by Betty Neels
' "Oh--you don't look that kind of man at all.
' He stopped to look at her.
"No?
What kind of man do you think I am, Beth?
Did I not tell you that I wasn't one to chat up the birds?
' She hastened to agree with him.
"Oh, I'm sure you're not, but you must go out a good deal," she waved a
hand towards the house before them.
"All this.
.
.
you must have loads of friends and entertain them sometimes.
' He grinned and she went pink.
"What you want to know is whom do I entertain, isn't it, dear girl?
Set your mind at rest, I'm a very ordinary man, possessed at the moment
with a lively desire to marry the girl I love and settle down.
' He put out a hand and started to take the pins out of her hair, so
that it hung around her shoulders.
When he had finished he handed them to her.
"That's better, now you're beautiful.
' He smiled a little.
"There is so much I want to say to you, Beth, but I dare not, not just
yet, for if I did you would imagine that I was saying it because of
that conversation on the stairs which I'm not allowed to remember--and
there has to be no doubt in your mind.
Do you find me too old?
' She was so surprised that she could only gape at him.
"Old?
' she managed.
"You're not even middle-aged.
.
' He kissed her again, very gently on her cheek.
"Good, then from this moment, Beth, will you stop thinking of me as a
profess or of surgery with more money than is good for him, and call me
Alexander and remind yourself every few minutes that we are going to be
something more than good friends?
We have to begin somewhere, you know.
' Her head swam with the oddest mixture of thoughts, but it was no good
trying to sort them out now.
She said: "Yes, Alexander," in a meek voice, only too glad that someone
else was making up her mind for her.
It was rather an anticlimax when he said cheerfully: "Lunch, I think,"
and strolled with her into the house, talking about the roses on the
south wall, just as though he hadn't said a single one of the exciting
words tumbling round inside her head.
They lunched in a room large enough to accommodate with ease the
massive round table in its centre, with its matching chairs; an
enormous sideboard upon whose polished surface was a splendid display
of silver, and another hooded fireplace.
"Dreadfully old-fashioned," remarked the profess or as they sat down,
'but I'm oldfashioned myself how does it strike you?
' Beth gazed about her.
"But it's just right.
I wonder who thought of those little wall chandeliers and that gorgeous
crimson wallpaper?
They're perfect!
' He leaned back in his carving chair, looking smug.
"How could anyone help but like you, dear girl--you always say the
right thing at the right time.
I did.
' He talked about the house and its history while they enjoyed a
delicious ratatouille followed by fillet steak, flavoured with
mushrooms, garlic and some sort of sausage, and it had undoubtedly been
cooked in wine.
Beth would have liked to ask, but felt too shy, and even if she did,
she wasn't sure if the profess or, while appreciating good food,
bothered himself much as to how it had been cooked.
She allowed him to re-fill her glass with the Chianti they were
drinking, and daintily polished off the crepes souffles au citron which
Silver had placed before her, while she listened to her host's quiet
voice talking with affection about his home.
The wine had relaxed her by now, and she felt incapable of worrying
about anything at all--it was sufficient to enjoy the moment.
They went back to the drawing room for their coffee, before spending
some time in the long gallery running across the back of the house, its
windows looking out on to the garden, its inner wall hung with a number
of paintings, some of them a little dark and forbidding, but most of
them charming family groups of sober gentlemen in a variety of bygone
costumes, standing guard over their wives and children.
"Were any of them doctors or surgeons?
' she wanted to know.
"Lord, yes.
There's always been someone-mostly surgery.
' He opened a little painted door at the end of the gallery and ushered
her into a small corner room with windows on two sides, cosily
furnished with chintz-covered chairs and a number of small tables and
cabinets.
"My mother always sat here to do her accounts," he said.
"I don't come here often-it's a large house.
Unless I have guests, I never seem to get further than my study and the
dining room.
' His words conjured up a lonely life; Beth was on the point of saying
so when she stopped; it would be treading on thin ice again.
That she loved him was an unchangeable fact, and he had let her see
that he was attracted to her, perhaps loved her a little.
But how much?
she wondered.
He might think he was, but it might not last; her good sense told her
that what to her was serious might be to him a pleasant romantic
episode and nothing more.
She remarked on the charming work table by the side of the fireplace
and kept the conversation firmly on antiques for the rest of the her
visit.
They drove back to Willemstad after tea, with Beth almost at the end of
topics of an impersonal nature to talk about and the profess or
silently amused and placid.
They were half-way down the lane leading to his sister's house when he
drew up, switched off the engine and turned to her.
He said gently: "It's silly to be scared, Beth.
It would be so very easy for me to convince you that your fears are
non-existent--but I won't, not just yet.
' She looked at her hands resting quietly in her lap.
"I'm not scared, truly I'm not--it's difficult to explain, but you see
I'm so ordinary.
If I were pretty or had loads of money or had done something quite
extraordinary, it would seem more--more likely, but I'm not any of
these things.
I can't imagine what you see in me, and it might not last, that's if
you do.
.
' "Love you?
I'll tell you about that next time we see each other.
' He started the car again and without another word went into the house
again, to be instantly surrounded by the children.
He left an hour later, calling goodbye to her in a casual way and
without saying when they would meet again.
CHAPTER NINE beth spent a wakeful night, alternating between despair
and wild happiness.
By the morning she knew that when the profess or came, and if he asked
her, she was going to tell him that she would marry him.
He hadn't actually told her that he loved her, but that, she realized
now, was because she hadn't given him the chance.
She got out of bed and looke
d out of the window.
It was going to be another lovely spring day, although there was a line
of woolly clouds tucked into the horizon, probably early morning
cloud.
She put on her slacks and a cotton shirt and went to see if the
children were getting up.
