Wish with the Candles

by Betty Neels

  ‘Oh? I didn’t know. I thought they were just being polite and friendly because we were strangers.’

  He didn’t remove his arm. ‘It’s a clear evening,’ he observed. ‘We’ll go into the garden.’

  ‘The others…’ ventured Emma, trying not to be aware of the arm, and was not answered, only propelled gently forward on to the terrace and down its shallow steps on to the grass. It was indeed pleasant outside, with a muted evening sky and the garden’s many colours already paling. She sniffed the fragrance of the rose bed in the lawn’s centre and said impulsively, ‘Oh, Justin, how can you bear to leave all this tomorrow—don’t you want to stay?’

  ‘More than anything in the world.’ His voice was quiet. ‘But I shall come back as I said, and live happily ever after, I hope. I’ve waited so long, I can wait a little longer.’

  They had reached the end of the lawn and were walking along a path between shrubs, the trees behind marking the boundary of the garden. Emma noted their variety, forcing her mind to think of mundane things. It was astonishing how physical the pain of thinking of Justin and Saskia together in his house, perhaps walking this very path together, could be; certainly it was something she didn’t want to talk about. After a moment she asked, ‘Do roses grow well here?’ and was aware of his hidden amusement as he embarked on a placidly meandering conversation about those flowers. It seemed he knew a great deal about them, and Emma, whose knowledge of them was sketchy, was reduced to murmurs of agreement at suitable intervals. They regained the terrace presently and rejoined the others and for the rest of the evening the only conversation she had with Justin was of the most casual sort.

  It was beautiful weather the next morning and after breakfast Justin offered to take them for a drive round the immediate countryside. ‘Otherwise,’ he explained, ‘Kitty won’t see a great deal. We could go to Schoonhoven and have coffee there.’

  Which they did; Kitty sitting in front, asking questions at each turn of the road and making Justin laugh a great deal. They stopped for coffee at the Bevedere and then went the long way home, past the castle of Ijsselstein and so back in time for lunch. Afterwards they went into the garden where garden chairs—super-comfortable ones; the kind Emma had admired in the glossy magazines—were grouped around a wrought iron, white-painted table, and after a little while Justin left them to fetch Saskia from Utrecht. He didn’t offer to take anyone with him, and when he had gone Mevrouw Teylingen murmured that she would have a little rest in her room and would they be happy by themselves for a little while?

  They sat in the sunshine, writing letters, not saying much until Janeke brought out the tea tray and their hostess joined them once more. It was an hour or so later when Emma’s ever-listening ears heard the car return and ten minutes more before Justin and Saskia came down the garden towards them. Saskia, Emma saw in one lightning glance, was even prettier than she had remembered.

  She greeted them both with charming friendliness and then, without any effort at all, made herself the focal point of the conversation. Emma, watching Justin’s frequent slow smile, thought that he must surely be comparing Saskia’s gaiety with her own rather ordinary person; it was something of a relief when visitors came and, naturally enough, stopped for a drink. Emma, annexed by an elderly man with a masterly command of the English language and an overwhelming interest in astronomy, allowed her attention to wander from time to time to peep at Justin, playing the host to perfection. He looked placid and cheerful and she supposed it was her imagination which caused her to find him thoughtful behind his smile. Presently he went over to his aunt and after a few words with her, started moving among his guests, pausing for a few moments to make some smiling remark to each of them, and Emma realized with a sinking heart that he was wishing them goodbye. He stayed some time with Kitty and then kissed her and left her laughing, to stroll across the grass to where Emma was still coping rather wildly with the stars. He spoke to her companion and then turned to her.

  ‘I’m leaving now, Emma. Enjoy your holiday, and I think you will for Saskia will be here to keep you and Kitty company. I’m not quite sure when I shall be back.’

  Emma glanced briefly at him and away again. ‘No,’ she answered too quickly, ‘I’m sure you don’t. I’ll—I’ll say goodbye, for I daresay we shall be back at work and maybe you will have left William and Mary’s. Thank you very much for inviting us. It was good of you…we do appreciate…’

  She came to a halt, aware that the last thing she wanted to do was to say goodbye to him, here in front of a lot of strangers. But perhaps it was a good thing. She said abruptly, ‘Goodbye, Justin,’ and put out her hand, and when she looked up into his face it was to find his green eyes very intent on hers, and although he was smiling, they were thoughtful.

