Discovering Daisy

by Betty Neels

  He opened an arched double door, and with a hand on her shoulder walked her into the room beyond. His mother was sitting in her usual chair by the fire, and she got up as they went in.

  ‘Jules, how nice to see you—and so punctual too.’She offered a cheek for his kiss and turned to Daisy, smiling.

  ‘Mother, this is Daisy Gillard, over here to learn something of our antiques.’ His mother, already aware of that, smiled and offered a hand. ‘My mother,’ said Mr der Huizma, and watched them shake hands, still smiling, and then he smiled himself, because it was all right; they liked each other…

  Tea, to Daisy’s relief, wasn’t just a cup of weak tea and a tiny biscuit. The tea was a fragrant Assam and there were tiny sandwiches as well as scones and a fruitcake. Sitting there by the fire, listening to her hostess’s quiet voice going from one unalarming topic to another, was a delight. Beyond a few casual questions about herself, Mevrouw der Huizma made no attempt to cross-examine her. The talk was desultory and unforced; it was as if the three of them had known each other all their lives. Well, of course Jules and his mother had, hadn’t they? reflected Daisy, biting into a second slice of cake, but somehow she seemed to be included in the family.

  But she couldn’t presume on such kindness; when the great stoel clock struck six she suggested that she should go back to Amsterdam. ‘The Friskes expect me back in the evening,’ she pointed out, which wasn’t quite true but it sounded all right. So presently she bade Mevrouw der Huizma goodbye, thanked her for her tea, and got back into the car with Jules and Bouncer.

  And if she was secretly disappointed that he hadn’t urged her to stay longer, she squashed the thought at once as being ungrateful. He had, after all, spent the whole day driving around Holland with her, when he might have spent it doing something more exciting.

  To her relief there were lights from the Friskes’ upstairs windows, so that her fib appeared justified. As Mr der Huizma stopped before their door she began the little speech she had thought about on their way, but she didn’t get far with it. He interrupted her with, ‘Daisy, spare me the thanks I’m sure you have been rehearsing. I have enjoyed my day with you; you’re a good companion, you know. You don’t talk unless you have something to say, and then it’s good sense, and you’re blessedly silent…’

  Daisy said, ‘Oh, am I?’in a surprised voice, not sure if she liked the bit about her being silent; had she talked too much? She was aware that, whereas she was usually reserved with people, with Jules she felt so much at ease that she might have let her tongue run away with her.

  He got out and opened her door and they crossed the cobbles to the door.

  ‘If I am free next Sunday we will drive up to the Frisian lakes and take a look at Leeuwarden.’

  He took the key from her hand and opened the door, then stood looking down at her, and she smiled at him, delighted that she would see him again. Despite himself he kissed her upturned face, then gave her a gentle shove through the door and closed it before she had the chance to say goodnight. Which was just as well for she was too astonished to speak.

  She made her way upstairs to the Friskes’ sitting room in a bemused manner, answered their questions as to how she had spent her day and presently sat down to echte soup and smoked sausage and zuurkoel. And all the while she was thinking about his kiss. Of course everyone kissed these days, she told herself sensibly, but it hadn’t been a social kiss, had it? It had been warm and lingering; there had been nothing social about it. She decided to forget it.

  Easier said than done, she discovered, but as the next Sunday approached she warned herself sternly to let Jules see that it had made no impression upon her, that it had been something easily forgotten. Moreover, she decided that if he should suggest any more outings she would refuse. It was no good saying that she was spending the day with friends, for she had none as yet. She could have a heavy cold—so much more plausible than a headache…unless it was a migraine. But perhaps he wouldn’t ask her out again; Helene would be coming back from California and he would spend his spare time with her. It was quite natural, Daisy told herself, that a man should spend his free time with a companion if his fiancée wasn’t there with him. Which was where she ought to be, thought Daisy.

  She had expected to feel awkward when he called for her on Sunday, but his quiet friendliness dispelled that at once.

