by Betty Neels
She shook her head. ‘Heaven knows what would have happened to us if you actually hadn’t protected us. I—I haven’t thanked you, but I do, with all my heart.’ To cover up a sudden shyness she added, ‘Mrs Snow was marvellous…’
‘Ah, yes. We have a date for tomorrow, she and I.’ He put down his cup. ‘The police will be here in an hour. Go and take a bath, Claribel, and get into your nightie and dressing-gown while I make some sandwiches for our supper. The moment they have gone you’ll get into bed and stay there, and don’t get up tomorrow until I’ve been to see how you are.’ And, at her look, ‘Delayed shock,’ he observed smoothly.
It was easier to do as he said than argue with him. The bath soothed her; she washed her hair, too, and presently went back into the sitting-room. Mr van Borsele glanced up, his look impersonal. ‘Good. I’m going to go next door for a few minutes. If I let the good lady know a little of what has happened there’ll be no speculation among the neighbours.’
He disappeared and she sat down to finish drying her hair. She felt much better and her headache was bearable now. Enoch and Toots came to sit by her, pleased because she was home early.
‘What shall I do?’ she enquired of them. ‘I expect we’d all better go home until something is arranged. I suppose someone will let me know…’
Mr van Borsele came back looking amused. ‘I like the old lady next door. She will, of course, spread the tale far and wide; you’ll not lack for neighbourly interest. She was concerned about you being alone tonight, but I was able to set her mind at rest. I would prefer to stay here myself, but that would hardly do, would it? So I’ve arranged for Tilly to sleep here. I’ll fetch her in a while and collect her in the morning.’
Claribel said a little wildly, ‘But there’s no bed. I’ll be quite all right, really I will.’
‘Yes, I know that. She’ll bring a sleeping bag with her and bedding; and don’t argue, please, Claribel.’
She said weakly, ‘But how will you manage on your own?’
‘I’ve boiled an egg before now, and if I know Tilly there won’t be any need for me to do even that.’ He went through to the bedroom and came back with a brush. ‘The police will be here shortly. May I use your phone?’
He talked for a few minutes to his registrar and then put the receiver back. ‘I phoned your mother,’ he observed, ‘but I expect you’d like a word with her.’
She felt guilty. ‘Oh, thank you, Marc. I should have thought of that—I feel awful about it.’
‘No need. You see, you were badly shocked. I’ll get your home now; there is time before the police arrive.’
He came across the room with the phone. ‘Your mother was very upset,’ she was told as she picked up the receiver.
She forced herself to be her normally matter-of-fact self and was relieved to hear both her mother and her father relaxing as she talked. When she had finished, Mr van Borsele said, ‘Good girl. It’s worse for them; they’ll feel better now you have talked to them.’
The police arrived then to take a statement, a quite unfrightening business done over more cups of tea, and when they had gone Mr van Borsele fetched the sandwiches, went out to his car and came back with a bottle under his arm. ‘Claret,’ he remarked. ‘Just what you need. I’m going to fetch Tilly in half an hour or so, but shall we talk first?’
‘What about?’ asked Claribel as, very nearly restored to normality, she bit into an apple and a cheese sandwich.
‘You had a number of reasons why you shouldn’t accompany me to Holland. None of them exist any more. On the contrary, a brief holiday is just what you want. I’m going back on Friday. I’ll drive you down to Tisbury tomorrow evening and you can take the cats and leave them there while you are in Holland. I’m sure Miss Flute will help you pack tomorrow before the evening.’
Claribel stared at him, her mouth full of sandwich. She gobbled hastily before she spluttered, ‘Well, of all the…I never did!’
‘Neither of which remarks is to the point,’ he observed calmly. ‘Just for once can you not argue, Claribel; just accept my invitation gracefully.’
‘You’re only asking me because of Irma, though I don’t see that it makes a scrap of difference if I’m with you or not.’
‘I must admit that your company should give her the coup de grâce, for I shall make no secret of your going with me and the wretched girl seems to have ears and eyes everywhere. I must add, though, that I shall enjoy your company, although you won’t see much of me; indeed, I dare say I shall be away for most of the time.’ He added silkily, ‘But, of course, you won’t mind that, will you?’
