by Betty Neels
Augusta sat speechless, uncertain as to whether he was amused or hiding annoyance; it was fortunate that Johanna and her father joined them and she looked up to see a man very like the doctor, but younger and not quite as tall or broad, but his hair was the same pale straw and his eyes as light a blue. The doctor had got out of his chair.
‘Hullo, Huib. Augusta, this is my brother, staying with me at the moment. Huib, this is Miss Augusta Brown, from England, a niece of Juffrouw van den Pol.’
She shook hands, and Huib said cheerfully, ‘How nice to meet you. I’ve been wanting to improve my English.’
They both laughed, and Jannie came in with fresh tea and they all sat down again, until she glanced at the bracket clock on the wall table by her chair and saw that it was almost five o’clock, and sprang to her feet.
‘I had no idea it was late—I’m sorry, but I really have to go—my aunts…’ She babbled a little, anxious to get away and yet afraid that her haste might appear ill-mannered.
The doctor had got up too. ‘You can be home in five minutes,’ he remarked mildly. ‘The car’s outside.’
‘Oh no. Please don’t bother—it’s quite close by, isn’t it? I…’
She was interrupted with a faint impatience. ‘I have to pay an evening visit to your aunt…you might just as well come in the car, although if you prefer to walk…?’
He was laughing at her behind the placid look. Her green eyes snapped. She said with dignity, ‘Thank you. I shall be glad of a lift.’
She bade Johanna goodbye, taking care not to hope that she might see her again, for fear the doctor might think she was angling for another visit; certainly he made no mention of her doing so as they went to the car. They drove the short distance in silence, and had still not spoken when they entered her aunts’ house together. There was no one about—though a vague murmur of voices from the kitchen indicated that Tante Emma and Mevrouw Blom were doing something about supper—Maartje would be with Tante Marijna. Augusta turned to go upstairs and was restrained by a hand on her arm. A pity, for she had just reached the conclusion that the least said about the deplorable afternoon the better; now, whatever he had to say, she would feel constrained to apologise once more. She stopped reluctantly, and he said in a placid voice:
‘You always rush away…I can’t think how Archie keeps up with you.’
She looked at him in utter bewilderment. ‘How did you know about Archie?’ she managed at length.
He stood looking at her, considering her question. ‘I was at Edinburgh with Weller-Pratt, he’s one of his housemen.’
It explained a lot. ‘You asked me about Lady Belway going home and wanted to know…’ she paused, then went on with some asperity:
‘You didn’t want to know at all—you only had to ask Mr Weller-Pratt if you know him as well as all that.’
He agreed with her in the friendliest possible manner, which enraged her. She had her mouth open to ask him why he had bothered to ask her anyway, thought better of it, and closed it with something of a snap.
‘That’s right,’ he said, still very friendly. ‘Don’t ask, because I’m not sure that I’m ready to answer you.’ He smiled in such a way that her heart turned over with a lurch which she told herself was due to her extreme tiredness.
‘Do you believe in fate?’ His voice was quiet, compelling too.
She was cross—it was a silly conversation—she hadn’t understood his last remark, and the rest had been disappointing, why, she refused to admit, even to herself. She said with asperity, ‘I suppose so,’ and saw that for some reason, he was amused. ‘How grudging—but at least we agree about something. Shall we go up?’
Tante Marijna had had a restful afternoon; she was delighted to see them and ready for a gossip. She had to wait, of course, until the doctor had examined her, pronounced satisfaction at her progress, and given Augusta further instructions. These duties performed, however, he disposed himself in a chair and prepared to indulge his patient.
Augusta, once he no longer required her services, had gone to her room where she took stock of her face and hair, taking rather longer than she need have done. She didn’t particularly want to go down to her aunt’s room while the doctor was still there, but it smacked of cowardice if she didn’t…sooner or later Tante Marijna would have to know that she had spent the afternoon sleeping instead of being a pleasant companion to Dr van Lindemann. She didn’t think he was the kind of man to tell tales, even for a laugh; it would be left to her. She went downstairs again, slowly. They were chatting about Johanna and as she went in, he said easily, bringing her into the conversation, ‘You got on rather well with her, didn’t you, Augusta? She can be difficult sometimes, and of course a nurse can’t take the place of her mother, however good she is—she adores Huib.’
