by Betty Neels
` y all means,' he agreed affably. 'You can tell me when we've had coffee.'
`I said think about it,' she said crossly, 'and I must ask Peter...'
`Without wishing to state the obvious, I suspect that he will want to go.' He wandered off to meet Trottie and Dodge as they came in, and Eulalia made coffee and found the biscuits, and if she didn't have overmuch to say for herself no one appeared to notice.
Dodge washed the cups and saucers, and she sat uneasily while Trottie and Mr van Linssen discussed the weather. 'It's getting chilly,' he observed. 'Hol-
BETTY NEEIS
land always seems colder. Well, it is, of course. You had better bring something warm with you, Eulalia.'
Trottie looked suitably surprised. 'Going on a bit of a holiday, Miss Lally—and Peter too? Do you both good, that peaked you've been looking lately.'
Eulalia shot him a dark look. A mean trick, pinning her down to give an answer with Trottie there. `I haven't...' she began, and caught his eye. He wasn't smiling but something in his steady look made her pause. She said weakly, powerless, it seemed, to prevent her tongue from uttering the words, 'Yes, we're going on holiday, Trottie—just for a few days—it's Peter's half-term.'
`I dare say Holland's as nice as England,' said Trottie. 'Well, almost. I've not much liking for foreign parts, myself.' She smiled at Mr van Linssen. `Begging your pardon, though I don't count you as foreign.'
`You flatter me, Trottie. You shall come to Holland with Dodge later. He considers it quite a pleasant place.'
He got to his feet. 'Well, we must go. I'm sorry I can't stop to see Peter, but I've a list at three o'clock. If I'm to take some time off I must work a little harder first. Eulalia, get your passports from the post office—they'll only be temporary but we can get permanent ones later on. I'll be here quite early on Thursday morning and Dodge will be with me.' He bent to kiss Trottie's cheek and made way for Dodge
before turning away. 'We shall go from Dover and get home in the late afternoon.'
He gave her an avuncular pat on the shoulder and went out to the car where Dodge joined him. She watched him drive away, torn between a great wish to go with him and annoyance at the high-handed way he had got her to agree to do as he wanted.
Peter, home from school, could hardly contain his excitement. Whereabouts in Holland?' he wanted to know.
`I' m not exactly sure...'
`Well, it doesn't really matter, does it? It's abroad, isn't it? Wait till I tell the boys at school. Aunt Lally, I'm so excited.'
Eulalia had to admit that she was excited too.
For the moment, she put aside her problems, fetched the passports, packed clothes for the two of them, and worried about money, which was a bit silly for she had almost none to worry about. In the end she went to Cirencester again and pawned her watch—a gold one her grandmother had given her on her twenty-first birthday.
Thursday came, and with it Mr van Linssen and Dodge. No time was lost; greetings were exchanged, farewells said, Charlie and Blossom embraced for the last time, Eulalia ushered into the back of the car and Peter, to his delight, settled in the front seat. It had all been done, she reflected, without fuss or bustle; she would have encountered far more bustle
catching the bus to Cirencester. She supposed that Mr van Linssen travelled so much that a mere trip to Holland was taken in his stride. She sat quietly, half listening to Peter's small voice and Mr van Linssen's deep tones as he drove south.
He broke the journey at a service station, telling them that he would meet them in the café in five minutes' time. Eulalia, hurrying Peter in the direction of the loos, was grateful for his matter-of-factness. They had sandwiches and coffee and got back into the car, Peter clutching a bar of chocolate. 'In case you get peckish,' said Mr van Linssen.
They had travelled on the motorways for almost all the distance, in the fast lane, and as far as Eulalia knew it was motorway until they reached Dover— as it proved to be. The Bentley made nothing of the distance; they were slowing down as they reached the harbour while she was still lost in daydreams.
Once on board they went on deck, so that Peter could watch as the ferry left Dover, and then they went to the restaurant for a meal, and all the while Mr van Linssen kept up a flow of easy talk about nothing in particular, answering Peter's flow of questions with patience, evading her attempts to ask the questions hovering on her tongue. When at last she got her chance he answered casually, 'My home is in a small village close to some lakes, a short distance from Utrecht and Hilversum. We'll drive up the coast into Holland. Once we are over the border it will be motorway again, I'm afraid, but it is the
quickest way, and Peter will be needing his supper and bed.'
