by Betty Neels
‘Ah, yes—well, it’s a way of saying you’re a thundering success.’
‘Thundering?’
‘Enormous,’ explained Lucy patiently. ‘Doesn’t Willem dance well?’
Mies shrugged. ‘Perhaps—I have danced with him so often that I no longer notice.’ Her eyes brightened. ‘But Fraam—now, he can dance too.’
‘Who’s the beanpole he’s with...the thin girl?’
‘That is his current girl-friend. He has many friends but never a close one—that is, girls, you understand.’
They started down the corridor which would take them back to the dance. ‘Well, he seems pretty close with you, love,’ declared Lucy comfortably.
‘I worked on it,’ confided her friend, ‘but you see I have known him for a long time, just like Willem, and he doesn’t—doesn’t see me, if you know what I mean.’
‘I know just what you mean,’ said Lucy.
But apparently Mr der Linssen had seen her, for a little later he cut a polite swathe through the group of young people with whom Lucy was standing, said, equally politely: ‘Our dance, I believe, Lucy,’ and swung her on to the floor before she could utter whatever she might have uttered if she had had the chance.
After a few surprised moments she said to the pearl stud in his shirt front: ‘I suppose you’re dancing with me because it’s the polite thing to do.’
‘I seldom do the polite thing, Miss Prendergast. I wanted to dance with you—you are by far the best dancer here, you know, and I shall be sadly out of fashion if I can’t say that I have danced at least once with you.’
For some reason she felt like bursting into tears. After a moment she said in a tight little voice: ‘Well, now you have, and I’d like to stop dancing with you, if you don’t mind. You’re—you’re mocking me and in a minute you will have spoilt my evening.’
They were passing one of the doors leading to a corridor outside and he had danced her through it before she could say anything more. ‘I’m not mocking you,’ he said quietly, ‘and if it sounded like it, then I’m sorry. Perhaps we don’t always see quite eye to eye, Lucy, but you’re not the kind of girl to be mocked, by me or anyone. I’ll tell you something else since we’re—er—letting our hair down. You look very nice. Oh, I know that your dress isn’t the newest fashion, but it’s a good deal more becoming than some that are here tonight.’ He added: ‘I am so afraid that something will slip,’ so that she laughed without meaning to. And: ‘That’s better,’ he observed. ‘Shall we finish our dance?’
Which they did and as he danced just as well as she did, Lucy enjoyed every minute of it, but at the end he took her back to Doctor de Groot and she didn’t speak to him again. She saw him continuously, dancing most of the time with the tall beauty and several times with Mies, but he didn’t look at her even, and when eventually the affair finished and they came face to face in the entrance, his goodnight was said without a smile and carelessly as though she had been a chance partner whom he had managed to remember.
On Monday Doctor de Groot’s receptionist, whom Mies helped for the greater part of each day, was ill so that Mies had to go to work, which left Lucy on her own. Not that she minded; she had presents to buy before she went home at the end of the week, and besides, she wanted to roam through the city, taking her own time and going where she fancied.
It was raining on Monday, so she did her shopping, going up Kalverstraat and Leidsestraat doing more looking than buying and enjoying every moment of it. She had a snack lunch at one of the cafés she and Mies had already visited and then, quite uncaring of the heavy rain, wandered off down Nieuwe Spiegelstraat to gaze into the antique dealers’ windows there. She got back very wet but entirely satisfied with her day and since Mies would have to work for at least one more day, she planned another outing as she got ready for bed that night.
This time she ignored the shops and main streets and went off down any small street which took her eye, and there were many of them; most of them bisected by a narrow canal bordered by trees and a narrow cobbled road, the lovely houses reflected in the water. She became quite lost presently, but since she had the whole day before her, that didn’t worry her, the sun was shining and the sky was a lovely clear blue even though the wind had a chilly nip in it.
It was while she was leaning over a small arched bridge, admiring the patrician houses on either side of the water, that somebody came to a halt beside her. Willem, smiling his nice smile and wishing her a polite good day.
‘Well,’ said Lucy, ‘fancy seeing you here—not that I’m not glad to see you—I’m hopelessly lost.’
