The Fifth Day of Christmas

by Betty Neels

  ‘You are not to accept lifts…!’

  ‘But I just have,’ she pointed out calmly, ‘from you.’

  She heard his sharp indrawn breath. ‘Don’t be frivolous,’ he said violently. ‘I came to look for you.’

  Her heart bounced against her ribs, but her voice was still coolly calm. ‘I didn’t know—thank you. I hope I haven’t spoiled your evening.’ She thought him most unreasonable when he answered abruptly, ‘You might have thought of that sooner.’

  Julia protested, ‘How could I? I wasn’t to know that you would come and look for me. I think you’re being unreasonable, and I’m twenty-two, you know, and quite capable of looking after myself. Thank you all the same,’ she added politely.

  She heard him sigh. ‘Perhaps you will be good enough to go walking in daylight—and if you must go to Oisterwijk, or anywhere else, after dark, please ask one of us to run you there in a car.’ His hand came down on hers, linked in her lap. ‘Please, Julia.’

  She wanted to take his hand in hers. It was an effort to keep her hands resting quietly under his touch. She said at once, ‘Yes, of course I’ll do what you ask. I hope you’re not—not angry any more.’

  His hand tightened for a moment and slid away. He said in a very quiet voice, ‘Oh, my dear girl,’ and then in a normal voice, ‘Have you had a busy day with Marcia? I hear she walked downstairs.’

  Julia gave him a cheerful account of the day’s doings, omitting the small frictions between herself and her patient. They were unimportant; the important thing was to get Marcia well so that this man beside her could marry her, since he wanted to. She sighed soundlessly.

  After dinner Doctor van den Werff declared that he had letters to write and within a few minutes Jorina got up too, saying that she was going to telephone Klaas, which left Marcia lying gracefully on one of the sofas by the fire, Ivo sitting opposite her in a great armchair with Ben at his feet, listening with apparent interest to her opinion of Goethe’s works, and Julia, sitting a little apart.

  When Marcia paused for breath Julia got to her feet with the fictitious statement that she had letters to write. ‘And I’ll get your room ready for you, Miss Jason, and come back presently, and we’ll try walking upstairs. Shall we say two hours?’

  Ivo raised his eyes briefly from the contemplation of his well-shod feet. ‘If you intend walking upstairs, Marcia, I shouldn’t make it too late—it would never do to overdo things.’ He glanced at Julia. ‘Would you come back in an hour, Julia?’ His voice held mild authority and although Marcia pouted prettily, he took no notice. As Julia went from the room she heard him ask,

  ‘And what do you think of Vondel—not much known…’

  She had expected her patient to make a great fuss about going upstairs, but as she reached their foot, leaning on Ivo’s arm, Doctor van den Werff flung open his study door to say that Ivo was wanted on the telephone at once, and without him for an audience there was no point in drooping and sighing. Julia got her to bed, said goodnight and went along to her room; she might as well go to bed too. She had taken off her cap when Jorina appeared. ‘I’ve made some coffee,’ she said persuasively, ‘come on down and have a cup.’

  They went together to the empty sitting room and over their coffee talked about Jorina’s wedding. They were deep in the bridesmaids’ outfits when the two men came in and their chat became the pleasant end-of-day talk Julia remembered so clearly at Drumlochie House. And when after a little while she got up to go to bed it was Ivo who said,

  ‘Not yet, Julia, unless you’re very tired.’ He put down his coffee cup. ‘Jorina, I haven’t had time to tell you about the delicious bread Julia baked…’

  It was when she at length got up to go that Ivo said at the door,

  ‘There’s something I want to know. Why do you call Marcia Miss Jason?’

  ‘She prefers it—some patients do, you know, just as they prefer to call the nurse by her full name. It doesn’t mean anything.’ She looked anxiously at him. ‘We get on famously,’ she lied, and smiled, ‘She’s been simply wonderful today.’

  ‘Has she? It must have been very lonely for her all these months—she has no friends here and no visitors, only Jorina and her girl friends, and they… You’ll be good company for her. She told me this evening how very empty her days have been.’

