Cruise to a Wedding

by Betty Neels

  ‘You’re taking a great deal of trouble. It sounds lovely…oh, dear,’ she broke off, ‘whatever was that?’ She clutched at the large hand holding hers so confidently.

  ‘Nothing to worry about; we have to fasten our seat belts now, we’re coming in to land. Tomorrow you’ll feel much better about flying. You shall look out and I’ll point out the interesting things to see—there are a great number.’

  Loveday agreed halfheartedly, discovering at the same time that although she hadn’t exactly enjoyed the flight, sitting with Adam had been well worth it; she hoped that he would hold her hand again on the morrow’s trip.

  There was a car waiting for them at the airport; Adam, as Guake explained to Loveday, disliked taxis and preferred to drive himself. She wondered a little at the thought he must have put into the whole trip; the plans which must have been made and then carried out with such apparent lack of effort. She sat beside him once more, driving down the Avenida Almirante Reis towards Lisbon, less than three miles away. The city looked nice; she felt regrets that they wouldn’t be staying long enough to see it properly, and when she voiced this thought the Baron said idly: ‘Well, we must see what we can do about a next time, mustn’t we, Loveday?’

  It was one of those remarks which she found so difficult to answer. She mumbled at something and lapsed into silence again, a silence only broken when they arrived at the rather splendid hotel where he had chosen to stay; the Condestavel, close to the Avenida da Liberdade, a thoroughfare which looked to her to be very like the Champs Elysées.

  They wasted no time; the girls, after a satisfied inspection of their rooms and half an hour in which to tidy their persons, joined the men in the foyer, and went off to inspect the shops. Not all of them were open, for the midday closing was a lengthy one, but they pored over the enticing goods in the windows and then had an early cup of tea in one of the fashionable tea-shops in the Rua Garrett before pursuing this delightful pastime. They got back to the hotel an hour or so later, Rimada having bought a quantity of lace, some embroidered tablecloths, several silver ornaments she had taken a fancy to, and a small figurine she had been given by Guake. Only her three companions’ combined persuasive powers had prevented her from purchasing a set of cane chairs for the garden at home. Loveday had made more modest purchases—some small figures carved from cork, a silver bracelet for Phyllis, a stole for her mother. There was a great deal more that she would have liked to buy, but she wasn’t sure yet about returning to England; she had to keep back enough money for her fare.

  No one had made any mention of their plans once they got to Holland and she was beginning to wonder if Rimada’s mother would be quite as delighted to see her as Adam had made out. In her room, changing into the coral pink dress she hadn’t been able to wear in Madeira, she tried to make some plans of her own. Without much success, as it turned out, as Rimada—a transformed Rimada with apparently not a care in the world—came in to have her dress zipped up and stayed talking until Loveday was ready.

  The Baron, she saw at once, was in the best of humours—and why not? she thought bitterly, he had everything his own way—at great expense, no doubt, and with a lot of inconvenience to himself, but everything was turning out exactly as he had planned it should. Rimada, recovering fast from her little affair with Terry Wilde, seemed more than content with Guake. Guake was well on the way to getting what he wanted—Rimada, and the Baron…she had no idea what he wanted. Nothing, probably; he had everything. That left herself, with feelings annoyingly mixed; happy to be in the wretched man’s company and yet anxious to get away from him before he left a lasting scar on her life.

  They dined deliciously and at their leisure, and Loveday found the gaiety of the other three reflecting, dimly perhaps, in herself, and listened in some astonishment to her own voice, as gay as the others. She managed to laugh a great deal too, nicely concealing the awful muddle of thoughts going inside her head.

  They toured the city afterwards, stopping for drinks at one of the fashionable cafés and admiring the various buildings which the Baron pointed out to them. At length he parked the car and guided them through the older part of the city—Alfama, and so to the park overlooking the hill they had just climbed, past its medieval houses, the winding roads bringing them finally to the top. Here they walked in the gardens, and made brave by the semi-darkness, Loveday peered cautiously over the ancient battlements, to the distant Tagus and the lights of the city below, quite dimmed by the moonlight. The Baron had put a protecting arm around her as she stood, and when they went slowly back again, it was still there, warm and heavy around her shoulders. He stopped to let the other two go on ahead as they left the park.

