by Betty Neels
‘Mr Ivo likes blue,’ said Nanny. ‘That soft blue like hyacinths. He likes pink too—rose-pink I suppose you would call it. Men like pink…’
‘So shall I wear pink or blue for our wedding, Miss Glover?’
‘Call me Nanny. Well, it’s not for me to say, dear, but blue looks nice, doesn’t it? Perhaps you could find a pink dress as well.’
‘I thought I’d look for a dress and jacket, something I can wear later on…’
Nanny nodded. ‘Very sensible. One of those little jackets. You’ve a nice shape; you don’t need frills and flounces to fill you out.’
The business of buying new clothes suddenly became fun, with Nanny giving snippets of advice. ‘You’re a sensible girl; you’ll know one good outfit is worth more than three cheap ones. Men notice these things.’
Which Serena took to mean that Ivo noticed them. She set off the next morning, Nanny’s voice ringing in her ears telling her that she was to stop and have lunch or she would be too tired. ‘For you won’t find all you want in a day,’ she said. ‘There’ll be a nice tea ready for you when you get back. Go carefully!’
Serena thought how nice it was to have someone who actually minded what she was doing and where she was going. She hadn’t felt as happy or as light-hearted for a long time.
By the end of the afternoon she was glad to get back to Nanny and a splendid tea. She hadn’t bought anything. ‘I saw quite a few things I liked, but I don’t want to get anything until I’ve found an outfit,’ she explained.
‘Very sensible,’ said Nanny, ‘and you have time enough. Why not try some of the small dress shops? When Mr Ivo’s sisters are over here on a visit they go to a boutique off Regent Street. I don’t remember the name off hand, but I’ll see if I can find a bill; they always leave the bills with me…’
So Serena set out again in the morning, full of hope. A hope which was to be fulfilled this time. It was nothing short of a miracle that the soft blue dress and jacket in the boutique’s window fit her exactly. It was expensive, but she had been prepared for that, and there was still enough money to buy undies and a pretty dressing gown and slippers. She returned triumphant and tried the dress on under Nanny’s sharp eye.
‘Just right!’ said Nanny. ‘And such a pretty colour. Now, what else do you mean to buy?’
It took several days to find shoes and a hat for the wedding, as well as a jersey dress, plain and undateable, in a pleasing shade of russet. And then there was just enough over for a skirt and blouses…
Satisfied with her purchases, Serena packed her new wardrobe, hung her bridal outfit in the closet, gave Nanny a hand round the little house and took herself off for long walks in one or other of the parks. Ivo phoned; short, businesslike calls for only a few minutes. Was she well? Her brothers hadn’t come to see her? She was happy with Nanny? She replied suitably to these questions and forebore from chatting since he showed no desire to linger once she had replied. He was busy, she told herself, and she thought that he wasn’t a man to waste words.
Strangely enough, she had no doubts now. Their marriage was uncomplicated by romance, and she had no longings or fits of jealousy or uncertainties about the future. They would deal comfortably with each other.
Mr van Doelen walked into his house a few evenings later and Serena, winding wool for Nanny, dropped the ball and jumped to her feet.
‘Oh, you’re back. You didn’t phone… Why didn’t you?’
‘Hello, Serena, Nanny. How very domestic you look.’
Nanny put down her knitting. ‘You’ll want a meal,’ she said placidly. ‘About half an hour? You had a good trip?’
‘Yes, and I’m famished.’
Serena picked up the wool and sat down again. It seemed that Ivo came and went without fuss; she should have held her tongue. It must have sounded to him that she was critical of him for not phoning. She felt a fool. She must remember for the future.
Mr van Doelen went to his study with his bag and then came back and sat down in a chair from where he could watch her.
‘You haven’t been bored?’ he wanted to know.
‘No, no, not at all. I had shopping to do, and I’ve explored the parks, and the Reverend Thomas called to see me. He’s nice.’
She couldn’t think of anything to say then. Oh, for a witty tongue and facile conversation, reflected Serena. She wound the wool as though it was a matter of urgency, not looking at him.