  He took her hand and bent his head and kissed her lightly on her cheek. His voice was so quiet that only she could hear. ‘Dear Emma, surely you know by now that I never say goodbye?’

  She knew no such thing, but there was no time to say so, for he spoke briefly to her companion in his own language and strolled away. A minute later she saw him walking unhurriedly across the lawn towards the house. He didn’t look back, but he had barely disappeared when Saskia followed him and Emma, with a heart laden with misery, turned her attention once more to her companion’s discourse on stellar motions, asterism, chromesphere and solar flares; she knew nothing whatever about any of them, but at least they kept her mind from dwelling on other things.

  The days passed pleasantly enough; they walked, drove and sat about in the garden, and Saskia was never without visitors. They came in a constant stream and usually stayed for lunch or dinner, and Saskia took care that Emma and Kitty met them all, for she was a perfect hostess even though Emma had the feeling that she had no desire to become more than a passing acquaintance to either of them. But she had little or no interest in their opinions or lives, merely begging them with casual friendliness to join any outing she had planned and making sure that they had everything they required for their comfort. Her mother was, however, rather more curious about them and asked a great many questions which both Kitty and Emma did their best to answer. Kitty rather resented them, but Emma was quick to excuse their hostess’s curiosity. ‘I dare say she’s lonely,’ she said. ‘Saskia must be away from home quite a lot, and after all, she’s very kind.’

  ‘So she should be,’ said Kitty sharply. ‘After all, she lives here at Justin’s expense.’

  And would continue to do so, thought Emma silently, if he married Saskia.

  Of the professor there was no word. Neither Mevrouw Teylingen nor Saskia mentioned him, and Emma, who longed to ask, found herself too shy to do so. The faint hope that he might write, if not to her, perhaps to Kitty, died slowly with the passing days and she began to wish that she had never come, for everything about the house reminded her of Justin and common sense told her that the quicker she put him out of her mind the better. She did her best; visiting the museums recommended by Mevrouw Teylingen when they went to Utrecht, walking round the open-air museum at Arnhem, inspecting the castle at Doorn where the German Kaiser had lived. They drove in Saskia’s scarlet Mini through the Hoge Veluwe, one of the National Parks, to visit the Kroller-Muller Museum, although they didn’t stay long because Saskia was bored long before they were halfway through the paintings, let alone the sculpture and the porcelain and hurried them away to Ede to visit more friends with whom they spent the rest of the day. On their way home that evening she disclosed that she was having a party the next day and plans were afoot for an expedition to Noord-wijk-aan-zee and what did they think of a trip to Amsterdam to sample the night life?

  Kitty responded enthusiastically to these suggestions and Emma, who hated to hurt people’s feelings anyway and didn’t care what she did now that Justin had gone, agreed with more politeness than truth that she would find it great fun. But it wasn’t—somehow the young men she met seemed too young and the talk a little vapid, a viewpoint for which she was quite prepare
d to blame herself; perhaps she was getting too old…She mentioned it to Kitty the day following the outing to Amsterdam.

  ‘We go back in a couple of days,’ she began carefully. ‘Will you miss all this, Kitty?’ She walked over to the window and looked out on to the bright garden. ‘We haven’t been as gay as this for years.’

  Kitty got up off her bed and came to peer over her sister’s shoulder.

  ‘It’s been great. I’ve loved it—all that tearing round with Saskia and the restaurants and the people we’ve met,’ she went on shrewdly, ‘but you’ve not liked it very much, have you, darling? You’re a home bird, aren’t you? Fancy being able to spend the rest of your life looking at that garden and living in this lovely old house. How I’d love it—just with Justin, of course. Mevrouw Teylingen and Saskia would have to go somewhere else.’

  Emma stared fixedly at the view. ‘Oh, would you like to live here with Justin? I thought it was Will…he’s written to you almost every day.’

