Sun and Candlelight Page 9

  She saw the instant anger in their young faces. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she observed mildly, ‘I think it sounds like a very pleasant custom. I’ll think up one for myself.’ She smiled at him. ‘My father tucked me up when I was small.’

  His blue eyes twinkled. ‘I can think of several answers to that, Alethea. If I were ten years younger and not so very out of practice, I might have tried one of them.’

  She went faintly pink and then lost her pretty colour when she remembered that Nick might have made just such a remark. It was disconcerting when Sarre said softly: ‘You’re remembering again, Alethea, you are forgetting what I said about turning the page.’

  ‘I can’t think why you put up with me,’ she told him shyly. ‘I really must pull up my socks.’

  The children had been listening, and now Sarel exclaimed: ‘But you do not wear socks, Alethea,’ which set them all laughing so that just for a few moments they weren’t hating her at all—indeed, they went upstairs, still laughing about the little joke, leaving Sarre and her together.

  ‘There’s half an hour before we need to change,’ said Sarre cheerfully. ‘Shall we go into the garden? It isn’t large, but it’s pretty.’ And once there, walking between the well-tended borders: ‘I quite forgot to tell you, there are one or two friends coming this evening: my partner and his wife, Wienand, of course, and his current girlfriend, Doctor and Mevrouw Ardsch—he works with me a great deal, you’ll like his wife, and Doctor Singma and Doctor van Wevelen. Anna Singma is my assistant and van Wevelen is the senior anaesthetist.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Alethea faintly, ‘are they coming to dinner?’

  ‘Yes. I thought it would be more fun for you if we had something of a party.’

  She agreed at once, a little hurt that her company wasn’t sufficient to amuse him on his first evening home, but he looked so pleased at his little surprise that she forced herself to a delight she didn’t feel.

  ‘I know we had decided to dine alone and go round the house, but anyone can go with you some time or other and it’s a good opportunity to meet some of the people you’ll be seeing a good deal of in the future. Anna thought it was a splendid idea.’

  Anna did, did she? thought Alethea, her mind busy with what she should wear. The grey crêpe, she decided, and those expensive grey satin sandals which matched it so perfectly.

  They parted presently and Alethea set about the business of making the most of herself, a not too difficult task, and as though everything was on her side for once, her hair went like a dream, her make-up presented no problems and the grey crêpe looked better than ever. She surveyed herself without conceit in the pier-glass in her room and went downstairs.

  Sarre was in his study, the door was standing open and she could see him at the end of the passage at his desk, but he must have been listening for her because he came to join her in the hall at once. ‘You look good enough to eat,’ he observed.

  She just managed not to say it to him, too. Her sober: ‘Thank you,’ masked her admiration. He looked splendid; he might not be so very young any more, but any woman would be glad to catch his eye and gain his attention. Alethea touched her engagement ring and felt a little thrill of satisfaction. At least she had his attention, or some of it at any rate.

  ‘Let’s have a drink while we’re waiting,’ said Sarre, and took her across the hall to a room she hadn’t seen—an enormous drawing room with walls hung with straw-coloured silk, a highly ornamental plaster ceiling, two large windows elaborately draped with the same straw-coloured silk, an Aubusson carpet like a flower garden and grouped upon it, chairs and sofas covered in old rose and pale, silvery green.

  ‘What an absolutely gorgeous room!’ cried Alethea, quite taken aback.

  ‘You like it? I’m fond of it myself; we shall use it more often once we are married, for naturally we shall entertain more.’

  He had gone over to an exquisite sofa table where a tray of drinks stood. ‘What will you have?’

  They were sipping their drinks when Wienand arrived, accompanied by a rather languid girl with frizzed hair and wearing what looked exactly like a silver tissue tent. ‘Marthe,’ said Wienand by way of introduction. ‘Alethea, you look divine.’ He looked at his companion. ‘Darling, why can’t you wear a dress that shows a bit of you sometimes?’

  ‘It’s a lovely dress,’ said Alethea, and was surprised to discover that Marthe was a little shy and uncertain of herself after all, for she gave her a rather timid thankful smile and said in a breathless voice: ‘Oh, do you really think so? You look lovely.’