  Julia nodded, said goodnight and went upstairs. So Marcia hadn’t told him about Mijnheer de Winter after all.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A WEEK WENT BY, one day slipping without haste into the next, and Marcia, whether she liked it or not, showed marked improvement. Julia had managed to get some sort of routine into the days, and now her patient was coming down before lunch instead of after—something she didn’t seem to like very much, and it wasn’t until Mijnheer de Winter called again and Marcia was forced to entertain him in the sitting room with Jorina and Julia there that Julia realised why—her patient’s caller had looked decidedly taken aback when he had been shown in and had stayed, making rather self-conscious conversation, for a bare ten minutes.

  Later that day, when Julia had been alone with Jorina, she had asked about him and Jorina had laughed and said, ‘Oh, him. Isn’t he a pompous little man? Marcia told me that Ivo finds him agreeable, though, and is grateful to him for visiting her all the while he’s been in Scotland. All I can say is that Ivo must have changed a great deal if he likes him.’ She eyed Julia, placidly making up a muslin cap, with a thoughtful look. ‘He has changed.’

  Julia didn’t look up. ‘Well,’ she said reasonably, ‘he does bring her the kind of book she enjoys.’

  ‘Homer, Virgil,’ said Jorina with something like disgust. ‘I’d rather browse through Elle.’ She put down the sweater she was knitting. ‘Julia, do you think she’s a bit too clever?’

  Julia clasped her hands round her knees and thought. Determined to be quite fair, she said at length, ‘It depends on whom she marries, doesn’t it? I expect some men admire a good brain—if they’re clever themselves.’

  ‘Well, Klaas is clever, and I don’t know one end of the Greek alphabet from the other,’ Jorina smiled, ‘but he admires me.’

  It was when the question of Julia’s half days came up that Marcia suggested that Jorina should take her into Tilburg one afternoon.

  ‘I’m quite able to amuse myself for an hour or so,’ she said with her habitual gravity, and smiled bravely when, Ivo said,

  ‘That’s very kind of you, Marcia, but will you be quite all right on your own?’ Whereupon she had leaned forward and pressed his hand and murmured, ‘You forget, Ivo, that I’ve had many months alone and in pain.’

  Julia squirmed in embarrassment and looked away so as not to see Ivo’s face, and met his father’s stare instead. She saw the gleam of laughter in his eyes before he allowed their lids to fall.

  So she had gone to Tilburg with Jorina and enjoyed it immensely, for she had some money now and a pleasant companion with whom to look at the shops. She bought presents for her family, because no one had said how long she was going to stay and for all she knew she might not have the chance of shopping again. They went back after tea when the pale winter sky had darkened and the wind had gathered its strength once more. ‘It’s going to be a cold night,’ observed Jorina as she drove her little Citroën rather too fast along the icy road. ‘You’re sure you’re happy to come back? It is your half day, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I don’t mind a bit,’ said Julia. ‘After all, I’ve been out the whole afternoon and what would I do with myself out on a night like this?’

  ‘Go to Oisterwijk,’ laughed Jorina. ‘Oh, dear, Ivo was so worried about you when he got home—you should have seen him—and Marcia vexed because he said almost nothing to her…’

  Julia interrupted hastily, ‘Yes, it was so silly of me. I have enjoyed my afternoon, Jorina. Thank you for taking me.’

  ‘I enjoyed it too. We’ll do it again—there are still the Christmas presents to buy. We don’t have such a gay time in Holland as you do in England b
ecause we have St Nikolaas first. But we do have a party and a tree and little gifts. You must wear that lovely pink dress you showed me.’

  They talked clothes for the rest of the journey and went into the house, still talking, their faces glowing with the cold and the thought of Christmas ahead, and found Marcia sitting where they had left her with a book in her hand, gazing wistfully into the fire with a sad face which didn’t deceive Julia one bit. She turned to look at them as they came in, pretending surprise, and remarked in a resigned voice,

  ‘There you are—I’m sure you must have had a delightful time. How I wish I were able to enjoy the simple pleasures of life!’

  Julia murmured encouraging as she glanced casually at the book in her patient’s lap—and then glanced again, for it was a different one from the volume of Virgil Marcia had been reading when she and Jorina had left; this one was a prosy tome on mediaeval religion, twice as large as Virgil and with a different coloured binding. When Jorina presently went from the room Julia asked,

  ‘Did Mijnheer de Winter come to see you, Miss Jason?’ and was rewarded by Marcia’s slight flush and frown.