  ‘A gorgeous moon,’ he observed. ‘What is it your poet Yeats wrote? “and pluck till time and times are done the silver apples of the moon.” I know now what he meant.’

  She didn’t answer him and he didn’t seem to expect it, only walked on slowly. The old streets were very quiet and just for a little while, there was no time, Loveday hadn’t felt as happy in all her life before.

  They all met for an early breakfast in the morning. It was a glorious morning with a promise of warmth, though when they started out there was a faint, cool breeze. Loveday, in front with Adam, was surprised to find that he knew exactly where he was going. ‘Do you know Portugal well?’ she wanted to know.

  ‘Only this locality—I’ve been here several times, but never for a long period. There’s a new teaching hospital here—the Santa Maria…’

  ‘You lecture?’

  ‘Yes.’ He was driving up the hill, away from the town. ‘You like it here?’

  So he wasn’t going to talk about his work. ‘Very much, though I’ve seen nothing of it, have I? But Lisbon is very pleasant.’

  He nodded. ‘We’re going to Queluz first, there’s a summer palace there you might like to see.’ And after that he didn’t speak until they arrived at the little town. The palace was charming, not large as such places went, perhaps, but its large, single-storey rooms, leading the one into the other, housed some charming furniture, and their guide was equally charming. Too much so, thought Loveday crossly, for the girl had attached herself to the Baron and was chattering away like an old friend, pausing in a conversation which they both obviously found most entertaining, to pass on some interesting piece of information to the rest of the party. Loveday was pleased to see her go once they were in the palace gardens and with the contrariness of a woman in love, at once attached herself to Guake, leaving a slightly put out Rimada to stroll with her cousin.

  But it was impossible to stay remote for long. For one thing, the Baron was quite unmoved by her coolness of manner, and for another they were soon at Sintra, a fairylike little town in the mountains, their peaks towered over its great palace, its small square and narrow streets lined with old houses, and each peak was crowned with a castle, ruined for the most part, but adding a picturesque touch which enchanted the two girls. The palace dominated the town, its great arches and steps leading from the square, its quaint chimneys, like Kentish coasthouses, bulging along its face.

  They wandered through its rooms, part Gothic, part Moorish, climbed the many stairs and admired the tiled floors, and this time the guide was elderly and walked ahead of them and the Baron kept a light hold on Loveday’s arm during the whole of their visit. He was still holding it as they all crossed the square to the hotel opposite, to sit on its terrace and drink their coffee, and when an old woman, in her eye-catching costume, offered them some beautifully dressed dolls, Adam bought one for each of the girls, and then bought two more. ‘For your small sister,’ he said to Loveday, ‘and for your mother, if she would care to accept it.’

  He sounded so friendly that she looked at him with suspicion as she thanked him, but there was no mockery in the look he gave her, only a placid friendliness. Perhaps, she thought hopefully, they were no longer on opposite sides. Perhaps the dolls were an olive branch? Certainly they were delightful souvenirs and Phyllis and her mo
ther would love them. She still had to explain to her family about the different arrangements which had been made; it had been impossible to say anything on the postcards she had sent—upon reflection, it seemed a good idea to wait until she got home; a letter would be difficult; besides, there would be no opportunity to get it written before they left for Amsterdam. She dismissed the little worry from her mind and, pressed by Rimada, had another cup of coffee.

  They left Sintra by the winding hilly road leading to the sea, lined at its beginning with large villas set in colourful gardens, which presently petered out into a rather wild and beautiful countryside, with the rocky mountains still towering at a distance. It would have been nice to have had more time to explore, but as the Baron pointed out, they needed to be back in Lisbon by half past three at the latest, and although they weren’t far from the city, there was a good deal of interest to see before they reached it.

  They were at Cascais a few minutes later, an enchanting little town by the sea where the Baron had planned lunch. There was a tremendous amount to see. Leaving Rimada to go off happily with Guake, Adam whisked Loveday to the fish market and then to the beach where the fishing boats were drawn up, and from there to a charming park before allowing her a lightning glimpse of the shops. She had barely begun to study their contents when he walked her briskly to the Casas Hotel, listening good-humouredly to her annoyed comments on being rushed away from some of the most interesting shops she had seen.

