by Betty Neels
‘Miss Rodman is not a nursemaid, my dear Therese. She is a highly skilled nurse without whom we should have been lost. She has no need to do anything at all for the children; it is her nature to help others.’
Georgina felt herself enveloped in the warm and unwelcome glow from an all-embracing blush, which was not improved by Therese’s gentle voice.
‘Oh, my dear, I had no intention of being rude, believe me. I am so envious of you—that you can do so much for others and that the children are so fond of you. Alas I have no children whom I can love.’
This incredible speech was accompanied by two tears running without harming her make-up, down her cheeks. She dabbed them away with a wisp of a handkerchief and smiled wistfully. Georgina watched her with embarrassment and pity. It must be awful, she thought, to have been married and not to have had any children. She said kindly, ‘Of course you weren’t rude, and please don’t get upset—you’re much too beautiful,’ and stiffened when Julius said in a matter-of-fact voice, ‘Phena will give you a hand, Miss Rodman.’ She started to protest, but thought better of it when she saw his face; he was very angry and hiding it most successfully. She didn’t think that anyone else there had noticed it, but over the past weeks she had come to recognize the blank look on his face when he was annoyed.
It took no time at all to get the children to bed. She left Cor till last because there were several things she had to do for him. It was while she was tucking him up that he said, ‘She meant it, you know, dear George.’
‘Meant what—and who?’
He muttered grumpily, ‘Madame LeFabre, of course. She was being beastly.’
She said comfortably, ‘You’re too tired to know what you’re saying. Go to sleep, my dear.’ She kissed him and went to find Dimphena, to tell her that she wouldn’t go back to the salon with her. ‘I’ve a headache,’ she invented, ‘and there’ll be plenty to do tomorrow, I expect…no one will notice.’
Dimphena went, looking doubtful, and presently she went back to Cor’s room—there was a strap on one of his calipers which needed adjusting. She sat down on the floor before the fire, not caring about the brown organza getting creased—it hadn’t worked a miracle anyway. She might just as well be in uniform. It had served her right for trying to attract his interest when he was practically engaged to someone else. She gave the cord which fastened the caliper’s leather support a vicious tug and it broke. She sat and looked at it, and would have gone on looking at it for some time if the door had not opened behind her. Julius came across the thick-piled carpet and said quietly, ‘What are you doing?’
She had to look up a long way to see his face, and even then it was indistinct in the darkened room.
‘This needed adjusting,’ she said in a voice which held only the ghost of a wobble. She held up the cord. ‘I broke it.’ She got up. ‘I’ve some spare ones in my room.’
She fetched one and found him still there when she returned. He took it from her and threaded it quickly and laid it by its fellow.
‘Phena tells me you aren’t coming down again.’ His voice was gentle. ‘Will you change your mind?—we’re going to dance.’
She was about to say no, when it flashed through her mind that perhaps Therese had sent him, anxious to make sure that she hadn’t really been offended. She smoothed her brown skirts. ‘Very well,’ she said, ‘I’ll come.’
It wasn’t so bad—she danced a great deal, and twice revolved gently round the room with Great-Uncle Ivo. A number of people she hadn’t met seemed to have drifted in—she supposed that they were local friends. She danced with everyone who asked her until just after midnight, when she slipped quietly away, confident that no one had seen her go. She was half way up the staircase when the Professor said from the hall below, ‘I haven’t danced with you, Georgina.’
She paused with her hand on the rail, and looked down at him. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Good night.’ She turned away and was barely a step higher before he was beside her.
‘You don’t ask why,’ he said mildly.
She didn’t look at him. ‘I don’t have to.’
He caught her hand, so that she was forced to stand still. ‘If you ask me—now—I promise I’ll give you the answer.’
But she only shook her head. ‘Good night,’ she said again, and went on up the stairs alone.
She scarcely saw him the next day, and when she did, they hardly spoke because Therese LeFabre was always with him.
