by Betty Neels
She went downstairs presently and accepted a glass of sherry and talked nothings a little anxiously, not wishing to sit in silence. Once or twice she gained the impression that Mr van Tecqx was on the point of saying something and then changed his mind.
Mrs Twig was certainly the treasure he had called her. She served up a delicious lunch of chicken soup with hot rolls, grilled trout with pepper sauce and light-as-air castle puddings with black cherry sauce and thick cream. Emily might be unhappy, but she was hungry too, although she remembered to engage her host in small talk, leaping from one topic to the next in her desire to appear perfectly happy and at ease. Mr van Tecqx encouraged her in this, leading her on gently while thinking his own thoughts.
He took her to the hospital after lunch, where she found her father, sitting in a pleasant little room, watching television. He got up as they went in, his face alight with surprised pleasure. ’emily, my dear child, what a treat to see you! And look at me—almost a new man, thanks to Sebastian. I can hardly wait until the day after tomorrow.’
She hugged him fiercely. ‘Father, you look so well. I’ll come up just to be here while you’re in theatre…’
Her father nodded and shook hands with Mr van Tecqx, who said he wanted a word with the Theatre Sister and would be back presently. Alone, Emily asked, ‘You are really better, Father? The hip is all right?’
‘As near perfect as possible. What a splendid man he is. And you, my dear? You were happy in Holland? Your patient is almost well again, I hear. You must be very pleased. You’ll be all right at home until I get back? Mrs Philips will be there, of course, as soon as I return, so you can go back and finish your training as soon as possible.’ He studied her face. ‘You’re a little pale, Emily.’
‘It was a very rough crossing,’ she said, and that answer satisfied him.
Mr van Tecqx came back presently, and she said goodbye to her father and got into the Bentley and was driven back to the little house where Mrs Twig had tea and a luscious fruit cake waiting for them, and in less than an hour they were in the car again, driving down to Eynsford.
Dusk was gathering as Mr van Tecqx drew up before her home, and she was surprised to see there was a light in the sitting-room.
‘I asked Mrs Owen to pop in,’ he explained as he got out to open her door. ‘She said she would stay until we got here.’
‘That was awfully kind of you.’ Emily threw him a grateful glance as the cottage door opened and Mrs Owen’s comfortable figure was silhouetted against the light.
He gave Emily a little push. ‘You go ahead, I’ll bring your case.’
Emily flung her arms round Mrs Owen and then scooped up Podge, holding his plump, furry body close to her face. She felt like bursting into tears, although she wasn’t sure why, but by the time Mr van Tecqx came in Mrs Owen was putting on her hat and coat, ready to go home, and in the ensuing bustle she pulled herself together.
‘You’ll not need me tomorrow,’ said Mrs Owen, on the point of leaving. ‘I’ll be in the next day—leave the key under the mat, love, and I’ll see to Podge. There’s coffee and biscuits ready in the kitchen.’
‘While you are taking off your coat I’ll run Mrs Owen home,’ said Mr van Tecqx, and to that lady’s delight settled her in the car beside him and drove away before Emily had a chance to say a word.
Mrs Owen had done, her best. The cottage was neat and tidy and there was a pile of washing to be ironed. There was food enough in the fridge too and clean sheets on the beds. Emily took off her outdoor things and turned up the gas under the coffee just as Mr van Tecqx came walking up the path again. He shut the door behind him and took off his coat, carried in the tray and sat down, apparently in no hurry to leave.
Half an hour, an hour perhaps, begged Emily silently. She would probably see him at the hospital, but never on their own like this. She put the thought from her because she must stay bright and cheerful until he went away. He must never guess.
She found plenty to talk about; Podge and Mrs Owen and their journey and how well Lucillia and Dirk were getting on and what a nice young man he was… He stopped her in full spate. ‘You like the things I like, Emily; old buildings and quiet canals and animals and babies and small children.’ His voice was suddenly harsh. ‘My wife disliked children—animals too; she liked to dance and dine out and buy clothes. I was twenty-four when I married her—ten years ago. I thought I was in love; she was pretty and great fun to be with, and I imagined her living in my home, having babies, welcoming my friends. She left me within a year to live with an American with a great deal of money. They were killed in a car accident a few months later.’
Emily sat like a small statue, watching his face. When he paused she said softly, ‘I’m so sorry, Mr van Tecqx. You must have loved her…’
She smiled at him and he smiled a little. ‘No, Emily, I was infatuated—that’s something quite different. I haven’t thought of her for many years now, but I wanted to tell you; I have been wanting to tell you for a long time.’
