by Betty Neels
He looked so upset that Daisy said at once, ‘Of course not, Heer Friske. It’s a splendid idea to have Mel work here with you. And I was going back home quite soon anyway, wasn’t I? I’ve been very happy here and I’ve learnt a great deal. I’m grateful to you, and to Mevrouw Friske. When would Mel like to come? If I could have a day or two…’
He heaved a sigh of relief. ‘If she should come on Saturday, is that too soon for you? You may have as much free time as you need. You will want to get your ticket and perhaps say goodbye to friends.’
‘That suits me very well. I haven’t many friends, and I’ll write to them or telephone. If I could have a few hours off to make arrangements?’
‘Of course, and you will wish to telephone your parents. I also will speak to your father and explain. You do not find me unkind for doing this?’
He looked so woebegone that she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
‘You’re one of the kindest men I’ve ever met,’ she told him.
She would fly back, she decided, and her father would meet her at Heathrow. She had very little luggage, and getting to Schipol would be quick and easy.
She booked on the Friday morning flight, spent a morning shopping—cigars for her father, a silk scarf for her mother—and she wrote a letter to Mevrouw der Huizma. It was brief and stilted, for it was difficult not to mention Jules. She thanked her again for the pleasant visits she had paid, sent her love to Bouncer, expressed her pleasure at returning home and sent good wishes.
She would have liked to have said goodbye personally, but it was better this way; to go away quietly and be the more easily forgotten.
Saying goodbye to the Friskes wasn’t easy. She had grown to like Heer Friske and his wife, but, as she told herself over and over again, it was a good thing that she was leaving Amsterdam. She was leaving Jules and all her dreams too, but that was another matter. Out of sight, out of mind, Daisy told herself stoutly, and, clutching the carefully wrapped china figurine Heer Friske had pressed into her hands at the last minute, she got into the taxi.
A bus took her to Schipol, and as she got out of it she was momentarily taken aback by the size of the place. She went through the entrance and found its vast reception area teeming with people. Unlike her, they all appeared to know where they were going. She had plenty of time, she told herself, and stood for a moment reading the signs and directions, rotating slowly, anxious not to miss something vital. She must go to the left; she checked that she had her ticket ready and picked up her case, and then put it down again as she saw Mr der Huizma coming towards her.
She should have pretended not to see him, picked up her case and lost herself in the crowds… She stood waiting for him to reach her, schooling her face to polite surprise.
‘What are you doing here? And why have you a case with you?’
He hadn’t said hullo, or bothered with some conventional remark about meeting her again.
‘I’m catching a plane home,’ said Daisy, quite giddy with delight at seeing him just once more. He seemed larger than ever, and although he was as immaculately dressed as always he looked tired and somehow older.
‘Was it awful?’ asked Daisy. ‘And were you able to help?’
‘Yes and yes.’ He smiled at her then. ‘Why are you leaving, Daisy?’
‘I’m going home,’she told him again. ‘I must go and get my boarding pass or I shall miss the plane.’
‘But you had a reason to leave?’ he persisted.
She blushed, but didn’t avoid his eye. ‘I’ve learnt a lot and I’ve enjoyed living here. Heer Friske has a niece who is going to take my place in the shop…’
‘That is the only reason? Did you visit my mother?’
‘Yes, I had a lovely day with her. And Helene took me out for a Sunday—it was kind of you to ask her to do that. We had a most interesting day.’
His face hadn’t altered, but she thought that he was angry. ‘I really must go. Father will be waiting for me at Heathrow.’
She offered a hand and he ignored it, but gathered her in his arms and kissed her. As far as Daisy was concerned, Schipol had become paradise, planes and an anxious parent and boarding cards meant nothing.
He let her go slowly and gently, picked up her case and took her arm.
‘You’ll need to go along here.’ He sounded as calm as usual—perhaps she had dreamt that kiss…
She joined the queue and got her pass and he handed her case over.
