by Betty Neels
She said, ‘No, thank you, Professor,’ and got to her feet; presumably the interview was over. He had risen too and came over to where she stood. ‘There’s one thing more. I can never thank you adequately for your care and kindness to Cor.’ His blue eyes searched her face. ‘Maybe one day I shall be able to think of some way in which I can repay you. In the meantime, I can only say “Thank you”.’
She fought for serenity; he was so very close. ‘There’s no need for more than thanks, Professor. I’m as happy about Cor’s legs as you are. I—I’m fond of him, you know that. And I’ve been very happy here, you know that too.’ She cast a fleeting glance at his face and said hastily, ‘You haven’t said when we’re to go.’
His face wore its usual placid expression once more. ‘Er—no. We should manage to get away on Saturday, I think. We’ll take the car to Harwich, and we can drive home from the Hook.’
‘Do you take the car too?’
‘Heavens, no. Someone will bring the Aston-Martin up from Bergenstijn to meet us.’
She was taken aback. ‘You mean to say that you have a Rolls-Royce here and an Aston-Martin in Holland?’ She sounded disapproving, and he chuckled.
‘Oh, dear! Don’t subject me to a diatribe because I own more than one car…after all, think of the patients who would suffer if I had to walk everywhere.’
She burst out laughing. ‘You are absurd! You make it sound as though having things is of no consequence.’
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘My dear girl, of course it’s of no consequence. I could manage very well without.’
She said seriously, ‘Yes, I know you could,’ and walked to the door. Suddenly she wanted to go because being with him hurt her in some way she couldn’t quite understand. He was at the door a second ahead of her. His hand closed over hers on its big ebony knob. He asked, ‘Have you decided to take the Sister’s post in Casualty if it’s offered to you?’
She lifted her eyes to his. ‘Yes, I shall take it,’ she said quietly, and waited while he opened the door to let her through.
Chapter Nine
The professor drove her over to the cottage the next day, after dinner. During the short journey he had said very little and that casually. A brief comment on the successful acquisition of her temporary passport in Saffron Walden that morning; a somewhat longer comment upon Cor’s legs and then a few random remarks about the weather, which was bitingly cold and icy underfoot. But it seemed from his remarks that these miserable conditions were just what were needed to make skating at Bergenstijn possible; another day or so, and it would be ideal. Georgina darted a quick look at his profile and decided with some surprise that he meant it. Apparently the flurried snow and glassy roads were equally to his taste; he drove the Rolls with the same nonchalance that he would have shown on a deserted motorway in broad daylight. Or, she amended, he appeared to do so. He was the most relaxed driver she had ever known.
It was a surprised Mrs Mogg who answered the door to them, and a still more astonished Aunt Polly who greeted them when they went into the sitting room. She looked at them sharply, but all she said was, ‘What a delightful surprise!’ She kissed her niece and shook hands with the Professor. ‘Georgina, will you go and ask Mrs Mogg to let us have some coffee and some of those nice little biscuits she made today?’
Georgina went willingly. For one thing, she wanted to do something to her face and hair. She spent a few minutes before the mirror, and then, more or less satisfied, went to fetch the coffee tray from the kitchen. When she got back to the sitting room, the Professor had divested himself of his overcoat, and was sitting close to Aunt Polly, discussing wines, a subject they both appeared to find engrossing. He got up and took the tray and set it at Aunt Polly’s elbow, and it wasn’t until they were sitting with their coffee cups that he remarked:
‘You must be wondering why we have come, Miss Rodman. Cor is more or less on his feet again, you know, and I plan to take him over to Holland for a short holiday, and we have persuaded—er—Georgina to come with us. Indeed, we could not do without her, for Cor still needs a firm hand if he is not to do too much, as well as a certain amount of nursing care. We plan to go on Saturday—by boat, you know. The journey to Harwich will take only an hour or so. We shall sleep on board.’
If Great-Aunt Polly was taken aback, she gave no sign of it. She said merely, ‘What a treat for you, Georgina. I suppose it will be cold in Holland at this time of year—you’d better take some sensible clothing, dear.’ Georgina caught the Professor’s eye and looked away quickly. She had been wearing uniform all these weeks; what could be more sensible than that? It seemed a good time to ask.
