A Match for Sister Maggy Read online

  ‘There,’ she said cheerfully, ‘I’ll sponge your face and hands, and make you a cup of tea, and you’ll be asleep again in ten minutes or so.’

  She padded noiselessly around the big room collecting what she needed, and went back to the bed to find the doctor sitting on its edge, his mother’s hand in his large one. He looked quite different; his rather tousled hair made him look very young, despite the elegant silk dressing gown he was wearing. They smiled at each other in a comfortable friendly fashion and he got up.

  ‘I’ll go and put the kettle on. I’ll be back in ten minutes, will that be all right?’

  Half an hour later Mevrouw Doelsma, now pleasantly sleepy, said goodnight for the second time. Her son had brought a cup of tea, and told her bracingly that there was nothing for her to worry about, and she could now go to sleep. He kissed her cheek gently, said goodnight and went away, leaving Maggy to switch on the small night lamp before she too went to her room.

  It had become quite chilly. She looked at her watch, it was almost three o’clock. She got the cooling bottle from her bed and crept downstairs to fill it. There was a lamp burning in the hall, but the dining room was in darkness. Maggy made her away through it to the kitchen door and opened it. It looked very cosy. There was a brown earthenware tea-pot on the table, with cups and saucers, and a milk jug and sugar bowl. Dr Doelsma was making toast. He looked up.

  ‘Ah, there you are! I was going to bring it up to your room.’ He saw the hot water bottle she was clutching, took the toast from toaster and said, ‘Butter these, will you, while I fill your water bottle.’ He didn’t seem to expect an answer, so she obediently took the toast and buttered it, while he filled the hot water bottle and took it up to her room.

  ‘I could have taken it,’ Maggy said rather weakly when he came back.

  ‘I’m sure you could.’ He poured the tea. ‘You are, I think, able to do most things very well.’

  He handed her a cup, then fetched one of the old-fashioned ladderback chairs and set it behind her. ‘Sit down.’ He pulled up a second chair opposite to her, and handed her a slice of toast. They drank and munched in restful silence until he asked suddenly,

  ‘Maggy do you like me?’

  She put down her cup carefully. Her cheeks were pink, but she looked at him honestly.

  ‘Aye, Doctor.’

  ‘Even when I’m a wee evil-tempered man?’

  The pinkness spread, but she replied steadily, ‘Yes, even then.’

  He went on conversationally, ‘I like you—and admire your capabilities. Do you think we could be friends?’ He held out a firm, well kept hand. ‘I apologise again, Maggy.’

  Maggy took the hand, and her own was immediately engulfed in its clasp; it felt very comforting. She said rather timidly, ‘I was very rude; I’m sorry too. I thought you would send me back to England.’

  He raised dark eyebrows at this, and then burst out laughing.

  ‘My dear girl, surely you know that we would be lost without you? It’s only because you are here that I am able to spend so much time in Leiden, and go to Utrecht whenever I wish.’

  Stien lived in Utrecht. Of course, he would want to go there whenever he could. The thought hurt Maggy like a physical blow. She took a drink of hot strong tea and nearly choked at his next words.

  ‘Will you ride with me tomorrow, Maggy?’

  She didn’t trust herself to look up, but said shyly, ‘Thank you, I’d like to.’

  ‘Er—I’ll ride Cobber this time.’ She did look up then, to find him smiling at her. He went on: ‘But I’ll tell Piet that you are to exercise him when I’m not here.’ He took no notice of her attempt to thank him, but continued, ‘I’m heaping coals of fire, aren’t I? We’ll take Mother for a run in the car tomorrow, and you shall drive; and don’t think that I said that because I don’t trust you to handle a car.’

  He smiled again, and this time Maggy smiled back. She might not have his love, but to have his friendship would be worth a great deal to her. She wondered if Stien knew how lucky she was. She got up, collected the cups and saucers and stacked them neatly in the sink.

  ‘I think I’ll go to bed. Thank you for the tea, Dr Doelsma.’ She stood, drooping with sleep, her hair hanging unheeded around her shoulders, her eyes enormous in a face devoid of make-up.

