by Betty Neels
So Daisy spent a short while giving him news of her father and mother and the shop, while Mevrouw Friske sat and knitted, only half understanding but ready with a smile or a motherly word or two, and presently she bade the nice old couple goodnight and went up the steep little staircase to her bed.
And later, tucked up cosily under the quilt, she thought about Mr der Huizma. He would be with Helene, she supposed, and the brooch would be sparkling on Helene’s too thin bosom. No doubt they would discuss the date for their wedding. It would be a grand affair; she felt sure that Helene had any number of friends and family. About Mr der Huizma she wasn’t so sure; he had barely mentioned his family, never discussed anything to do with his private life, in fact. Perhaps he wasn’t close to his family…
In this she was mistaken. He was even at that moment sitting at his ease, with Bouncer lying on his feet, in a great chair on one side of a vast fireplace in a large and elegant room in a house in the country close to Hilversum. It was a square, solid house, with green shutters at its many windows and a vast door reached by double steps, and it stood in large well-kept grounds. The other occupant of the room sat on the other side of the cheerful fire, placidly knitting. A small, rather plump lady, with an elegant hairstyle, no looks to speak of but dressed with great good taste.
She nodded to the elderly woman who had brought in the coffee tray and observed, ‘Well, Jules, now that you are here, you must tell me about your trip to England. Your phone call was brief…’
‘Dearest, all my phone calls are brief, otherwise I’d never get through my days. I should be home now, catching up on tomorrow’s case-sheets, but it seems some time since we saw each other…’
‘A month ago,’ said his mother, rather tartly. ‘You had intended to come a week ago, but Helene had arranged something.’
‘Yes. I’m sorry about that. She will be going to California shortly; I’ll make it up to you then.’
His mother smiled. ‘Jules, dear, it is unkind of me to grumble—I know what a busy life you lead. Tell me, did you have a good journey? You went rather suddenly.’
He began to tell her then. ‘The brooch is very beautiful; I must let you see it. And since I was going to fetch it, it seemed sense to bring Daisy back with me.’
‘Daisy?’
‘I must explain about her…’ Which he did, at some length. ‘I think you would like her.’
‘Is she pretty?’
‘No, but she has lovely eyes, a great deal of brown hair and a pretty voice.’
His mother kept her eyes on her knitting. ‘She sounds a very nice girl. Quite clever at her work too, I expect.’
‘Yes, she is.’
She peeped at her son and saw his smile. ‘How did you meet?’
He told her that too. ‘And we met again by accident out walking. She doesn’t mind the wind and the rain.’
‘Then she should like Holland!’said his mother, and they both laughed.
His mother asked presently, ‘You will be seeing Helene as soon as possible, of course? I am sure she will be delighted with the brooch—or do you intend giving it to her on your marriage?’
‘I think that for the moment I will keep it safe. Helene hasn’t decided on a date yet.’
His mother murmured something vague in reply and hoped secretly that Helene would never decide. She had accepted her as a future daughter-in-law because she was devoted to Jules and wanted him to be happy, but she had never liked her—although she had to admit that she was beautiful and, when she wished, charming. She hadn’t wasted much charm on her future mother-in-law, though, and barely suppressed her boredom when she visited with Jules, making it plain that she found the house old-fashioned. But she had been careful to do this when Jules hadn’t been there. She thought sadly that Helene would do nothing to encourage Jules in his work, nor would she put up with the continuous interruptions which were all part and parcel of his life.
He got up to go then, with a promise that he would visit her again as soon as he could.
‘Do, Jules. If Helene is away and you are free on a Sunday we could spend the day together.’
He went back home then, with Bouncer sitting beside him, and found himself wishing that it was Daisy sitting there.
When Daisy went down to breakfast the following morning she was told to go and enjoy herself. ‘Time enough to start work tomorrow,’said Heer Friske. ‘It is your chance to buy stamps and postcards, and see where the nearest shops are.’