  It was a damp grey day, with the threat of rain, but the car was warm and comfortable and Bouncer was glad to see her again.

  ‘We shall go to Alkmaar, and then on to the Afsluitdijk to Friesland,’he told her, ‘and we shall come back for part of the way through the reclaimed land from the Ijsselmeer. The reclaiming is still going on, and the country isn’t very interesting, but there are any number of farms there and they’re prosperous.’

  After that he didn’t say much, only asking from time to time if she had enjoyed her week. She answered him briefly, mindful of his remarks about being silent, and asked instead if he had had an interesting week.

  It struck him that Helene had never asked him that, and he began to tell her a little of his work. Daisy asked questions: How many children were in his wards? Did he operate? Were the children happy in hospital? What happened when they were discharged home? And did he like the babies or the toddlers best?

  And he answered her questions in detail, realising what a pleasure it was to talk about his work to someone who was really interested and not just polite. Of course he talked to his mother, but he saw her infrequently and there was always family news to discuss so that he seldom did more than touch lightly on his work, but now, with Daisy all ears beside him, listening eagerly to his replies, he told her all that she wanted to know and found himself enjoying talking of it.

  In Alkmaar they stopped for coffee and a brisk walk through the little town as far as the cheese market and the Weigh House with its carillon, before driving over the Afsluitdijk into Friesland. He drove through Harlingen and Franeker and on to Leeuwarden, where they had lunch at a hotel and another quick walk for Bouncer’s benefit and for a view of the statue of the cow—the sign of Friesland’s prosperity.

  And then it was on again to Sneek, and the lakes, and on to Meppel and so to Lelystad, one of the small towns on the reclaimed land, and thence to Naarden and Hilversum.

  ‘Mother is expecting us for tea,’said Mr der Huizma, turning in between the pillars.

  And it was all just as delightful as the previous Sunday had been, sitting in the grand room, with Bouncer close to his master, scoffing the odd pieces of cake or biscuit, and a large ginger cat sitting beside Mevrouw der Huizma in her chair, so that the room didn’t seem grand at all, just a room where people were happy and content. Daisy, unable to put it into coherent thought, felt a quiet happiness. Heart’s ease, she thought, that’s what I’m feeling.

  She took care not to outstay her welcome. Mevrouw der Huizma kissed her goodbye. ‘I’m sure we shall see each other again,’ she observed—something which Daisy secretly hoped for. But Jules said nothing about a further meeting when they reached Heer Friske’s house. Nor did he kiss her, but bade her goodbye in a cheerful brisk manner and told her not to work too hard.

  So I’m not going to see him again, Daisy told herself, getting ready for bed. Helene would be coming back. He would give her the diamond brooch and they would marry. She was almost asleep before she voiced her thoughts. ‘But they won’t live happily ever after!’

  The shop was unusually busy the following week, and Daisy, having mastered some essential Dutch, found herself fully occupied. The tourists were beginning to drift in, and each evening Heer Friske taught her all he knew about marquetry and Dutch porcelain.

  When the weekend came, Daisy took herself off to various small side-streets lined by antique dealers’ shops, and studied their windows before having an early lunch in a café and spending the afternoon in the Rijksmuseum. She had a cup of tea there, and stayed until it closed. As she left its entrance she saw Mr der Huizma in his car. Helene was sitting
beside him, but Bouncer was on the back seat. He didn’t see her; indeed, both of them were looking ahead, not speaking…

  So Helene was back. At the back of her mind Daisy had had the vague hope that she might like California so much that she had decided to stay there. So now I can stop being silly, Daisy told herself, walking briskly back for her supper. It was nice knowing him, but now I can forget him.

  Which should have been easy, but Fate sometimes disregards the best of intentions.

  It was on a morning towards the end of the next week that Daisy, rubbing up some silver candlesticks while Heer Friske was talking a customer into buying some Dutch tiles, was distracted by a great deal of noise in the street outside. Heer Friske was occupied, so she put down her cloth and went out of the shop to take a look.