  ‘How strange that you should ask, nurse. As a matter of fact he did—to bring me another book.’ She went on in self-assured way, ‘It was such a cold afternoon I persuaded him to stay and have tea with me.’

  ‘How nice—and now, if you’re not tired, supposing we walk around the house for a little while? There’s no one about and I daresay you’re tired of sitting all the afternoon.’

  She saw the flush appear again. So Marcia hadn’t been sitting still all the afternoon! Julia, promenading up and down the hall with her patient, tried to guess what she was up to.

  She was on the point of asking in a roundabout fashion when Ivo came in from the hospital and Marcia, never one to miss an opportunity to attract attention to herself, cried,

  ‘Oh Ivo, look at little me—aren’t I splendid? I feel so small and fragile and I’m sure I should fall over if it were not for Nurse Pennyfeather’s arm—isn’t it fortunate that she’s such a stoutly built girl?’

  Ivo threw off his coat, saying good evening as he did so, then, with the faintest hint of a smile, he turned to study Julia.

  ‘No,’ he said mildly, ‘not stoutly built—shapely if you like, curvy if I am permitted to say so, but definitely not stout.’

  Julia gave an enchanting gurgle of laughter. ‘What a relief! I was beginning to feel like the village blacksmith.’

  His smile widened. ‘I can think of nothing less like,’ he said, and they laughed at each other across the hall and Marcia, her well-modulated voice a little sharp, asked, ‘Have you had a busy day, Ivo? I daresay your patients have been difficult…’

  He was still looking at Julia, but now he turned politely to face her. ‘No, not in the least, for the greater part of the time they’re under the anaesthetic.’ He looked at Julia again. ‘Did you have a good time in Tilburg? But surely you should have the evening free as well?’

  Julia tried not to look too pleased because he had remembered to ask.

  ‘Lovely, thank you. Yes, I should be free, I suppose, but I’m quite happy about it—there’s nothing for me to do on an evening like his.’

  They were sitting down to dinner when Ivo said,

  ‘No one minds if I take Julia to the cinema in Oisterwijk, do they?’ He looked round the table at his father’s and sister’s approving faces, Marcia’s affronted stare and Julia’s astonished one. ‘It’s her half day,’ he added blandly. ‘I don’t see why she should be forced to remain in—you agree, Marcia?’

  ‘Well, of course—if Nurse wishes to go out she is entitled to, I suppose, although I should have thought a quiet evening with a book…’

  Ivo was staring at her and Julia noticed that he had his father’s trick of lowering his lids so that it was hard to see his eyes.

  ‘It’s an old film,’ he said mildly, turning to Julia. ‘The Sound of Music, if you can bear to see it again.’

  ‘Oh, rather! I loved it.’

  ‘A film I’ve never seen,’ remarked Marcia tartly. ‘A sentimental fairy tale, so I’ve been told.’

  ‘Very sentimental,’ agreed Ivo gravely, ‘just the thing to round off a half day.’

  Half an hour later, warmly coated and wearing the fur bonnet, Julia danced downstairs and into the sitting room, to stop short at the door. Ivo was standing just inside the room and Marcia was addressing him in the clear tones she affected and which Julia could not but hear.

  ‘It’s very good of you, Ivo, to sacrifice your evening in this way,’ her patient was saying. ‘I was looking forward to a pleasant conversation, but of course Nurse must have her amusement. I can only hope you won’t be bored to tears.’

  Julia stood in the hall and said to Ivo’s back, ‘I’m ready,’ in a rather small voice. He turned and raked her with a bright glance before bidding Marcia goodnight and closing the door behind him. The moment he had done so, Julia said urgently, ‘I couldn’t help hearing—I—I didn’t think—I wouldn’t dream of spoiling your evening.’

  He tucked her arm firmly into his. ‘The only way my evening will be spoilt is if you don’t come. It’s just exactly what I need after a hard day’s work.’ He smiled as he spoke and ushered her into the car and got in beside her. ‘The cinema’s small,’ he went on easily, ‘and the audience is sometimes noisy—will you mind?’

  ‘No,’ said Julia happily, and meant it.