He leaned forward and took it from her. He would have liked to have taken her in his arms and kissed her, but their rather fragile relationship might have been shattered. ‘No doubts?’ he asked her gently.
‘No, of course not. But what about you? You must see how dull I am? That’s because I never had anyone to talk to except Father. Won’t you find me dull, too?’
‘You aren’t dull; you’re restful. To come home to someone who doesn’t start chattering the moment I get there is something I am looking forward to, Serena.’
She looked at him then. ‘Really? I should have thought that after a day with patients and operating and wards, you would want a little light relief.’
‘That, too, but at the right time.’
‘Well, I’ll remember that,’ said Serena as Nanny came back to say that his supper was ready.
‘Come and sit with me while I eat?’ said Mr van Doelen. ‘I want to know how soon you will marry me.’
At the table he told her that he was intending to be in London for three or four days, no longer. ‘We could marry in the late afternoon of my last day and drive to Harwich for the evening ferry. It’s a quick crossing by catamaran; we can be home in the late evening.’
‘That sounds very sensible,’ said Serena, doing her best to sound matter-of-fact. Suddenly the future was crowding in on her. ‘The Reverend Thomas won’t mind short notice?’
‘I’ve already phoned him. He suggested three o’clock. We can come back here for tea, just us and Nanny and Reverend Thomas and his wife. We’ll need to leave soon after.’
‘Will you be here before then?’
‘I doubt it. I hope to leave the hospital some time after two o’clock, but it may be later. You will wait here with Nanny, will you?’
‘Yes.’
It was all rather businesslike, as though he was making an appointment with his dentist. It was disconcerting when Ivo said, ‘I am afraid it is all rather rushed, but since we are to have a quiet wedding I believe you understand. I am committed to a good deal of work for the next month or so, and there seems no point in you staying here with Nanny until I’m clear of that!’ He smiled a little. ‘I promise you you won’t be lonely. I have English friends who will be delighted to meet you.’
After supper he told her kindly to go to bed. ‘I have some work to do, and I must leave early in the morning, but I should be home in time for us to have tea.’
That was the pattern of the next three days, and on the fourth day they were to marry…
Of course he had already left the house when she went down to breakfast. She had it with Nanny, obediently eating a boiled egg she didn’t want and crumbling toast onto her plate. Now that their wedding day had dawned her usual sensible self was engulfed in doubts. Not that she thought for one moment of backing out of it; it was just the last hesitation, like the pause before diving into deep water.
Beside her vague doubts, she knew deep down that their marriage would be a success; they liked each other and enjoyed the same things and neither of them demanded anything from the other. It would be a calm, secure partnership. As if to squash any doubts she might have had, there was a letter from Dr Bowring to tell her that he and his wife would be at the church and how sure they were that she and Ivo would be happy together.
She went for a walk after breakfast, and then, mindful of Nanny’s reminder that she had a long journey before her that evening, ate the dainty little lunch the dear soul had prepared. They ate it together in the kitchen and then went, together still, to Nanny’s room so that Serena could help her decide
which hat to wear.
And by then, it was time to dress.
The blue outfit looked all right; the new shoes were comfortable and the small-brimmed hat with its satin bow sat elegantly on her light brown hair. She took a last look at herself in the pier glass, caught up the light coat she had had the foresight to buy, and went downstairs to wait for Ivo.
Nanny was in the kitchen, and when Serena poked her nose round the door she was told to go and sit in the drawing room. ‘And take care not to get untidy,’ said Miss Glover at her most nanny-ish. ‘You look very nice.’
Which from Nanny was high praise indeed. Serena hoped that Ivo would agree. Regardless of any damage, she picked up Puss, sitting beside her.
She sat rather primly on a little balloon-backed chair and tried not to look at the clock. If Ivo didn’t come soon they would be late for their wedding.
He came a few minutes later; she heard his key in the lock and his quiet footfall in the hall and in a moment he was in the doorway.