‘Lost?’ he sounded surprised. ‘But I thought...’ he hesitated and then went on shyly: ‘I thought you might be visiting Mr der Linssen, he lives in that large double-fronted house in the centre there.’
He nodded towards a dignified town house with an important front door, wide windows and a wrought iron railing guarding the double steps leading up to its imposing entrance.
Lucy looked her fill. ‘My, my—it looks just like him, too.’
Willem gave her a reproachful look. ‘It is a magnificent house.’
‘And I’m sure he’s a magnificent man and a splendid surgeon,’ said Lucy hastily. ‘I just meant it looked grand and—well, aloof, if you see what I mean.’
Willem saw, all the same he embarked on a short eulogy about Mr der Linssen. Obviously he was an admirer, fired by a strong urge to follow in his footsteps. Lucy listened with half an ear while she studied the house and wondered what it was like inside. Austere? Dark panelling and red leather? Swedish modern? She would never know. She sighed and Willem said instantly: ‘I am free until three o’clock. Would you perhaps have a small lunch with me?’
‘Oh, nice—I was just wondering where I should go next. Are we a long way away from the main streets?’
He shook his head. ‘No, not if we take short cuts.’ He waited patiently while she took another long, lingering look—too lingering, for before she turned away the front door opened and Mr der Linssen came out of his house. He looked, she had to admit, very handsome and very stylish; his tailor’s bill must be enormous. She turned away, but not quickly enough; he had seen them, although beyond giving them a hard stare he gave no sign of doing so. Probably he thought she was snooping, just to see where he lived. She went a little pink and marched away so quickly that Willem, for all his long legs, had to hurry to keep up with her.
‘You’re going the wrong way,’ he told her mildly. ‘We could have stayed and spoken to Mr der Linssen.’
‘Why? He didn’t look as though he wanted to know us,’ and when she saw the shocked look on his face: ‘I’m sorry, but that’s what I think—he...at least, I think he doesn’t like me.’
Willem gave her a puzzled look. ‘Why not? He’s nice to everyone, unless he has good reason to be otherwise.’
‘Oh, well, we can’t all like each other, can we?’ She smiled at him. ‘Let’s have that lunch, shall we?’
They ate toasted sandwiches and drank coffee in a little coffee shop just off the Kalverstraat and presently the talk turned to Mies. It was Willem who brought her into the conversation and Lucy followed his lead because it was quite obvious to her that he wanted to talk about her.
‘She’s so pretty,’ said Willem, ‘but she’s known me for years and I’m just a friend.’ He looked stricken. ‘She doesn’t even see me sometimes.’
‘Just because you are a friend,’ explained Lucy. ‘Now if something were to happen—if you fell for another girl perhaps, or lost your temper with Mies—I mean really lose it, Willem, or weren’t available when she wanted you, then she would look at you.’
He looked surprised. ‘Oh, would she? But I haven’t got a bad temper; I just can’t feel angry with her, and if she asked me to do something for her I’d never be able to refuse...’
‘Then you’r
e going to fall for a girl,’ said Lucy. ‘How about me?’
Willem’s mild eyes popped. ‘But I haven’t...’
‘Don’t be silly, of course you haven’t, but can’t you pretend just a bit? Just enough to make her notice?’
‘Well, do you think it would work? And wouldn’t you mind?’
‘Lord, no,’ she spoke cheerfully, aware of an unhappy feeling somewhere deep inside her. ‘It might work—only I’m only here for five more days, you know. You’ll have to start right away.’ She paused to think. ‘I’ll just mention that I’ve spent the afternoon with you and this evening you can ring me up...’
‘What about?’
‘Oh, anything, just so long as you do it—recite a poem or something. Then I’ll say that you’re taking me out tomorrow.’
‘But I can’t—I’m on duty.’
She sighed. ‘Willem, you have to—to play-act a bit, never mind if you’re on duty—so what? Mies won’t know, will she? If you’re off in the evening you can come round and take me out for a drink; ask her too and then pay attention to me, if you see what I mean.’
