A Match for Sister Maggy Read online

  Maggy found this remark rather daunting; he seemed even more removed from her world than before. She said hesitantly, ‘I thought Friesland was famous for its cows.’

  ‘So it is; I must take you to Leeuwarden one day and show you the statue of Mother Cow in the Zuiderplein. We have two farms in the Achterhoek—quite small ones run by cousins of mine. They find sheep pay better.’

  He had opened a door as he was speaking and they entered the library. It was at the back of the house, and had ground-length windows opening out on to a small balcony overlooking a very small, beautifully kept garden which ran down to the edge of a small canal. Maggy walked round the shelves, looking at the books, and said over her shoulder, ‘Would you not like to shut yourself in here for years and read all these books?’

  He laughed. ‘Well, I’ve read a great number of them. I daresay when I am a very old man, I shall take your advice and read the remainder.’ He stood by the window, watching her browsing. ‘Please feel free to come here whenever you wish, Maggy, and borrow anything you want.’

  Maggy thanked him and followed him back into the hall, from whence they mounted the staircase which opened on to a square landing, lighted by the high window over the front door. He led the way down a small passage leading to the back of the house and opened a door.

  ‘This will be your room. I hope you will be comfortable; anything you want my housekeeper, Anny, will gladly get for you.’

  It overlooked the canal and the garden and was furnished charmingly in mahogany and chintz. There was a small fourposter bed against one wall. It had a curved canopy and a coverlet of silk and lace. Maggy had thought Oudehof a very grand place, but this house on the edge of the Rapenburg canal, although much smaller, was even more richly furnished.

  The doctor showed her several more rooms, all equally beautiful. On the opposite side of the landing he passed a door, commenting that it was his room, and led her past an elaborately carved double door, remarking briefly that it was naturally not in use, as it was the master bedroom, thence to a small narrow staircase, carved with as much skill as the one they had already ascended. At the top of the stairs was a very small sitting room with painted walls, a replica of one of the rooms at Oudehof which an ancestor had had copied, so that he should be reminded of Friesland while he lived in Leiden. The remaining rooms were intercommunicating, with wooden bars fixed across the narrow windows. In the first room there was a rocking horse pushed into a corner. The furniture was simple, rather old-fashioned and very cosy. They stood close together in the doorway, looking at it.

  ‘The nurseries,’ said the doctor. ‘There’s room for six children and two nursemaids up here. There were only three of us, so we had plenty of room.’

  Maggy nodded. She was looking at a magnificent doll’s house and a row of dolls on a shelf. She said regretfully, ‘They look so lonely.’

  He smiled. ‘I don’t come up here very often, I’m afraid; but when I marry and have children, I expect I shall be up here a great deal.’

  Maggy swallowed. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said in a colourless voice.

  ‘There’s another floor above this one,’ he continued. ‘Would you like to see that as well?’

  He led the way up to the small rooms under the steep roof. They were as charming as the larger rooms on the floors below.

  ‘What do you use them for?’ Maggy enquired.

  He shrugged. ‘An overflow of guests. At one time the servants slept here, but Anny has a small flat downstairs; and the other servants don’t sleep in the house.’

  They went downstairs slowly, stopping to look at portraits and paintings as they went. On the first floor Maggy stopped before the painting of a girl with eyes and hair done in the style of the mid-eighteenth century.

  ‘She’s not Dutch, I think?’

  ‘No—she was the bride of the Doelsma who built this house; she came from Scotland to marry him and because she hadn’t been to Holland before he had the furniture in her bedroom sent from England, so that she shouldn’t feel strange. There’s a family tradition that no bride may see the room until she comes to this house after her marriage.’

  Maggy studied the pretty face in the portrait. ‘He must have loved her very much,’ she said at last.

  He smiled. ‘Yes, indeed, as she loved him. They had nine children, all of whom survived—a miracle for those days, was it not?’ He turned down a short passage and switched on a light. ‘Here they are—the whole family.’ He pointed to a small canvas.

  ‘You look exactly like him,’ Maggy cried—as indeed he did.

  ‘Yes, I know, but whether I follow his excellent example and have nine children is still a matter for conjecture.’ He was laughing as he switched off the light and led the way downstairs.

