by Betty Neels
They went back to the car presently, and drove back along the main roads. Mr der Huizma chatted about this and that, for all the world as though he had never said that he was in love with her…
At the shop he got out with her, stayed to chat for a while with her mother and father, and then bade them goodbye. Good manners took her to the door with him.
‘I hope you have a good journey home,’ she said quietly. ‘Please remember me to your mother and Helene. And thank you for a lovely morning and my lunch.’And then, ‘Oh, Jules…’
This was what he had wanted to hear—the sudden longing in her voice. Her stoic front of friendliness was just that—a front. But he didn’t say anything, only took her in his arms and kissed her. A long, slow kiss full of tenderness and love. Neither did he say goodbye, but got into his car and drove away without a backward glance.
And Daisy, regardless of the fact that she should be in the shop, went to her room and cried her eyes out. When she had no more tears left she washed her face, tidied her hair and went down to the shop, red-eyed, but perfectly composed, and sold a Victorian chamber pot, a walnut what-not and a warming pan to successive customers.
Her enthusiasm for work astonished her father, who put it down to her pleasure at being back in England but her mother wasn’t deceived.
‘Do you suppose that you will hear from Mr der Huizma again, dear?’ she asked casually several days later. ‘I dare say he will send you a wedding card or something similar. After all you did know his fiancée, didn’t you?’
‘Not very well, Mother. I don’t expect to hear from either of them. They have so many friends of their own.’ Daisy took an apple from the dish on the table and bit into it—it was something to do, and would perhaps divert her mother from questioning her. But Mrs Gillard didn’t ask any more questions; she was sure that Daisy was unhappy, and that Mr der Huizma was the cause of it. A pity she had ever gone to Amsterdam… Mrs Gillard loved her daughter dearly, and longed to see her happy again.
Daisy, aware of this, did her best. But sometimes when she looked in a mirror she wondered how it was possible to look exactly the same as usual when one’s heart was broken.
Mr der Huizma had gone back to Amsterdam, phoned his mother to tell her that he was back, but had made no effort or plans to phone or meet Helene. He was extremely busy, and he needed time to find ways and means whereby he could sort out his future. At the moment he could think of nothing, but that didn’t deter him from his determination. Daisy loved him, he was sure of that now, and she held his heart in her hands. That was enough for him for the moment. He put her out of his mind and concentrated on his small patients.
His ward was full, it always was, and his clinics were larger than ever. He kept his mind on his work until some ten days after his return, when he had the time to go and see Helene. He had seen none of his friends, not even his mother, and had immersed himself so deeply in his work that Joop took it upon himself to remonstrate with him. ‘Work yourself into an early grave,’ he predicted. ‘Not an hour’s leisure have you had, excepting for taking Bouncer for his walk. It’s not natural.’
‘Don’t worry, Joop, I intend to visit Juffrouw van Tromp this evening,’he had replied. Which satisfied his old servant but not entirely. Ten days his master had been home and not so much as a phone call from the lady. Joop shook his head and went along to the kitchen to discuss his doubts with Jette.
As it happened there was a phone call from Helene waiting for Jules on his answering machine when he got home. She had just heard that he had been back home for ten days, so why hadn’t he been to see her or at least telephoned? But, since he was home again, perhaps he could spare the time to see her that evening. He listened to the cross voice and admitted that she had reason to be annoyed. He picked up the phone and dialled her number.
He wasn’t free early enough in the evening to take her out to dinner. ‘I shall be having drinks with friends and dining with them. You’d better come about nine o’clock. There are several parties during the next week or so and I’ve accepted for both of us; I’ll let you know the dates. And don’t be late. I have to be up early—I’m going to Amersfoort for the weekend with the de Groots.’
She rang off and he went to the dinner table and ate the excellent meal set before him. He took Bouncer for a walk, and then got into his car and drove to Churchillaan. Helene was waiting for him in the ornate drawing room.
‘So here you are at last. Why wasn’t I told that you were back?’She offered a cheek and he kissed it briefly.