With that she had to be content.
Once they had landed, he took the road north out of Calais, following the coast into Belgium and to the border town of Sluis. It wasn't a fast road but it was almost free of traffic and, unlike the motorway to Antwerp and beyond, there was plenty to see— small villages, churches and neat villas. She suspected that he had come that way so that Peter wouldn't get bored. Breskens, where they would have to take another ferry, was only a few miles from Sluis and a ferry was waiting. It was a short crossing, but there was time to have a cup of coffee and then go on deck in the chilly evening so that Mr van Linssen could point out exactly where they were. They joined the motorway when they landed at Vlissingen.
`Just over a hundred miles now,' said Mr van Linssen, and joined the stream of traffic. It sounded a long way, but he put his large, well-shod foot down and raced along. Eulalia supposed that there were driving restrictions in Holland as well, as in England, although the cars seemed to be going very much faster, perhaps because the country was so flat that one could see ahead for miles—no hedges, no corners, no hills. They were bypassing Breda in forty minutes and turning north to. Utrecht. It was dark by the time they got there, but the lights from the city lit up the sky as they passed it, taking the motorway to
Amsterdam now. Not for very far, though; he turned the car off the motorway and into a country road. There was a glimmer of water and trees, and presently a village, and few minutes later they were turning in between brick pillars to stop before his home.
`We're here, aren't we?' asked Peter, as Mr van Linssen unbuckled his belt, and he turned round to say, 'Aunt Lally, I'm so excited, aren't you?'
Of course she was; she was scared too. What, on earth had she been thinking of to come all this way, meet any number of people she didn't know and who might not like her or Peter? Who were the people, anyway? She knew absolutely nothing about him or his home. She got out of the car when he opened the door for her, feeling a little mad. The sight of the house didn't reassure her either. It stood for so much: wealth and gracious living and a proud ancestry. No wonder he was so arrogant. No, not arrogant, just sure of himself...
The door had been opened, allowing light to stream out, and a grey-haired man came down the steps to meet them.
`Pete.' Mr van Linssen shook his hand. Tulalia, Peter, this is Pete, who runs this place with his wife Anneke. Pete, Miss Warburton and Peter.'
They shook hands and Pete said, 'A pleasure to meet you, miss, and Peter.'
Eulalia said quickly, 'Oh, you speak English. Peter and I can't speak Dutch, I'm afraid.'
`No worry, miss. Anneke speaks only Dutch, but I will be there too.'
They were inside the house by now and Anneke came to meet them, to be greeted with a hug by Mr van Linssen before they were introduced once more. He said something to the housekeeper, who took their coats while Pete fetched the luggage and Mr van Linssen said briskly, 'Let us find my mother. She will be expecting us.'
`Your mother?'
He took her arm. 'Did I not mention her? She stays here frequently, although she lives in den Haag. She will be in the drawing-room, I expect.'
He opened the double doors and ushered them inside. The room was magnificent—high-ceilinged, its walls hung with mulberry-red silk
. There were high-backed armchairs on either side of the blazing fire in the great stone hearth, and a wide sofa, backed by a sofa table, facing it. Great bow-fronted cabinets stood against two walls and a brass stoelklok with its ponderous slow tick-tock hung between the long windows. There was a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, a glistening crystal waterfall, but it wasn't lighted; a number of small lamps stood around on the small tables set here and there around the room, casting a gentle glow, and there were ormulu wall-lights.
Eulalia heard Peter's gasp as they went forward to meet the elderly lady getting out of her chair She was tall, as tall and as big as Eulalia, and still a good-
looking woman. Her hair was grey and severely dressed and her eyes were as blue as her son's, and she was smiling.
`Fenno, you're here at last.' She lifted her face for his kiss. 'And this is Eulalia and Peter.' She offered a hand, adding, 'I may call you Eulalia? You do not mind? It is delightful to have you to stay. You shall tell me all the news from England, and I am looking forward to hearing about Peter's school.'