‘Oh, very nice,’ he said, and smiled so that she felt almost pretty. ‘I’ll be with you in ten minutes or so.’
And he was, in a beautifully tailored grey suit and a silvery silk tie. He took Puss off her lap and Serena got up as he said cheerfully. ‘Shall we go?’
She couldn’t think of anything to say as he drove the brief distance to the church and helped her out of the car. It was a small old church at the end of a quiet street. There was no one about; Nanny had gone ahead, and Serena supposed that the Bowrings were already inside. They went inside together and in the porch Ivo handed her a nosegay laid waiting on a bench. Roses and little lilies, green leaves and sprigs of sweet-smelling stocks.
‘We are going to be happy together,’ he told her, then took her arm and walked with her down the aisle to where the Reverend Thomas was waiting.
The Bowrings were there, and Nanny and Mrs Thomas, turning their heads to smile at them, and there were flowers—a feast of white and pink roses and trailing stephanotis. The afternoon sun shone through the stained glass windows above the altar and the air was fragrant and warm. Serena was aware of all this as she stood beside Ivo; she was aware, too, of feeling happy. Without any doubts as to the future she made her responses in a soft, clear voice and presently they walked back up the aisle, a married couple now, and got into the car and drove back to the little mews cottage where they were joined by the others.
Nanny, still in her wedding hat, served tea: tiny cucumber sandwiches, miniature scones, fairy cakes and a wedding cake which she had made herself. The talk was cheerful—of the wedding, and promises of a visit to Holland later on and how soon Ivo would be returning to London.
Before long it was time to leave. Puss was tucked into her basket, the cases were put into the car, and farewells said. Serena, in her coat now, her wedding hat sharing the back seat with Puss’s basket, got into the car and turned to wave as Ivo drove away, suppressing a sudden small panic that she had burnt her boats and there was no going back.
Ivo said quietly, ‘There is still time for you to change your mind, Serena…’
The panic melted before his calm voice. ‘No, I don’t want to do that. You said that we are going to be happy together and I believe you.’
It took a while to cross London, but presently, with the suburbs thinning to fields and trees, he sent the car forging ahead.
‘We’ll have a meal on board,’ he told her. ‘It’s a short drive from the Hoek but you may be tired by then, although there will be a light meal for us when we get home.’
‘Did you have time for lunch?’ she asked.
‘No. Coffee and a sandwich. And you?’
‘Well, I had time, but I wasn’t hungry!’
‘We’ll make up for that on board. Are you comfortable?’
They found plenty to talk about. Theirs might be a marriage without love, but they were completely at ease with each other; it was as though they had known each other all their lives. Serena heaved a small sigh of content, and Mr van Doelen, glancing at her composed face, allowed himself to indulge in a brief daydream.
The crossing was calm, and they had a meal on board while Ivo patiently answered her questions about his home and his work. A small village, he told her, only a mile or so from Den Haag, and a house his family had lived in for many years. As for his work, he had beds in the principal hospitals in Den Haag, but he lectured at Leiden Medical School and had beds there too, and not only that, he had consultations in other countries as well as being an honorary consultant in London.
‘I am a busy man,’ he told her, ‘but I’m sure you won’t be lonely, and when it’s possible there’s no reason why you shouldn’t come with me.’
She assured him that she would like that. ‘But you will be sure and let me know if I get things wrong, won’t you?’
‘Of course. But I don’t think that is likely to happen. All my friends speak English…’
‘Oh, but I’d like to learn to speak Dutch as quickly as possible. Perhaps I could have lessons?’
‘A good idea.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We shall be landing very shortly.’
It all looked a bit like England, except for the traffic driving on what she considered to be the wrong side of the road. When he observed that she might enjoy driving herself, she said uncertainly, ‘Oh, I don’t know—I might forget…’
‘Not very likely with everyone else driving as they should. We shall be home very soon now.’
She was a little tired now, as well as hungry, and over and above this she had a sudden feeling of panic. She said rather faintly, ‘I’m sure you must be glad to be home,’ and heard the uncertainty in her voice.