  A car had stopped close by, and an elderly woman was sitting on the cobbles clutching a large black cat while the driver stooped over her. He looked up as Daisy reached them.

  ‘Do you speak English? I wasn’t driving fast but the cat ran across the street and she came after it.’

  ‘I’m English,’said Daisy, and mustered a few Dutch words. The woman shook her head. No, she wasn’t hurt, nothing was broken; she was just sore. Daisy put two and two together, patted her shoulder reassuringly, stroked the cat and said, ‘Look, I think you’d better take her to hospital. It’s not far. Wait a minute while I speak to Heer Friske.’

  The car driver mopped a worried brow. ‘Will you come? I’m very grateful—I’ll pay.’

  Heer Friske, having sold his tiles, came hurrying out on Daisy’s heels, explained to the woman, helped the driver get her into the car, still holding the cat, and told Daisy to go with them. He turned to the man. ‘And bring her back when everything is settled.’

  So Daisy got into the car beside the driver and steered him through the streets to the hospital. Once there, she went into Casualty and found the sister. She remembered her, so that explaining what had happened wasn’t difficult. The woman was led away and Daisy, having been handed the cat, wondered what to do next. The driver was talking to the receptionist and they were soon joined by a large police officer. She held the cat securely and joined them.

  ‘Will someone tell the patient that I’ll take the cat back to her home? Only I must know her address and have a key to get in.’ She turned to Sister. ‘Could you explain that I’m at Heer Friske’s and that I’m quite honest. I’ll get a taxi—I can’t wait any longer.’ She looked at the driver and the officer, deep in talk. A few minutes later she had the key and the address and was on her way to the hospital entrance. And a few yards from it she met Mr der Huizma, also on his way out.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THERE was no avoiding Jules, nor, apparently, had he any intention of letting her try to do so.

  ‘Daisy…’ He took in the cat tucked under her arm with a quick glance. ‘You’re leaving the hospital? I’ll drive you back.’

  Anyone else would have bombarded her with questions, thought Daisy, but not Jules. She took a firmer grip on the cat, gave a brief resumé of events and waited to see what he would say.

  ‘We will take the cat back home,’ said Mr der Huizma without hesitation, ‘warn a neighbour, if possible, and return you to Heer Friske’s shop. He must be worried. This lady is in Casualty? Is she injured?’

  And when Daisy said that she didn’t know he said, ‘Well, never mind that now; I can find out easily enough. Just leave it to me.’

  He swept her out to the car, glanced at the address Sister had written down for Daisy, and drove off. It was a small house in a row of small houses, very neat, with gleaming windows and spotless curtains, and inside the whole place shone with polish. The furniture was old, but cared for, and behind the tiny kitchen there was a garden, very small and as neat as the house. The cat went at once to a chair in the corner of the living room, curled up and prepared to sleep, quite untroubled by the goings-on around it. Daisy found a saucer, filled it with cat food and put it on the kitchen floor, and Mr der Huizma went next door to talk to a neighbour.

  He came back presently. ‘We are to leave the kitchen window open so that the cat can get in and out; the neighbour will feed him if necessary.’

  ‘The key?’ asked Daisy.

  He took his phone from his pocket and she waited patiently while he talked and listened and talked again. ‘The patient is to come home presently. She isn’t seriously hurt—bruises and a small cut on her leg. Let me have the key and I will see that she gets it. I shall be going back to the hospital.’

  Something which hadn’t been his intention but he was a kind man. He added, ‘Come along, I’ll drive you back to Heer Friske.’

  Daisy had barely spoken; delight at seeing him again had rendered her speechless. He had taken command of the situation and she had been willing to do as she was told. Now she said, ‘You’ve been very kind, but I can walk back; it’s not far…’

  He had gone to open the little window in the kitchen. ‘I shall be going past the shop,’ was all he said.

