by Betty Neels
‘I shall be just as busy then as I am now,’ he pointed out.
She gave a little laugh. ‘Don’t be silly, Jules. You can give up all that hospital work once we’re married and build up your private practice. We shall have time and leisure to see more of our friends.’
Mr der Huizma thought privately that that was the last thing he wished to do; he had friends of his own, sober, married men with families and comfortable wives, as involved in their work as he was in his. He didn’t particularly like Helene’s friends, although he had done his best to do so, and he had thought in a vague way that once they were married she would take an interest in his friends and his work. It struck him forcibly now that that didn’t seem likely. It seemed hardly the time to argue about it; he made his polite goodbyes to Helene’s parents and drove with her to the dinner party.
‘A wasted evening,’ he told the faithful Bouncer much later, walking with him round the quiet streets near his house. There must be something wrong with him, since he had been unable to enjoy the light-hearted dinner table talk. Some of it had been malicious, and some of it had sparkled with wit, but no one there had said anything which meant anything. To be amused and amusing was all that was required.
It was some time later, as he was on his way up to bed, that he paused on the staircase to wonder why he had wanted to marry Helene and if he had ever been in love with her. It was a sobering thought to take to his bed. It should have kept him awake, but he was a tired man, and strangely enough it was Daisy’s face which imposed itself upon his last waking moments.
Two days later Dr Brem pronounced Daisy fit to go home, and, meeting Mr der Huizma on his way into the hospital, told him.
‘Not immediately?’
‘No, no. She has arrangements to make, of course, but her new passport came today and she has received money for her journey. Another couple of days, I should think. You’re going to see her again?’
‘Yes. I’m off to Utrecht this evening, but I’ll be back before she leaves.’
‘Nice little thing,’ said Dr Brem. ‘We shall miss her—been no trouble at all.’
Daisy, setting about the business of getting herself and the wine cooler back home, wondered if Mr der Huizma would come to see her again. By the end of the following day, all ready to leave the next morning, she had to admit that he wasn’t coming. She had told Sister that she had arranged to leave on the night ferry, and when that lady had wanted to know where she intended to spend her day until then had said, not quite truthfully, that she would be with a friend of her father’s.
‘Well, take care,’ said Sister the next day, and shook hands briskly. After all, Daisy was a grown woman, and able to look after herself—despite her regrettable way of encountering accidents.
Ten minutes after Daisy left the hospital, Mr der Huizma parked his car in its forecourt, went to have a word with his registrar and then to see Daisy.
‘She left not half an hour ago,’ Sister told him. ‘Dr Brem told her she could go home, though he advised her to stay another day or two. But she had everything arranged within a day—said she wanted to get back to England. She’s going over on the night ferry.’
‘It’s only eleven o’clock in the morning,’ Mr der Huizma pointed out.
‘Yes, I know. I asked her what she intended doing all day and she said she would spend it with a friend of her father’s.’
Mr der Huizma had a moment’s regret for the pleasant free day he had planned for himself. Daisy would most certainly go to collect the wretched wine cooler, and he had a fleeting vision of her transporting it and herself back to England. And probably having another accident…
When he went into Heer Friske’s shop, he was standing on one side of the wine cooler, now wrapped in sacking and stout cardboard, and Daisy was on the other side. They both looked round as he went in. Heer Friske said nothing, but Daisy said, ‘Oh’, in an annoyed voice.
Undeterred by this cool reception, Mr der Huizma crossed the small shop to join them.
‘Wondering what on earth to do with it?’ he asked cheerfully.
Daisy shot him a cold look. ‘Certainly not. All my arrangements are made.’
Mr der Huizma glanced at Heer Friske, who shrugged his shoulders. ‘Miss Gillard is happy to take the wine cooler with her—who am I to stop her?’
Mr der Huizma smiled a little. ‘I am travelling to England by the midnight ferry from the Hoek,’ he said smoothly. ‘I shall be happy to take Miss Gillard and the wine cooler in the car with me.’
‘Quite unnecessary,’ said Daisy quickly. ‘Thank you all the same. I’m quite able to travel as I have already planned.’