The weather changed imperceptibly during the night; the cold north wind died away, although the sky remained a uniform grey and the snow looked as thick as ever. Georgina gave Cor his exercises, strapped on his calipers and took him for a sober walk, with the other children tearing round them like playful puppies. When they got back the first of the lunch guests had arrived. She got the children organized with her usual calm good sense, and went upstairs to change, returning presently wearing an apricot jersey. There was no sign of the children; she stood in the doorway of the salon, watching its laughing and chattering occupants, and took a step backwards into the hall, intent on discovering where they had got to. Cor still needed to be careful, but he wouldn’t allow the fact to stop him if he was bent on mischief with the other five.
‘Don’t worry about the children, I’ve wished them on Hans for half an hour,’ said the Professor from the hall. ‘Come and meet some friends of mine.’
He led her across the room to where Dimphena was talking to a very tall and generously built girl, and an even taller man. The Professor hailed them. ‘Maggy—Paul, this is Georgina, this is Maggy Doelsma, and her husband, Paul—a doctor, of course. Maggy was Ward Sister at St Ethelburga’s.’
He stayed for a few minutes and then went away, taking Paul and Dimphena with him, leaving the two young women to talk. Maggy turned a pair of magnificent brown eyes on to Georgina and asked:
‘Do you like it here—Holland, I mean?’
‘I don’t really know,’ Georgina answered. ‘I haven’t been anywhere yet. I love Bergenstijn though—it’s so different from the Professor’s home in Essex, but just as nice.’
Her companion eyed her with interest, said ‘Um,’ in a non-committal way and then, ‘Do you like Julius? Is he nice to work for?’
‘Very.’ This at least was a question she could answer easily. ‘He’s most considerate, and the children are darlings.’
Maggy nodded. ‘Aye; it’s time he married and had some of his own, though.’ She looked around her. ‘I see Therese LeFabre is here—as elegant as ever and looking every day of her thirty years. Do you like her?’
Georgina answered guardedly. ‘She’s very charming—she wears lovely clothes too. It must be awful to be left a widow…’
Maggy made a funny little sound between a snort and a laugh. ‘Not for her it isn’t. She married a Belgian industrialist who left her a great deal of money, and I doubt she grieved overmuch. I don’t like her.’
‘No,’ said Georgina simply, ‘nor do I.’
They smiled at each other and after a pause Maggy asked, ‘When are you going back to St Athel’s? Julius said something about you getting Cas.’
‘Yes, from March the first. I think we go back to England at the end of next week. I suppose I’ll go back to St Athel’s then.’
‘You must have a day with us before you go. I’ll ask Julius to bring you over.’
‘No,’ said Georgina quickly. ‘I mean, I’d love to come, but the Professor has guests.’
‘All gone by Monday. We’re not far away—Leiden.’
‘I—I don’t know. Perhaps I could come by train?’
‘Nonsense, I’ll fetch you. Shall I give you a ring in a day or two?’
They went to lunch then, and she didn’t see her new friends again except to bid them a brief goodbye. As they walked to their car, she saw Paul catch at his wife’s hand, and the look he gave her, and suffered a pang of pure envy.
Karel and Franz arrived on Saturday in the forenoon, cheerful, noisy and hungry. Georgina was
in the hall when they arrived and Karel dropped his bag and came across the hall and caught her up and swung her in the air. ‘Georgina, more beautiful than ever! I shall expect the first dance with you this evening.’
He put her down and gave her a smacking kiss and she giggled.
‘Karel, do grow up! And I’m sitting out the first dance with Cor, I promised. The children are to stay up for an hour, you know.’
‘In that case, the second,’ he cried, and caught hold of her and waltzed her round the hall. It was at that moment that she saw Julius watching them from the study door. Karel saw him too, for he stopped with a flourish in front of him, and said gaily, ‘Hullo, Julius. Here we are, you see. Bergenstijn seems to agree with Georgina, if her dancing is anything to go by.’
She smoothed herself down so that she wouldn’t have to look at the Professor, who said smoothly, ‘Hullo there. You must ask Georgina what she thinks of Bergenstijn presently, but come in now and tell me all the news of Dalmers Place.’
He smiled at her briefly and closed the door gently.