‘If you had phoned the hospital or my house, you would have been told,’ he said mildly.
‘My dear Jules, I can’t spend my time on the phone; you know how full my days are.’
‘My days are full too.’ He sat down opposite her. She had thrown herself down on a sofa and she looked very beautiful.
‘Well, don’t be so gloomy. Wait while I tell you about these parties…’
‘While I was in England I went to see Daisy. Helene, why did you tell me that she was to be married? A joke? A mistake?’
‘A joke, of course. A girl like Daisy hasn’t a chance of marrying—no looks, no decent clothes, her nose buried in old furniture.’ Helene looked at him sharply. ‘Anyway, she’s back where she belongs; you can forget her.’
She realised that she hadn’t got his full attention and had a moment of panic. Had someone told him that she’d been seeing rather a lot of Hank Cutler? She said sweetly, ‘She is such a nice girl. Really I’m sure she’ll find a husband. Now tell me, Jules, have you been busy at the hospital? Have you had any news of that new clinic you started in Africa?’
She could be charming when she wished, and she exerted every scrap of that now. ‘Shall we have coffee and I’ll tell you about the parties I’ve promised we’ll go to.’ She saw his frown. ‘At any rate I’ve promised for myself, but I said that you would come with me if you were free…’
He saw that the African clinic and his work there were already forgotten. He said quietly, ‘I think it is unlikely that I shall be free for much social life for some time to come.’
‘You’re not going back to that clinic, Jules? I won’t allow it. You’ve only been back a few weeks; you should be here, free to escort me, take me out to dinner, meet my friends…’
His eyes were cold. ‘Did you not realise when we became engaged that I am not always free to do as I choose? Children are taken ill at the most inconvenient times; they don’t wait until I am at the hospital to break arms and legs, scald themselves or fall ill for no reason at all.’
He had spoken in his usual calm way but she saw that he was angry. It wouldn’t do at all; she would lose her hold over him.
‘Jules, dear, I don’t mean to be so thoughtless. Of course your work must come first. I promise you that I’ll be a model wife. I’ll entertain for you, so that you meet all the most influential people. I’m so proud of you, and I want you to be famous worldwide, not just here and in Europe. I shall be such a help to you.’
She talked on, but Mr der Huizma wasn’t listening, nor did he see Helene lying so beguilingly on the sofa opposite him. All he saw in his mind’s eye was a quiet girl with beautiful eyes and a quantity of brown hair…
It would have been useless to talk to Helene about their future at that moment. He would have to wait until she was in a more serious mood, get her to listen to him. She was still talking about parties and the wonderful weekend she hoped to have, and when he got up to go she stayed on the sofa, knowing what a delightful picture she made, and held out a hand.
‘I’m far too tired to get up, Jules!’ She smiled up at him. ‘Phone me when you have a free evening; we could dine. I’ll be back on Monday morning.’
‘Enjoy your weekend, Helene.’
‘Oh, I shall—although so much more if you were with me, Jules.’
He went home then, to take Bouncer for his last walk and then go to his study to work. It had been impossible to get Helene to listen to him, or to be se
rious about their future. He wondered if she had given serious thought to their marriage and the life they would lead together. She seemed unable to imagine any other way of life than a round of social pleasures. Somehow he must make her understand that her life would be utterly different from the one she now enjoyed, and then perhaps she might consider breaking off their engagement.
He drew the first of a pile of case-sheets towards him and began to read.
It was late on Sunday evening when he went to visit his mother.
‘I thought you might bring Helene with you, Jules,’ his mother observed. ‘I haven’t seen her since she was here, oh, some weeks ago, when Daisy was spending the day with me.’
‘Helene has gone away for the weekend,’he told her. ‘I saw her on Friday evening.’
‘You haven’t discussed the wedding yet?’ persisted his mother gently.
‘No. She has any number of social engagements, and I have a backlog of work.’
Katje came in with the coffee and Mevrouw der Huizma busied herself with the coffee tray. ‘Did you see Daisy while you were in England, Jules?’