Mevrouw Thor becke had a headache and had decided to stay in bed until
lunchtime, so after breakfast Beth proposed a cycle ride to the
children and an English lesson to follow and then went along to Mevrouw
Thor becke's room to see if there was anything she could do for her.
There wasn't much; a little pillow shaking, the finding of some
headache tablets, and some eau-de-cologne and a few instructions for
Mies.
Beth drew brocade curtains close and went along to the kitchen, where
she and Mies engaged themselves in conversation at which they had
become expert; signs and nods and an odd word here and there.
They parted amicably ten minutes later and Beth went in search of the
children.
They were nowhere to be found; she looked through the house, searched
the garden and then went to see if the bicycles had gone.
They hadn't; she sighed with relief and went down the lane and into the
street.
They were up to some lark of their own, probably in a shop, and they
couldn't be far away.
Besides, four children could scarcely walk through the little town
without being seen.
She tried several shops without success until the greengrocer pointed
towards the harbour, talking volubly as he did so.
She thanked him, not having understood a word, but knowing what he
meant, and crossed the road by the Stadhuis, to stand, looking left and
right.
They were at the far end of the harbour, by the harbour-master's house;
she could see Marineka's red jersey.
She heaved a sigh of relief and started to walk around the curve of
water, to be stopped after a few yards by the dominee, wanting to know,
in his careful, slow English, how Mevrouw Thor becke did and if she
herself was in good health.
He was a nice old man.
Beth answered his questions without haste and managed not to look over
her shoulder to see what the children were up to.
They talked for quite five minutes before she said goodbye and started
off once more.
The children weren't there--and to make matters worse there were small
clouds sliding across the sky to hide the sun and dim her view.
There were a great many yachts moored in the harbour and a forest of
masts between her and the harbour mouth, but it was actually no
distance and they were probably hiding because they had seen her.
She reached the harbour master's house and went round the patch in
front of it, so that now she could see the small stretch of enclosed
water and the open lock which led to the Hollandsche Diep.
The children were there all right, in the boeier, with its sails
spread, already a little way from the shore.
Beth closed her eyes for a second, then took a calming breath before
calling cheerfully: "Hi there--what about coming back before the rain
starts?
' It was Dirk who answered.
"We're not going to--we're going for a sail.
I know all about it and we don't want you--you can go home and wait for
us, and I don't care if you do sneak!
' He sounded defiant.
"What in the world should I sneak for?
Come on back.
Dirk, I'm sure you're a first class sailor, but I think it would be a
good idea if you brought the others back.
' He didn't answer, and Beth saw the boat, caught in a sudden gust of
wind, driving further away from the shore.
They would be through the lock in no time at all and out into open
water.
And not only that, the wind was freshening fast and the little clouds
were all of a sudden big ones.
She walked along the edge of the water, using all her persuasive powers
with absolutely no effect.
It was when she heard Alberdina's small voice wailing that she
slithered down the bank, took off her shoes, slid into the water and
began to swim laboriously towards the boeier.
She hadn't really stopped to think, which was just as well, for she was
terrified and she had no illusions about her swimming, but although she
didn't know it, the strong current helped her, sweeping her along until
she reached the boat, which was bowling merrily along now with only a
few yards to go before it went through the narrow opening which would
send it into the Hollandsche Diep.
Somehow she scrambled on board, with Marineka and Hubert helping her
and laughing at the same time.
For them, she thought sourly, it was a fine joke, but for her it had
been a wit-scaring experience she vowed she would never repeat, and now
here she was, sitting on the deck of a boat she hadn't the faintest
idea how to sail and wringing wet into the bargain.
But it would never do to let them see how angry she was.
She said between chattering teeth: "Heavens, I had no idea I could swim
so well!
And now what about getting back, so I can get out of these wet
things?
' It was too late.
As she spoke the boeier, caught by another, stronger gust of wind,
plunged ahead, its sails billowing, sturdily ploughing through water
which had become quite alarmingly rough, and Marineka, who had gone
back to the tiller, suddenly left it again, declaring that it was too
heavy for her and that she was frightened.
Beth had only the haziest notion of what sailing entailed, but she did
know that someone had to steer; she took the little girl's place and
called to Dirk, busy in the curved bows of the boat: "How do we turn
round?
' He turned a frightened little boy's face to her and She saw with a
sinking heart that his boasting hadn't meant a thing, he didn't know
much more than she did.
He said now: "I don't know, Beth.
I think we have to take in sail.
There is a wind--sometimes there are sudden storms and it is
dangerous.
.
' He was right; the sky was a uniform grey now, pressing low on their
heads, and the wind, no longer just gusts of it, was blowing steadily,
taking them further and further away from land.
"Well, what shall we do?
' asked Beth, carefully keeping panic out of her voice.
"Shall I leave this thing and come and help you or stay where I am?
' "You cannot leave the tiller--I will try and get the sails down, but
there are knots.
" "But oughtn't we to keep at least one sail up, or we shall
drift--isn't it called running before the wind?
' She was hopelessly vague about what to do next, but she remembered
having read that somewhere and now the wind was too strong for them to
do anything else.
"Shall we try and reach the shore--there's land on either side of us,"
she peered through the fine rain which was beginning to fall.
"It's a long way off," she couldn't help adding: "Shall we try the left
&n
bsp; or the right?
' They decided on the left, but the wind was too strong for them.
The boat, broad and steady, was safe enough, she thought, but it needed
more than herself and Dirk to manage it, and the other children were
too frightened to be of much help.
They might have a better chance if they went straight ahead; there
would be land somewhere ahead of them.
She tried to remember what Holland looked like; there were a number of
islands, she knew that, divided by a great number of waterways leading
to the North Sea.
She wrinkled her brows, trying to remember what the profess or had told
her about them--there were dykes, enormous ones, enclosing some of the
