by Betty Neels
She was off the table and running to meet him when she remembered that he might not like such a display of delight. She came to a halt before him and changed the happy grin on her face to one of friendly surprise.
‘Ivo, how nice you’re back. Did you have a good trip? Do you want a meal? Tea won’t be for another hour, but we can get you a meal straight away.’
Ivo didn’t kiss her because he wasn’t sure if he could trust himself to stop at a peck on her cheek. He said in his quiet voice, ‘Hello, Serena—Nanny. I’ll wait for tea; I had a meal before I left. I must do some phoning and catch up on my post; I’ll join you in an hour.’
He smiled at them and went out of the kitchen, then crossed the hall to his study and shut the door.
And that’s how it will always be, reflected Serena unhappily, doors shut in my face, however gently. She helped Nanny tidy the kitchen and then went to the drawing room. A good thing she had brought her knitting with her; she plunged into it now, glad it was complicated, and that it needed her concentration and the counting of stitches.
So when Ivo came into the room there she was, sitting, to all intents and purposes, perfectly composed, looking up at him with the kind of smile a long-married wife might give her husband.
Ivo sat down opposite to her, studying her ordinary face and neat head of hair. She was, he considered, not only pretty—very pretty—she was the epitome of what every wife should be. She might not have loved him when they married, but from time to time—in the kitchen just now, he reflected—her behaviour made him hope that in time she would love him. He must have patience, he reflected, let her find her feet in this new life she was leading.
‘Did you go shopping?’ he asked.
‘Yes, with Nanny. We had a lovely day, drooling round the Harrods food hall.’ She added, ‘And I bought two dresses—they were so pretty—and I’m sure I’ll have a chance to wear them later on.’
‘Before then. Would you like to dine out tomorrow evening? And I thought we might go dancing on Saturday night.’ He smiled at her. ‘A chance to wear those frocks.’
He took her to the Ritz, where, in one of the new dresses, she dined off jellied lobster, spinach and walnut salad, rump of lamb and a dessert of fruit, cream and ice cream which beggared description. Over coffee Serena said happily, ‘This is a heavenly place. Do you come here often?’
Ivo smiled. ‘No, only on very special occasions.’
‘Oh, is this a special occasion?’
‘I think we should make it one, don’t you?’
She wasn’t sure if he was serious or not. She looked out of the window to the park beyond and then, struck by a sudden thought said, ‘Is it your birthday? I ought to know when it is, oughtn’t I? If it is…’
‘No, no, don’t worry. We shall be going back home in two days’ time. I’ve a meeting tomorrow evening, but we might go to Claridge’s on the following evening. Would you like that?’
Serena beamed at him across the table. ‘Oh, yes, I would. Is it as splendid as this?’
‘Just about. Are you tired?’
‘Tired? Heavens, no… But you’ve had a busy day, haven’t you? It’s been lovely, but I’m ready to go home if you would like that.’
‘No, no. I’m not in the least tired. I wondered if you would like to walk. We’ll take the car as far as the Embankment.’
It was a lovely night: moon and stars and cold enough for her to pull her soft coat around her shoulders. And the Embankment was the best possible place to be, she decided, with the lights reflected on the Thames and the hundreds of lights from the city’s windows. They strolled arm-in-arm, not always talking, but happy in their silences. Serena’s head was empty of thoughts; it was filled with content. This could go on for ever, she reflected, only of course it wouldn’t! But just for the moment life was perfect.
They went back to the car later, and drove home and sat in the kitchen drinking the coffee Nanny had left on the Aga. And when she got up to go to bed, Serena kissed Ivo’s cheek shyly, not sure if he minded that.
‘It was a lovely evening, thank you, Ivo. And I look forward to going to Claridge’s. Do you have to leave early in the morning?’
‘Yes. I’ve a list at eight o’clock, but I should be home for tea.’
He stood looking down at her, waiting for her to go through the door he was holding open for her. The perfume she wore was faint but fragrant, and he dropped a quick kiss on the top of her neat head of hair as she passed him, so light that she didn’t feel it.