  ‘Silly,’ said Kitty, ‘of course it’s Will—that’s why I was so keen to come here. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.’ She looked at her sister. ‘Funny he never mentions Justin—not once.’ She added obscurely, ‘I despair of you, Emma darling—you’re so efficient in theatre, too.’ Which remark she didn’t attempt to elucidate, and even if Emma had asked her to do so there was no chance because there was a knock on the door and Saskia came in to tell them that some friends had called and would they like to come down and meet them?

  The friends went just before dinner and Emma, changing into the pink shirtwaister, heaved a sigh of relief that Saskia had decided against a proposed plan to go to Utrecht and join those same friends at the Jaarbeurs restaurant for the evening. They had been out almost every night during the last week; it would be pleasant to have a quiet one at home, although she was aware that Saskia didn’t like her overmuch, but perhaps she would be able to go along to the billiard room and knock a few billiard balls about. As it turned out, after half an hour or so in the sitting-room after dinner where the other three ladies had become engrossed in discussing Saskia’s winter wardrobe, she was able to wander off unnoticed. She switched on the powerful light over the table in the billiard room, got herself a cue and began making aimless shots, her mind busy with the all-pervading thought that in two days’ time they would be gone. There had been no message from the professor; possibly he had telephoned or written to Saskia—he must have done one or the other—but naturally Saskia wouldn’t think it necessary to tell them about it. He would arrive back home after they had left—or at best, meet again for a fleeting moment at William and Mary’s. Emma hit the ball blindly because she had closed her eyes in a stern endeavour to hold back tears, so that when Justin said from the doorway behind her: ‘Hullo, Emma,’ she dropped her cue, opened her eyes and saw that she had made a quite beautiful shot. She picked up the cue and turned round to face him, glad that the rest of the room outside the circle of light over the table was dim, but before she could say anything he had strolled over to the table, saying, ‘That was a magnificent shot—I can see I shall have to look to my game or you’ll be beating me.’

  ‘I’m going home the day after tomorrow,’ said Emma, and frowned at the stupidity of the remark. He stood in front of her, smiling. ‘Yes—I hadn’t forgotten—did you think I had? That’s why I’m here.’

  Her eyes searched his face and her heart did a double knock against her ribs, only to slide into her shoes as he went on, ‘I’ve brought Will with me—he couldn’t wait to see Kitty again. I only hope she feels the same way about him.’

  So that was why he had come back. ‘She does,’ said Emma faintly. ‘I suppose she’ll go back with him.’

  ‘Naturally.’ He had caught her two hands in his and was idly swinging them to and fro. ‘He drove his own car.’

  She allowed herself the pleasure of the feel of his hands on hers.

  ‘Oh, did you travel with him?’

  ‘God forbid! I drove myself.’

  That had been another silly remark on her part; of course he would need his own car now he was back in Holland for good. She stood quietly, very conscious of him, wishing she had put on a prettier dress, aware of his own impeccable elegance and unshakable calm, aware too that she loved him more than ever. She essayed, ‘Of course you’ll need it here, won’t you?’ and heard the laugh in his voice as he echoed, ‘Of course, I can’t very well go to work without a car, can I?’

  She longed to ask why he hadn’t written but said instead, ‘You aren’t going back to William and Mary’s?’

  ‘Probably not. Have you forgotten that I intend to settle down—did I not tell you that I should marry?’ He was still holding her hands and looking down at her with a smile to melt her very bones. ‘Emma, can’t you guess whom I shall marry?’

  She stared up into the green eyes and the gleam in them made her suddenly reckless. She was about to answer him when the door was flung open and Saskia danced in. She ran across the room, flung her arms around his neck and kissed him, crying, ‘Justin, how lovely! I’ve been longing for you to come,’ and somehow he wasn’t holding Emma’s hands any more, for Saskia’s arms were around his neck and she was laughing and talking at the same time, and presently he was laughing with her as though it hadn’t really mattered that he and Emma had been interrupted.

  Emma stood a little apart, not looking at them and feeling cold inside and rather sick because she had so nearly given herself away. Her relief at not having done so was so great that for the time being at least, it overshadowed every other feeling, so that presently she was able to walk arm-in-arm with Justin, laughing and talking to them both as though seeing them reunited was the one thing she had wished for most. Once in the sitting-room it was easier, for Will was there. She flung herself at him, very much to his surprise, exclaiming how delighted she was to see him again and begging to hear all the news of the hospital.