‘Would you like me to continue wearing my uniform, Professor Eyffert?’ she said, and was puzzled when he said blandly, ‘No. There is no longer any need.’
She was on the point of asking why, when she encountered his look. His eyes were twinkling with laughter, but all he said was, ‘Did Phena give you some idea of what to take?’
‘Yes, thank you. Perhaps I’d better go and get a few things…?’
She looked at her aunt, who nodded happily. ‘Do, dear, and while you’re gone Julius shall tell me more about this home of his in Holland.’
She went upstairs. For how long had her aunt been calling the Professor Julius, for all the world as if they were close friends or knew each a good deal better than their brief encounters justified? It made the fact that he almost invariably called her Nurse or Miss Rodman much harder to bear. She went to the attic and fetched her case, opened it on her bed, and started the serious business of deciding which clothes to take. In the end she chose a thick tweed skirt and a couple of sweaters to go with it, a pair of slacks, an apricot-coloured jersey dress, and a long-skirted pale blue Shetland wool dress; it had short sleeves and a turned-over, pointed collar—it would do very well for the evenings; the long, full skirt might be a good idea if Bergenstijn was even half the size indicated by Cor’s drawings. She stood looking at the little pile of clothes and after some thought, took down one more dress—organza, the colour of milk chocolate. It had wide sleeves tied at the wrists, and a broad belt to define her neat waist; its collar was a froth of ruffles. It was a delicious dress and she wasn’t sure if she would have a chance to wear it, but she packed it just the same.
Later on, when they were ready to leave, the Professor went upstairs with her to fetch her case. He stood in the middle of her room, studying it with deliberate interest. It was a pretty room, but as far as she could see, it hardly merited so much attention. When he at length picked up the case and went to the door, he observed coolly:
‘Your room is charming—like its occupant.’
She went downstairs behind him, her cheeks warm, her heart thumping in a maddening way, and angry with herself because of it, for of course, he meant nothing, nothing at all. It was a pity she couldn’t convince herself of this once and for all. Probably he made himself agreeable to all the women he knew; her good sense told her so, even while she vainly tried to suppress the silly romantic notions rattling around in her head. They certainly got no encouragement on the way back, for he talked exclusively of the amazing recovery of a patient of his in the Intensive Care Unit at St Athel’s, so that the talk, though interesting, was quite impersonal. She wished him goodnight without warmth, and went up to bed, feeling waspish.
They left on Saturday, with Cor stretched out on the back seat of the Rolls with Georgina beside him, and the two girls in front with their guardian. Karel and Franz, who were to join them the following weekend, saw them off, with Mrs Stephens and Milly beside them; of Stephens there was no sign, but the Leggs, squeezed together into their miniature doorway, waved as they passed by. The weather was colder than ever, the late afternoon sky was a uniform dull grey, and the ground like iron. Stephens’ absence was explained when they arrived at the Customs at Harwich, for he appeared, rather like a genie from a bottle, as the Professor drew up. He had a wheelchair with him, and three porters. The Professor put his small cou
sin into the chair, said briefly, ‘Go inside, all of you. Stephens, come back when you’re ready, please.’
Georgina wasn’t sure what she had expected—a queue perhaps, certainly some waiting about for tickets and luggage. She walked beside Cor’s chair, keeping pace with Stephens’ sedate tread. ‘Are you coming too, Stephens?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘No, Miss Rodman. I’ll be taking the car home presently, and be here to meet you when you return.’ He disposed the party in the waiting room, wished them a happy holiday and took his departure. They did not have long to wait; within a few minutes the Professor joined them, and in no time at all, it seemed to her, she was following him up the gangway with Beatrix clinging to one hand, and the rest of the party strung out behind them.