She did the shopping for Nanny in the morning, and after they had had their lunch together took herself for a brisk walk. Ivo would be home for tea and they would have their evening together. She smiled widely at the thought so that passers-by stared at her happy face.
It was while they were having their tea that she remembered that he had a meeting that evening.
‘When would you like dinner?’ she wanted to know.
‘Did I forget to tell you? I’m sorry, I’m dining with some of the committee members before the meeting starts.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’d better go and change.’
‘I expect you’ll be back late?’
‘Probably.’ He saw her downcast face. ‘Don’t wait up, my dear, I’ll see you at breakfast.’
She bade him goodbye cheerfully enough; she had heaps of things to do, she assured him, and she must start sorting out things ready to pack.
Ivo nodded absently, his mind already on the meeting ahead.
But he made up for his absence by taking her to Claridge’s, as he had promised. As sumptuous a restaurant as the Ritz, Serena decided. There wasn’t a pin to choose between them, and the food was just as delicious. And to crown the evening’s pleasure they danced into the small hours. When at length she got to bed she was too sleepy to think sensibly, but it had been another evening to remember for life.
Serena was sorry to say goodbye to Nanny, although, as Ivo pointed out, it was only a matter of a few hours’ journey for her to return whenever she wanted to.
‘You’ll be coming again?’
‘Certainly, in a couple of months’ time. I may come over for brief visits—spend one night, perhaps.’
He gave Nanny a hug, popped Serena into the car and drove off. On the way to Harwich he asked, ‘Did you phone your brothers? Would you like to visit them? Now that we are married and settled down they may feel differently about us.’
Serena thought that even if Ivo had settled down she hadn’t. She peeped at his calm profile. ‘I phoned them, but they were still annoyed; I don’t think I’d better visit them yet.’
Henry had been nasty, as only Henry could be, and Matthew had talked to her as though she had disgraced the whole family. She said, ‘Gregory has married. She’s the daughter of the Mayor of Yeovil. He must be glad he gave me up!’
Ivo’s hand came down on her knees. ‘I’m the one who is glad,’ he told her.
The crossing was smooth, and they were back home in time to eat the light supper Wim had ready for them. Ivo would be going to the hospital in the morning, so he excused himself with the plea of letters to read, phone calls to make and the dogs to take for a walk. Serena, mindful of her wish to be the perfect wife, bade him goodnight and went up to her lovely room with Puss and unpacked and bathed and got into bed. She was lonely. She supposed that loving someone and not being able to tell them that made for loneliness. She lay awake for a long time, until she heard Ivo come to bed well past midnight.
Life had settled down into its quiet pattern again.
She went to see Christina the next day, handed over the things she had bought for her, agreed to sell flags for a charity, to help at a bazaar in aid of orphans and attend a concert in which Christina’s children were appearing, and then on an impulse she took a tram to Scheveningen, where she walked along the promenade until she was tired. There were plenty of people and a great many children playing on the sands. She took the tram back in a while, and went back home to eat her solitary lunch an
d take the dogs for a walk.
When Ivo got home after tea she was in the drawing room, knitting the second sleeve of the sweater. She was rather tired of it by now, and probably Ivo wouldn’t like it. She decided that she would start on a set of tapestry covers for the dining room chairs. The work of a lifetime…
Several days later she went into Den Haag, collected her flags and collecting box and went to her allotted pitch outside a bookshop, which pleased her since she could from time to time study all the latest editions in its windows. The street was a busy one, and she rattled her box with a will, smiling at the passers-by whether they stopped or not. She was enjoying herself; it was a fine winter’s morning and she liked the bustle around her, and later on she would meet Christina for lunch and compare notes…
The morning was well advanced when Dirk Veldt stopped in front of her.
‘Serena, how delightful to see you, and what a marvellous excuse to stop and chat while you sell me one of these flags.’