  He said a little awkwardly, ‘Hullo, Emma. Good lord, you do sound keen—anyone would think you wanted to get back to work. I must say you look as fit as a flea, old lady—you’ve been having a smashing time, so I’m told.’

  Emma caught at this conversational straw and embarked on a detailed account of their holiday, very conscious of Justin and Saskia deep in conversation by a window and conscious too that Will was longing to get back to Kitty. It was Mevrouw Teylingen who separated them at last, gently urging Will to take his bag up to his room and then come down for a drink before bedtime. ‘You must be tired,’ she urged, ‘and I’m sure you will want to make the most of Kitty’s last day—I daresay you have already made plans to go out.’

  It seemed he had, Kitty had already said that she would show him the surrounding countryside he explained to his hostess and then, rather red in the face, said hastily to Emma, ‘You must come too, Emma.’

  She improvised hastily, ‘Thanks, Willy, but I can’t possibly. I must go into Oudewater—I’ve an appointment at the hairdresser and there are one or two things I want to get, and it’s my last chance.’

  She smiled at him quite naturally, confident that he wouldn’t stop to wonder why the possessor of long brown hair, done in a neat bun on top of her head without the aid of waves or curls, should suddenly wish to visit the hairdresser’s. His relief was so patent that she almost laughed out loud.

  She was ready for bed, sitting aimlessly before her mirror staring at her reflection when Kitty came in. Kitty glowed; she said at once:

  ‘Isn’t it marvellous that he came? He never said a word in his letters…he’s going again the day after tomorrow. You don’t mind if I go with him, darling?’ She added belatedly, ‘You can come too, if you like.’

  Emma turned round on her stool and studied her sister. ‘No, darling, I’ll go back as we arranged, only you’ll have to see about your ticket. I shall be back a bit after you—Will said something about taking the day boat, but that won’t matter at all. Are you going to marry him?’

  Kitty smiled dreamily.
‘However did you guess?’ she asked. ‘Of course I am, just as soon as we can get everything planned.’ She looked apologetic. ‘I know we haven’t known each other long and you’ve been friends with him for ages, but somehow we just knew, and you don’t need to know each other, do you?’

  Emma didn’t answer this purely rhetorical question. ‘I’m so glad, darling. Will’s a dear and just right for you and you’re exactly what he needs. Mother will be so pleased.’

  ‘Yes. Emma, I thought that you and Justin—I mean, it seemed as if…’

  Emma examined a non-existent spot on her chin in the mirror. ‘Oh, we’re great friends,’ she said airily, ‘but you know how it is, people come and go.’ She yawned and got to her feet. ‘I’m tired, Kitty, time for bed…all this excitement. Won’t it be fun, planning the wedding and where you’ll live? Will you finish your training?’

  Kitty nodded. ‘Yes, that’s one thing we’re sure about, though it’s all a bit vague.’ She strolled to the door. ‘Good night, darling.’ At the door she paused, ‘Do you suppose Justin’s going to marry Saskia?’

  ‘I should think it very likely.’ Emma’s voice wasn’t quite steady because she had been taken unawares. She jumped into bed and pulled the bedclothes up very high so that her voice, when she said good night, was muffled.

  Emma wakened at six o’clock after a night of sleeping and waking and thinking which had got her nowhere at all. She lay and watched the morning sky brighten and then got up, because to lie there in bed any longer would have been quite intolerable. She dressed quickly and slipped on quiet feet down the staircase, across the hall and out of the small sitting-room’s window on to the terrace. The garden looked lovely under the gentle warmth of the sun. She paused for a minute to look around her and then hurried across the grass to its furthest end where there was a door in the wall leading on to a narrow country lane. The lane wound through flat meadows, occasionally with a small canal for company, on the other side of which the cows clustered. It was all very peaceful and secure and although it wasn’t as beautiful as the Dorset countryside, Emma had come to like it very much. She walked fast, trying to outstrip misery and failing so singularly that she began to cry, not caring in the least because there was no one to see; every now and then she wiped away the tears with the back of her hand, but fresh ones fell and after a while she didn’t bother any more.