‘You haven’t wasted the years, have you? Think of all the patients whom you have helped and your family who love you, and you’ll soon have a wife you’ll love and who will love you too.’ Emily looked down at Podge, sprawled on her lap. ‘I’m sorry you’ve been unhappy, but that’s all over, isn’t it?’
He stood up. ‘Yes, I think—I hope so. I must go.’
He was at the door when she asked a question which had been on the tip of her tongue for a long time now, and somehow it didn’t matter if she asked it now. ‘Is it Juffrouw van Telle?’
He looked at her blankly and then gave a great shout of laughter. ‘No, Emily—there was never the remotest chance of that.’ He started down the garden path. ‘I shall see you after I have operated on your father.’
Emily watched the car slide away into the dark evening and closed the door firmly on its tail lights. There was plenty to keep her busy until bedtime, and when she was in her bed at last with Podge curled up on her feet she was too tired to weep.
She spent the next day putting the cottage to rights, doing a little shopping in the village and getting the ironing done. She hadn’t expected to hear from Mr van Tecqx, and she didn’t. She went to bed early because she would have to be up soon after six o’clock. The operation was for ten o’clock and she wanted to be there, at the hospital, in good time.
They were kind when she presented herself at the reception desk. She wouldn’t be allowed to see her father, but someone would take a message.
‘If you’d just tell him I’m here,’ said Emily, and went and sat in the waiting-room. The operation would take up a good deal of the morning, but she was prepared for that. She had a book with her which she pretended to read and after a little while someone brought her a tray of coffee. It was midday before Mr van Tecqx came striding in, still in his theatre kit, his mask dangling under his chin.
‘Everything is fine,’ he told her. ‘They have just taken him to the recovery room. Go and have a meal somewhere—he should be conscious by two o’clock or thereabouts. You may see him then.’ He nodded at her, unsmiling, and went away as quietly and as quickly as he had come.
It wasn’t very far to the main street and some shops. Emily found a small café and had coffee and a roll and butter which she didn’t want. The relief made her feel light-headed; her father would be able to get around just as he always had done, and even if he didn’t work again, he would be able to go out and about, visit his friends, do his own shopping and, best of all, be free from pain. She found she was crying and, putting down her untouched roll, she paid her small bill and went back into the street. It was still too early to go back to the hospital; she wandered round killing time until a nearby clock struck two and she felt free to go back to the hospital.
Her father was conscious. ‘Sebastian has just been to see how I am. He says everything was most satisfactory. He’ll be in later on this evening. He’s over at Pearson’s now with a list as long as your arm.’ He smiled. ‘I’m
sleepy.’
Emily bent to kiss him. ‘And I’m going home. I’ll be in tomorrow and I’ll phone in the morning to see how you are.’
The cottage was dark and chilly. She fed Podge, lit a fire and turned on all the lights before getting herself some supper. She had just finished it when the telephone rang.
‘I am sorry I had no time to see you, Emily.’ Mr van Tecqx’s deep voice sounded impersonal. ‘Your father is asleep and the replacement was entirely satisfactory. He will be got up for a short time tomorrow. I may not see you when you come, but I will leave any messages with Sister. Goodnight.’
He had rung off before she could reply.
She got to the hospital just after eleven o’clock and found her father delighted to see her, ‘But I still have to get up, my dear, rather a difficult business for the first time, but never mind that.’
He listened to her cheerful account of her day, admired the flowers she had brought with her and observed, ‘Don’t come tomorrow; there’s no need. Sebastian tells me I should be out of here in two weeks or so. Mrs Philips will look after me then, so make your plans, my dear; I dare say Pearson’s want a few weeks’ notice before you can start again.’
‘Yes, I’ll write to them and make an appointment.’ Emily caught his hand. ‘Oh, Father, isn’t it marvellous? I can’t believe it!’
‘Nor can I. I might still have been sitting in my wheelchair waiting for a bed. It’s all thanks to you, child. You don’t regret it? I’ve delayed your training.’
‘That doesn’t matter, and I loved living in Delft; everyone was so kind.’
‘Sebastian told me you were exactly what was needed for his sister.’ He added, ‘He has reason to be grateful too.’
She saw he was tired, so she said goodbye, had a word with the Sister, and went home.
Two days later she went again to the hospital, and this time she saw Mr van Tecqx, but only very briefly while he gave her a résumé of her father’s progress. He had just come out of theatre and was going back there again for the afternoon session, so their conversation was businesslike.
