The Fifth Day of Christmas

by Betty Neels

  Jorina said comfortably, ‘We’ve been talking about the party. Did you enjoy it too?’ and when Julia said that she had, very much, they all started talking about it once more, and continued to do so until Doctor van den Werff got up to go to bed, followed, in ones and twos by everyone else, but when Julia went to follow them, Ivo said softly, ‘Not you, Julia—stay a few minutes longer.’ So she stayed, sitting back comfortably in the deep chair, watching the flickering fire and not talking at all. Ivo had nothing to say either, but it was peaceful there together; somehow there seemed no need for words. But when the clock struck a silvery half hour she roused herself, exclaiming,

  ‘The time! I simply must go to bed,’ and was taken aback when Ivo said quietly, ‘There is really no need to talk, is there?’ and smiled in such a way that she got to her feet rather more hastily than she had intended. ‘It was a lovely party,’ she gabbled. ‘I’ll say goodnight,’ but Ivo had stood up with her and before she could move away had caught her hands in his.

  ‘It’s Christmas Day, Julia—the first day of Christmas.’ He let her hands go and fished around in his pocket, to produce a small jeweller’s box of red leather and then lift her hand to curl the fingers round it. ‘I hope you’ll like it, dear Miss Pennyfeather.’

  She opened her hand and looked at the box. ‘May I open it now?’ she asked in a small voice, and taking his silence for consent, lifted the lid. There were earrings inside, resting on white velvet. They were early Victorian, she guessed, small golden crescents ornamented with filigree work in the centre of which was suspended a red stone, set in gold—they looked like rubies, but as it wasn’t very likely that Ivo would buy her rubies, she supposed them to be paste, but paste or not, the earrings were very beautiful. She said so in a warm voice and asked if they were Dutch, and when he said briefly, ‘Yes,’ she went on, ‘Thank you, Ivo, what a lovely present. I want to try them on.’

  She smiled at him and went across to the baroque mirror on the wall and slipped the delicate little hooks in, swinging her pretty head from side to side to see the effect. She began. ‘They’re much too…’ but was interrupted by his, ‘No, they are not, Julia,’ and something in his voice prevented her from going on, so she said instead, ‘Thank you. Ivo—what a lovely way to start the first day of Christmas.’ She smiled at him in the mirror and he said lightly, ‘Wear them tomorrow, Julia—think of them as a small return for what you have done for Marcia, if you will.’

  ‘Very well, Ivo. And now I think I’ll go to bed. Good night.’

  In her room, she took the earrings out of her ears and laid them back in their little box; they had done nothing to discourage her impossible daydreams; it was time she used a little common sense. She got into bed and late though it was, spent some considerable time poring over the time-tables she had purchased in Oisterwijk, so that she could return to England with the least possible fuss, just as soon as Doctor van den Werff suggested she should do so.

  She was early for breakfast next morning, but Jorina was already at breakfast with Ivo and her father, although no one else had come down. They greeted her with a cheerful chorus of Merry Christmases and she sat down, to find a small pile of gaily wrapped packages by her plate. She jumped up again at once and said, a little confused, ‘Oh, I left mine upstairs—I wasn’t quite sure—I’ll get them.’

  She was back in a minute to give her own small presents before opening her own. Bep’s was first—a small Delft blue candlestick, complete with its blue candle. The second was a French silk scarf in coffee patterned with greens and blues, from Jorina, and lastly there was a large square box, which turned out to be marrons glacés, most extravagantly packed and beribboned, from the doctor. She had scarcely finished thanking them when Jorina asked, ‘What did Ivo give you?’

  Julia glanced at him across the table. He had finished his breakfast and was sitting back in his chair, very relaxed, smiling a little.

  ‘Earrings,’ she said simply, ‘quite beautiful. Gold crescents with red stones.’ She smiled widely, remembering them. ‘I shall wear them when I change.’