He got up and washed their supper things, saw to the cats, made sure that the windows were closed and picked up his bag. ‘Goodnight, Claribel. I’ll go and fetch Tilly and I won’t come in when I bring her back. Will you let me have your key? I’ll see her safely in. You go to bed; she won’t disturb you.’
He dropped a kiss on top of her golden hair and went away before she had framed a single word.
After a few minutes she got up and wandered around the little room. He had taken it for granted that she would do as he suggested and if she hadn’t known that it was for his own ends, she might have been glad to accept.
‘I won’t go,’ she told the cats, and got into bed, prepared to think the thing out in peace and quiet. She fell asleep at once and never heard Tilly creeping soft-footed around the living-room, arranging her makeshift bed.
Claribel slept soundly and indeed didn’t waken until Tilly brought her a cup of tea. She sat up in bed, feeling quite herself again, and declared her intention of getting up and cooking their breakfast. ‘And thank you very much for spending the night here,’ she added. ‘I didn’t hear you come in. I only hope you weren’t too uncomfortable.’
‘Not a bit of it, miss. Jus’ you ‘ave yer bath and dress while I get us a bite ter eat.’ Tilly nodded her head quite severely, standing small and round, arms across her ample bosom. ‘The boss said as ‘ow I was ter cherish you, and that I’ll do.’ At the door she turned to ask. ‘These ‘ere cats, shall I feed ‘em?’
They had had their breakfast and were washing up together when Mr van Borsele arrived. His laconic, ‘OK this morning?’ wasn’t quite what she had expected, but she was aware of shame at having expected anything else; she hadn’t been hurt, only frightened, and here he was, immaculate as always, looking as though he had slept for at least twelve hours and never been near bomb in his life. She was getting very sorry for herself, which wouldn’t do at all. And he had been kind and thoughtful…
She said brightly, ‘I had a marvellous night. Thank you for letting Tilly stay, it was nice having company.’
He nodded. ‘Miss Flute will be coming presently. I’m going to run Tilly home now. I’ll be here about six o’clock. Pack enough to see you through a couple of weeks in Holland; I doubt if there will be time to come back here on Friday while you pick over your wardrobe.’
She began, ‘I don’t…’ and then stopped. It would be pointless to argue; he was doing exactly what he wished to do and if she raised objections she had no doubt that he would ride rough-shod over them.
When he and Tilly had gone she made another pot of tea and sat down to consider her immediate future. It was largely in the hands of Mr van Borsele and, thinking about it, she decided that a holiday would be rather nice anyway, even if Granny was an old tartar, which was more than likely if she and her grandson were alike. He had said that he would see very little of her and after all there was no need. The idea was for her to go to Holland with him in order to convince Irma that she might as well give up pursuing him. She had no doubt that he would find some means of letting the girl know that they were going and give her the opportunity of actually seeing them leave the country if she had a mind to do so.
She drank the rest of the tea, and the began to get the flat ready for her departure. When Miss Flute came they emptied the pantry, handed the old lady next door the perishable food that was in it, and then start
ed to pack.
‘I have no idea what to take,’ declared Claribel pettishly.
‘Wear that nice suit—that knitted one you bought; you can travel in it and wear it every day if you’ve a mind. A couple of jersey dresses; skirts, blouses and jumpers; and take that nice blazer you had last summer. Oh, and a pretty dress in case you go out in the evening—two, perhaps?’
‘I don’t even know where I am going…’
‘What fun,’ declared Miss Flute. ‘I wish I was in your shoes.’
‘Are you going away, Miss Flute?’
‘To my sister’s in Cornwall. We shall be notified when they’ve got something planned for us, but that will be a couple of weeks at least. They have Mr van Borsele’s address so they can reach you wherever you are.’
Claribel paused in folding her blouses. ‘Miss Flute, do you think I’m a bit mad to go?’
‘Not in the least. I understand from Mr van Borsele that you are doing him a favour in doing so, and the change of scene is just what you need.’