Once on deck, they were met by a steward, a stewardess and the purser, and thus escorted, reached their cabins. Georgina was a greenhorn when it came to travelling, but even she was able to see that the Professor, when travelling, did so with the effortless ease of the wealthy. It was a surprise to find that she was to have a cabin to herself. It communicated with the one shared by Dimphena and Beatrix. When she had looked around her she came to the conclusion that they weren’t cabins at all, but staterooms. She was sure that cabins had bunks, and there was a dear little bed in her room, and twin beds in the girls’.
‘Where’s Cor?’ she asked, and Dimphena pointed across the gangway. ‘Over there with Julius.’ She spoke rather absently, arranging her hair with all the anxiety of a sixteen-year-old. Georgina frowned. There had, of course, been a mistake. She stepped briskly to the half-open door opposite her own, and tapped. Cor was on one of the beds, bubbling over with some small boy’s merriment; his guardian was sitting on the other bed, reading from a menu card. They both looked up as she went in and the Professor unfolded himself carefully to tower above her.
He said blandly, ‘Ah, Miss Rodman, Can I help in any way?’
She eyed him uncertainly. ‘Well—’ she began. ‘I think there has been some mistake. Shouldn’t I have Cor in my room?’
‘No, I think not,’ he replied placidly. ‘You’ll have more than enough of him in the next week or so.’
This remark called forth fresh giggles from Cor. The Professor smiled too, then continued, ‘The steward tells me that they are expecting a rough crossing—you’ll be better on your own, especially as Cor is a good sailor. We two shall sleep like tops.’ He exchanged a grin with the little boy. ‘And if you don’t feel—er—quite the thing, the stewardess can look after you without disturbing anyone.’
She said, ‘Yes, of course. I hadn’t thought of that.’ Annoyance that he could contemplate a sound night’s sleep while she presumably might spend a wretched night battled with her awareness of the common sense of his suggestion. Nevertheless, she had her work to do.
‘I’ll get Cor ready for bed, shall I, and see about his supper.’
Her bosom heaved with indignation when he said on a laugh, ‘If it will make you feel better, my dear Miss Rodman, I’ll go along and see about food…hot milk for Cor, I expect, and a sandwich?’
He wandered away, looking vague, leaving her with the shrewd suspicion that whatever she suggested, the whole journey would be carried out according to his own plans.
She got Cor undressed and in bed and then coaxed him to eat the light supper the steward had brought, and while he was busy with it, went in search of Beatrix, whom she found, wedged firmly between her guardian and her sister, watching the cargo being stowed under the great arc lights. When she saw Georgina she said, ‘Dear George—just five minutes more.’
‘No,’ said Georgina, at her most firm. ‘Now, my poppet,’ and bit her lip under the Professor’s thoughtful stare, but all he said was, ‘Off you go, Beatrix, we shall all be up early in the morning, you know.’ He bent to kiss the little girl and smiled at Georgina so that her heart turned over.
Beatrix was excited too, but by the time she was sitting up in her bed she was already half asleep. She curled up presently and said coaxingly:
‘Please stay a little while, George.’
‘All right, poppet; I’ll just see if Cor’s asleep.’
He was, and as she came out of his stateroom the steward appeared at her elbow, soft-footed and pleasant.
‘I’ll keep an eye on the little boy, miss—you don’t have to worry about him.’
She went back to Beatrix who opened her eyes in a sleepy stare and closed them again on a childish murmur. She sat quietly, only turning her head when the door opened and the stewardess murmured that Professor Eyffert had asked her to keep an eye on the little girl, and withdrew again. There was no denying that the Professor looked after his own. Easy enough, she told herself, when you had money, and was instantly ashamed of the thought, knowing that he would look after his own whether he had money or not. Money had nothing to do with it.
Beatrix was fast asleep; there was no reason for her to remain any longer, but she wasn’t sure what was expected of her. Julius hadn’t actually said that she was to have supper with them—perhaps she was supposed to have something in her own stateroom and keep an eye on the children. But he had arranged for that… She was trying to decide what to do when he came in. He glanced first at Beatrix, and then at Georgina who, because she felt she should say something, observed, ‘Isn’t she beautiful?’ and went pink and wished she hadn’t, because he looked at her with the odd expression she had seen before. ‘What would you like me to do, Professor?’ she asked firmly.