  As they entered the drawing room, Mevrouw Doelsma looked up.

  ‘Well, my dear, what do you think of the house?’

  ‘It’s beautiful, Mevrouw Doelsma. I haven’t any words to say how beautiful. Thank you for waiting so patiently for me. I expect you would like to go upstairs and rest for an hour. I’ll read to you if you like—you’ll enjoy the evening more if you lie down for a wee while.’

  Dinner was a pleasant meal. Maggy still found a secret delight in the delicious food, even more delicious when eaten off Meissen plates with silver knives and forks.

  The hospital appointment was for ten o’clock the following morning and was thoroughly discussed. They were to be driven to the nearby hospital by Pratt, who would then return to Oudehof.

  ‘I shall go to bed early,’ declared Mevrouw Doelsma, ‘for I have no intention of anybody finding anything wrong with me tomorrow.’ Accordingly, soon after dinner, she said goodnight to Paul, but when Maggy wished him good-night too, he said,

  ‘Come downstairs again, Maggy, when Mother is safely in bed, and I’ll take you on a tour of the salon.’

  His mother paused on her way upstairs. ‘What a good idea, Paul! Maggy, it’s only just after nine, you can’t possibly go to bed yet.’

  Maggy agreed; indeed, it would have been difficult for her to do otherwise, and her inclination to spend an hour in Paul’s company was very strong.

  It was an hour or more before she went quietly into the drawing room. As the doctor got up from his chair she said rather breathlessly,

  ‘I’m sorry I have been so long. Your mother is excited, I couldna’ leave her. She’s douce the noo’. I’ve kept ye out of bed.’

  The doctor looked astonished. ‘I seldom go upstairs before midnight and very often later; being solitary, I’m afraid I have acquired bad habits.’ His grey eyes twinkled at her, and she smiled shyly, supposing he thought her foolish, but there was no mockery in his gaze; he was looking at her kindly with no trace of his usual slightly arrogant expression. He crossed the room and stood beside her.

  ‘Shall we start on this side first?’ he queried mildly.

  They lingered a long time over the china and silver and the numerous paintings on the walls. Some of them, he told her, had been in the family for many years. They pored over a small Cornelis Troost and a skating scene by Avercamp, and at length came back to the big stove where he pulled the bell rope. When Anny came, Paul said, ‘You’d like a cup of coffee, wouldn’t you, Maggy?’

  She was absorbed in the tiles around the stove. ‘Aye, Doctor, coffee will suit me fine. I canna’ understand this wee tile.’ She pointed to it, set high in the wall behind the stove. It had a design of ships and sheep and a disembodied hand holding a sword aloft, the whole encircled by an inscription impossible for her to read.

  He came and stood beside her. ‘That’s the family crest; the ships and the sheep from which we made our living—the sword is a polite indication that we are prepared to fight for what we have.’ He traced the writing with a long forefinger, and spelled it out in the Friesian tongue. ‘I honour God, and love that which is mine.’

  Maggy turned to look at him. ‘And you do, don’t you?’ she asked.

  His grey eyes smiled dow
n into her brown ones.

  ‘Yes, Maggy, I do.’ He bent his head and kissed her on one soft cheek.

  ‘Oh!’ said Maggy, and said no more, for Anny had opened the door and was coming in with the coffee tray. The doctor laughed softly and said, ‘Do pour out, Maggy.’

  She did so, with commendable calm, and even maintained her share of conversation while they drank it, and then wished the doctor a quiet goodnight before going upstairs to her pretty bedroom, to lie awake in the canopied bed, her usual good sense wholly at war with her unbidden thoughts.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THERE WAS NO SIGN of Dr Doelsma when Maggy and Mevrouw Doelsma arrived at the hospital the following morning. Instead they were met by a comfortable middle-aged Sister, who bore them off to the X-ray department. Maggy looked around her with professional interest, oblivious of the equally interested glances she received as they walked through the corridors. The cubicle they were shown into was small and white-painted, and smelled, inevitably, of hospital. It looked exactly the same as those in her own hospital. She helped her patient to undress, and persuaded her to put on the shapeless white cotton garment, tied with tapes at the back. Dr Doelsma had told them that an ECG would be done first, before the X-ray examination, and Maggy made her patient as comfortable as possible on the narrow couch, keeping up a calming flow of small talk meanwhile. Mevrouw Doelsma was nervous, but Maggy knew that they wouldn’t have to wait. There were, she thought dryly, many advantages in being a relative of a hospital consultant. The ECG technician proved to be a white-overalled girl, pretty and competent. Between them she and Maggy made tight work of the tiresome straps and buckles criss-crossed over Mevrouw Doelsma’s unwilling body. Ten minutes later she was sitting up once more, asking rather querulously how much longer she had to wear the shapeless white garment.