Her father was getting up each day now and the pain was easing, so that walking was possible with the aid of a crutch, soon to be discarded for a stout stick. There was no need for Emily to go each day now; she would telephone whenever she wanted to, he had books and the television and was quite content to be there until he was strong enough to go home. She promised to go again in three days’ time and went back once more to her lonely home.
She had scrubbed and polished and washed and ironed, and there was nothing left to do. She would write to Pearson’s and answer Lucillia’s letter, but first she would go up to London once more, not to the hospital but to see Mrs Winter and take her the china windmill and the Dutch chocolates she had brought back with her. She caught an early afternoon train and took a bus to Summer Lane. It had been raining and the wind had blown fish and chip papers and sweet wrappers over the street. Just for a moment she had a vivid mental picture of the Oude Delft canal and the narrow brick street running alongside it, quite quiet and clean and lovely. She shook her thoughts away and started walking towards her old digs. She had telephoned the hospital that morning and told her father she would be going there, and he had begged her to pay her visit in the early afternoon. ‘And give me a ring when you get home, Emily. It’s not a good neighbourhood.’
She had laughed, remembering the scores of times she had gone up and down the street, and assured him that her visit would have to be an early one since Mrs Winter always went to the hairdresser’s at three o’clock on a Wednesday.
She had timed it neatly. It was almost half past two as she thumped the rusty old door knocker and Mrs Winter came to the door.
‘Well, look ‘o’s ‘ere!’ she exclaimed. ‘Back at the ‘ospital, are yer, ducks?’
‘Not yet, Mrs Winter. I’ll stay at home until my father is quite well—he’s just had an operation.’
“As ‘e now, poor old man? I’ve let yer room…’
‘I’ll be able to leave Podge at home when I begin work again, Mrs Winter, so I can go into the Nurses’ Home. I brought you a souvenir from Holland.’
She waited while Mrs Winter opened her parcels, admired them and thanked her, and then she said goodbye, mindful of that lady’s hair appointment and her father’s wishes. The door banged shut behind her and she stood for a moment looking up and down the street. It had begun to rain again and it was already growing dusk, which was why she hadn’t seen Mr van Tecqx leaning against the lamp-post until she was through the gate.
He put out an arm and brought her to an astonished halt. ‘We met here in the rain—do you remember? And now we meet again. Some people would call it romantic; I’d call it a combination of keeping tabs on your whereabouts and a hard-won patience.’
‘How did you know I was here?’ Emily was breathless.
‘I asked your father to let me know if at any time you should mention where you were going. I had in mind picture galleries or museums or even one or other of the parks. I must say you choose your outings in dreary surroundings.’
‘I had a present for my ex-landlady. Why are you here?’
He pulled her a little closer. ‘We had a bargain; you fulfilled your part of it, I have now fulfilled mine. Which leaves us free of obligation towards each other. Do you know, my darling, the first time we met I fell in love with you? I wasn’t aware of it then, it crept up on me unawares while I wondered why I couldn’t get you out of my head. Now you are not only in my head, but in my heart too.’ He put an arm around her and an old man going past said, ‘That’s right, guv, give ‘er a kiss.’
‘You could have said.’ Emily was blissfully unaware of the old man, and even if she had heard him, she wouldn’t have cared.
‘Oh, no, not until we had done what we had promised each other we would do.’ Sebastian sighed. ‘Though I must admit I have found it very hard to keep my hands off you.’ He had put the other arm round her now. It was a lovely feeling, warm and secure and comforting; she was unaware of the rain, only of his arms holding her close.
‘You’re going to be married—’ began Emily, then laughed a little. ‘Me?’
‘Who else, my dearest girl?’ His arms tightened, but gently. ‘And soon. The moment your father can walk down the aisle and give you away to me.’ He kissed her slowly and then again, several times. ‘Say yes, my darling.’
‘Yes, my darling,’ said Emily, and after a moment she added, ‘My darling Sebastian.’ It sounded nice, she would have said it again, but Sebastian kissed her once more, standing there in the rain under the lamp-post.
The old man had turned round to look at them. ‘Barmy!’ he shouted, ‘kissing in the rain!’
This time Emily heard him. ‘It’s very nice,’ she said sedately, and lifted her happy face to Sebastian’s tender look.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-3960-9
THE FATEFUL BARGAIN
Copyright © 1988 by Betty Neels.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
For questions and comments about the quality of this book please contact us at [email protected].
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade
Marks Office and in other countries.
www.eHarlequin.com