  He looked at her briefly, then away again. ‘Shall we say seven-thirty tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes—that’s provided Mevrouw Doelsma is all right.’

  He opened the door for her, and Maggy said good-night and walked sleepily across the dining room and out into the hall, and up the stairs. Long before Paul turned out the lights and went to his own room, she was fast asleep.

  They rode for almost an hour before breakfast, the doctor immaculate in riding kit, Maggy in her old slacks and thick sweater. She wasted a few moments wishing that she had other clothes to wear, then forgot about them as she swung herself easily on to Biddy’s friendly back. If she envied the doctor Cobber, she gave no sign. As they turned for home, they broke into a brief gallop, and he held Cobber in, so that they raced neck and neck, until he allowed her to win by a short head. They pulled up outside the stables, and Maggy slid out of the saddle to make much of Biddy and give her the sugar lumps she loved. Her hair, which she had tied back in a ponytail, had come loose from its ribbon and her face glowed with happiness. She had been chattering to the doctor like an old friend. They left the horses with Piet, the groom, and went back to the house. At the door she paused.

  ‘That was lovely,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

  He stood aside to let her pass, looking down at her. ‘A delightful ride,’ he said. ‘We must do it again.’

  They parted at the foot of the stairs, she to go to her room and change, and he to his breakfast. Maggy saw little of him that morning and he wasn’t at lunch, but later that afternoon, when she and Mevrouw Doelsma went downstairs for their promised drive, they found him waiting for them beside the Rolls. He opened the door and helped his mother in, saying, ‘Sit in front, Maggy, we’ll change seats presently.’

  She slid into the seat beside his. ‘You don’t mean that I’m to drive this car?’ She was astounded. ‘But it’s a Rolls-Royce!’

  ‘Don’t you want to drive it?’

  ‘Yes, very much; but I might be a shocking bad driver.’

  ‘In which case I shall tell you so, and drive myself.’

  He took the same route that Pratt had taken on their first drive, and once they had entered the comparative quiet of the Oranjewoud, he stopped, got out, and waited while Maggy took his place. Having made sure that she indeed knew what she was about, he suggested that she should keep on the road they were already upon, and that he would take over again when it joined the main Assen-Meppel road. Having given this piece of sound advice he half turned in his seat and engaged his mother in conversation. Maggy was thankful for his tack; she knew quite a lot about cars but found the Rolls a little awe-inspiring. She need not have worried, though, for the Rolls was a lady, and behaved like one. She relaxed. The doctor saw it and asked,

  ‘Have you driven a Rolls before?’

  ‘No. It’s like wearing a model dress when you’re used to Marks and Spencers—though I’ve not worn a model dress,’ she added, incurably truthful.

  ‘How long have you been driving?’

  ‘Five—no, six years.’

  ‘In the Highlands, I expect?’

  ‘Yes, mostly. The roads are surprisingly good, excepting in the winter.’ She eased the car past a farm wagon, and put her foot down gently; the road was straight and nothing in sight. He watched the needle creep round the speedometer and said,

  ‘I gather that you have your advanced driver’s certificate.’ It was more of a statement than a question. She said.

  ‘Yes, Doctor,’ in a meek voice and he chuckled. ‘No wonder you were annoyed with me!’

  Maggy made no answer to this, but smiled, then slowed down to pass through a very small village straddling a canal, and obedi
ent to his direction, turned into a right-handed fork towards the main road. Presently, when it was within sight, she drew in to the side of the road, stopped the car and looked at him enquiringly.

  ‘Very nice, Maggy; you drive as well as I do.’ He said it without conceit. He turned to his mother. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say that Maggy was wasted as a nurse, wouldn’t you, Mama?’

  Mevrouw Doelsma wouldn’t agree to this. ‘Maggy’s a born nurse, but it would be nice for her,’ she went on pensively, ‘if she married a man with a Rolls-Royce.’

  Maggy turned her head and looked intently at a view which hardly merited her prolonged scrutiny, and Dr Doelsma eyed her back with a slight smile and decided twinkle in his eyes. He said briskly, ‘That shouldn’t be too difficult.’