Mr van Linssen had gone to the French windows at the end of the room and opened them, and a large dog ambled in, to fall all over her master with delight, giving happy yelps. 'Come and meet Sally, Peter. She looks fierce but she's very friendly.'
She was a Bouvier, with a grey woolly coat, small yellow eyes and enormous teeth, a formidable beast if crossed, but just now grinning with pleasure and submitting to Peter's small hands. 'You like dogs?' asked Mevrouw van Linssen of Eulalia.
`Yes. Mr van Linssen gave Peter a puppy; we call him Charlie...'
Mevrouw van Linssen took her arm. 'You will want to go to your room and tidy yourself, my dear. Anneke shall take you and Peter upstairs, but don't be long, for we shall dine early so that Peter can go to bed.'
Anneke came then and clucked in a motherly fashion over Peter and led them across the hall to the staircase curving against one wall to the gallery above. It was a rather grand staircase with carved
banisters, and the wooden treads were worn by generations of feet.
They had rooms side by side with a shared bathroom, and the moment Anneke left them Peter said in an awed whisper, 'Aunt Lally, it's very grand, like a palace. Mr van Linssen must have lots of money. I wonder why he works when he doesn't need to?'
`I think because he likes being a surgeon, dear.'
Peter nodded and said, 'Yes, I expect so.'
They explored their rooms together, charmed by the narrow canopied beds hung with muslin curtains, and their coverlets of toile de Jouy, the matching curtains and the William and Mary marquetry chests. In Peter's room there was a tulip-wood dressing-table on delicate castors and a small tub armchair, just right for his size. There were books too—children's books on the small table by the bed. Someone had gone to a great deal of trouble, thought Eulalia, inspecting in her turn her own room, with its Georgian dressing-table set between the two windows, a Dutch marquetry toilet mirror on it. There was a cheval-glass in one corner of the room too, and she took a quick look at her person. Her plain wool dress couldn't compete with her hostess's elegant outfit, but it would pass muster. She went into Peter's room, made sure that he had washed his face and hands, brushed his hair and went downstairs again.
There was sherry in the drawing-room and lemonade for Peter and ten minutes' pleasant talk before
they crossed the hall to the dining-room. It was not as large as the drawing-room but equally grand, with a massive sideboard and an oval table which could seat a dozen without difficulty. They sat at one end of it, Mr van Linssen at the head, his mother on his right and Eulalia, with Peter beside her, on his left, while Pete served them with soup, chicken in a delicious sauce and a chocolate pudding rich with cream. They drank a white wine and Pete poured apple juice for Peter.
Mr van Linssen was a splendid host, maintaining a gentle flow of talk which required no effort to answer, and talking to Peter too, keeping to general topics with his mother but never once giving a clue about his family or his life in Holland. Presently, waiting as Peter bade them goodnight, Eulalia was aware that he was watching her, but she looked away quickly, afraid that he might see how happy she was to be there, in his home with him.
He opened the door as they reached it and touched her on the arm. 'Come down again, Eulalia.'
She nodded at his waistcoat, very conscious of his hand.
Back in the drawing-room, once Peter had fallen asleep, she sat beside Mevrouw van Linssen on the sofa a little away from him in his armchair, while he suggested how she and Peter might spend their days. He sounded matter-of-fact and friendly. 'I don't need to go to Amsterdam until the afternoon. I thought we
might go round the gardens and explore the house. I know Mother will love to gossip after I've gone.' `Are you staying in Amsterdam?'
`No, no, but I shall be back very late, and I go to Utrecht on the following day and on to Leiden, but I should be home in the early evening. I wondered if you would like to come with me? Utrecht is worth a visit, and so is Leiden. I'll take you both to lunch and then drive to Leiden. I only need to be there for a couple of hours and, if you would like, I'll get someone to take you both round the hospital.'
`That would be marvellous. Peter will be thrilled. Won't we be a nuisance?'
`No, not at all. I'm afraid it is a very small glimpse of Holland.'