  ‘Thank you. What very good English you speak—I feel a complete idiot not understanding Dutch.’

  ‘You’ll soon pick it up,’ declared Sarre, and turned to greet his partner Doctor Jaldert and his wife Hilde, a pleasant couple who at once bombarded Alethea with friendly questions. The Ardschs came in next, Pieter and Sita, and hard on their heels Doctor van Wevelen and Anna Singma.

  Alethea greeted the former first, surreptitiously taking note of their last guest—a tall, striking woman, a few years older than Alethea, she judged, and handsome too. She was dressed expensively and in excellent taste, but Alethea couldn’t help her pleasure at seeing that her figure was deplorable. How mean can I get? she thought as she shook Anna’s hand and smilingly thanked her for her good wishes, and then decided that she could get a whole lot meaner when Anna put a hand on Sarre’s arm and kissed him.

  Someone must have worked very hard to make the evening a success. The dinner was a splendid one, there was champagne, drunk from crystal glasses, and brandy which went straight to Alethea’s head, with their coffee. But it wasn’t only the food, everyone there obviously knew everyone else very well indeed, and Alethea was conscious that they were all making her welcome in their circle. Her doubts, vague but persistent, began to melt away, the future looked warm and welcoming.

  They saw their guests off together and then Sarre closed the heavy old door and took her arm. ‘Another drink before bed?’ he suggested, and led the way back to the drawing room. ‘And what do you think of my friends, my dear?’

  ‘They’re super.’ She accepted, recklessly, a glass of champagne. ‘They could have made me feel…’ she sought for a word, ‘well, out of it, but they treated me as though they had known me for years.’

  ‘They liked you,’ his voice was kind. ‘And they all think you’re very beautiful. And you are, Alethea.’

  She looked at him like a child who had pleased a grown-up. ‘I’m glad you think so, Sarre. I hope you will always be proud of me. I shall do my best.’

  He had come much closer to her. ‘I do think so, and I am proud of you.’ He took her glass from her and bent to kiss her. Probably it was the champagne which made it seem different this time, she thought a trifle wildly.

  ‘I think I’ll go to bed,’ she told him. ‘It was a lovely evening—the whole day’s been super. Goodnight, Sarre.’

  He stepped back, smiling a little. ‘Goodnight, my dear.’

  She was at the door when she turned to ask: ‘Have you known Anna a long time, Sarre?’

  She almost didn’t wait for his answer, for she hadn’t meant to ask him that. All that champagne… She tried to look casual as though the answer didn’t matter in the least, so that she didn’t see the look of surprise and then amusement which swept over Sarre’s calm face. ‘Oh, years,’ his voice was bland, ‘she’s a brilliant surgeon—a woman doing orthopaedics is unusual, you know—we’re very old friends.’ He paused, and shot Alethea a quick hard look. ‘A good thing, as we see so much of each other.’

  Alethea, a little top-heavy with champagne, just stopped herself in time from wanting to know why he hadn’t chosen to marry Anna, since they were such old friends. Instead she said in a clear voice: ‘She is a very handsome woman and it must be wonderful to be a good surgeon and striking to look at too,’ she added for good measure. ‘Her clothes are lovely.’

  And when Sarre didn’t answer, only smiled slightly, she whisked h
erself through the door. She left it open and she was almost at the top of the staircase when she heard Sarre close it.

  Alethea slept dreamlessly until Nel brought her her early morning tea, smiling and nodding at the early morning sunshine which filled the room. It was already half past seven. Alethea swallowed her tea and raced through a shower; she was going with Sarre to the clinic and she mustn’t keep him waiting. She put on the cotton jersey outfit, a modicum of make-up, brushed her hair free of tangles and hurried downstairs.

  In the hall she paused. There were a number of doors, one or two of them were slightly open; she knew the sitting room and the drawing room and the study, the others were unknown quantities. She was about to try the first one when Sarre’s voice reached her. ‘In here, Alethea—right-hand middle door.’

