Discovering Daisy

by Betty Neels

  She didn’t like Helene, for a start, which seemed unkind considering how gracious that lady had been. She didn’t think that Mr der Huizma would be happy with her, despite her beauty and elegance. It was no concern of hers, though. And probably they were ideally suited; Helene would undoubtedly grace this lovely old house and be a perfect hostess. Her thoughts became rather muddled with worrying about the wine cooler and how she was to get home once they reached England. She really should have settled the matter before agreeing to go with Mr der Huizma, although, come to think of it, she hadn’t been given the opportunity…

  Joop came presently with a tray of tea, enquiring if her headache was better and if there was anything she required. Daisy, who hadn’t got a headache, thanked him politely and said, ‘No, thank you.’

  She drank her tea and wondered how long she should stay in the room—until they left that evening? Was she to have her dinner on a tray as well?

  Questions which were answered by Mr der Huizma, who came in quietly and sat down opposite her.

  ‘You must forgive me. I had no idea that you had a headache and were feeling tired.’

  Daisy spoke without thinking. ‘Oh, but I’m not in the least tired, and my head doesn’t ache. Helene—you don’t mind me calling her that?—was kind enough to suggest that I might like to rest for a bit.’

  She wasn’t sure if she liked the look on his face, but he said pleasantly, ‘In that case shall we have a drink before dinner?’

  ‘That would be lovely. I like this room.’

  ‘My mother uses it when she visits me…’

  Daisy smiled. ‘There, I had a feeling that it was lived in, if you know what I mean—writing letters and sewing and knitting, and just being happy.’

  He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘You are quite right, of course.’

  They had their drinks, and presently dined, and then Daisy was led away by Jette so that she could get ready for the journey. The wine cooler was checked, her case put into the boot, and she herself stowed neatly in the car. Such luxury, thought Daisy happily, and then wondered not so happily if she would need to sustain a conversation all the way to the Hoek.

  She need not have worried. Beyond making sure that she was comfortable, Mr der Huizma seemed happy enough with his thoughts; his austere profile certainly discouraged small talk.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  AFTER a while Daisy discovered that the silence between them was a restful one; the kind of silence between old friends who had no need to talk. She gave a small sigh of content and allowed her thoughts to wander. Father would be pleased about the cooler. Getting it from Harwich might be a bit difficult, but at least she would be back in England. Perhaps it would be a good idea to phone him and ask him to drive up to Harwich and collect her and it. It struck her then that she hadn’t thought about that before, and Mr der Huizma had been a bit arbitrary, hadn’t he? Still, never look a gift horse in the mouth. The most difficult part of the journey would be over by the time they got to Harwich.

  At the Hoek he bade her stay in the car in a pleasant voice which none the less brooked no argument. He was gone for some time and she began to get uneasy. Just as she was wondering if she should go and look for him, he reappeared.

  ‘We can go on board,’ he told her.

  ‘I haven’t shown anyone my ticket…’

  ‘I have tickets. You can cash yours in when we get to Harwich.’

  ‘And pay you back,’said Daisy smartly, not wishing to be beholden.

  ‘As you wish.’He had joined the queue of cars going aboard, and presently she found herself being urged up the stairs to the deck above. She would have paused here, but he told her, ‘The top deck,’ and led the way, carrying her overnight bag.

  It was quiet there, with only a stewardess in sight to lead them to their cabins. Mr der Huizma nodded briefly as the woman opened a door. ‘I’ll see you in the restaurant in ten minutes,’he said and went on down the corridor to his own cabin.

  Daisy looked around her. The cabin was small but very comfortable. First class, she supposed and wondered how much it would cost. And where was the restaurant? And supposing she hadn’t wanted to go to it?

  She brushed her mousy hair smooth, did her face and sat down on the bed. The ten minutes was already up but she really didn’t see why she should go to the restaurant if she didn’t want to. The trouble was, she did want to. She was hungry, for one thing, and for another, despite his silence, she quite liked being with Mr der Huizma.