‘Over there. I can’t come any further.’
‘No, no, of course not. Thank you. Goodbye!’
He put out a hand and touched her cheek. ‘Have a safe journey,’ was all he said.
She joined another queue and didn’t look round, and presently she was on the plane and Holland was far below, giving way to the North Sea and presently to the English coast.
Heathrow was as busy as Schipol, but had the advantage of English signs and directions. She found her way without difficulty to the entrance and found her father waiting.
He wasn’t a demonstrative man, but he was delighted to see her again and she was glad to see him, for she loved him very dearly. She would never be able to tell him or her mother about Mr der Huizma, but they both loved her and with them she would go back to her quiet life and in time Holland would be a distant dream. She gave her father a tremendous hug. ‘It’s so nice to be home again,’ she told him.
There was much to tell them when she got home, and there was no need to mention Jules’s name—although she did tell them about her visits to Mevrouw der Huizma’s house.
‘And did you see much of the doctor?’ asked her mother.
Daisy said steadily, ‘Very occasionally. He was kind enough to drive me around on one or two Sundays, so that I could see a little of Holland. Oh, and we met by accident…’ She recounted the incident of the old lady and her cat and they all laughed about it, but something in her face made her mother give her a sharp glance. There were shadows under Daisy’s eyes, and from time to time she looked sad…
Once she had settled in again, there was plenty to keep Daisy busy. Her father had bought a quantity of early Victorian furniture, in perfect condition but woefully uncared for. It fell to Daisy’s lot to clean the heavy chairs and cabinets and what-nots, then polish them to perfection. She was glad to have something to do, and spent long, patient hours in the small room at the back of the shop with soft brushes and cloths and the special polish her father made for himself. At the end of two weeks or so she had finished, and some of the furniture was put on display. Her father, arranging a balloon-back chair in the window, paused to look at Daisy, giving a final polish to a walnut Davenport, and thought uneasily that he had been working her too hard; she was pale and rather quiet.
Later, as they were having their lunch, he said, ‘You’ve been working too hard for the last week or two, Daisy. I’ve been so anxious to have that furniture ready to sell that I haven’t given you a moment to yourself. You’re quite pale, my dear. You must have more free time. How about starting those walks of yours again? Morning or afternoon—whichever you’d rather have.’
‘But there are quite a few customers…’
‘Mostly in the afternoon. The browsers and tourists come in the mornings, but they never stay long and buy only the small stuff.’
‘Then I’ll go in the morning, Father. I’d like that. If I go after breakfast I’ll be back well before lunchtime.’ She added, ‘And if we get really busy I won’t go.’
‘It seems as though you’ve never been away,’ said her mother, ‘and you’ve been home almost three weeks.’
Three weeks since I saw Jules, thought Daisy, and she seemed quite unable to forget him, even banish him to the back of her mind. If he hadn’t kissed her it might have been easier…
Mr der Huizma had watched Daisy’s small person until she was out of sight and then gone out into the street where Joop had been waiting with the car. He’d greeted him pleasantly, enquired after his health and the well-being o
f his household, not forgetting Bouncer, and taken the wheel.
‘Bad, was it?’asked Joop, with the respectful familiarity of an old and devoted servant. ‘You’ll need a bit of a holiday, mijnheer.’
‘Yes, it was bad, but not quite as bad now as when I arrived there. As for a holiday, that must wait until I’ve got my work organised here.’
Joop glanced at his master’s profile. It looked grim and there were tired lines. He decided not to mention that Juffrouw van Tromp had phoned to ask when the doctor was returning. She wanted to know, she’d explained to Joop, so that she could arrange a party for him. ‘So let me know immediately,’ she had ordered sharply. Joop had done nothing of the sort; he had had a message from his master that very day, and if he hadn’t chosen to let his fiancée know that wasn’t Joop’s business.