Willem was a dear but not very quick-witted. ‘Yes, but then Mies will think...’
‘Just what you want her to think—treat her like an old, old friend.’
‘She is an old...’ He caught Lucy’s exasperated eye. ‘Oh, well, yes, I see what you mean. All right.’
They parted presently, Willem to his duty in the hospital, Lucy to return to the flat, brooding over what she would say and hoping that it would work. And she supposed that she would have to apologise to Mr der Linssen when she had the chance.
That chance came long before she expected it. The flat was empty when she got to it, Mies was still at the surgery with her father and the housekeeper was out shopping so that when the door bell rang Lucy, armed with the list of likely callers which Mies had thoughtfully drawn up for her, went to answer it. It could be clothes back from the cleaners, the man to see to the fridge, the piano tuner... She opened the door, confident that she was quite able to deal with all or any one of them. Only it wasn’t anyone on her list; it was Mr der Linssen standing there, looking rather nice until he saw who she was and his face iced over. She wished that his blue eyes weren’t so hard as she wished him a rather faint good afternoon and added in a small voice: ‘I’m afraid there’s no one else here but me.’
He looked over her shoulder at nothing in particular. ‘In that case perhaps I may come in and leave a note for Doctor de Groot.’ He spoke so politely that she almost smiled at him and then turned it off just in time as he observed: ‘Don’t let me keep you from whatever you are doing.’
‘I’m not doing anything—I’ve only just got back...’ It seemed the right moment to explain the afternoon’s little episode. ‘You must have thought me very rude this afternoon, staring at your house like that, only I didn’t know it was yours. I’d got lost and then Willem came along and explained where I was and told me where you lived. I could see that you were annoyed.’
‘Indeed?’ He had paused in his writing of the note to look at her and his eyebrows asked such an obvious question that she felt bound to go on.
‘Well, yes—you didn’t take any notice of us at all, did you? It was just as though you didn’t see me.’
‘Your powers of observation are excellent, Miss Prendergast. You were quite right, I do my utmost not to see you, although since we seem to bump into each other far too frequently, I find it becomes increasingly difficult.’ He handed her the note. ‘Perhaps you will give this to Doctor de Groot when he returns.’
She took it in a nerveless hand and said something she hadn’t meant to say at all. ‘Are you going to marry that girl—the beautiful one you danced with?’
He looked so thunderous that she took a step backwards. ‘If I do, it will be entirely your fault,’ he flung at her, and made for the door.
Anyone else would have left it prudently there, but not Lucy. She asked: ‘Why do you say that? If you dislike me as much as all that I can’t see that it makes any difference whom you marry.’ She added kindly: ‘There’s no need to get so worked up about it, I’m sure you can marry just whom you like and I should think she would do very nicely...’ A sudden thought caused her to pause. ‘Perhaps you’re in love with Mies? Of course, I never thought of that—she likes you very much, you know, but Willem gets in her way, but that’s all right because he’s rather taken to me, so if you had any ideas about keeping away from her because of him, you don’t need to...’
He was at the door and she couldn’t see his face. ‘What a remarkable imagination you have! Have you nothing better to do with your time?’
‘I’m on holiday,’ she pointed out. ‘You look very put out, if you could spare the time to go home and take a couple of aspirin and lie down for half an hour...’ Her words were drowned in his shout of laughter as he went out and banged the door after him.
An ill-tempered man, she reflected as she went along to the kitchen to put the kettle on, and really she should dislike him, but she didn’t. She hadn’t forgotten how gentle he had been with the small boy outside St Norbert’s and in an offhand sort of way, he’d been gentle with her too. She wondered what he would look like if he smiled and his blue eyes lost their icy stare. She would never know, of course. Whenever she met him she said or did something to annoy him. Somehow the thought depressed her, and even the pot of strong tea she made herself did little to cheer her up.