  He was there, waiting for her, very much at ease, coming to meet her as she hesitated in the doorway.

  ‘A drink? It might be a good idea as the crossing is sometimes rough at this time of year.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Daisy. ‘It was quite rough when I crossed with the screen, but I wasn’t sick.’

  His thin mouth twitched slightly. ‘How about a dry sherry? And it is always a good idea to have a meal.’

  They ate presently, talking a little about one thing and another, never once mentioning her stay in Amsterdam, and as soon as their meal was finished Daisy said that she would like to go to her cabin.

  He made no attempt to keep her. ‘We dock around seven o’clock. Someone will bring you some tea and toast about half past six. We’ll have breakfast later.’He didn’t give her the chance to say anything but bade her goodnight abruptly. This question of breakfast would have to be settled in the morning. Once they were at Harwich she would collect the wine cooler and find somewhere quiet, phone her father and do whatever he thought best.

  It was going to be a rough crossing. She got into her narrow bed feeling squeamish, but she was tired too; she was asleep before she could decide whether she felt seasick or not.

  She was awakened by the stewardess with tea and toast and warned that the ferry would be docking shortly. ‘A nasty rough crossing,’ said the stewardess.

  Certainly the ferry was still rolling around, making dressing a lengthy business, but the tea and toast stayed down and she felt her usual self. Finding her way on deck, she wondered if Mr der Huizma had slept too, and decided that he had. Somehow she couldn’t associate him with being sick…

  She saw him at once, leaning over the rail watching the ferry edging its way into the harbour. But he must have had eyes at the back of his head, for he turned round to look at her as she crossed the deck.

  There was something about her, he reflected, which intrigued him. Certainly not her looks, although she had a delightful smile and her eyes were lovely; large and sparkling and… He sought for a word—kind. Helene had dismissed her as a dull girl, badly dressed and too reserved, but he knew that wasn’t true. There was nothing dull about Daisy, and although her clothes were off the peg they were in good taste and she wore them with elegance. He found himself wishing that he knew more about her.

  He went to meet her and they stood together watching the quay getting nearer. Presently they went down to the car deck and got into the Rolls. There would be a short delay before they could disembark; the opportunity Daisy was hoping for.

  ‘If you wouldn’t mind letting me get out once we are through Customs—and the wine cooler, of course?’

  ‘And then what will you do, Daisy?’ he wanted to know.

  ‘Phone Father…’

  ‘I phoned him yesterday before we left. I’m driving you home—you and your wine cooler.’

  She turned to look at him. ‘But it’s miles; you can’t possibly do that.’

  ‘I’m spending the night with friends—remember I have stayed with them before? When we went walking on the shore?’

  ‘Oh, well. That would be nice. Why didn’t you tell me before?’

  ‘Because I rather think that you would have flatly refused to come.’

  She considered this. ‘Yes, I think that perhaps I might have.’ She smiled at him. ‘But I’m really glad to have a lift all the way home. Thank you.’

  ‘Don’t thank me. I’m glad of the company.’

  ‘Are you really? But you do
n’t talk. I thought you were annoyed at having to offer me a lift.’

  ‘Not at all, Daisy. But you are not a girl who expects to be entertained with small talk, are you?’

  ‘No. And I don’t mind if you don’t say a word.

  There’s always such a lot to think about.’

  Mr der Huizma glanced at her and agreed gravely. He had a lot to think about too.

  They were through Customs and on the way to Colchester when he suggested that they might stop for breakfast. He took her to Le Brasserie and they ate a splendid breakfast before going on to Chelmsford, Brentwood and the ring road. The M25 was busy as he skirted round the north of the city to join the M3, and presently theA303. ‘I’ll turn off at Salisbury,’he told her.

  They stopped at Fleet for coffee, and took the A303. There wasn’t a great deal of traffic now that they were well away from London, and Mr der Huizma drove fast, saying little, leaving Daisy to look out at the wintry landscape. Once he had turned off to Salisbury she allowed her excitement at coming home to take over. She hadn’t been away for long, but such a lot had happened; it would be nice to settle down to her usual quiet life. At least, she amended, for a time. Her visit to Amsterdam had given her a taste for foreign travel…

  Once through Salisbury Mr der Huizma slowed the car’s pace and Daisy gave him an enquiring look. They still had a long way to go. Surely it would have been quicker to keep to the A303?