They sat down to a snack lunch presently and Claribel was very tempted to tell Miss Flute all about Irma, but it wasn’t her problem and Mr van Borsele was known to be a reserved man who seldom allowed details of his private life to emerge. All the same she thought she would tell her mother…
Strangely enough it was Mr van Borsele who suggested just that as they drove to Tisbury. ‘We have nothing to hide,’ he observed coolly. ‘I may say I think you have been making a great fuss over nothing, Claribel.’
‘Fuss? Fuss! I haven’t been fussy at all. I’ve agreed to your hare-brained schemes like a half-wit.’
He said soothingly to infuriate her, ‘Now, now, don’t malign yourself, Claribel. I have never thought of you as half-witted.’
‘I should jolly well hope not! If I’d known what I was letting myself in for…’
He chose to misunderstand her. ‘Oh, you’ll enjoy your stay with Granny.’ There was no way in which she could ruffle his complacency.
‘I shall take Mother’s advice; probably she will tell me not to go to Holland.’
‘As to that, we have to wait and see, don’t we?’ Then suddenly he wasn’t mocking any more. ‘Don’t worry, my dear. Let life happen; don’t try to alter it.’ He sounded kind and reassuring; she found herself relaxing. Perhaps she had been making mountains out of molehills after all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
RATHER to Claribel’s surprise, when they arrived at her home, Marc showed no sign of wishing to hurry away. Instead, when her father suggested that they might go to his study so that he might be shown a rare hand-drawn map of the village, he agreed with alacrity, so that she, rather at a loss, followed her mother into the kitchen to help with the supper.
‘He can stay the night if he wants to,’ observed her mother, prodding the potatoes.
Claribel had been so wrapped up in her own problems she hadn’t thought about that. ‘Oh—well, I expect he’s going to his sister. I didn’t ask.’
Her mother shot her a quick look; it was obvious that her daughter had a lot on her mind and moreover it apparently had nothing to do with the bomb. That had been exclaimed over and talked about at some length, and as far as she could see Claribel, once over the shock, had recovered nicely. It had been a very nasty thing to happen. She spoke her thoughts out loud, ‘What a good thing Mr van Borsele was there.’
Claribel paused on her way to the dining-room with the plates. ‘Yes, well, you see he was with the porter when I phoned—I did tell you.’
‘I forget so easily, love.’ A remark Claribel took with a pinch of salt; her mother never forgot anything.
When she went back into the kitchen the men were there, whisky glasses in their hands, and her father was pouring the best sherry into two more glasses for her mother and her. ‘There you are, darling. Marc will stay to supper; he can’t drive all the way back to London without a meal.’
Claribel put her tray down on the table. ‘Do you mean to tell me,’ she asked in a high voice, ‘that you have to go back this evening? It’s well after nine o’clock.’
He returned her icy green stare with a look of such innocence that she almost laughed. ‘I enjoy driving at night,’ he said placidly, ‘and something smells delicious.’
Mrs Brown beamed at him. ‘Watercress soup, my own make,’ she told him happily, ‘bacon and egg pie, and baked apples and cream for afters.’
Claribel, feeling that she was in the dark about something but not sure what it was, began cutting bread at the table. She very nearly dropped the knife when her father said, ‘It really is most kind of you to invite Clari—a short break after that most upsetting incident is just what she needs.’ He turned to smile at her amazed face. ‘You’ll enjoy it, my dear, won’t you?’
The villain, she thought furiously, going behind my back and settling everything. She swallowed rage and said flatly, ‘I expect I shall. I don’t even know where I’m going.’ She shot Mr van Borsele a look to burn him up, if that had been possible.
‘Surprises are always nice,’ he said smoothly, ‘but I’ll tell you. My home is in Friesland, the northern province of the Netherlands; still unspoilt, mostly farmland and lakes. The peace and quiet will do you good.’ His voice was silky. ‘You are rather uptight, only to be expected after your unpleasant experience.’
Her parents nodded approvingly and she turned away from his mocking gaze, aware that he was enjoying himself. Well, she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing how angry she was. ‘It sounds delightful.’ She spoke sweetly, although it was an effort. It would have pleased her mightily to have thrown the loaf at his head.