‘Oh, I’m sure of that. I have no doubt you are capable of doing anything you wish, but why be pig-headed about it? It’s of no consequence to me if you come or not; I’m merely making a practical suggestion.’
He didn’t wait for her answer. While she was seeking one he nodded again at Heer Friske, who picked up the wine cooler and carried it out of the shop.
‘Where is he taking it?’
Daisy started after him, but somehow Mr der Huizma was in the way.
‘To my car. Be sensible, Daisy.’
‘That’s all very well, but I don’t know where you’re taking it.’
‘We will take it to my house, where you will remain as my guest until it is time to leave for the ferry.’ He sounded so reasonable.
‘Indeed I won’t,’ said Daisy roundly. ‘Whatever next? You must have no wish to have me as a guest, and what about your wife…?’
‘I am not married,’said Mr der Huizma mildly, ‘and I can’t think why you should imagine that I don’t want you as a guest. I don’t remember ever saying so.’
He uttered this in such matter-of-fact tones that she believed him. ‘Well, it’s very kind of you.’
‘Not at all.We will go to my home now, and if you wish to spend the day shopping or sightseeing, feel free to do so. Although perhaps it would be sensible if you were to lunch with me so that we can discuss the journey.We shall need to leave soon after eight o’clock this evening.’
She found herself on the pavement outside the shop, watching Heer Friske stowing the wine cooler and her suitcase in the boot of the Rolls, and presently, after suitable goodbyes had been exchanged she was in the car, sitting beside a silent Mr der Huizma.
It wasn’t an unpleasant silence, rather she found it reassuring, so that she allowed her thoughts to simmer gently without bothering her too much. It had all happened rather quickly, and soon she would probably have second thoughts, but of course by then it would be too late to do anything. Besides, the wine cooler was in the car, and getting it out again would present a problem even if she decided to change her mind. Upon rather dreamy reflection about this, she decided that it would be foolish to do that.
Mr der Huizma drew up before his house, got out of the car and opened her door. She stood for a moment on the pavement and looked up at it. It was very old, in a row of old houses each with a different gable, their windows gleaming, their paintwork pristine. She mounted the stone steps beside him and the heavy old door with its handsome transom was opened as they reached it.
Mr der Huizma, who usually let himself into his home, hid a smile. He bade Joop good morning in his own language and turned to Daisy. ‘This is Joop, who runs my home with his wife, Jette. He speaks English, and if I am not around he will help you in any way.
‘Miss Gillard will be travelling over to England with me this evening, Joop. On the night ferry.’
Joop’s severe expression didn’t alter. ‘Very good, mijnheer. I will bring coffee to the drawing room. If Miss Gillard would like to come with me, I will fetch Jette.’
Mr der Huizma had picked up a pile of letters from the console table against one wall and was leafing through them. ‘Yes, do that, Joop.’He nodded at Daisy. ‘See you in five minutes or so, Daisy. Joop will show you where to go.’
Daisy was handed over to a stout middle-aged woman with a round chee
rful face and small dark eyes who trotted her off to a cloakroom tucked away at the end of a long hallway, smiled and nodded, and shut the door on her. Daisy tidied her already tidy person, peered for a brief moment in the mirror and decided that she looked plainer than usual, then went into the hall again to find Jette waiting for her. She in turn handed her over to Joop, who led the way back down the hall to a pair of splendid double doors which he opened with all the pomp one would have expected for the entrance of the fairy queen.
Daisy slipped past him and stood for a moment looking around her. The room appeared empty except for a small, unusual-looking dog who came to meet her, looking pleased.
Daisy stooped to pat him. ‘What a splendid fellow you are,’ she told him, and advanced a few steps into the room. It was large and high ceilinged, with two tall windows draped in claret velvet curtains. There was a scattering of comfortable chairs and small tables, a very beautiful rent table between the windows, and two display cabinets on either side of the great fireplace. Daisy, her small nose twitching with interest, took a few more steps.
‘Eighteen-century marquetry and in perfect condition,’ she informed the dog.