  He got out of the car, and Maggy slid back to her own seat as he got in. ‘Shall I get in beside Mevrouw Doelsma?’ she asked, giving him a very fleeting look. But her patient declared that she was perfectly happy as she was, and Maggy was to stay where she was. She settled her length into the comfortable seat. ‘Thank you, Doctor. It was wonderful.’ He answered her with some trivial remark about the car, and by the time the car was on the main road they had entered into a lively discussion concerning various aspects of motoring, so that she forgot to be shy.

  Once on the high road, clear of traffic, the doctor gathered speed. There was no limit on the motorway; the needle hovered on a hundred and sixty kilometers, and he asked. ‘Nervous?’

  ‘Not in the least,’ Maggy retorted, ‘but what about Mevrouw Doelsma?’

  The little lady in the back seat laughed. ‘I enjoy it. Pratt disapproves of me when I tell him to travel faster, but Paul knows how I like it.’

  They flashed past a signpost and Dr Doelsma slowed down and turned into a narrow road.

  ‘We’ll go back to Heerenveen across country,’ he said. ‘The country’s nothing like your Highlands, Maggy, but it’s very pleasant.’

  ‘That burst of speed was most enjoyable, Doctor.’ Maggy sounded sedate. ‘You’ll be holding the same certificate as myself, I think.’

  ‘Hemel!’ He was half laughing. ‘I’ve been guilty of showing off.’

  ‘I was showing off too,’ said Maggy, ‘but it’s plain that you’re a better driver than I am.’

  They all returned to Oudehof in excellent spirits, and later at dinner the doctor made himself so pleasant that as Maggy went upstairs, leaving him and his mother together, she reflected that she hadn’t enjoyed herself so much for a long time.

  Mother and son settled down to their usual game of cards, and after a few minutes Mevrouw Doelsma remarked, ‘Maggy drives very well, Paul.’

  Paul took a trick. ‘Yes, Mother. I noticed that you were sufficiently impressed to suggest that she should find a husband with a Rolls-Royce.’

  His mother looked at her cards, wondering if she dared cheat. ‘Yes, dear, such a good idea.’ She cheated, and took the next trick, and he tried not to laugh.

  ‘Mama, I have a Rolls-Royce.’

  She looked up smilingly. ‘Yes, dear, that’s what I meant,’ she said.

  Paul stared at her. ‘Mother dear, it has taken a whole evening of bright conversation to convince Maggy that that was not what you meant.’

  His mother cheated again. ‘The poor child! I only wanted to put an idea into your head, Paul.’

  Paul took a trick and said, ‘My dear, you surely know by now that the only ideas I act upon my own?’ He smiled at her. ‘If you cheat cleverly enough, you’ll win this game!’

  Maggy came back presently, and sat in a nice old Friesian chair, painted all over with small flowers. Her uniform looked very severe against it, but she suited the chair very well; it had been made for big men and women.

  The doctor stacked the cards neatly.

  ‘I must leave at six tomorrow morning, so we had better settle the arrangements for next week. I’ll get an appointment for you, Mother, and Pratt can drive you both down. Stay for three or four days, and Maggy can have a couple of days off and go sightseeing. I’ll be too busy to bring you back, but Pratt can fetch you whenever you want.’

  His mother nodded. ‘It will be nice to come to Leiden for a few days, even if it is to go to the hospital. And nice for Maggy too.’

  He opened the door for them. ‘It will be pleasant having you, Mother, and you too, Maggy. You’ll exercise Cobber, won’t you? I’ve spoken to Piet.’ He kissed his mother, then took Maggy’s hand and smiled down at her. ‘I shall enjoy showing you my house in Leiden, Maggy.’

  She felt suddenly shy, and murmured something incoherent. She wouldn’t see him for a week, but then she would see him every day while she was in Leiden. She resolved, then and there, not to think about it.

  They arrived in Leiden just in time for tea. The doctor wasn’t home, but a housekeeper ushered them into the sitting room and went off to fetch their tea.