Joop frowned as they crawled through the city’s traffic. Juffrouw van Tromp wasn’t at all to his liking, nor to anyone else in Mr der Huizma’s house.
Once more in his home, Mr der Huizma greeted Jette and Bouncer, and then went to his study to go through his pile of post and make several telephone calls. That done, he went to his room, showered and changed and came downstairs to find coffee waiting for him.
He sat drinking it, thinking of Daisy. He wasn’t sure if she’d been pleased to see him; she had been surprised, of course, just as he had been, but she had been on edge to go. He had tried to detect any sign of pleasure at seeing him but her face had shown nothing but polite surprise. He told himself that he should be glad of that; in the face of her indifference to him he could put her out of his mind.
He went back to his study and settled down to work his way through the papers on his desk. And after lunch he returned to his study once more, to phone his mother before resuming work.
He had told Joop to let his mother know that he was coming home, and there had been a message from her saying that she would be back from visiting one of his sisters shortly after lunch. When he dialled the number she answered at once.
‘Jules, you’re back. I’m so thankful. You’re busy, of course, but when you can spare an hour come and see me. Was it bad?’
He told her a little of his work, and added, ‘I’m going to be busy for several days, Mother, but I’ll come and see you just as soon as I can.’ And, unable to help himself, he added, ‘I saw Daisy at Schipol, going home.’
‘Yes, dear. I had a letter saying she was leaving Holland. Her reasons seemed vague. Did you have time for a talk?’
‘No. A couple of minutes only. Are you well?’
So Daisy wasn’t to be talked about. ‘Very well, dear. Don’t let me keep you gossiping; I’m sure you’re busy enough.’
He ate a solitary dinner presently, took Bouncer for a walk and went back to his study. Not to work, but to contemplate a future which for him held no happiness. He had every intention of going over to England and seeing Daisy. There was no question of forgetting her. He had fallen in love with her, and he loved her, and he wanted her for his wife. If she could love him a little he would ask Helene to release him…
He had forgotten Helene; it was too late to go and see her, or even phone her. He would have to go to the hospital in the morning but the afternoon should be free. They could talk; they hadn’t talked for a long time. Dining, meeting at friends’ houses, going to a play had never offered the opportunity to talk.
He forgot his own problems once he entered the hospital the next morning. He became immersed in his little patients’ problems, and the afternoon was well advanced by the time he got home to eat a late lunch and then get into his car and drive to Churchillaan.
Juffrouw van Tromp was home, the correct maid told him, and led the way to the drawing room. At the door he said, ‘No, don’t announce me,’and went quietly in.
Helene was there, sitting on one of the overstuffed sofas, talking to a man he didn’t know. She saw him first and jumped to her feet, flustered, but covering it with cries of delighted surprise.
‘Jules—you’re back. What an unexpected—’
He cut her short. ‘Yesterday. How are you, Helene?’ He glanced at the man who had got to his feet.
‘This is Hank Cutler—we met when I was in California. He’s over here on business and came to see me. Hank, this is Jules der Huizma, my fiancé.’
She had recovered her usual air of casual sophistication and added, ‘Come and sit down, Jules. I’m so glad you have come; we were discussing the party I was planning to welcome you back.’
Mr der Huizma stood quietly, not speaking, and Hank got to his feet again. ‘I have to be going; you must have a lot to say to each other. Been in Africa, haven’t you? Must have been interesting…’
‘Interesting if one likes to watch small children and babies die,’ said Mr der Huizma. A remark which sped Hank on his way.
When he had gone Helene said angrily, ‘Really, Jules, did you have to be so pompous?’
She was looking very beautiful, exquisitely turned out, her make-up faultless, and anger had heightened her beauty.
‘My apologies.’ He sat down. ‘I must learn to keep my opinions to myself.’
‘Yes, you must,’ she said sharply, ‘if they are miserable ones—upsetting my friends.’ She grumbled, ‘I dare say he won’t come to my party now.’