So Daisy made her bed, tidied her room, helped Mevrouw Friske with the washing up and then took herself off to explore. She remembered from her first visit where the nearest shops were. There were shops all round Heer Friske’s; shops given over to antiques, like his, shops selling the kind of thing tourists wanted to buy—pictures, Delft china, modern silver—but the kind of shops she sought were at the end of the street some five minutes’ walk away. A post office, a stationer’s, a shabby little shop selling wool and haberdashery and cheap souvenirs, a bakery and a small supermarket.
Quite sufficient for her needs, she decided. There would be little chance to go to the Kalverstraat or Leidestraat and look in the elegant shop windows there, but since she had very little money she didn’t suppose that would matter. She bought stamps, postcards and an English newspaper, and went back to the shop. It was almost noon, and there was a delicious smell coming from the kitchen. She took her things to her room and offered to set the table for lunch. Presently Heer Friske came in and they sat down to thick pea soup, full of tiny pieces of sausage and pork, accompanied by thick slices of bread.
‘My wife makes the best echte soup in Amsterdam,’ observed Heer Friske, offering second helpings.
The shop opened the next day at eight-thirty, but there were only a few customers; Daisy looked and listened and stored away any amount of useful information. An old lady came in with a Delft plate. It was in mint condition and Heer Friske asked Daisy what she thought its value might be. She examined it carefully, looking for damage and repairs and finding neither, and named a sum, thankful for hours she had spent poring over Miller’s Antiques and the close attention she had always paid at auction sales.
Heer Friske looked pleased. ‘A fair estimate,’he told her. ‘When the shop is closed this evening we will look at what Delftware I have and you will learn more…’
So that evening, after a substantial meal of pork chops, red cabbage and boiled potatoes, followed by something Mevrouw Friske called ‘pudding’but which Daisy rechristened custard, they went back downstairs and inspected the Delft china. There wasn’t a great deal of it, but what there was was genuine and valuable. Daisy went to bed a good deal wiser about it, and lay in bed going over everything that Heer Friske had told her. She could see that there was a great deal that she must learn—but that was why she had come, wasn’t it?
Almost asleep, she amended that. She had come not only to increase her knowledge of antiques but so that she might have a chance of seeing Mr der Huizma once in a while. Amsterdam wasn’t such a very large city, and the hospital wasn’t far from the shop…
The week went quickly, and if the long hours in the shop were tiring, she knew that she was learning all the time. She had waited upon one or two customers— Americans, glad to find someone who spoke English and was willing to chat for a little while while they looked through the silver intent on taking back something from Holland. They were only small sales, but Daisy was delighted; she had broken the ice and felt that she was worth her small salary.
She had been told that she was to come and go as she wished on Sunday. The Friskes seldom went out, but family and friends visited them, and occasionally they spent the day with Mevrouw Friske’s sister. Daisy was given a key and told to get herself a meal if she felt inclined and there was no one home.
On that first Sunday she didn’t venture far. After breakfast she walked to the Oude Kerk and went back for the midday meal with the Friskes. She went out again in the afternoon, and took a tour of the canals in one of
the glass-topped boats, and afterwards found a small café where she had tea and a cream cake of gigantic proportions. And all the while she kept an eye open for Mr der Huizma…
She spent the evening watching Dutch television with the Friskes and went to bed early. Next week she would venture further afield. Perhaps take a train or a bus to Delft or den Haag. There were endless possibilities, she told herself.
She was getting into the swing of things now, and the next week went quickly. She was making herself useful in the shop, and when there were no customers she listened to Heer Friske explaining the history of marquetry and examining one or two fine specimens which were in the shop. And when Saturday came she made careful plans for Sunday. She would take a bus to Vollendam, a favourite venue for tourists, and a kind of showplace of Holland as it had been. The buses went from Central Station and she knew where that was. She would have a snack lunch there and come back in the afternoon, and then if there were still some hours to spare, she would go and look at the shops in Leidesgracht and Vijselstraat.
The last customer went and she started to take the more valuable antiques out of the window while Heer Friske locked up the takings and the valuable silver. When the phone rang he called her over. ‘For you, Daisy.’