She squeaked with surprise when Mr der Huizma observed, ‘Quite right. Rather nice, aren’t they?’
He had been standing in a doorway at the end of the room, watching her, and added, ‘I see Bouncer has made friends. You like dogs?’
‘Yes, yes, I do. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to pry.’
‘Hardly that, surely. Now if you had opened one of the cabinets and taken out some of the contents I might possibly have taken umbrage.’
Daisy said. ‘You speak such good English. I mean, you use words which quite a few English people don’t often use.’
‘Thank you, Daisy. That is probably because I’m a Dutchman. Here’s Joop with the coffee. Come and sit over here and decide what you wish to do with your day.’
‘Don’t you have to work?’
She chose a small armchair covered in tapestry and Bouncer came and sat at her feet.
‘No. I have been in Utrecht. Now I have a day or so free.’
She poured coffee from a very beautiful little silver coffee pot. Early eighteenth century? she thought. And the cups and saucers—fine, paper-thin porcelain. She handled them delicately and supposed it would be rude if she were to ask about them.
‘The coffee pot is 1625 and the cups and saucers are later—around seventeen-hundred.’
‘They’re very lovely. Are you not afraid of breaking them?’
‘No. They are in constant use. Jette doesn’t allow anyone else to wash them but herself.’
‘So many people hide their treasures away in cupboards…’
‘In which case they might just as well be smashed. Have one of these biscuits—Jette is a splendid cook.’
Daisy drank the delicious coffee and ate the biscuits. She felt that she should be feeling awkward or annoyed at having her plans changed so ruthlessly—or even shy…but she felt remarkably at ease. In fact, she was enjoying herself…
Presently Mr der Huizma begged to be excused while he saw to his letters and made some phone calls. ‘If you don’t wish to go out, feel free to do what you want here. There’s a library across the hall, with books and papers and magazines, and if you would like, Joop will show you the door into the garden.’
‘A garden? Here behind the house? I’d like to see it, if it’s not a bother.’
‘Joop shall take you to the garden door.’
She was led through a narrow door beside the staircase, down a couple of steps and along a paved passage. The house went back a long way from the street, with windows in the oddest places. When Joop opened the door onto the garden she could see that although it was narrow it was a good length. Beautifully laid out, too, with narrow brick paths on either side of a small lawn and on either side of the paths flowerbeds backing onto high brick walls. She walked down to the end and found a little arbour and a small pond with a fountain—not running water, of course. The pond was sheltered by a trellis of roses.
In summer it would be a delightful place in which to sit and do nothing, reflected Daisy, and despite the chilly day she sat down in the arbour. This was a lovely house. She corrected herself—a lovely home. A grand house, splendidly furnished, but lived in and loved. When Mr der Huizma married—and of course he would—his wife would be the happiest woman on earth. Daisy, quite carried away, started to daydream aloud.
‘Fancy sitting here on a summer’s day. There would be a baby in a pram, and two or three children running around, and Bouncer, and perhaps a cat and kittens…’
Mr der Huizma, pausing on the path to listen to this, observed mildly, ‘It sounds delightful, but surely rather crowded?’
Daisy felt a fool. ‘I was just pretending. Don’t you ever pretend?’
‘Not enough. I must cultivate the habit. Do you like my garden?’
‘It’s perfect.’
‘Come with me; I’ll show you something.’ He took her to an ancient door in the end wall, drew its bolts, turned its great key, and opened it. Outside there was a paved space, and beyond that a canal. There were steps too, and at the bottom of them a small boat.
‘Your back door?’ hazarded Daisy, and, when he nodded, ‘Of course, long ago it must have been a sort of tradesman’s entrance. What a splendid idea. Do you use it?’
‘Seldom—although when I was a small boy I used to row myself out into the main canals.’
Daisy stared at the still dark water. ‘Your mother must have been terrified.’
‘So she has frequently told me.’
She wanted to ask him about his boyhood, his mother, his family, but instead she asked how far away the main canal was, and listened intelligently when he explained.
They went back into the garden presently, and then into the house to sit in his lovely drawing room and sip sherry and talk about any number of things.