‘I dare say I won’t either!’said Jules smoothly. ‘What have you been doing with yourself while I’ve been away?’
‘I had a week at that hydro—really, I was exhausted. And there was that exhibition I told you about— everyone was there—and of course shopping is so tiring… Oh, and I had tea with your mother. That girl Daisy was there, looking at your furniture, or so she said. I don’t trust these quiet girls—worming her way into your mother’s good books…’
He said quietly, ‘Why should she do that?’
‘Ambitious, I dare say, hoping to get something, or get someone like your mother interested in her. I took her out for the day—thought I would let her see how different her world was from ours.’ Helene gave him a defiant look. ‘I told her that we were going to get married within the next month or so.’
And when he didn’t answer, she added, ‘Well, before you went away you seemed anxious to get married…’
‘And are you? Anxious?’He sounded casual, and he looked positively placid.
Helene said slowly, ‘Since you ask, no, I can’t see that there is any hurry. You have your work and I have my friends. In the autumn, if you like.’
He asked idly, ‘Why did you take Daisy out for the day?’
She laughed. ‘I told her that you had asked me to do so. I said that you wanted her to have a treat before she went home.’
‘Why did you say that?’ His voice was quiet but she frowned a little at the look on his face. ‘Oh, I suppose I wanted her to realise that she wasn’t one of us. I think she enjoyed herself; she told me all about this faithful boyfriend waiting for her to say yes.’
She gave him a quick look. He had minded that. She felt sudden fury that he should have been interested in such a dull girl when she herself was a woman everyone admired, who was lovely to look at, exquisitely dressed, fun to be with, a splendid hostess… She said, with a flash of anger, ‘Oh, forget about her, Jules. She was one of those girls clever enough to know how to better themselves.’
He got to his feet. ‘You’re wrong, Helene. Daisy, was—is—someone you don’t often come across. She was kind and honest and warm-hearted. Beauty is only skin-deep, you know.’
That frightened Helene. She crossed the room to him and put her arms round his neck. ‘Oh, Jules, I don’t mean half I say—you know that. I hope she will be very happy now that she is back with her young man. We’ll send her a wedding present.’ She smiled charmingly at him. ‘Take time off, darling, let’s go somewhere and celebrate. I’m really sorry; don’t hate me for it. We’ll marry at once if you want.’ She looked into his face. ‘You do want that, don’t you, Jules?’
He looked at her lovely face. ‘I’ve a backlog of work.
I’d rather not make plans for a time.’
She had to be content with that, and after he had gone she wondered if her future was as secure as she had supposed it to be. She would take care not to mention Daisy again. Out of sight, out of mind, Helene decided, and, going to take a look at her reflection in the wall mirror, felt confident that she could arrange her life as she wanted it.
As for Mr der Huizma, he went back home to sit at his desk and study the days ahead; it would be a while before he could be free for two or three days. Time enough to go over to England and see Daisy.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ON THE Sunday evening Mr der Huizma went to see his mother. He had dealt with the most urgent aspects of his work at the hospital and now got into his car once more and drove to his family home. He was still tired, and although he greeted her with his usual warmth he looked stern. Something was worrying him, and she thought that it was something other than his experiences in Africa. But she said nothing, and told him to pour himself a drink and sit down and tell her of his mission. It took some time, for she was interested and interrupted frequently. He fell silent at last. ‘It was good to be able to talk about it,’ he told her.
At supper they talked about the family, and finally his work. ‘I suppose you will be busy now for the next few weeks,’ said his mother.
‘Yes, but I intend to take a couple of days off as soon as I can manage it. I’m going to England.’ He glanced at his mother. ‘To see Daisy.’
So that was the reason for his stern face. ‘Yes, dear. She came here and spent the day. We had a delightful time up in the attics. It was a pity that Helene called—we had to leave some most interesting old books about this house. I had hoped to invite her again, but of course she returned rather suddenly to England.’
