good at her job; kind and efficient, she had removed the offending English garment and was fastening a brilliant coral PVC mackintosh, cut with a decided swagger, and before Arabella realized what she was doing, she planted a pert little cap on Arabella’s mousy head and stood back, beaming.

  ‘Pleasant,’ she assured Arabella. ‘The fit is good, no? And the colour does well for the complexion, yes?’

  Arabella, looking at herself in the mirror, had to admit that this was so. She looked quite different; her intention to buy nothing but toothpaste and undies and a sensible sweater melted away. ‘I’ll take it,’ she breathed, and remembered the doctor waiting so patiently on his settee.

  He was neither on the settee nor was he waiting patiently; he was right behind her, looking over her shoulder at her reflection.

  ‘Very nice,’ he remarked, ‘a different Arabella.’ He glanced at the sales lady. ‘Now a dress in that colour would suit you very well.’

  ‘B-but I don’t want a d-dress,’ Arabella assured him earnestly, if untruthfully.

  ‘Nonsense,’ he said lightly, ‘all girls want dresses.’ He adopted a wheedling tone. ‘You could look at one or two while you are here.’

  Which reminded her to say: ‘I—never meant you to come, it’s such a waste of your time—I could meet you…’

  ‘You said that before,’ he reminded her kindly, ‘but I dislike mooning around by myself—besides, it’s raining.’ He gave her a helpless look. ‘You wouldn’t want me to get wet?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ She was aware that the conversation didn’t ring true, but her mind was taken up with the question of how much money she might dare to spend.

  ‘Good.’ He turned away to the patient sales lady and said something which made her smile and go to a rail of dresses at the other end of the department, to select an armful. She offered them in turn to Arabella to see, and she, wanting them all, was quite unable to decide which she liked best.

  ‘Have I enough money?’ she asked the doctor, debating the possibilities of a coral and brown striped wool dress with a flared skirt.

  He puckered his brows and closed his eyes, which gave him the appearance of serious thinking. ‘Plenty,’ he said at last. ‘These won’t be expensive, I think you’ll find—here, supposing you give me your money and I’ll pay up as we go.’

  ‘I might spend it all.’

  He shook his head. ‘I’ll take good care of that. I shall put, let me see…a hundred gulden on one side—better still, take it and put it in your handbag.’

  It seemed a sensible arrangement. She bought the dress and a corduroy pinafore dress in a rich chocolate brown and quite carried away, a creamy silk blouse to go with it. It was only while she was waiting for these delights to be parcelled that she remembered the more sensible items on her list. ‘Have I any money left?’ she asked anxiously. ‘I didn’t quite get the prices… I thought it was twenty-nine gulden for the blouse, but it couldn’t be as cheap as that…’

  ‘It seems a reasonable price to me,’ the doctor spoke soothingly, ‘and you still have—let me see—’ he pulled out a handful of notes and coins from his pocket, ‘well over seventy gulden left.’

  She sighed with relief. ‘Oh, good! There are one or two dull things I have to buy, shall I go and get them? Do you want me to meet you at the car?’


  ‘I’ll wait here,’ he told her, ‘and collect the parcels.’

  He stowed the packages in the car and when she would have got in, took her by the arm. ‘Lunch,’ he suggested. ‘There’s a rather nice place overlooking the Rhine; I can point out the pictorial aspects of our surroundings while we eat.’

  Which he did, with a gentle humour and a wealth of detail; afterwards she didn’t know which she had enjoyed most, the super food, or the doctor’s ramblings about their surroundings. And not content with showing her the view from the restaurant, he strongly advised a walk in the Soesbeek Park, with its stately avenue of trees and quiet lakes, and then, having made sure that she didn’t wish to make another expedition to the shops, they took a trip along the Rhine to the Westerbouwing tea garden, and had their tea overlooking the river. It was five o’clock by the time they got back to the car, but Arabella, in a happy daze because she was with someone who made no demands on her and hadn’t reminded her that she was rather plain and not very interesting, paid no heed to the time. If she didn’t go out again for the rest of her stay in Holland, she assured her companion, she wouldn’t mind in the very least; her day had been lovely. She thanked him for it with a fervour which brought a faint surprise to his face.

  ‘You don’t get much time to go out?’ he probed gently.

  ‘Time? Oh, yes—I…’ She paused; she could hardly tell him that days out with young men, and certainly not older, elegant men who drove Bentleys, seldom came her way. She said brightly, ‘Oh, look, it’s stopped raining again.’

  His lips twitched, but he followed her lead and embarked upon a safe conversation concerning the weather in Holland which took them safely back to Doesburg.