‘Oh, yes.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘Mother, I can’t talk about that—not yet! You don’t mind?’
‘No, dear. Now tell me about your work. That child with the dislocated hip you were so worried about—did you operate?’
‘Yes—successfully, I’m glad to say. There’s a small boy being admitted this week. I hope I shall be able to help him. Now tell me, how are the rest of the family?’
It was the middle of the week before he had a free evening. He phoned Helene. He would take her out to dinner somewhere quiet and they could talk…
Only Helene was going to a charity ball in Scheveningen. ‘Something I can’t cancel. It’s a big event—two of the princes will be there. I simply can’t miss it. Phone me later this week—perhaps we could spend Sunday together?’
He put the phone down and looked through his appointments book. He should have a free afternoon on Friday; he would go and see her then. There was a good chance that she would be at home; she had mentioned that she was going to the theatre in the evening so she would probably spend a quiet afternoon.
Helene was out when he arrived, soon after three o’clock. The maid who admitted him wasn’t sure when she would be back, but if he cared to wait?
Mr der Huizma went to the drawing room and made himself comfortable in an oversized wing chair, refused the proffered tea or coffee and allowed his thoughts to wander; Daisy would be in the shop, wearing her serviceable dress, her hair very neat, no doubt selling some trifle to a customer or cleaning and polishing some small treasure which had come into her father’s hands…
Half an hour later Helene returned home, bringing Hank with her. She spoke sharply to the maid as she entered the apartment and the woman, chivvied or ignored as the case might be, saw her chance for revenge. She said nothing to Helene about Mr der Huizma’s presence in the drawing room.
He heard Helene’s voice and Hank’s laughter before they opened the door. Helene was speaking. ‘Darling Hank, of course I’m going to marry him. He’s got everything I want: money, the right ancestors, a brilliant career, and so engrossed in his work that I’ll be free to do exactly as I want. We shall be able to go on seeing each other as often as we please. I shall have the best of both worlds…’
Mr der Huizma got out of his chair; a large man, he looked even larger now. He said mildly, ‘I’m afraid I must disappoint you, Helene. You may have one world to your liking, but I’m afraid the second one won’t be available.’
Helene had gone white. ‘Jules, why wasn’t I told that you were here? I was joking.’ She turned to Hank. ‘It was a joke, wasn’t it, Hank?’
‘Well, now, I rarely disagree with a lady, Helene, but it seemed to me that you meant every word. Mind you, Jules here might be prepared to overlook it, but somehow I don’t think so. And I may not have any ancestors worth mentioning, but I’ve a nice place in California, as you know—and money.’
Mr der Huizma walked to the door. ‘It does sound eminently satisfactory. I’m sure you’re happy to release me from our engagement, Helene. I wish you both a happy future.’
He paused at the door. ‘I will send an announcement to the papers. My regards to your mother and father.’
The maid, opening the door to him, wondered why he was smiling to himself. A nice, kind man, who deserved better than Juffrouw van Tromp. He bade her good day and got into his car and drove away to his home, where he ate a splendid tea, took Bouncer for a walk and then sat down at his desk to rearrange his schedule so that he could be free to go to England as soon as possible.
CHAPTER NINE
DAISY had gone to Exeter for an interview with one of the directors of a well-known firm of antique dealers there. They had an auction room and a quite large staff. If she accepted their offer she would start in a lowly way, cleaning pictures and silver, widening her knowledge of the antique trade. She had taken the morning bus and, with time on her hands, gone window shopping. The windows were full of clothes for summer—such pretty clothes—some of them affordable. But she went out so seldom they would hang in the wardrobe until they were last year’s models.
It was a pity, she reflected, that when Jules had come she had been wearing an old skirt and cotton blouse.True, she had been able to wear the jersey dress on their day out together. But that was a year old and not this season’s colour… She bought a lipstick under the eyes of a rather young lady on the other side of the counter, and searched for her mother’s favourite soap—violet, in a pretty box with ribbons. She had a cup of coffee and a sandwich, spent half an hour wandering round the cathedral, and exactly on time presented herself at the antique dealers.