  It was a small room with no window, getting its light from the drawing room beyond the open double doors. Sarre got up as she went in and pulled out a chair as he wished her a cheerful good morning. She sat down at the small oval table and he asked: ‘Tea or coffee? There’s coffee here, but I have it on the best authority— Al—that Mrs McCrea is poised over a teapot with the kettle in case you would prefer tea.’

  She laughed. ‘I had a super cup of tea just now. I’d like coffee, please.’

  She was taking the first sip when Al sidled through the door. His ‘Morning, miss,’ was chirpy, but then she supposed he always was. ‘A nice rasher and an egg or two?’ he suggested, ‘or there’s a bit of ’am…’

  Her eyes swept the table. There was marmalade and toast and orange juice—she was expected to have the bacon and eggs. She told him one egg and two rashers and he slipped out of the room. Only when they heard the faint creak of the baize service door did Sarre remark: ‘We’ve gone all British, as you see, only the warm weather saves us from plates of porridge. Did you sleep?’

  ‘Like a log. When do you want to go to the clinic?’

  He glanced at his watch. ‘In about half an hour. Does that suit you?’

  ‘Of course. Don’t the children come to breakfast?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nanny says they don’t eat properly unless she’s there to see that they do.’ He glanced at her. ‘Perhaps that’s something you’ll be able to alter later on. They’re getting too old for her. I wouldn’t dream of sending her away, but I’d like her to stop babying them both.’

  He didn’t say any more because Al came back then, and she was thankful that she didn’t have to answer him. Life was going to be rather wonderful in this lovely old house, but it was going to hold a few pitfalls too.

  But she forgot all this in the morning’s interest. The clinic was on the other side of the city, on its very edge, so that the grounds merged into the green countryside. It had a large outpatients’ department as well as several wards and a wing of private rooms. Alethea, very much interested, poked her pretty nose everywhere, asking endless questions of both Sarre and Wienand, and then went and sat in Sarre’s office while he and his brother went away to see their patients. From what she had seen the whole scheme seemed to be working extremely well, and she was impressed. It was unusual for orthopaedic surgery and osteopathy to join forces so closely, but it appeared to work well. The clinic, she had been told, had been going for five years now and Wienand had told her proudly that their treatment had resulted in success for at least seventy per cent of their patients. ‘And that doesn’t include the improvements,’ he added. ‘Of course, not all Sarre’s patients are suitable, but the younger ones especially react very well.’

  ‘And the older ones?’ she had wanted to know.

  ‘I get them first, before operation, I knock them into shape, as it were, control their diet, give them massage, exercises, osteopathy.’

  And later, when Sarre had finished his work there and they were driving back to the house, he told her more. He didn’t exaggerate or enthuse as Wienand had done, but she sensed that he was completely confident in the work they were doing at the clinic.

  ‘And do you think the idea will catch on in England?’ she wanted to know.

  ‘Yes. Sir Walter is enthusiastic—so is a surgeon in Hamburg. That’s where I have to go in a few days’ time—five, to be exact. I’ll take you back first, of course. I’m afraid we shan’t be able to go away at present, Alethea, I’ve a good deal of work lined up and probably I shall have to go back to Hamburg within a few weeks. Perhaps you would like to come with me?’

  ‘Yes, please. But what about Sarel and Jacomina?’

  ‘We’ll manage some kind of a holiday with them during their summer break. I’ve a boat on the lakes in Friesland, we could spend a few days on her. Do you sail?’

  Alethea admitted with a sinking heart that she didn’t. Her knowledge of boats was non-existent and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to know anything about them, anyway.

  She felt a little reassured that afternoon, though, for they went to Sneeker Mere and he showed her the boat, a sturdy botter, which looked reassuringly safe and extremely comfortable to boot. That evening the children had dinner with them and they talked about the holidays and Alethea, ignoring their angry blue eyes, agreed to all Sarre’s plans for a few days’ sailing en famille.

  And after that the remaining days flew by. Sarre was away from home for a good deal of the day and they didn’t dine alone; either the children joined them for a special treat or Wienand, or on the last night of all, Anna, making a rather uneasy party of three. She had apologised for dining with them, but as she had pointed out to Alethea, there were one or two questions which had to be settled before Sarre went to Hamburg and there hadn’t been time at the hospital. So the conversation was largely in her hands and his, and although Alethea was included as often as possible, she couldn’t help but feel rather out of it.