She picked up the phone quickly; her mother had telephoned during the week, and there was no reason for her to ring again unless there was something wrong. She said, ‘Hullo,’in a worried voice, and then ‘hullo’again, in a quite different voice, when she heard who it was.
‘Jules der Huizma. I have a free day tomorrow; do you care to have a drive with me so that I can show you something of Holland?’
‘Oh, yes, please. I’d love to do that.’ Daisy was breathless with delight.
‘Good. I’ll pick you up at ten o’clock.’
‘I’ll be ready.’And then, as a thought struck her, she said, ‘But don’t you want to spend it with Helene? Is she coming too? She might not like it…’
He sounded faintly amused. ‘Helene is in California, but I am quite sure that she would have no objection to me taking you on a sightseeing trip.’
‘Oh, well. If you are sure…’
‘Quite sure,’ said Mr der Huizma. He put the phone down and addressed Bouncer. ‘We are going to have a day out, Bouncer, and we are going to enjoy every minute of it.’
He had spent two weeks thinking about Daisy. Sooner or later she would go back home and he need never see her again—indeed he must never see her again. He must forget her, or do his best to do so; she must never intrude into the future. A future with Helene as his wife. But he was not yet married.
Daisy was up early on Sunday morning, taking pains with her face and her hair, glad that it was a dry day, even if chilly, so that she could wear the coat and skirt. Sensible shoes, she decided, in case they did some walking, and the silk scarf her mother had given her to tie over her hair. There was always a wind in Holland, or so it seemed to her. She ate her breakfast under the Friskes’ kindly eyes and went pink with excitement when the doorbell rang.
Mr der Huizma came upstairs and spent ten minutes talking to the Friskes before asking her if she was ready, then whisking her down to the car and popping her into it. Bouncer was already there, pleased to see her, and he sat squashed between her and his master’s bulk.
‘He can sit in the back if you prefer?’
Daisy patted the silky head. ‘He would be lonely; besides, I like him. I wish we had a dog at home, but he would be needing walks and company…’
She looked around her as he drove through the quiet streets away from the centre of the city. ‘Where are we going?’
‘To the coast first. Zandvoort. We’ll have coffee there. Tell me, Daisy, are you happy with Heer Friske?’
‘Oh, yes. They are both so kind to me, and the shop’s quite busy—he’s well known, isn’t he? And I’m learning a lot—marquetry and Beidermeyer and I didn’t know that Holland had such an enormous variety of Delft blue. Heer Friske has an almost perfect eighteenth-century ewer, and some beautiful tiles. Father hasn’t any of those. Perhaps Heer Friske will let him have some; I could take them back when I go.’
Mr der Huizma glanced at her. ‘You are already thinking of returning to England?’
‘Heavens, no. I’d like to stay for a couple of months, if Heer Friske will have me. There’s so much that I don’t know.’She turned a beaming smile on him. ‘Isn’t it lucky that it isn’t raining? Are we going to take Bouncer for a run?’
‘Of course, but coffee first.’
Daisy, quite at her ease now, said, ‘I have a door key; the Friskes are going to visit friends and my dinner is all ready for me to warm up. Mevrouw Friske is so kind, and we get on so well. It’s a bit difficult sometimes, when we don’t quite understand each other, but I’m learning fast— just useful words. Dutch is a frightful language, isn’t it?’
‘So I have been told, but since it is my mother tongue I don’t feel qualified to comment.’
Daisy had gone bright pink. ‘I’m sorry, that was rude of me—although I didn’t mean it to be.’
‘I do know that, Daisy, and surely we are sufficiently acquainted by now to be at ease with each other?’
‘Well, I suppose we are acquainted, but it’s not like being friends.’She frowned. ‘It’s difficult to explain, but you’re you and I’m me…’
He didn’t pretend not to understand her. ‘Nevertheless, I believe that we are friends, Daisy.’
They were travelling along a country road and he pulled in onto the grass verge. He offered a large hand. ‘Friends, Daisy?’
She shook the hand and beamed at him. ‘Oh, yes, please.’