  ‘A wee while, yet, Mevrouw Doelsma,’ said Maggy soothingly. ‘I’ve your dressing gown and slippers here.’ This act of thoughtfulness had quite a cheering effect as they were conducted to the consultant’s room. Maggy had expected to remain outside while Dr Bennink examined Mevrouw Doelsma, but was bidden to stay by Dr Bennink, who was obviously good friends with his patient. He was a short, rather stout man, with grey hair receding from a high forehead; he wore very thick glasses and peered at Maggy through them rather like an earnest little boy looking through the end of a bottle. He beamed at her, lowered the glasses to have a better look, and then shook hands, and such was his personality that she was unaware that she towered over him by more than eight inches.

  ‘Kijk maar—the Scottish Sister. I know of you, naturally. I am now happy to be acquainted.’ He waved her to a seat by Mevrouw Doelsma and took his own chair again.

  Dr Bennink had undoubtedly earned his reputation as a leading heart consultant. His questions were searching and he was very thorough. Maggy came in for her fair share and answered him with an unflurried accuracy which pleased him mightily. He liked the way she did everything necessary during the ensuing examination too. She appeared to read his wishes before they were voiced and acted upon them before he uttered them. After half an hour, he sat back. ‘You’re as good as new, Henrietta, due doubtless to your stubbornness and this young woman. I’ll see Paul after your barium meal. With a regular check-up and sensible living, you’ll outlive the lot of us.’

  His myopic eyes twinkled as they all shook hands, and a cheerful buxom little nurse with a round face and bright blue eyes took charge of them once more. Back in the cubicle, she produced a tumbler of thick white fluid and gave it to Maggy. Maggy in her turn proffered it to her patient, who obediently took a sip, and immediately declared her intention of not drinking any more of it.

  ‘It’s revolting!’ she said indignantly.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ said Maggy, ‘but it will be impossible to carry out the tests unless you drink it,’ she added reasonably.

  ‘Then I won’t have the tests,’ said Mevrouw Doelsma testily.

  ‘Paul wanted you to have them.’ Maggy no sooner uttered the words than she blushed; she always thought of the doctor as Paul, but that was no excuse. She could have bitten her thoughtless tongue. Fortunately Mevrouw Doelsma hadn’t seemed to have noticed her words, but was busy pulling a loose thread on her despised gown. Maggy proffered the glass once more, and was surprised when the nauseating liquid was swallowed without further fuss, and she was able to lead a surprisingly docile patient into the X-ray room.

  Excepting for a dim red light, the place was in darkness. Mevrouw Doelsma clutched Maggy’s hand and jumped when a vague figure loomed before them. It spoke in a reassuringly human voice, albeit in Dutch; However, it sounded soothing and friendly, and Mevrouw Doelsma answered it with every sign of pleasure. The voice changed to a pedantic and nearly perfect English.

  ‘How do you do, Sister. Paul has told me of you, and I am happy to see you.’

  Maggy said politely. ‘How do you do?’ wondering if the figure could see her any better than she could see him. He went on to give a few brisk instructions, which Maggy carried out before stepping backwards against the wall, out of the way. A slight sound and a draught behind her made her realise that she was standing in front of a door. Before she could move, a vast arm was dropped lightly about her shoulders.

  ‘Hallo, Maggy,’ said the doctor very softly; she felt his breath on her cheek, and fought to keep her own breath steady, trying to ignore the rush of feeling at his touch. He remained where he was for a long minute, then gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze and went silently through the gloom to the radiographer. They murmured together until Paul said, ‘Hallo, Mother. We shan’t be long now.’