The talk was general during supper, ranging from bomb outrages to the Friesian landscape, the easiest routes to Holland, and vague, very vague, replies on Mr van Borsele’s part to Mrs Brown’s gentle questions about his life. It was almost eleven o’clock when he left with the assurance that he would be back at the end of the week to fetch Claribel.
They were standing in the hall and she said tartly, ‘And what about Irma? Will you be able to find another girl to take out while I’m here?’
‘Tut, tut,’ he reproved her in a kindly tone to set her teeth on edge. ‘You’re being peevish. If it makes you any happier I shall be at the hospital each evening. There’s a good deal of work still to do and this bomb has thrown the theatre lists rather out of line. Mr Shutter and I will be operating each evening; very awkward for all concerned, but the only solution. If I should see our friend Irma I shall tell her that you and I will be travelling together to Holland.’ He bent and kissed her quickly. ‘Don’t worry, Claribel, no one shall take your place.’
‘Much I should care. And another thing.’ She was whispering, for her parents were in the drawing-room and the door was half open. ‘How dared you go behind my back and tell Mother and Father about—about us? I haven’t said I’ll go with you…’
‘Oh, yes you did. I expect this bomb business has curdled your wits a little.’ He gave her a wide smile and went out to his car and, without looking back, drove away.
Claribel shut the door with something of a snap, wishing that just once she might have the last word. ‘I shan’t go,’ she muttered, all the while knowing that, of course, she would. It would be interesting to see his home, even if he wasn’t going to be there for most of the time. She hoped that he would drive back carefully…
The few days passed peacefully. The weather was pleasantly warm, even if it was chilly towards evening. She combed through her wardrobe and got her father to take her and her mother into Salisbury so that she might add to it. She found just what she wanted: a pale blue pencil-slim wool skirt, a matching top in cashmere and a loose light cardigan, edged with satin ribbon, all more than she intended to spend. However, as her mother pointed out, good clothes were more economical because they looked good until they fell apart. Uplifted by this sensible remark, Claribel bought a short-sleeved silk dress which exactly matched her eyes, and which would, as she was careful to point out to
her mother, come in very useful. Mrs Brown agreed; any dress likely to catch Marc’s eye and increase his interest in Claribel would be useful. Claribel had thought exactly the same thing, though, of course, she didn’t say so. Indeed she wasn’t actually conscious of thinking it.
Mr van Borsele arrived shortly after lunch on the Friday, accepting coffee from Mrs Brown, enquiring casually after Claribel’s health, passed the time of day with her father and signified his intention of leaving as soon as she was ready.
‘We’ll look in at my flat as we go,’ he told her. ‘Tilly will have my bags ready. We’re going from Harwich. I went to Meadow Road, by the way, and talked to your neighbour; she’ll keep an eye on your place while you’re away. Miss Flute sends her love; she’s off today as well. They’re still clearing rubble away at Jerome’s; it will be some time before they have put up temporary buildings and there’s almost all the equipment to install.’
Claribel, looking very pretty in the knitted outfit, went to say goodbye to her cats and collect her overnight bag. She felt excited now; she had tried to drum up some ill feeling against Marc during the week, but somehow it had been difficult. He had behaved very badly, but he had been kind, too, and he had undoubtedly saved her from injury when the bomb had exploded. She told herself that she owed him something for that; by the time she came back to England Irma would have tired of him and she would have paid off her debt to him.
She said goodbye to her mother and father and got into the car, reflecting as she did so that it was surprisingly easy to get used to comfort and luxury—travelling in a Rolls Royce, for instance.
Mr van Borsele had gone back to speak to her father and she wondered why; he had already said goodbye. Whatever it was was briefly spoken, then he got in beside her and they drove away.
He had nothing to say; she peeped sideways at his profile and found it a little stern. Perhaps he was thinking about the patients he had operated upon during the week, or the work waiting for him in Holland. She searched her head for something to say, but, since she couldn’t think of anything, stayed silent, too.