  By the time she was free from her duties, everyone had gone to church. It would have been nice to have gone too, even in a foreign language church would have made the day more Christmassy. She had hoped that Marcia might have expressed a wish to go with the family, but she had protested gently when she had been invited to join them, and Julia had spent the greater part of the morning encouraging her to exercise herself, something she was loath to do.

  They all met again at lunchtime, for although Jorina had come upstairs with a request that Marcia and Julia should go down for drinks, Marcia had refused on the grounds that her legs ached. Julia spent half an hour massaging them once more before her patient felt fit for the journey downstairs, and when they eventually reached the sitting room it was to find the men closeted in Ivo’s study, enjoying themselves from the sound of things, and Jorina and her sister-in-law sitting together, drinking sherry. They greeted Marcia kindly enough, but their kindliness didn’t quite make up for the reception she had expected, for she said in some surprise, ‘I had expected everyone to be here…’

  Jorina offered her a drink, was refused and said, ‘Well, you know what men are—they’re in Ivo’s study, drinking whisky—they’ll be out presently.’

  Marcia sat down, took the various packages from Julia which she had been bidden to carry downstairs, and said, ‘Well, in that case…’ and handed Jorina her gift with a flowery speech which its contents hardly merited. Julia, eyeing it, decided she could have well done without it, had it been offered to her; perhaps she had been lucky in the bookmark after all, for Jorina was staring nonplussed as The Seven Types of Ambiguity and quite obviously searching for the right words with which to express her thanks.

  The other men came in then and Marcia gave first doctor and then Ivo their gifts and then accepted theirs with a girlish flutter which caused Julia to get up and walk over to the window, from where she watched the doctor unwrap a diary which he exclaimed over politely, tactfully omitting to mention that he received several of exactly the same pattern, free each Christmas, from the various pharmaceutical firms enjoying his patronage. Ivo thanked her gravely too his face blandly polite as he exhibited a tie, a floral one very gay and aggressively nylon—and he, Julia was certain, wore nothing but pure silk, hand-made, and those in dark rich colours. And for Bep, Marcia had nothing at all, which didn’t worry her in the least, for after her own careless, ‘Oh, her—I’d forgotten,’ she undid her own presents. And very dull too, thought Julia while her patient exclaimed rapturously over a Greek-English dictionary which the doctor had thoughtfully given her and a beautifully bound volume of Montaigne’s Essays from Ivo—not a very loving gift, thought Julia, and felt a guilty delight in her earrings.

  Lunch, a light meal, because they were going to dine traditionally that evening, passed off smoothly enough, and Julia, watching Ivo discreetly through her long lashes, could see nothing in his pleasant friendly manner towards Marcia to suggest that he was in love with her, although she was shrewd enough to realise that he wasn’t a man to show his feelings in public—at least, she amended, only if his feelings got the better of him, and those, she considered, he had nicely under control. It was a pity she could tell nothing from his face. He was looking at her now and she hadn’t heard a word he said.

  ‘Daydreaming,’ he remarked. ‘I’ll have to say it all again. What are you going to do this afternoon?’

  ‘Go for a walk,’ she replied promptly, because it was the first thing to enter her head.

  ‘I’ll come with you if I may,’ he said easily. ‘I could do with some exercise.’

  Without looking at her Julia knew that Marcia was annoyed, although when she spoke, that young woman’s voice was as well modulated as always, although faintly long-suffering.

  ‘Ivo,’ she said, ‘I had hoped that we might have had a pleasant afternoon—do you know, we’ve hardly talked since you have been back?’

  �
�Indeed?’ Ivo was at his silkiest, but perhaps it was because he was still annoyed about August de Winter and wanted to teach her a lesson. Julia frowned; she didn’t care be used for his convenience—she wouldn’t go for a walk…

  ‘This evening, perhaps,’ Ivo went on vaguely with a pleasant smile. ‘Shouldn’t you rest now?’ He glanced across at Jorina. ‘We’re dining early, aren’t we, Jorina—?’ and when she nodded continued to Marcia, ‘There are a few friends coming in this evening, you don’t want to be too tired.’