  His mother’s voice sounded faintly querulous. ‘It’s so dark, Paul, and I don’t know where Maggy is.’

  ‘She’s quite close, dear, but she must keep out of the way for a moment. She’ll stand by you presently while we screen your tummy. Now do what Dirk says, Mama.’

  The lights went on again, Mevrouw Doelsma was arranged as comfortably as possible on the table, and Maggy, protected by a lead apron, stood beside her, holding her hand. The dark was intense this time, with only the greenish, dim flicker of the screen. Maggy listened to the two men making their observations in low voices, and gave the small clutching hand she was holding a reassuring squeeze. It seemed a long time before the lights went on again and she led her patient back to the cubicle and helped her dress. Both doctors were waiting for them; it was the radiologist who spoke.

  ‘Mevrouw Doelsma, as far as I can see there’s nothing at all for you to worry about. I’ll have to check the X-rays, of course, but neither Paul nor I could see anything amiss. So you need have no fear of complications. Dr Bennink will be seeing you shortly again, I expect. I must congratulate you on an excellent recovery.’

  There was delicious hot coffee waiting for them in the doctor’s office, where they were joined by Dr Bennick. Maggy sat quietly, saying almost nothing, and feeling uncomfortable. Her presence meant that the other three must speak English. She was sure that they must have a great deal to talk about—the intimate gossip of old friends, perhaps; family matters in which she had no part. She struggled to think of an excuse so that she could leave them. She put her coffee cup down on the desk beside her, and as though it were a signal, the doctor got up and came over to her.

  ‘I’d like to take you round part of the hospital. Are you ready, Maggy?’

  He didn’t wait for an answer, but opened the door, calling a casual ’dag’ over his shoulder at his mother and Dr Bennink as he stood waiting for Maggy to join him.

  They walked along a number of rather bleak corridors, and she, feeling that anything was better than silence, plunged into a series of questions which the doctor answered patiently, pausing only to acknowledge gravely any greetings he received from passing doctors and students. They went first, and inevitably, to the women’s medical ward. Maggy was surprised and faintly amused to see that the nurses held the doctor in some awe. Even the Ward Sister, a gaunt, elderly woman with a sweet face, se
emed stiff and formal with him. They walked round the ward, the two women comparing notes with the doctor acting as interpreter, and then sat in Sister’s office drinking another cup of coffee, telling each other about salaries and off-duty and lack of nurses, and stopped reluctantly when the doctor remarked mildly that he thought it a good idea if they went to see the children’s ward. Here everything was noise and bustle and small children shouting and crying and laughing, according to how they felt. The doctor seemed to know them all as they wandered through the ward to the balcony, accompanied by Sister, a pretty young creature who quite obviously loved her work.

  ‘There’s a child I want you to see, Maggy. She’s making a remarkable recovery after eating coal, safety-pins, a few small coins and a large lump of Plasticine. She’s Sister’s pet, isn’t she, Sister?’ He turned to the Ward Sister and said something in Dutch to make her laugh; she was still laughing when she went back into the ward, leaving them looking at the small blonde angel playing with a doll on the floor. She eyed them for a moment, then threw the doll away and got on to rather spindly little legs and toddled over to Maggy, who bent and swung her up to be cuddled.

  ‘You clever girl,’ said Maggy, dropping a kiss on the straight hair. She looked at Paul. ‘Isn’t she beautiful, Doctor?’

  ‘The most beautiful girl in the world.’ But he wasn’t looking at his small patient. He bent forward, and Maggy felt his lips on hers. She stood quite still, looking at him, her cheeks very pink, but her brown eyes met his grey ones squarely.

  ‘I don’t intend to apologise, Maggy,’ he said, almost lazily.

  Maggy forced her voice to normality. ‘There is no need, Doctor. I doubt ye’ve kissed many a girl before me, and will kiss many more. I ken well it means nothing to ye.’ She gave the toddler a reassuring hug, and put her back on the rug on the floor.

  ‘Just a minute, Maggy. Are you so sure of that?’

  She looked over her shoulder at him; he was standing with his hands in his pockets, looking at her with a faint mocking smile on his face.