  ‘Lunch,’ he told her briefly. ‘There’s a good restaurant just before we rejoin the A303.’

  He stopped in a smallish village and turned in through the open gates of a large house in its centre. Inside there was a welcoming fire in the bar and a pretty dining room. Daisy sighed with pleasure and went off to the Ladies, then rejoined him at the bar to drink sherry and peruse the menu.

  The food was excellent. There were other people lunching, just enough to make the place feel cosy, and the log fire made nonsense of the cold grey day. And Mr der Huizma, abandoning his silence, became once again the man who had been such a pleasant companion walking along the shore…

  They drove on then, turning off before Exeter and making for the coast through narrow Devon lanes.

  ‘Mother will be delighted to give you tea,’said Daisy as he turned the car into the country road which would lead to her home.

  ‘That is very kind, but I should get on. I shall be staying with my friends for a couple of days.’

  Daisy blushed, for he had spoken in his usual quiet manner but she sensed a snub. She had been silly; of course he wouldn’t want to stay for tea. He had given her a lift home but that was no reason to suppose that he would wish to take the matter further. She said, ‘Yes, of course,’in a wooden voice, and added the remark that it would soon be dark.

  Mr der Huizma had seen the blush and had a very good idea of what Daisy was thinking. He need not have been quite so brusque; indeed, he would have enjoyed meeting her father again, and her mother, and he had to admit that he regretted that he wouldn’t see Daisy again. Which was a good thing, he reminded himself. He was beginning to find her too interesting…

  The main street of the little town was deserted when he stopped outside the antiques shop. The window was still lighted, and the door was opened at once and Mr Gillard came out to the car.

  Mr der Huizma got out and opened Daisy’s door, and stood quietly while Daisy was hugged and exclaimed over. But then Mr Gillard turned to him and wrung his hand. ‘So good of you,’he declared, ‘we are so grateful. Come along in—there’s tea waiting.’

  Mr der Huizma gave a mental shrug. Another half-hour of Daisy’s company would do no harm. After all he would never see her again. He followed the older man into the shop.

  Daisy had run upstairs to her mother. ‘It’s so lovely to be home,’she declared. ‘And I’ve such a lot to tell you…’

  She broke off as her father and Mr der Huizma came into the room and smiled widely at him, because he had changed his mind after all. And he, seeing the smile, wished very much that their paths would not lie so far apart. He had a fleeting image of Helene then, reminding him that such a wish was something he must forget.

  They had tea, and he sat by Mrs Gillard, answering her questions about Daisy, assuring her that no harm had been done and then telling Mr Gillard about Heer Friske and the wine cooler—which remark led easily enough to a brief chat about antiques. And all the time Daisy sat quietly, saying very little, wishing that time would stand still so that Mr der Huizma could stay for ever.

  But of course it didn’t. Presently he got up, thanked her mother for his tea, offered to unload the wine cooler and then shook Daisy’s hand and wished her goodbye too, in a friendly voice devoid of warmth.

  Then he had gone.

  Daisy started to clear away the tea things and her mother went to the window to watch their guest drive away. ‘A lovely car,’she observed, ‘and what a very nice man, love. I suppose his being a doctor makes him have such beautiful manners.’

  Daisy said that, yes, she supposed so, in such a quiet voice that her mother gave her a quick glance and added, ‘Well, you’ll be able to tell us all about it this evening, dear. You run along and unpack your things and I’ll see about supper. You must have a great deal to tell us.’

  And indeed Daisy spent the rest of the evening giving a faithful account of her stay in Holland, making much over the delivery of the screen and her visits to Heer Friske, but glossing over her encounters with Mr der Huizma.