  They got up from the table and as they did so he said to Julia,

  ‘Hadn’t you better hurry up and change, or we shall have no time for our walk,’ and because there seemed to be a little pause in the talk as he spoke, Julia said meekly that yes, she would go right away.

  It was barely a quarter of an hour later when she came flying down the stairs again, warmly wrapped against the cold, the fur bonnet tied securely under her chin, her feet snug in high leather boots. She pulled on her gloves as she reached the last stair and looked around for Ivo. He was lounging in his study doorway, watching her, and as she exclaimed, ‘Oh, there you are,’ crossed the hall to meet her, exclaiming,

  ‘You look so happy, dear girl. Why is that?’

  She was happy, but it was impossible to tell him that it was because she was going to spend the afternoon with him. ‘It’s Christmas,’ she stated, as though that explained everything.

  They started off briskly, for although, for once, the sun was shining and the sky was almost clear of clouds, there had been a heavy frost during the night and it was cold.

  They walked in silence, and Julia, trying to think of something ambiguous that would hold no pitfalls conversationwise, asked, ‘Was the church full?’

  He tucked a hand beneath her elbow. ‘Yes, very. I wish you could have been there. I had hoped that you might be.’

  ‘So did I, but I couldn’t have left Marcia. She was tired after the party—it was wonderful to see her dancing.’

  His hand tightened and she winced from the pain. ‘Don’t let’s talk about her, not now, Julia. Let’s pretend we’re back at Drumlochie House.’

  On the way back Julia asked, ‘How many people are coming tonight, Ivo?’

  ‘Oh, a dozen or so—mostly neighbouring doctors and friends from the hospitals—they don’t stay late. I’m afraid it’s a splendid chance for us to talk shop. Jorina will be glad to have you there to break us up when we get too engrossed.’

  ‘Jorina’s a dear,’ said Julia with conviction. ‘She’ll be a wonderful wife. Klaas is a lucky man.’

  Ivo stopped to stare down at her. ‘And whoever gets you for a wife will be a lucky man too, Julia.’

  Her heart sank a little; it seemed as though he took it for granted that she would marry; someone in England, in the future neither of them knew anything about. She told herself she was being foolish and said too brightly, ‘Oh, no, he won’t. I don’t think I’m very good with money and I love pretty clothes and I’m not in the least clever.’

  ‘You sound ideal,’ said Ivo, and put up a hand and pushed her bonnet to the back of her head so that her black hair spilled out. He pushed that aside too, gently. ‘You’re wearing the earrings,’ he said, and smiled a little.

  ‘Of course. Aren’t they lovely?’ she wanted to know, and went pink when he said, ‘Almost as lovely as you, Julia.’

  He bent and kissed her gently and said, as he had said before, ‘Only a seasonal greeting,’ and then tucked her hair back inside the bonnet and pulled it forward. And Julia, shaken by his quiet, serious face, said, as she too had said, ‘Yes—well, shouldn’t we be going back?’

  That night, lying in bed with the house quiet around her and only the wind in the trees outside to disturb her thoughts, Julia tried to make plans again, but it was of no use and she allowed her thoughts to drift instead to the pleasant evening they had all enjoyed. For it had been that; they had dined off roast turkey with its attendant chestnut stuffing and cranberry sauce and what Jorina described as English vegetables culled from an old copy of Mrs Beeton’s cookery book. There was even a Christmas pudding, and Julia had found it rather touching that Jorina had gone to such pains to have everything just right. They had finished with crackers to pull and the champagne which Ivo had produced had loosened their tongues to a gaiety which even Marcia joined in.

  Later, when the guests had arrived, it had been fun too; they had teased her in their beautiful English about the few words of Dutch she managed to say and she had laughed with them, not in the least put out, and even contrived to add to her vocabulary. Somehow Ivo had been beside her for the greater part of the evening, and when everyone had gone and she was waiting at the foot of the stairs while Marcia said her goodnights, he had come to her and asked her if she had had a happy day. She had nodded, her eyes alight with happiness, the earrings dancing, and had longed to ask him if he had been happy too—and didn’t dare for fear of the answer. So she had smiled at him, saying nothing, her vivid face aglow, forgetful of her feelings, and then turned to see Marcia watching them from the drawing room door.