She offered him a flag. ‘Shouldn’t you be working at the hospital?’
‘A man must eat; I’m taking a long lunch hour.’ He gave her a charming smile. ‘Will you share it with me? There’s a little restaurant near here where they serve the most delicious sole baked in cream…’
‘No, thank you, Dirk. I’m here for another hour and then I’m lunching with Christina ter Brandt. You haven’t given me any money for your flag.’
He shrugged, and fished in his pocket for a note. ‘I shan’t give up. You must be exciting under that matter-of-fact manner.’
‘Well, you’re wrong, and do go away. Enjoy that sole. Perhaps you’ll find a pretty girl you can share it with.’
She smiled at him, wishing that he would go. And Ivo, driving to his consulting rooms, saw the smile. The rage which engulfed him needed all his self-control to subdue.
It was late afternoon when he got home and Serena, very satisfied with her efforts, was in the drawing room, the tea tray beside her.
She looked up as he went in, gave him a smiling greeting and asked if he would like tea. ‘It’s a bit late,’ she explained, ‘but I had lunch with Christina and we sat talking. I sold all my flags too.’
Ivo sat down, refused her offer of tea, and enquired idly if she had enjoyed herself.
‘Yes, I did, and people were very generous.’ She went rather pink. ‘Dirk Veldt bought a flag from me. He wanted me to have lunch with him.’
And Ivo sighed with relief—she had told him of her own free will…
‘And why didn’t you? He’s an amusing companion, I should imagine.’
The pink deepened. ‘I thought I liked him when I met him. I mean, I didn’t know anyone, and he came and talked to me and made me feel that I was someone—if you see what I mean? You see, Ivo, I never had much of a social life, and I know I’m a plain Jane but he made me feel pretty. But now I have friends, and I go to committee meetings and bazaars and things like that. I’ve found my feet.’ She stopped to think. ‘And now I know that I don’t like him. We’re bound to meet, aren’t we? But he doesn’t have to be a friend.’
Ivo listened to this with deep satisfaction. His Serena had indeed found her feet; she was happy and busy and she was liked by everyone who met her. And he had glimpsed the look of delight on her face when he had come into the room. Perhaps now was the right time…
‘Serena…’
The phone stopped him. He picked it up and she listened to his quiet voice saying little. She knew enough Dutch now to understand that it was urgent, and when he put the phone down and told her that he must return to the hospital for an emergency operation, she said, ‘Hard luck, Ivo. We’ll wait dinner for you. It’s something that’ll keep. I hope it’s successful, whatever you will have to do.’
She smiled at him as he paused by her chair to kiss her cheek, and she wondered what it was that he had been going to say to her.
He phoned from the hospital later on that evening; he would be late home. Would she ask Elly to leave something on the Aga for him? He would see her at breakfast.
She knew better than to waste his time asking questions. In the morning at breakfast he might tell her about it. It pleased her that he was getting into the habit of describing his work to her, and she still spent hours in the library looking up the long words that he used so that she could look intelligent.
She wrote letters after dinner, a long, newsy one to Nanny and dutiful ones to her brothers, and by the time she had finished it was almost eleven o’clock. She went upstairs to bed and then, suddenly making up her mind, went down the stairs again in her dressing gown to find Wim. She would stay up, she told him. He was to go to bed after he had locked up. Ivo had his key, and once he was home he would bolt the door after him.
Wim demurred. The master would probably be very late, he told her, and she would lose her sleep. But she persuaded him at last, and he went round securing the doors and windows, settling the dogs in their baskets and turning out all but the lights in the hall and the kitchen.
‘For that’s where I shall sit,’ declared Serena. ‘I can ready Elly’s cookbooks and keep an eye on whatever it is that she has left on the Aga.’
The kitchen was warm and quiet. The stoelklok by the dresser tick-tocked with soothing monotony, the dogs snored gently and Puss had curled up on her lap. It was a very cosy room, despite its size; it smelled of baking and coffee, mingled with a whiff of something tasty keeping warm in the oven. Serena sat contentedly, patiently waiting. She wasn’t sleepy, and Ivo might like to mull over his work at the hospital.