  Mr der Huizma, dining with his friends that evening, told them his version of his various encounters with Daisy. ‘You didn’t mind my coming at such short notice? I knew Daisy from my previous visit—you remember that hotel where we dined together? We met there, and as you know I saw her several times while I was staying here. I felt that the least I could do was to see her safely back home with this wine cooler.’

  His hostess said gently, ‘Poor girl, falling in the canal and then being mugged. Such a nice sensible girl too. She is very well liked, you know, but funnily enough as far as I know she hasn’t any boyfriends. Of course young men want pretty faces…’

  It was at breakfast the following morning that Mr der Huizma was asked by his hostess if a date had been set for his wedding.

  ‘Helene is in no hurry to marry; she leads a busy social life—she will be going to Switzerland to ski, and then some friends of hers have invited her to go to California.’

  His host chipped in. ‘A pity. I don’t suppose Gillard told you last night—he’s not a man to boast—but when I was there last week he showed me a really beautiful diamond brooch—a perfect bow—just the kind of gift a bridegroom would give his bride. Funnily enough I thought of your Helene—such a beautiful woman. He bought it from the Lancey-Courtneys; they’ve been selling a good deal of stuff lately. It belonged to a great-great-grandmother, I believe, and no one in the family liked it.’ He chuckled. ‘I was tempted to mortgage this house and buy it for Grace.’He smiled at his wife. ‘But she persuaded me not to.’

  Mr der Huizma passed his cup for more coffee. ‘It sounds exactly the kind of thing Helene would like to have. Perhaps I’d better take a look at it.’

  It would mean seeing Daisy again. He smiled at the thought…

  Daisy, tying price tickets on a collection of small china figures, looked round at the tinkle of the doorbell. Her father was in his office, she had slipped back into her accustomed routine, and already Amsterdam seemed a dream. The sight of Mr der Huizma, wandering through the crowded shop towards her, made the dream reality. She put down the china ornament, aware that her hand wasn’t quite steady, but she wished him good morning in a normal voice.

  His good morning was friendly. ‘Busy already, Daisy? Do you not take a holiday from time to time?’

  ‘Well, going to Holland was like a holiday. Do you want to see Father?’

  ‘I’ve been told he has a brooch I would like to see…’ She fetched her father then, and went back to her pricing, and the two men went into the office. Sh
e wondered why; perhaps her journey home had cost more than her ticket, and then there had been their meals. Her father would probably insist on paying for them. But why should Mr der Huizma come to the shop? She was sure her father hadn’t suggested it on the previous evening.

  The office door opened and her father called, ‘Daisy, come here, will you?’

  The two men were standing at his desk, looking down at the brooch lying in its bed of dark blue velvet. It shone and sparkled and she said involuntarily, ‘Oh, what a pretty thing.’

  Her father touched it with a gentle finger. ‘Yes, it is. It’s also very dirty.’ He glanced at Mr der Huizma. ‘I couldn’t let you have it in this state. When did you want it?’

  Mr der Huizma’s voice sounded remote. ‘It is to be a wedding gift to my bride. There is no great hurry, however, we are unlikely to marry before the summer. But I should like to buy it.’ He paused, and the sudden idea in his head became vital action. ‘I shall be returning home later today, but may I leave it with you to clean? I see no chance of coming this way for some time, though. Perhaps Daisy could bring it over when it is ready?’ He smiled suddenly. ‘She has proved herself a splendid custodian for the screen and the wine cooler, and the brooch wouldn’t be difficult to transport.’

  ‘Well, I don’t see why she shouldn’t do that. The brooch will take some time to clean—a couple of weeks…’

  The two men looked at Daisy, Mr der Huizma with his eyebrows gently raised, her father fondly. She saw that she was supposed to say something.

  ‘Yes, of course I’ll take it,’ said Daisy, and at the same moment Mr der Huizma knew that nothing on earth would allow him to let Daisy travel alone with the brooch—she could be mugged again, injured. He realised that the brooch didn’t matter, but Daisy did. Behind his placid features his clever head was already full of half-formed plans.