She put the green dress on again that evening. The dance was to be a cosy affair, just family, with friends dropping in after dinner. But Dimphena was adamant that everyone should dress up for it. They dined early, so that the children should have their share of the evening’s fun, and Georgina was delighted to find herself between Karel and Great-Uncle Ivo. They talked a great deal of nonsense and laughed a great deal; and she tried not to look too often at Therese, who was wearing a pale chiffon caftan and what Georgina didn’t doubt were real pearls. She looked gorgeous. Georgina stole a look at Julius, to encounter his bright stare upon herself, and turned away hastily with a flushed face, aware that he was secretly amused about something—probably her.
The salon was comfortably crowded when she collected the children and took them upstairs to bed. With Pankie’s help she had them tucked up and was back in the salon within the hour, to dance with a gratifying number of partners. It was almost eleven when she slipped away and started up the big staircase again. She had almost reached the top, when the Professor called, ‘Georgina, where are you going?’ And this time he followed her up and walked beside her along the corridor.
‘It’s all right,’ she said matter-of-factly, ‘I’m going down again. I promised Cor I’d come and peep at him, to make sure that he’s asleep—Beatrix too.’
She swept ahead of him and bent over each child in turn, then went along the little passage at the end and started up the small staircase at its end leading to the next floor. He kept pace with her, merely saying:
‘You’re going somewhere else.’
She looked back at him and said serenely, ‘Why, yes. I told the children’s mothers that I would look in on them while I was up here. There’s no point in us all coming up.’
She went in turn to the two bedrooms, where she found one small girl awake and went through the ritual of a drink of water, and the turning of the pillow and the re-tucking up. Finally she dropped a kiss on the round cheek and rustled softly past him, leaving him to shut the door. They were almost at the head of the stairs again when he said, ‘Georgina,’ and she stopped and looked round, to be instantly clasped and kissed and kissed again, until, almost unknowingly, she returned his kisses. But presently she put a firm hand against the fine stuff of his dinner jacket, remembering Therese, and said in a steady, cold voice:
‘You’ve been wanting to do that, haven’t you? Perhaps you’ll feel better now.’
Through her own pain she heard the shock in his voice, as he repeated:
‘Better? What the devil do you mean by that?’
She said tiredly, ‘Just what I say. When you can’t have something it gets out of all proportion, doesn’t it? You want it all the more even though you don’t really want it…’ She stopped, for she was getting muddled; all the same, she felt that she had made herself clear. Apparently she had, for he let her go.
‘You think that?’ He spoke in a calm almost casual voice that told her nothing.
She repeated, ‘Yes, I mean that. Good night.’
She made herself go calmly down under his eye, longing, most illogically, for him to say something—anything. He said nothing at all, and although she stayed stubbornly until the last guest had gone, he didn’t speak to her again.
Only Karel and Franz were at breakfast when she went down with the children; and they were off somewhere for the day. She listened to their talk and replied suitably, and when they had gone realized that she hadn’t heard a word they had been saying. Everyone was leaving that morning—it was Great-Uncle Ivo, bidding her a courtly goodbye, who let drop the news that Julius had gone out very early that morning to some urgent call from a hospital in Amsterdam. She stood with Dimphena and the two children, waving goodbye, and asked as she turned away, ‘Is Madame LeFabre staying on?’
Dimphena replied rather shortly, ‘Yes. She’s afraid it will be too dull for Julius over the weekend. She says she will cheer us all up. I heard her arranging to meet Julius for lunch today, so I expect we shall have to do our own cheering up.’
She looked resigned and Georgina said bracingly, ‘Why don’t you look up that friend who couldn’t come yesterday—surely Karel would give you a lift?’
Dimphena brightened, and thus petitioned, her brother willingly agreed, and half an hour later, having seen them on their way, Georgina stood in the hall in slacks and jacket and a bright scarf on her head, while the two children debated their morning’s amusement. It was overcast outside, with no wind at all, and Beatrix, always persistent, reiterated her demand to skate.
‘What about Cor?’ asked Georgina. ‘It won’t be much fun for him.’
‘Yes, it will, if we stop and talk to him every time we go round,’ persisted her small companion. ‘Half an hour,’ she wheedled, ‘please, dear George.’