He laughed softly. ‘As to that, my delightful Miss Rodman, I can think of several things…but shall we settle for supper? I’ve a table and Phena is waiting.’
She went with him to the dining-room, the thought uppermost in her mind the satisfied one that she was wearing her almost new tweed suit—it was a mixture of olive and cream and ginger, and it had its own creamy wool shirt. She was aware that she looked very nice in it.
‘Hungry?’ he asked, as they sat down.
‘Yes,’ she said doubtfully, ‘but if it’s going to be rough…’
‘It’s much worse on an empty tummy,’ observed Dimphena, who, probably with this possibility in mind, was choosing a meal which would have satisfied a starving wolf. Georgina looked apprehensive and Julius laughed.
‘That’s only an excuse so that you can eat everything in sight! You’ll get fat, Phena. No one will want to marry you.’
She wrinkled her beautiful nose at him. ‘Oh, yes, they will, and even if they don’t, I shall be quite happy living with you, Julius.’
He looked up from the menu he was studying. ‘Oh, no, sweetheart. I intend to have a wife and a houseful of children.’
‘Julius, how lovely! I’ll be an aunt. When shall you marry?’
He didn’t look up this time. ‘That depends… Now what about you, Georgina? Clear soup, I think, and then a grilled sole with creamed potatoes, and perhaps a crême brulée?’
She agreed politely, her erstwhile appetite impaired by the thought of him with a houseful of children. His wife would be a beautiful, slim creature. Her own delightful plumpness suddenly assumed vast proportions. She ate her simple meal with the virtuous thought that there wasn’t a fattening morsel in it, and tried not to notice Dimphena’s roast chicken or Julius’s magnificent steak. But at least he allowed her a glass of Sauternes and some cognac with her coffee, so that by the time they had finished their meal, she was feeling more cheerful. The boat was on the point of sailing and Dimphena asked excitedly:
‘May we go up on deck, just for a minute, Julius? I do love this bit when we leave the land behind.’
Georgina caught her look. ‘Oh, yes, that would be delightful.’ She looked at the Professor. ‘Shall we need our coats?’
‘I’ll fetch them and take a look at the children at the same time.’
He was back almost at once, and they made their way on deck. Even out of the wind, it was cold, and once the boat was clear of the quay, increasingly rough. Georgina eyed the white-capped waves
gleaming momentarily in the ship’s lights as she began her battle across the North Sea, and was grateful to the Professor for choosing her meal so carefully. He stood between them, his arms around their shoulders, obviously enjoying the wild darkness. After a little while, Dimphena said, ‘I think I’ll go to bed. George dear, do wake me if you want anything. Julius, are we to have breakfast before we land?’
‘Yes—order tea for six o’clock, we’ll breakfast at seven, and be away by eight—home for coffee.’
It sounded funny to hear him say home, when his home was in England. Perhaps, thought Georgina, he was happier at Bergenstijn than Dalmers Place. She remembered Madame LeFabre; of course, if she lived in Holland, naturally he would prefer it. Perhaps he would live there permanently when he was married.
‘A penny for them,’ he said.
Instead of answering, she said, ‘I think I should go to bed too.’
He said ‘No,’ and nothing more, so that to break a silence she said, ‘Well, I wondered which house you preferred.’
‘I’m happy in them both,’ he answered instantly. ‘My life is so evenly divided between Holland and England that I’m equally at home in either. I believe you will like Bergenstijn very much. It’s not in the least like Dalmers Place, but it has its own beauty and charm, and my family have lived there for so long that it is in my blood.’
She asked diffidently, ‘Will you always live like this—with two homes?’ then added quickly, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosey.’
Before he answered he put his other arm around her. ‘You’re getting cold, we must go inside.’ But he didn’t move and she stayed quiet, feeling the warmth of his arms and listening to the steady beat of his heart under her cheek. He said at length, ‘I should like to. I cannot imagine leaving either Dalmers Place or Bergenstijn; I’m happy in them both, as I want my children to be happy, with their roots in both countries.’