  But Sarre had made up for it afterwards; they were to go on the following evening and he would have to operate as usual in the morning and see his patients in the afternoon. ‘So we shan’t see much of each other tomorrow,’ he told her, taking her hands in his. ‘I’ve enjoyed every moment of being with you, my dear. It only remains for you to tell me if you still want to marry me.’

  ‘Well, I do.’

  He smiled and kissed her, briefly and coolly as though it didn’t matter much. ‘Good. And I’m sure the children are delighted with you, just as everyone else is.’

  ‘They’re all absolutely super,’ she told him warmly. Wild horses wouldn’t have made her tell him about the horror of finding one of Sarel’s white rats in her bed the night before. She had seen the covers moving and had almost died of fright before she dared to pull them slowly down and disclose the small animal. And even though it had been late she had nerved herself to pick it up and carry it all the way upstairs to Sarel’s room. The light was still on, for the door wasn’t quite shut; she had knocked gently and gone in to find the boy with his eyes closed, but not, she had been sure, asleep. She had touched him lightly on a bony shoulder and somehow or other managed to sound as though carrying rats around the house late at night was commonplace to her.

  ‘I found him in my room,’ she told him. ‘He’s frightened out of his life, poor little beast—I expect someone left a door open. Where would you like me to put him?’

  The blue eyes regarded her with surprise and something like respect.

  ‘I’ll have him.’ Sarel had got out of bed and taken the creature in his hand, and Alethea had shuddered strongly as it crept into his pyjama sleeve.

  ‘Don’t you mind rats?’ asked Sarel.

  ‘Well, they’re not my favourite pet,’ she had answered cheerfully, ‘but he’s rather nice, isn’t he? What’s his name?’

  ‘Caesar.’ Sarel had scowled suddenly and turned his back on her. ‘Thank you for bringing him back. Goodnight.’

  Alethea had said goodnight in a normal voice and gone back to her room.

  CHAPTER SIX

  AFTER THE SPACE and grandeur of Sarre’s home, Alethea found her grandmother’s cottage Lilliputian, especially while Sarre was
with her, for his head missed the ceiling by inches and he filled the small rooms with his size. But it was nice to be home again, to be hugged and made much of by Mrs Thomas and Mrs Bustle. And the journey back with Sarre had been unexpectedly fun; she had thought of him as a rather quiet man and a delightful companion, but not given to the lighthearted banter indulged in by Wienand, and she was at first rather surprised and then delighted at an apparently unending stream of anecdotes about himself and his family, some of them quite outrageous, and mingled in with them charming little tales of his children.

  They had crossed on the night ferry from the Hoek and arrived at the cottage in time for a late breakfast, a long-drawn-out meal because the two older ladies wanted a blow-by-blow account of Alethea’s holiday and now that Sarre was to be one of the family, questions were fired at him too, all of which he answered with the greatest good nature.

  It was later when Alethea had unpacked and shown Sarre his room that they fell to discussing the wedding and since he would have to return on the evening of the following day, the two of them left the older ladies over their coffee, and strolled down to the village, to make sure that the vicar had the time and the date right. It was a pleasant day and they didn’t hurry, and when they had been to the vicarage they decided to continue their walk; lunch was to be later than usual, and they had plenty of time.

  They went round the side of the church and up a narrow rutted lane winding away into the quiet country around the village, talking of nothing in particular, and Alethea felt how restful Sarre was to be with. He wasn’t Nick, of course, but he had shown that he could be very amusing and never, she had noted, at anyone’s expense, and he never criticised her appearance. If her hair was coming loose, he merely tucked the end behind an ear or brushed it back without a word and he remembered to tell her that she looked nice. With a pang she remembered the evening in the restaurant when everything had gone wrong; Nick hadn’t noticed her new dress. It was strange, she mused, that Sarre, who didn’t appear to notice anything, made all the right remarks about her clothes, and Nick, who was an expert on such matters, had never got beyond a vague: ‘That’s nice.’ Following her train of thought she said aloud: ‘I’ve bought a new outfit for the wedding. I hope you’ll like it.’