Daisy, her tongue loosened by the sherry, her annoyance forgotten, told him a good deal more about herself than she realised, and Mr der Huizma, enjoying himself, egged her on.
They lunched in a rather grand dining room, with a rectangular table, lovely ribbon-backed chairs, a massive side-table and family portraits on its panelled walls. Daisy, undeterred by the ancestors looking down upon her, ate her toast and pâté, scrambled eggs and smoked salmon, and thin slices of cheese with croissants warm in their basket, drank the coffee Joop offered her, and then, at her host’s suggestion, followed him into the library.
A smallish dim room, lined with bookshelves, with a large leather-covered table ringed by comfortable chairs—and a set of George the Third library steps, which her professional eye lighted upon with interest.
There were books in abundance, and the table was covered with newspapers, magazines and a variety of journals; she could have spent the day there very happily. She roamed round while Mr der Huizma settled himself into a chair, waiting patiently until she had had her fill. Only then did he get up.
‘I’ve a history of this house.Would you like to see it?’
‘Oh, yes, please. Is it a first edition?’
‘Yes, and written in Dutch, but some of the drawings are interesting.’
They were bending over it, Daisy absorbed while he translated from the Dutch, when the door was opened. He looked up and said, ‘Why, Helene, this is a surprise,’and crossed the room to meet the woman who had entered.
Daisy had looked up too. Here was the living image of what she so longed to be. Perfection, no less—tall, blonde and beautiful, dressed exquisitely with simple elegance, slim as a wand. Daisy added the thought that she was too thin, bony in fact. Just a little more shape would have made her quite perfect. Perhaps, thought Daisy, Mr der Huizma liked very thin women.
She glanced down at her own well-rounded person and sighed.
Mr der Huizma was speaking. ‘Daisy, come and meet Helene van Tromp—my fiancée.’ He had a hand on Helene’s arm. ‘Helene, this is Daisy Gillard
, who has been here dealing with the buying and selling of antiques—she is an expert.’
Daisy offered a hand and smiled. Helene smiled too, only the smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘How interesting. Have you bought something from this house? I do hope so; I dislike all this old furniture.’
Daisy said in a shocked voice, ‘But no one would want to sell anything in this house; it’s full of treasures.’
Helene looked at Mr der Huizma. ‘So why is she here?’
‘Daisy is here because I am giving her a lift back to England on the night ferry.’
Helene, for a split second, didn’t look beautiful. ‘Oh?’She glanced at Daisy. ‘Did you fall under Jules’s car or faint on his doorstep?’
Daisy said matter-of-factly, ‘No, nothing like that. I fell in a canal and Mr der Huizma hauled me out and took me to the hospital. Oh, and then I got mugged. He heard that I was going back to England today and offered me a lift, that’s all!’
Helene stared at her for a moment, and then smiled. A dull girl, with no looks to speak of, and obviously she hadn’t succumbed to Jules’s charm, nor was she impressed by his obvious wealth. Daisy was dismissed as not worth bothering about.
Mr der Huizma was called away then, to take an urgent phone call, and Helene seized her chance. ‘You must be tired,’she said sweetly. ‘Why don’t you go and have a rest? You have a long journey before you.’
She took Daisy’s arm, led her to the door and opened it. ‘There’s a small sitting room no one uses; you can curl up on a sofa and have a nap. I’ll tell Joop to bring you a cup of tea later.’
Daisy wasn’t in the least tired, but it was obvious that Helene wanted to get rid of her—which in all fairness was quite understandable. Daisy supposed that if she were engaged to someone like Mr der Huizma she would want to keep him to herself. She allowed herself to be drawn across the hall and into another room.
‘No one will disturb you,’ said Helene softly, and shut the door on her.
The room was, comparatively speaking, small. It was also delightfully cosy, with comfortable chairs, a little writing desk and a round table upon which was a bowl of flowers. It was pleasantly warm too, and Daisy sat down in one of the chairs and looked around her. Helene had said it was a room which was seldom used, but it seemed to her to be very lived in. There were books scattered around, and magazines, but she didn’t bother with them; she had plenty to occupy her thoughts.