Mies came in presently, rather cross and tired, which was perhaps why she only shrugged her shoulders when Lucy told her about her meeting with Willem. And when he telephoned later and Lucy told her that he had asked her out for the following evening, all she said was: ‘Nothing could be better; there is a film I wish to see and I shall ask Fraam to take me.’ She had a lot to say about Fraam that evening, although none of it, when Lucy thought about it later, amounted to anything at all, and she harped on her feelings about him; she would marry him at once, she had declared rather dramatically, and when Lucy had asked prosaically if he had asked her yet, had said peevishly that he would do so at any time. It seemed strange to Lucy that he wasn’t aware of Mies’ feelings, but perhaps Mies was concealing them—clever of her, for Mr der Linssen didn’t strike her as the kind of man who wanted a girl to fall into his lap like an apple off a tree. She supposed they would make a very happy couple, although at the back of her mind was the unvoiced opinion that Mies was too young for him—not in years, that didn’t matter, but in her outlook on life, and it was going to be hard on poor Willem. Lucy curled up in a ball and closed her eyes. Her last sleepy thought was of the lovely old house where Mr der Linssen lived; she would dearly love to see inside it.
And so she did, but hardly in the manner in which she would have wished. It was a house which asked for elegance; well-groomed hair, a nicely made-up face, good shoes and as smart an outfit as one could muster, so it was irritating at the least to discover herself inside its great door in slacks, a raincoat which was well-worn to say the least of it and a headscarf sopping with rain.
She had popped out directly after breakfast to buy the fruit which Mies had forgotten to order the day before, and as the greengrocer’s shop was in a nearby main street, she took a short cut—a narrow dim steeg bounded by high brick walls, with here and there a narrow door, tight closed. It was really no more than an alley and infrequently used, but now, as she turned into it, she had seen a group of boys bending over something on the ground. They had looked round at the sound of her footsteps and then got to their feet and raced off, their very backs so eloquent of wrongdoing that she had broken into a run, for they had left something lying there... A cat, a miserable scrawny tabby cat with a cord tightly drawn round its elderly neck. She had dropped to her knees on the wet, filthy cobbles and tried frantically to loosen the knot. She needed a knife or scissors and she had neither; she picked the beast up and ran aga
in, this time towards the busy street she could see at the end of the steeg. It was only as she emerged on to it that she paused momentarily—a shop or a passer-by, someone with a pocket knife... The pavement seemed full of women and the nearest shop was yards away. Lucy was on the point of making for it when she heard her name called. At the kerb was a Mini and in it Mr der Linssen, holding the door open. She had scrambled in and demanded a knife with what breath she had left and he, with a brief glance which took in the situation, had drawn away from the kerb back into the stream of traffic. ‘I can’t stop here—there are lights ahead—it’s only a few yards, let’s pray they’re red.’
They were. He had whipped out a pocket knife and carefully cut the cord and was ready to drive on as the queue of cars started up again. Lucy looked at the cat; it looked in a poor way and she said frantically: ‘Oh, please, take me to a vet...’
‘We’ll take him home, it’s close by.’ Mr der Linssen had sounded kind and assured. ‘If he’s survived so far, he’s still got a chance. Let him stay quiet in the meantime, he needs to get some air into his lungs.’
And when they had reached his house, he took the cat from her and ushered her in through the door and into a long narrow hall with panelled walls and an elaborate plaster ceiling and silky carpets on its black and white paved floor, only she hadn’t really noticed them then, she had been so anxious about the cat. She hadn’t noticed either that she was dripping all over his lovely carpets, her hair sleeked to her head and her scarf awash on top of it. She had been dimly aware that a stout middle-aged man had appeared silently and helped her off with her raincoat and taken the deplorable scarf with a gentle smile and had hurried to open a door, one of several leading from the hall. A large light room because of its high windows, furnished with a great desk with a severe chair behind it and several more comfortable ones scattered around. There were shelves of books too and a thick carpet under her feet as she hurried along behind Mr der Linssen.
He had settled the cat carefully on a small table and bent to examine it while she stood by, hardly daring to look. Presently he had unbent himself. ‘Starved,’ he had observed, ‘woefully neglected and one or two tender spots, but no broken bones or cuts and as far as I can tell, the cord didn’t have time to do too much damage.’