  Maggy took a long look at the sitting room, and said, ‘Please may I walk round?’ Her patient laughed and said of course; so Maggy made Mevrouw Doelsma comfortable by the window, and started on an eager inspection of the room. It was large, stretching from front to back of the house, with folding doors dividing its length half way. The walls were panelled and the plaster ceiling festooned with swags of fruit and flowers. She could see that it had been furnished with care and an eye for detail. She wondered who had done this, and said so, out loud.

  Mevrouw Doelsma smiled at her. ‘I think you are feeling as I did the first time I saw this room. It’s like walking into a Dutch interior, isn’t it? All the furniture is antique and more or less as it was when the house was first built, and each generation has taken care to keep it that way. Paul loves every inch of it. He’ll take you round, I expect, and tell you the history of everything, down to the last spoon.’ She broke off as the housekeeper came in with the tea tray.

  When she had gone, Maggy handed Mevrouw Doelsma her tea and sat herself down on the velvet covered window seat and drank her own out of a cup of very old Delft china of a delicate pinkish-mauve colour. She guessed that it was priceless, as was the silver tea tray, plain and solid, though the sugar bowl and cream jug were in the baroque style, very like those used at Oudehof. She struggled to remember who had made them, and was pleased when she recollected that it was Lely. They ate paper-thin sandwiches and little biscuits, richly covered in almonds, and there was a rich plum cake which reminded her of her mother’s cooking.

  They had almost finished when she saw the Rolls draw up outside, and the doctor mount the small flight of steps to his front door. He shut it firmly, as though he had come into his own little world, snug and secure. The thought crossed her mind that there should be small children running to meet him, and a wife waiting. She wished with all her heart that she could be that wife, and turned a face full of dreams to the door as he entered the room, so that he stood, staring. By the time he had greeted his mother, however, and walked over to the window, Maggy was her usual self, calmly friendly, neat as a new pin in her uniform, ready to pour the fresh tea the housekeeper brought in, and answer readily the questions Paul put to her about their journey.

  He turned to his mother. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be here when you arrived, Mama.’

  ‘Yes, dear, so was I. I should have liked you to have seen Maggy when we came into this room.’ She paused. ‘It sounds absurd; it had the same effect on her as it did on me, Paul. She—gathered it to her. That sounds silly, but you know what I mean, I think?’

  ‘Indeed I do.’ He sat down in a beautiful carved chair with blue damask cushions, looking exactly like his ancestors on the wall behind him. But beyond this brief remark, he said no more about it, but entertained his mother with the kind of gossip she liked to hear, at the same time eating his way steadily through the plum cake. After a while he put his plate down.

  ‘Have you been up to your rooms yet?’

  Mevrouw Doelsma shook her head. ‘No, dear. I thought I’d wait a while.’

  ‘Then I’ll
show Maggy the house, and by the time we’re done, I daresay you’ll feel like going up.’

  Maggy sat quietly in the window, taking little part in their conversation, but now she looked up as the doctor came towards her.

  He held out a hand wordlessly, and she stood up and took it, and he led her through the door into the hall. It was dim and cool, but not dreary. The black and white tiles glowed underfoot with the patina of age, as did the panelling, which stretched to the heavily ornamental ceiling. A carved staircase rose from the back of the hall, which narrowed to a passage leading to the back of the house, through a graceful archway.

  They crossed the hall, and entered a much smaller room, with a similar panelling and ceiling, furnished with a heavy oaken table and chairs. There was a massive buffet against one wall, and in one corner, a large circular stove, with a tile surround, rising to the ceiling. Maggy lingered over the display of silver on the buffet, fingering the flat serving dishes and tureens with a loving hand, and only leaving them when the doctor invited her to inspect the engraved goblets in a corner cupboard. She held one, and marvelled at the beauty of its cupids and roses. The doctor put it back with its fellows and said,

  ‘It was made by David Wolff for my great-great-grand-father. He loved beautiful things. He was a doctor too.’

  ‘Have there always been doctors in your family?’ Maggy wanted to know.

  ‘For the last two hundred years or so, yes,’ he answered. ‘Before that we had land and ships and a great many sheep. We still have the land, but no ships and only the sheep we own on the farms.’