But it's a start,' observed his mother. 'Leiden is a charming little city. I'm sure you'll enjoy it. And I'm looking forward to showing you the village, and we can walk to the lake...'
Eulalia said her goodnights presently and said, `Please don't get up,' when Mr van Linssen walked to the door with her.
He took no notice at all, but with his hand on the door said, 'I think that you might try and call me Fenno, don't you? After all, we are old acquaintances.' He bent swiftly and kissed her. 'Goodnight, Eulalia.'
She wouldn't sleep, she fretted as she got ready for bed. He shouldn't have kissed her—it wasn't fair, with the business of the cottage and the money still
a bone of contention between them—well, on her side at any rate, since he persisted in doing nothing about it or even mentioning it.
She got into bed, ready to lie and worry, but instead went to sleep at once.
The next day was over too soon. They spent the morning roaming round the gardens: acres and acres of lawns, rose-garden and a herb-garden, a walled kitchen-garden, a pond with carp, a gazebo, long walks bordered by herbaceous plants, lying dormant, and a vast greenhouse. Peter, with Sally beside him, ran ahead while Eulalia, quite forgetting her worries, stopped to peer and admire and ask questions.
`However many gardeners do you have, Mr van— I mean, Fenno?'
`Two, and a boy.' He tucked her hand in his. 'You aren't cold?'
`No, it's lovely, so different...'
`Very quiet, although we are very close to the motorway. You like a country life, don't you, Eulalia?'
She nodded. 'Yes. What's through that little door?'
`A paddock, with stables at the far end housing a pony, a chestnut mare and a donkey.'
Peter would have stayed there for hours, feeding them the carrots and sugar Fenno had brought with him, but they prised him away at last and went indoors to have coffee before looking round the house.
`There won't be time to see all of it. Mother will
be delighted to take you round the old wing and the attics.' He took her hand and they went upstairs with Peter and Sally to begin their tour. There were several doors round the gallery and passages to the left and right, as well as half a dozen stairs leading to the back of the house. They went from room to room, each one perfect, until he glanced at his watch.
`I have to go—there's one more room I want to show you.'
He led the way to the front of the gallery and opened a double door. The room overlooked the front gardens, its three tall windows draped in pastel brocade, the bed a vast four-poster with curtains of the same brocade. There were tallboys and a vast chest aga
inst one wall, and a dressing-table with a triple mirror and a low stool, and all of them were in tulip-wood and marquetry. There were comfortable chairs too, and a day-bed at the foot of the four-poster.
Peter stared round him. 'It's like a room for the Queen.'
Mr van Linssen nodded gravely, his eyes on Eulalia.
He left soon after and they sat down to lunch with Mevrouw van Linssen, and afterwards walked to the village and took a look at the lake. Sally pranced along beside them and Peter ran to and fro, completely happy.
Eulalia, lying in her bed later that night, reflected that it had been a lovely day. Pete had taken Peter
to the kitchen to watch Anneke cook, and she and Mevrouw van Linssen had toured the rest of the house—the old wing, seldom used now, a mass of small panelled rooms and narrow passages, and then the attic floor. Not really attics, for they had been made into a flat for Pete and Anneke and bed-sitting rooms for the two housemaids. Only the vast one over the wing was filled with a hotchpotch of discarded furniture, great cabin-trunks, and a cupboard filled with old-fashioned dresses and hats. They had poked around together while Mevrouw van Linssen chatted of this and that, slipping in a few questions from time to time, so unobtrusively that Eulalia hadn't noticed.
The one flaw in a perfect day had been the lack of Fenno, but tomorrow, she told herself, she would be with him all day.
She woke early, as did Peter, and together they went to look out of the window. It was a fine day but there was a wind, and clouds piling up on the horizon, and striding away down the drive was Fenno with Sally.
`I'd have gone with him if he had asked me,' said Peter.
Me too, thought Eulalia, and urged him to get dressed so that they would be downstairs when he came back.
He wished them a cheerful good morning, remarked that there was a cold wind and that they had better wear something warm, and, once breakfast