He looked directly at Augusta, who had gone to sit in a small Victorian lady’s chair on the other side of her aunt’s bed. ‘Your aunt wanted to know what you thought of the country, Augusta.’
So he hadn’t told. She swallowed and plunged without preamble:
‘I went to sleep—the whole time.’ She could see the look on Tante Marijna’s face. ‘It was unpardonable of me, but Doctor van Lindemann was—was kind enough not to mind. I woke up in time for tea,’ she added hopefully, with much the same air as that of a bad bridge player producing a trump card.
Her aunt said in a reproachful whisper, ‘Augusta, how could you?’ to be interrupted by the doctor. ‘I’m the one to blame, Juffrouw van den Pol, Augusta was up for a good deal of the night before last, and for the whole of last night as well. She was asleep on her feet, and I blame myself that I didn’t see it. However, you are so much better, I think that she might sleep in a room close by tonight, just in case you need her. She would have stayed with you whatever you had said last night, you know, so don’t worry on that score. I’m hoping that she will forgive me enough to allow me to take her out again.’
Augusta met his bland stare. She had no intention of going out with him again; she flashed him a look with her green eyes which told him so and which he countered smoothly by saying to her aunt, ‘The day after tomorrow—I shall have a free afternoon. A little fresh air is good for her, I think—I’m sure the same arrangement could be made.’
She watched her aunt agree with him, and when they both looked at her, smiling, she smiled herself, unwillingly, because there was really nothing else to do. ‘There now,’ said Tante Marijna with satisfaction, ‘won’t that be nice? Take Constantijn down to the door, will you, Augusta?’
Augusta got up reluctantly. ‘Maartje’s in the kitchen—she will hear Dr van Lindemann on the stairs—you wouldn’t mind, Doctor? There are some things to do for Aunt.’
It was no use; he said to infuriate her, ‘Of course I mind—besides, there’s something I forgot to tell you.’
She went to the door without a word. After all, it might be something important about Tante Marijna which he didn’t want the old lady to hear. Whatever it was, however, he kept to himself as they went down to the house door, so that she felt forced to ask, ‘You wanted to tell me something, Doctor?’
He opened the door. ‘Ah, yes, my dear Miss Brown. You don’t snore.’
He didn’t come until almost eleven o’clock the next morning, by which time, Augusta, thoroughly rested, and having had time to have a good think, had reached the conclusion that she had behaved rather stupidly. She must have given him considerable amusement, for if all his girl-friends—and her vivid imagination had allowed him at least half a dozen—were like Susan Belsize, she herself must have appeared incredibly homespun. Probably he was bored, and because she was a new face, even if not a pretty one, he was indulging in a little mild dalliance in order to pass the time until he could see the luscious Susan once again. It was a lowering thought and a depressing one too, but once she got back to St Jude’s, she would forget all about him—after all, there would be Archie. She frowned, because Archie had in all probability found another girl to take to the cin
ema. Her frown deepened when she realised that she really didn’t care in the least if he had.
She was careful to be very polite to the doctor when he called, saying ‘Yes, Doctor, no, Doctor’ with such meekness that when she saw him out he turned on the stairs with a suddenness which caused her to run full tilt into his waistcoat, and exploded, ‘Good God, girl! What on earth’s the matter with you? I’ve never known you so mealy-mouthed…don’t you feel well?’
She was at once indignant. ‘Well?… Of course I’m well. I’m being polite and—and professional, that’s all.’
He stared at her through narrowed lids, so that she could barely see his eyes’ pale gleam. ‘Now why in the name of thunder should you suddenly wish to be that? You’ve had time to think, of course, and you’ve probably tied a dozen ideas into a knot no man can hope to unravel.’