She had been there for an hour or more when he came in, to stop short in the doorway as he saw her.
She put Puss down gently and got out of her chair. ‘I wasn’t sleepy, so I thought I’d wait for you. There’s something in the oven, and coffee. Did things go well?’
He came slowly into the room. ‘Yes, as far as we can tell at the moment. There was no need for you to wait up, Serena.’
‘But you must eat something…’
‘I had something at the hospital. Go to bed, my dear. I must just go to the study to check something, and then I shall go up myself…’
He was holding the door open for her. It was obvious that he didn’t want her company. She summoned a smile. ‘Well, the coffee’s hot if you should change your mind,’ she told him cheerfully. ‘Goodnight, Ivo.’
That had been a mistake, she told herself, taking no notice of the tears trickling down her cheeks. She must remember never to do that again.
CHAPTER NINE
IT SEEMED to Serena that Ivo was avoiding her. Unless he had been called away early they breakfasted together, and either dined at home or with friends. They walked the dogs, went to an occasional theatre, but although he was a pleasant and thoughtful companion she sensed a reserve in his manner, and never once did he talk about them. She decided that no woman could feel less married than she did, and that something must be done about it. There was always some reason why he had to go to his study after dinner, or return to the hospital until the late evening. And of course when they dined with friends they had no chance to talk…
The plain unhappy fact was that he didn’t enjoy her company. And yet when they had married he had made it very clear that he liked her well enough to marry her. Rachel was no longer a threat, but perhaps there was someone else? He was a man any girl would want to attract… She squashed the thought as unworthy. Perhaps there was something about her which annoyed him? And the best way to find out would be to ask him.
She chose to do it one evening when, after half an hour or so together in the drawing room after dinner, Ivo put down the newspaper he was reading.
‘I’ve some notes to look through…’
‘Before you go there’s something I want to ask you,’ said Serena, and now that she had got the words out she wished that she hadn’t spoken, because the look he gave her was suddenly intent.
‘Yes?’
She must have been mistaken about the look; his voice
was as mild as milk. She put down her knitting and met his look.
‘There’s something not right,’ she began. ‘Have I done something which has annoyed you? Am I too dull? Perhaps I don’t behave as I should when we go out, or wear the wrong clothes. Whatever it is I wish you would tell me and I’ll put it right.’ She added in a voice which had become a little sharp, ‘I think you are avoiding me. Oh, not just being with me, I mean when we’re together you’re remote.’ She sighed. ‘I’m not explaining very well, am I?’ And when he didn’t speak she added carefully, ‘I don’t want to intrude on your life. That was partly why you married me, wasn’t it? To be a friend and a companion but not a real wife. And I thought it was working out very well.’
‘Tell me, Serena, are you quite content with our marriage?’
He showed no signs of anger, only interest.
Serena longed to shout No at him. How could she be content when she loved him so much? Faced with the years ahead and never being allowed to tell him. Instead she said, ‘Yes, I am,’ and went rather red because she didn’t lie easily.
Ivo got out of his chair and stood in front of her chair, towering over her so that she had to crane her neck to look at him.
He was smiling. ‘Well, I’m not…’ And the phone rang.
Ivo van Doelen wasn’t a man who swore habitually, but now he let out a robust Dutch oath which fortunately Serena didn’t understand, but his voice was quiet as he answered it, listened, replied briefly. He said, ‘I must go at once,’ and was out of the room before she could open her mouth.
She would wait up for him, she decided. He might be back within an hour or so. Now that she had broken the ice they could talk—at least she could do the talking. She wasn’t sure if he had been listening, for all he had done was ask if she were content…
But when the stoelklok chimed eleven she gave up the idea; he would be too tired to listen, too tired to talk. She went up to bed; perhaps in the morning she would try again…