  ‘Another time,’ was all he would say to console her, and grinned when she protested: ‘But I daresay I’ll never come here again—all those lovely embroidered head-scarves…’

  ‘Which ones were they?’ he asked lazily.

  ‘Those appliquéd ones,’ she told him, quite carried away by the thought of them. ‘Oh, there are Guake and Rimada, how pleased they look with themselves.’

  ‘Naturally,’ he sounded smug.

  They had a hilarious lunch, eating the local specialities; gazpacho, a cold soup of bread and onions and garlic, oil and vinegar and coriander seeds, and the lulas guizadas, which Loveday didn’t discover was octopus until she had eaten, and enjoyed, it. They finished with arroz doce which turned out to be a glorified rice pudding with cinnamon, and they washed these local dainties down with a Madeira wine carefully chosen by their host.

  Estoril, after that, seemed but a pale reflection of Cascais. Pretty enough, clean and white and bright with colour in the sunshine, and richly full of large villas, but the gardens before its casino weren’t as pretty as the little park in Cascais, and the sea-front, delightful though it was, lacked the character of the other little town. All the same, Loveday made herself a promise to come again one day while she listened to Rimada’s plans for another, longer holiday in Portugal next year. They were very definite plans, she noted, and Guake agreed with all of them.

  It was nice to see her friend so happy, but she felt a little sad too; she would miss her at the Royal City, although she had plenty of other friends. She supposed that in time she would slip back into her old way of life; the jaunts to the cinema and theatre, the shopping on pay day, the occasional dinner with some houseman or other, but very soon she would be getting a little old for housemen, and in any case, if she couldn’t go out to dinner with Adam, she wasn’t sure that she cared about going out with anyone else. The future looked a little dim.

  Back in the hotel there was just time for a cup of tea before they dispersed to their rooms to prepare for the journey to Amsterdam. Loveday packed, wondering about excess baggage, making uneasy calculations as to its cost—something which Rimada, when asked, dismissed as a trifle which Adam would see to. Loveday changed into a cotton jersey dress in a pleasing shade of mushroom and caught up its matching jacket; she was a bit vague about such things, but presumably it would be a good deal cooler in Holland. It was, after all, early October.

  The porter came for their luggage and at the same time handed her a small package, wrapped in the expensive paper found only in the best boutiques.

  ‘There’s a mistake,’ she said positively. ‘The other young lady…’

  The man shook his head. ‘For you, miss,’ and slid away with her cases before she could stop him. She turned the package over, examining it from all sides. There was no name on it, nothing to say for whom it was or from who it had been sent. She opened it slowly. There were two scarves inside, of a deep rose pink and a moss green of great delicacy; they were of silk and beautifully embroidered with the appliqué work she had admired in Cascais. Between them, on a leaf of paper torn from a pocket book and in Adam’s writing, were the words: ‘A small memento of a pleasant day.’ It was signed simply, ‘Adam.’

  She touched them with a gentle finger. He had gone away after lunch, she remembered, he must have bought them then; a kindly act, especially when she considered the stormy path of their acquaintance. She folded them carefully and put them in her overnight bag. Later on, when she was back in London, she would wear them and remember him each time she did so; not that she would need anything to remind her of him. She took a last quick look at her reflection in the mirror and wondered at the calm face staring back at her, while inside her, her heart was sick at the very thought of not seeing him again once they got back to Holland. She kept that outward calm when they went downstairs to find the two men and while she thanked Adam for his gift.

  He heard her out, smiling a little. ‘I felt guilty,’ he told her. ‘Let’s say that they are merely a salving of my conscience.’ A remark which turned her rather melancholy train of thought to instant pique, so that her manner became brightly brittle and her conversation stilted to say the least. The Baron, driving them all to the airport, let her rattle on, making monosyllablic replies and then only when necessary. She was so busy talking to mask her feelings that she quite failed to notice that he was deep in thought. Those same feelings were so strong, that she hardly realized that they had gone through Customs and had boarded the plane—indeed, they buoyed her up during the take-off and when the Baron asked her if she felt able to admire the view she told him quite tartly that she saw no reason why she shouldn’t, whereupon he leaned back in his seat so that she might look at the panorama of Lisbon and the Tagus, and in the distance, the great bridge spanning it, quite failing to notice the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and the gleam in his eyes. When she at length sat back beside him, he observed mildly: ‘I see that you are cured.’