She was interviewed by a youngish man who made it obvious from the start that her chances of getting the job were small. He sat back in his chair behind the enormous desk, listening to Daisy’s matter-of-fact recital of her experience. Which, he had to admit to himself, was adequate for the job. But the girl was too reserved. Too quiet…
He cut her short rather rudely, told her that he would let her know and thanked her in a perfunctory manner. Nor did he bother to get up as she got out of her chair. At the door she turned to look at him.
‘I wouldn’t like to work for you,’ she told him politely, ‘You have no manners.’
She closed the door behind her, leaving him with his mouth open.
She would have to wait until the five o’clock bus to go home; she went to the tea rooms in the cathedral close and ordered a pot of tea and scones. Her trip to Exeter had been a waste of time and money, and she knew that her father would be disappointed. She would have to think of something…
But she had no need to do that; there was a letter for her when she got home. She didn’t open it at once, but gave her father an accurate account of her interview. ‘Of course I shan’t be offered the job,’ she told him. ‘I’m sorry, Father, but there are plenty of other opportunities…’
She opened her letter then, and read it, and read it again before she said, ‘It’s from Janet—’the only cousin she had, daughter of her father’s brother, and married with two children ‘—she wants me to go and stay for a week or two. Jack has been sent abroad by his firm, both children have the chickenpox and she isn’t well.’
She looked at her mother, who nodded her head silently. ‘Of course you must go, dear. Poor Janet. Your father can get someone in to help for a week or two.’ As he grumbled an answer she went on, ‘There’s Mrs Coffin—utterly reliable even if she can’t sell anything. She can keep the shop open and do the odd jobs.’ Mrs Gillard added in a wheedling tone, ‘It’s only for a week or two, dear.’
So Daisy packed a bag and took the bus to Totnes and walked up the hilly high street, under the arch, and turned down a narrow road leading away from it. Janet and Jack lived in a nice old house in a row of similar houses; they had been built more than a century ago and stood, solid and secure, lining the road going downhill. The
re were no front gardens, but they each had a long garden at the back, backing onto open country.
Daisy thumped the door knocker and opened the door, calling, ‘It’s me…’
Janet came running down the narrow stairs. ‘Oh, Daisy, you angel. I hated having to ask you but there’s no one else. I’ve friends, of course, but none of their children have had chickenpox so I couldn’t ask them.’ She asked anxiously, ‘You have?’
‘Yes, ages ago. They’re in bed? And you? You look as though you should be in bed too.’ Daisy put down her bag and took off her jacket. ‘Well, now I’m here you can do just that, Janet. Just tell me if you need any shopping—and does the doctor call?’
‘There’s enough in the house for today. The doctor said he’d call this afternoon.’
‘Good, so he can take a look at you at the same time as the children. I’ll bring you a cup of tea when you’re in bed, and see to James and Lucy.’
Janet in bed, and drinking her tea, Daisy went to look at the children. They were small, hot and cross, and very grizzly. She washed their little tear-stained faces, made their beds and found clean nightclothes, and went to inspect the fridge. There was plenty of ice cream; she spooned it into two small mouths and saw with satisfaction that they were dozing off.
It gave her time to take her bag to the small bedroom at the back of the house and then get a belated lunch for Janet and herself.
The doctor came later in the afternoon, pronounced the children progressing in the normal fashion, recommended that they stay in their beds for another day at least, and then went to take a look at Janet.
‘Flu,’ he diagnosed. ‘Not severe, nothing that a few days of paracetemol and plenty of fluids won’t cure.’ He observed that he was glad that Janet had help, and bade her good day. He would call again in two days’ time, but if she was worried she could ring him at any time.
Daisy doled out the pills, saw to the children, got supper and took a tray up to Janet. And, since everyone seemed comfortable and disposed to settle down for the night, went to bed herself. She had phoned her mother, had had a phone call from Jack, anxious for news, and there was nothing more to be done until the next day.