  She hadn’t been surprised when Marcia, as she was getting ready for bed, asked her who had given her the earrings; she had been able to answer naturally enough that it was Ivo. ‘Something to remind me of Holland when I go back,’ she said lightly, and Marcia had said nothing to that, nor had she made answer when presently Julia wished her goodnight.

  In her own room she had taken the earrings off and laid them carefully away in their little box. She didn’t think she would wear them for a long time, not until she could bear to think of Ivo without wanting to burst into tears—something which she immediately did.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JULIA, SLEEPING HEAVILY after a wakeful night, was roused by Jorina’s knock early the next morning. She was already dressed in her outdoor things and said happily,

  ‘Klaas and I are just off. The others have just gone—I know it’s early, but I wanted to say goodbye, as I shan’t be back for a day or two. There’s the date to fix for the wedding and several things to decide about the flat, and Klaas is free until the twenty-eighth.’

  She sat down on the end of the bed and looked closely at Julia.

  ‘You look—have you been crying? I do believe you have. Has Ivo been beastly to you? He can be a perfect fiend if he loses his temper. The trouble is, it’s hard to tell when he does, because he goes all remote.’

  Julia shook her head. ‘No, it’s not Ivo.’ Perhaps it would have been better if he had been remote and stayed that way, then she could have nurtured a dislike of him.

  ‘Oh—it’s Marcia, is it? I expect she took exception to the earrings—they’re rather nice, aren’t they? I like rubies.’ Jorina ignored Julia’s open mouth and went on smoothly, ‘It’s her own fault. I mean, if you’re fool enough to despise such things, you deserve to get dry-as-dust books, don’t you? You know, Julia, I’m beginning to wonder if she will ever go back to England. I asked Ivo and he looked like a thundercloud and told me to keep my nose out of his business—there’s a brother for you! But all that awful coyness at the party—I mean, anyone listening to her might have thought…it’s going to make it much harder for him.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Julia, trying to look disinterested.

  ‘Well, as long as he thought Marcia was really in love with him I believe he would have gone to any length not to hurt her, but now he knows about August de Winter, he’ll wait his chance to—to disengage himself without making her look a fool—though I wouldn’t be so nice about it, I can tell you. Only I hope she’ll give him the chance.’

  She jumped up, exclaiming, ‘Well, have a pleasant time. It’s the second day of Christmas, after all, though I don’t think we’re quite as merry about it as you are in England with your Boxing Day.’

  She smiled and nodded and was gone, and a minute or two later Julia heard the car leaving the house. She got up then, for Christmas or no Christmas, Marcia needed to be coaxed through her exercis
es and helped in a dozen small ways.

  She was a little late for breakfast because Marcia had awakened a little grumpy and was ready to find fault with everything, and Julia, reminding herself that perhaps her patient didn’t feel as well as usual, was patient and calm and good-natured with her until at length Marcia pronounced herself satisfied.

  Father and son were already at table as she entered the dining room, between them they sat her down, rang for fresh coffee and offered her the bread basket, and although they both gave her similar searching glances neither of them commented upon her pale cheeks, but wished her a good morning and reminded her they would be going to Utrecht in the afternoon.

  The morning passed slowly, the more so because there was no sign of Ivo when they went downstairs, only his father and a handful of friends who had called in to wish them the compliments of the season, and drink their health in the doctor’s excellent sherry. They chatted politely to the two girls, their nice manners standing them in good stead when Marcia rather patronisingly complimented them on their English. One of them, who Julia knew was a professor of surgery at Breda hospital with an English degree as well as several Dutch ones, wanted to know what Marcia thought of his own language, ‘For,’ said he, ‘of course you will have learned to speak it while you have been with us all these months, Miss Jason.’ He had smiled blandly at her and when she had confessed that she knew no Dutch at all he turned to Julia and asked,