  She quite forgot that her feelings were upset. ‘I wasn’t thinking about it,’ she confessed.

  ‘So I imagined. All the same, I shouldn’t go dangling over cliff tops or looking over high walls. Being in an aeroplane isn’t quite the same thing.’

  She agreed meekly enough, accepted the sweet and magazine the air hostess was offering her, and settled down quietly to read, because her companion had taken some papers out of his brief case and was as obviously intent on studying them and she was as capable of taking a hint as the next one, and because she was a little tired and the sight of him sitting there reading, just as though he were at home with his feet on his own hearthrug, lulled her to security, she closed her eyes and slept. She didn’t wake until the three-hour flight was almost over, a fact which she was thankful, for she felt faintly queasy. She sat very still, hoping the awful feeling would pass—perhaps if she thought of something else, to concentrate was the thing.

  Her companion’s voice precluded any such thing. ‘Feeling sick?’ he asked, not mincing matters. ‘Have some of this.’ He put a brandy flask into her hand, adding encouragingly: ‘Drink up!’

  Loveday drank, and said ‘Ugh!’ and at his insistence, drank again. The brandy burnt her mouth and throat and brought tears to her eyes, it also made her feel very much better. The Baron removed the flask from her grasp and put it back in his hip pocket.

  ‘We’ll be down in five minutes,’ he assured her. ‘Do you want to powder your nose?’

  Fortified by the brandy and with Rimada in support, Loveday went to tidy herself, carefully
not looking out of any windows, and although she said nothing at all when she got back to her seat, the Baron strapped her in in a kindly fashion and took her hand once more in his large, comforting grasp.

  Normally, she might have given some thought as to what came next after they arrived at Schiphol, but even a few days in the Baron’s company had accustomed her to effortless travel with all the snags nicely ironed out; it didn’t surprise her in the least to find his Rolls waiting for them. There was an elderly man at the wheel whom she recognized as Sieska’s husband. He got out as they approached, exchanged greetings, stowed the luggage and then stood waiting patiently while Adam and Guake had a short conference. Adam came back after a few minutes, saying by way of explanation, ‘Guake’s car is here; he’ll drive Rimada and I’ll drop you off at Wassenaar as we go. In with you.’ He nodded to the elderly man, who got into the back.

  There seemed no choice, and even if she could have made one, she would have chosen to go with him. Every minute of his company counted now; once he had returned to the fastness of his home in Friesland, she wasn’t likely to see him before she returned to England. There was still a few days of her holiday left and she wasn’t quite happy at the idea of being foisted on to Freule de Wolff with no warning whatsoever. She ventured to give voice to her doubts as the Baron sent the car speeding along the motorway.

  ‘Dear girl, how you fuss—my aunt will be delighted to welcome you.’

  She shot him an exasperated look. ‘How do you know? And how are you going to explain about Rimada losing all her money?’

  She saw his mouth curve in a smile. ‘She will be more than satisfied at the outcome of the whole miserable affair—for one thing, she had always fancied Guake as a son-in-law, and for another it has cost her nothing at all other than that quite unnecessary sum of money she gave Rimada.’

  ‘Perhaps she will think I am to blame? For helping Rimmy, I mean.’

  ‘Probably.’ His voice was disinterested and she looked away, out of the window. He knew everything. No, not everything; he didn’t know how much she loved him, but wild horses wouldn’t drag that from her. Sitting quietly beside him, answering his idle remarks suitably, she began to think about her future; Rimada wasn’t going back with her, though presumably she would have to return to hospital at some future date to see Matron. Presumably, too, she herself could make her own plans to leave in a couple of days or so, and surely Rimada’s mother would be glad if she did. She wondered about Guake—was he going to stay too? She wasn’t sure where he lived—somewhere in Friesland, she believed, but no doubt he would want to remain and consolidate his position with Rimada, so to speak. She became aware that her companion was speaking and had no idea what he had said. ‘I’m sorry,’ she uttered, a little flustered, ‘I didn’t hear…’