His voice became suddenly and unexpectedly gentle. ‘Look, dear Augusta Brown, it’s really quite simple. We met in England—hardly friends, should I say, but at least we met. And now we meet again. What is more natural than us seeing more of each other while you are here? We do no harm to Archie—or anyone else.’ He sighed. ‘You’re rather a goose.’
He bent his head and kissed her lightly upon one cheek, and then ran lightly down the remainder of the stairs and let himself out, leaving her standing alone, feeling foolish.
He had apparently forgotten all about it by the evening, for when he came to see Tante Marijna, he made a few casual references to the weather—and these delivered with the air of a man wishing to be civil and no more. Augusta was disappointed and vaguely annoyed. She toyed with the idea of declining his invitation for the following day, and decided against this, telling herself that if she did so, she would never find out anything about him. She didn’t know much as it was, and she was unlikely to set eyes on him again once she was back in London; which fact she rather illogically considered sufficient reason for finding out as much as possible while she had the chance.
When he came the following morning, it was to say, as he went again, that there was no reason for him to come in that evening. ‘Your aunt is going along well—I’ll be in tomorrow just before noon—and mind and be ready for me.’
Augusta bristled. ‘I’m always ready—when have you ever found your patient not…’
‘I said “you”,’ he interposed placidly. ‘I thought we could go somewhere and lunch.’
She blushed faintly—it was vexing the number of times he put her, in the nicest possible way, in the wrong. ‘Oh, well. That would be nice. I’ll arrange something with Maartje.’
‘I’ve already done that. When do you return to England?’
She answered with something like surprise, because she hadn’t thought about it. ‘In four days’ time. Have you been able to do anything about a nurse—I’m afraid I must go back.’
He shot her a glance which she didn’t understand at all—speculation—calculation, even. She wondered about it. He, being a doctor, must know that she had very little choice in the matter—it wasn’t as if she worked in an office and could telephone to say that she wouldn’t be coming back for a day or two and could they manage.
He said slowly, ‘Ah, yes, of course. Private Patients again, or will you be going back to Men’s Surgical? You didn’t like PP, did you?’
‘No. Although I liked some of the patients. The Brig and Lady Belway, though she was a tyr…’ She stopped. ‘I’m sorry—I forgot she was your godmother.’
‘And as you were about to say—a tyrant. You’re right, of course, but she’s a lonely old woman, too. She liked you.’
‘I can’t think why. I went and had tea with her before I came on holiday.’
He smiled. ‘Yes, I know. She wrote and told me so. I won’t tell you exactly what she said, for I don’t think we know each other well enough.’ He had been lounging against the wall, now he picked up his bag. ‘I’ve a couple more visits. Let me know if you’re at all worried.’
He nodded briskly at her and opened the door, and she stood holding it while he got into the Mini and drove away.
The following day it rained. Not a gentle spring rain, but a steady drizzle, blown hither and thither by a cool wind from off the North Sea. Augusta, who had planned what she should wear down to the last pin, realised that the only suitable attire would be a raincoat and a headscarf. She had both with her—but she had counted on wearing the outfit she had travelled over in. She looked out of the windows at least a dozen times before midday, and by half past eleven it was obvious that the rain had come to stay. Perhaps he would put the whole thing off; travelling around Holland on a very wet day was hardly enjoyable unless you were with someone so interesting that the weather went unnoticed. She was forced to admit to herself that, as far as she was concerned, the weather would be unnoticed, but she didn’t think he would feel the same. She had only to think of Susan Belsize to be sure of that.
She did all she had to do for her aunt, and then went to find Tante Emma and Maartje, to make sure that everything was going smoothly. Mevrouw Blom had just returned from a shopping expedition—the sight of her, dripping water from a plastic mac, and with wisps of damp hair hanging forlornly from her headscarf, was almost more than Augusta could bear. She went back upstairs, and to distract her thoughts, read a large slice of the day’s news to Tante Marijna, until she at last heard the doctor’s tread on the stairs.