  He left her there presently, bidding her a brisk goodbye and driving away before she could utter thanks. Back to the hospital which he had so recently left for a few hours before he saw his private patients in the evening. He reflected ruefully that on almost all of the occasions when he and Daisy had met she had disrupted his plans. And now she had popped up again to disturb him. They had exchanged barely a dozen words, and yet he had enjoyed every minute of her silent company. He frowned, remembering that he had resolved not to see her again. Her small, quiet person had begun to fill his thoughts, something which had to be stopped.

  He went into the hospital and sought out the sister in Casualty, who told him that the woman was ready to be discharged and then asked him if Helene was back from California. She was a long-standing friend and colleague, anxious to see him happily married. She didn’t like Helene, whom she had met at various hospital functions, but thought she seemed entirely suitable. She was surprised to see the look on Mr der Huizma’s handsome face when he told her that she had recently returned home. Surely a man shouldn’t look like that when speaking of the woman he was to marry?

  She prudently said nothing more, but went to fetch the cat’s owner.

  Mr der Huizma drove her home, gave her back her key and listened with pleasure to her gratitude towards Daisy. ‘Such a kind young lady. Came to help me at once, and understood how I felt about my cat. And her a foreigner too.’

  The temptation to stop at Heer Friske’s shop on the way home was great, but he resisted it. Meeting Daisy had been unavoidable, but to seek her out deliberately was quite another thing.

  He went home, and later to his consulting rooms, and when he finally got back to eat a late dinner there was a message from Helene. She would expect to hear from him in the morning.

  Mr der Huizma looked through his diary. He had a busy few days ahead of him; there would be very little time to see Helene and certainly no chance to take her out to dinner or the theatre, which he thought she would expect. He made a note to have flowers sent to her home and settled down at his desk to continue writing an article on infant malnutrition. He had been asked if he would go to the famine areas in Africa and advise on the feeding of the starving babies and children there, and he had decided to go. It was something dear to his heart, and he had contrived to arrange his work so that he could go for a month. He paused in his writing and sighed; Helene wasn’t going to like his decision. It was a pity he hadn’t been able to arrange it while she was in California…

  On the following Monday morning Daisy called on the woman with the cat. She had been to the post office, bought herself a newspaper, some toothpaste and a bottle of shampoo and, as an afterthought, a tin of cat food. The woman came to the door when she knocked; she recognised her and asked her in.

  Daisy, at a loss for words, held out the cat food, and right on cue the cat came into the room and walked over to her, weaving round her feet. The woman beamed, keeping up a flow of talk, none of which Daisy
understood. When the woman paused for breath Daisy ventured, ‘Better?’and, since it was a word very similar to its Dutch counterpart, the woman nodded and smiled, waved Daisy to a chair and went out of the room to return with a letter in her hand. She gave it to Daisy and pointed and nodded so Daisy took it out of its envelope. It was in English, and was from the man who had knocked the woman down. There was money inside too. She read the letter and then, dredging up the words she knew, explained that the money was compensation for the accident. Her accent was shocking, but with a good deal of hand-waving and nodding she made her companion understand.

  She gave the letter and the money back, and when she would have got up was waved back to her seat. ‘Coffee?’said her hostess, and since Daisy had an hour to spare, and the cat had scrambled onto her lap, she stayed in the neat little room, carrying on what passed for conversation with the woman.

  When she got up to go she realised that she had enjoyed herself, and learnt quite a few more Dutch words. Never mind the grammar, she decided. Knowing what everything was called in Dutch was the priority. Never mind the accent either; Heer Friske would put her right with that. She went back to the shop feeling that perhaps she was making a little niche for herself; perhaps she would meet people and make friends.

  Mr der Huizma, preparing for his journey, working early and late and making up in part for his forthcoming absence, had told Helene of his intention.

  She had phoned him and told him that he could take her out to dinner. ‘There’s that new restaurant in the Leidesgracht,’she had said. ‘We’ll go there; you’ll have to book a table…’

  She had rung off before he could speak.

  The dinner hadn’t been a success. They had almost finished their meal before she’d asked him if he had been busy. ‘Your boring job,’she’d said, laughing at him across the table. ‘We must go out more…’