  They had seats at the back of the crowded hall; they were narrow and not very well-sprung, and her companion by reason of his size was very close. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to take her hand in his and hold it throughout the performance. Even when the lights went up half way through, he didn’t let go and she was content to let it remain there.

  It was bitterly cold when they came out of the cinema and Ivo said, ‘Coffee, I think, don’t you?’ and swept her across the street to De Wapen van Oisterwijk, where in an atmosphere redolent of the evening’s dinner, cigars and the faint sharp tang of Genever, they sat in the pleasant little coffee room.

  ‘The film was marvellous,’ said Julia. ‘Thank you for taking me. I don’t suppose it was quite your cup of tea, though?’

  ‘My what?’ Ivo stared at her over his cup, ‘Oh, I see—aren’t men sentimental?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve never known one well enough to ask. But wasn’t it a bit lowbrow for you?’

  A muscle twitched at the corner of Ivo’s mouth. ‘No. Don’t you know James well enough to ask him?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. Besides, he’s not the sort of person you’d ask.’

  ‘Then you’d better not marry him.’ He spoke lightly. ‘If you’ve finished perhaps we had better go.’

  She looked idly at the clock on the wall behind him and gasped,

  ‘It’s after eleven, Ivo! I should have been back ages ago—what will Miss Jason do? How will she get to bed? I should never…’

  ‘Panicking, Miss Pennyfeather?’ His look was mocking. ‘It’s your half day, isn’t it? I asked Jorina to help Marcia to bed—she can, you know, and I fancy that Marcia has become stronger in this last week—you must be having a good effect upon her.’

  They were walking back to the car and he had tucked her arm in his again. ‘I thought so too,’ said Julia soberly. ‘I wondered’—she hesitated—’I wondered if she were to go out in the car—you know, for a short trip or to see the shops—if she would enjoy it. Just to drive through a town when the shops are lighted up would make a change for her. I’m sure she’s well enough.’

  She didn’t look at him as she spoke because she didn’t want to see pleasure at the idea on his face. It wasn’t until they were sitting in the car that he asked, ‘You think that would be a good idea?’

  She looked at him, a little puzzled because his voice had sounded almost reluctant. ‘Well, you could ask her,’ she suggested tentatively. ‘It’s almost Christmas; she might like to buy some presents.’

&n
bsp; ‘So she might. And you, when will you buy yours?’

  It seemed as though he didn’t want to talk about Marcia. Julia said lightly, ‘I’ve got some already, and I shall get the rest when I go into Tilburg again.’

  He started the car. ‘Very well, I’ll take you both in one day next week—will that do?’

  ‘Yes, but…’

  ‘But what, Miss Pennyfeather?’

  ‘Well, will you suggest it to Miss Jason and when she says yes, you could ask me as a kind of afterthought—otherwise it might look as though we’d arranged it all first and that might hurt her feelings.’

  He made a small sound which could have been a laugh. ‘If I were James I should come after you and marry you out of hand, my dear Miss Pennyfeather.’

  ‘Why? And why do you call me Miss Pennyfeather?’

  ‘You don’t like it? But I always think of you as the magnificent Miss Pennyfeather. You are, you know, and you’re not only quite beautiful, you’re—alive.’

  He stopped the car in front of the house, turned towards her, slid an arm around her shoulders and kissed her hard.

  When she had her breath again she said with a kind of stunned politeness, ‘Thank you for a very nice evening, Ivo.’

  His face was only an inch or two from her own and he was smiling a little. ‘I haven’t enjoyed myself so much for a long time,’ he said softly. ‘No, that’s not quite true. I enjoyed every minute of our stay at Drumlochie House.’

  He got out and walked round the car’s bonnet and opened the door for her. She went inside without saying anything more, only a quiet goodnight as she went up the stairs.

  Her patient’s light was still on. Julia pushed the half open door a little wider and looked into the room. Marcia was in bed with a book open in front of her. She said with gentle resignation,

  ‘So you’re back, Nurse Pennyfeather. The performance must have been a long one.’ Her pale eyes searched Julia’s vivid face. ‘You look as though you’ve enjoyed yourself, but I hope you won’t make a habit of this—I had the greatest difficulty in getting up the stairs.’