‘Oh, I am, and glad to have you with me.’ He dropped a hand on her knee and said, ‘Our home, Serena, and I shall do my best to make you happy in it.’
He was driving around the outskirts of Den Haag now and presently turned off into a side-road which in turn opened into a quiet country lane. All at once there were flat green fields and a canal running alongside it. It was dark now, and they had left all signs of the city behind them.
‘This is a quiet corner which seems to have been overlooked,’ said Ivo. ‘It is delightfully peaceful, and so close to Den Haag. I must get you a car as soon as possible.’
‘I could bike,’ said Serena, and then wondered if a well-known surgeon’s wife would be too grand to cycle.
It seemed not, for he said at once, ‘Of course you can. Everyone here cycles.’
They had passed a couple of farms standing back from the road, and now there were trees on either side, and in a moment a cluster of small houses round a church.
‘The village—we’re just round the corner.’
Serena had very little idea what to expect; Ivo had been vague and she had pictured a comfortable villa, substantial and rather dull. But as he turned into a short drive between brick pillars she saw that she was mistaken. The house was brick, faced with stone, with a handsome door reached by double steps, its windows large with elaborate pediments. It wasn’t a villa. She studied its handsome façade with faint misgiving. This was a country house, a gentleman’s residence of some size.
He had stopped before the front door and she said rather sharply, ‘You could have told me…’
He said mildly, ‘I hope you won’t dislike it. It is home to me. I hope it will be home to you, too.’
He got out of the car and opened her door and helped her out.
‘It’s a lovely house. I—I was—surprised.’
He took her arm. ‘Come indoors and meet everyone.’
CHAPTER SIX
THE person who opened the door was short and stout, white-haired and dignified. Mr van Doelen clapped this dignified person on the back and then shook his head. ‘Wim, it’s good to see you.’
He had spoken in Dutch; now he turned to Serena. ‘Wim looks after the house for me, Serena. He’s been in the family for ever. His wife, Elly, is the cook and housekeeper.’
Serena offered a
hand and Wim shook it carefully. ‘Welcome, mevrouw.’ He waved an arm and led the way from the vestibule into a broad hallway. There were several people there and he led her from one to the other; Mr van Doelen spoke again in his own language. Whatever it was he said, they smiled and shook hands with Serena in turn. There was Elly, as rotund as Wim, with a round smiling face, a thin, tall woman—Nel, and a short, stout girl—Lien. Also an old man—the gardener, explained Mr van Doelen— Domus, and a leggy youth beside him, Cor.
They all looked pleased to see her, reflected Serena, but she hadn’t expected them. She gave Ivo a reproachful look which he ignored.
‘Elly will take you to your room,’ said Mr van Doelen. ‘There will be supper in ten minutes or so.’ Serena was led away to where a staircase curved its way up at the end of the hall. It led to a gallery with several doors, one of which Elly opened with a flourish. The room beyond was large, with a four-poster bed facing the two windows. There was a mahogany table between the windows with a silver gilt mirror, flanked by slender silver candlesticks, the bedside tables were mahogany too, each with its porcelain lamp, and there was a chaise longue upholstered in a pleasingly vague patterned brocade; the same brocade draped the windows and formed the bedspread. A very grand room, Serena thought, but a delight in which to sleep. She took a quick look at the adjoining bathroom and opened a door at its other end: another bedroom, rather austere but very comfortable. Well, really, thought Serena, going back to peer at herself in the mirror and poke at her hair, Ivo might have told her that he was so grand.
She went back downstairs and found him in the hall.
‘In here,’ he said, and opened a door and ushered her into a panelled room with long windows overlooking the garden at the back of the house. He said, ‘Before we have supper will you come and meet Casper and Trotter?’
She went with him to the window he had opened and two dogs came racing in: a golden Labrador and a small greyhound. They circled Mr van Doelen, beaming up at him, and he said, ‘Here is Serena. Come and say hello.’