‘And now that is settled once and for all, you might call me Jules?’
‘All right, I will,’ she went on. ‘You know, I have always felt that we were friends, only I didn’t think you had thought about it.’
Mr der Huizma reflected that he had thought about it a great deal during the last two weeks or so, but he didn’t say so. He said briskly, ‘We’re going to Leiden now. I was a student at the medical school there; it’s a charming little town. We won’t stop, though, since we shall lunch in Delft.’
All the same he did stop obligingly so that she might see the Burcht, a twelfth-century mound with a fortress on the top, right in the middle of the town, and he stopped again so that she might have a glimpse of the Rapenburg Canal and the university and the museum.
‘Were you happy there?’ asked Daisy.
‘Yes. I go back from time to time; it’s full of pleasant memories.’
He drove on to Delft then, parking near the Grote Markt and taking her to a small restaurant where she could see both the town hall and the Nieuwe Kerk standing facing each other across the market square.
He didn’t ask her what she would like to eat. ‘This is a typical Dutch meal,’ he told her. ‘I hope you’re hungry.’
She was, which was a good thing, for presently a waitress brought two large plates covered by vast pancakes dotted with tiny bits of crisp bacon. She also brought a big pot of dark syrup.
Mr der Huizma ladled the syrup onto the pancakes. ‘It looks crazy but it tastes delicious,’he told her.And it was.
Daisy ate all of it with an enjoyment which brought a gleam of pleasure into Mr der Huizma’s eyes. They drank a pot of coffee between them before he took her across to the Nieuwe Kerk. ‘William of Orange is buried here, as well as other members of the royal family. You must come again and spend some time here; it’s a delightful little town and very Dutch. And now is the time of year to see it, before the tourists come.’
They got back into the car and he told her, ‘We’re going to drive across to Hilversum. We’ll pass Alphen aan de Rijn on the way—there’s a bird sanctuary there— and we will pass Gouda too—that’s for another time— there are some lakes close by—Reeuwijk Meer—you’ll get a glimpse of them.’
She supposed after that they would return to Amsterdam. It was almost four o’clock now, and the afte
rnoon had grown grey and chilly, but presently they joined a main road and she saw the signpost to Hilversum.’
‘You’re going the wrong way,’said Daisy. ’Amsterdam was that road on the left.’
‘We must have tea first.’He didn’t enlarge on that, and she presumed that there was a café or tea room he particularly wanted to go to. The country was pretty, even on this rather bleak day. There were small woods and narrow roads, and here and there a glimpse of a large house behind the trees. The trees and bushes soon thinned out along the side of the road, and she had a fine view of a large square house standing well back from the road, backed by trees. It was white with green shutters, and its many windows climbed up to a steep roof.
‘Oh, look,’said Daisy, ‘what a lovely house. It looks as though it’s been there for ever, and it looks cosy although it’s rather large. And look, the windows are lighted. I expect it houses a family with children and dogs and cats.’
Mr der Huizma swept the car between tall gateposts. ‘Well, not at present,’ he observed, ‘but possibly one day. And it is a cosy house; I was born in it.’
Daisy turned to look at him. ‘But you have a lovely house in Amsterdam.’
‘This is the family home. My mother lives here; we are going to have tea with her.’
‘But she doesn’t know me.’
‘Well, no. She hasn’t met you yet, has she?’
He stopped the car before the house, and got out and opened the door for her.
‘I’m not sure,’ began Daisy doubtfully.
He said bracingly. ‘Come, come, where is your British phlegm? And I’m sure you would like a cup of tea.’
He greeted the elderly woman who opened the door as they went up the steps, and then said, ‘This is Katje, our housekeeper. She doesn’t speak English but understands a few words.’So Daisy shook hands and smiled, and was smiled at in return. ‘Let her have your jacket; she will show you where the cloakroom is.’
Daisy followed Katje to the back of the square hall and was ushered into a small room equipped, as far as she could see, with everything a woman might need. Having tidied her hair and powdered her nose she went back into the hall to find Jules standing there, where she had left him.