It was almost noon, but he appeared in no hurry to go. He examined his patient, and then sat down by the bedside for five minutes or so, talking trivialities. Augusta, on the other side of the bed, had to make an effort not to fidget, which resulted in her sitting as though carved in stone. Presently, he caught her eye. ‘Ready?’ he asked casually, and as she stood up: ‘That’s a pretty dress. It suits you.’
She remembered that she had told him about Pieter—perhaps he was just being polite, but he continued, laughing, ‘No, I’m not buttering you up. I mean it.’
She bit her lip. He really was a most provoking man, and quite the most interesting one she had ever met… She smiled suddenly at him.
‘Two minutes,’ she said.
The Rolls was outside. She had expected the Mini, and said so, but as they got in, he observed, ‘The Mini’s fine for me, but I rather feel that I get the lion’s share once I’m in, which is rather hard on my passenger. Besides, this car’s so much more comfortable should you wish to take a nap.’ He flashed her a quizzical, wholly friendly smile, and she smiled back, completely at ease. ‘Where are we going?’ she wanted to know.
‘Since the weather’s against us, I thought Amsterdam—we can lunch there, and if you want to do any shopping, presents and so forth, we could do that in the afternoon. Mevrouw Blom is staying until six o’clock, so we shall have plenty of time to follow our inclination.’
They had gone smoothly through the town and were out on the Amsterdam road, but not the motorway. It was a smaller, secondary road beside the canal, which took them through Akersloot and then alongside the Alkmaarder Meer. They stopped for a few minutes to look at the water, grey under a grey sky, and whipped into fussy little waves by the wind. There were no yachts to be seen, and it all looked a little dreary, but Augusta, who wasn’t feeling in the least dreary, entered into a lively discussion about sailing with the doctor, and when he stopped her in the middle of a sentence and said impatiently, ‘Oh, do for heaven’s sake call me Constantijn,’ she said, ‘Yes, all right,’ and went on making her point about sailing dinghies. She was enjoying herself very much; after all this was the first time she had been out with him, for she refused to count the sleep she had had in his car as an outing, and they hadn’t talked much over tea. He was, she quickly discovered, amusing and excellent company, and unlike Pieter he hadn’t mentioned himself once. Which reminded her; she still had to find out about Susan Belsize, and whether he went to London very often, and if so, why. She did her best to bring the conversation round to this interesting point, but somehow it wasn’t easy—it was almost as if he knew
what she was trying to do, and was deliberately hindering her. They were nearing the outskirts of Amsterdam, and she was no nearer knowing. She gave up, for the moment at any rate, and allowed herself to enjoy to the full what was undoubtedly going to be a delightful day, whatever the weather.
She wondered about parking the car as they drove deeper into the heart of the city, but she need not have worried, for Constantijn had chosen to lunch at the Excelsior, which was in the Hotel de l’Europe anyway, and the hotel had a garage. She arranged to meet him in the bar and went away to repair the ravages of the journey. The raincoat and scarf disposed of, she looked passably well turned out, even for the Excelsior, and if she hadn’t been fairly certain of this, his open admiration would have convinced her. He ordered their drinks and observed:
‘You wore those shoes with a green dress. The sun was shining—you looked like…’ he paused. ‘You didn’t belong to London at all.’
She sipped her Dubonnet. ‘Well, I don’t,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘I was born in Dorset, and though I don’t live at home any more, that doesn’t mean to say I shouldn’t like to.’
‘Then why don’t you?’ He smiled at her, his pale eyes deepened and warmed with sympathy.
‘Well, how can I?’ she wanted to know. ‘I—I must earn my living and there aren’t any large hospitals near my home—even the small ones are too far away for me to live out. No, it has to be London, I’m afraid. I can get home once a month at least, and there’s more chance of getting on.’
‘A Sister’s post? I simply can’t imagine you—Oh, I don’t mean you aren’t capable—quite obviously you are. What about Archie?’
She stared into her glass, then took out the cherry and ate it before replying. ‘You keep on about Archie,’ she said at length.