‘Your guardian said we weren’t to skate unless he gave permission, and you know he went far too early this morning for me to see him.’
‘Ah, but I have seen him,’ said Therese from the stairs. She hurried towards them, saying diffidently, ‘I overheard you as I came down—you do not mind, I hope? But you see Julius gave me a message for you, that you might skate if you wish. He thought that perhaps you feel lonely now that everyone is gone. It was, you understand, far too early for him to tell you himself.’ She glanced at Georgina and gave a half smile. ‘It is good for skating; no wind. If I have time before I meet Julius, I may join you.’
She drifted away, leaving an aura of something delicious behind her. When she had quite gone, Cor said, ‘Let’s go, George. I don’t mind standing, and I can walk along that little path Hans cleared for me; only let’s go indoors again if she comes too.’
They started for the door. Georgina smiled at him. ‘Don’t worry, Cor, I don’t think Madame LeFabre will have time to skate with us if she’s going out to lunch.’
The ice was a grey reflection of the sky above them, the trees which sheltered the lake were wind-still. It was ideal for skating. Georgina, kneeling to fasten their skates, glanced around her. It was much warmer—the ice looked the same and Julius had said that they could skate. All the same, she circled slowly round the lake before going back for Beatrix.
It was on their second time round, when they were exactly opposite Cor, watching them from the further bank, that the ice cracked suddenly beneath their feet, and Georgina, making a frantic effort to save Beatrix, pitched forward into the ever-widening gap in the ice. Mercifully, she had Beatrix by the hand; she clutched it still as she fought her way to the surface. As soon as they came above water, she gasped:
‘Don’t scream, darling. Keep your mouth shut, and stay still. When I tell you, get an arm around my neck.’
She began to tread water, a difficult, almost impossible feat because of her skates, but she was a good swimmer and not given to panic.
In a moment, she said, ‘Now, darling,’ and felt a small sodden arm weighing her shoulders. She could see Cor now, staring at
them in a kind of stiff horror which permitted of no sound. She drew a deep breath and called desperately, ‘Cor, listen carefully. Go slowly—slowly, you hear—to the drive; it’s very close, then shout for help.’
She spluttered on a mouthful of icy water and heard his faint cry and hoped he’d understood, and still treading water, watched him turn and make his way carefully along the little path, out of sight, towards the drive, that was, thank heaven, so close.
Beatrix had begun to cry, had swallowed water, and was choking. Georgina hushed her with chattering teeth, drew a difficult breath, and essayed a shout. It wasn’t very successful, but at least it gave them both the feeling that help would come quickly. Beatrix whimpered, ‘I can’t feel my legs.’ She had gone very white, and her arm was like lead.
Georgina shouted again; her voice sounded thin and useless in the still air; her legs were getting numb too, she could feel their heavy, slow movements. She tried to remember how long it was possible to keep alive in freezing water—five minutes—ten? She judged that four or five minutes had passed already, although it was hard to tell. She said:
‘Darling, can you try to get your other arm around my neck?’ and Beatrix had just managed to do that when she heard a car’s engine in the distance. Cor would be on the drive by now; even if the car went by, someone in the house would be sure to hear him. The car snarled into the drive and she heard its grinding halt, presumably by Cor. Before her terrified sense could think who it was, Julius’s voice came to them from the bank. He said with an icy calm, ‘Keep still. When I reach you, do exactly as I say.’
She said nothing, because her teeth were clenched to stop their chattering, but she gave a weak squeeze of the limp little body she was clutching so desperately. It was only seconds later when he was beside them, pulling Beatrix’s arms from her neck. He said, ‘Hold on!’ and was gone with the little girl over one great shoulder. The seconds seemed like eternity; it was lonely in the water; she heard shouting and running feet, but they didn’t mean anything any more. She closed her eyes, went under, and came up again, gasping and choking and terrified, to find Julius there. He had a rope this time; he put an arm around her and clamped her close while they were pulled to the bank, where several pairs of hands caught her and laid her flat and began to rub life back into her body.
