The End of the Rainbow

by Betty Neels

  Olympia choked back rage, humiliation and sheer fright that what her aunt had said might be true-but how could it be? She said in a quiet little voice which gave no hint offer strong feelings, "You are mistaken, Aunt, and I can't see why I shouldn't go out with Doctor van der Graaf if I want to. He's coming to see me this morning…'

  "He's here," interposed the doctor from the stairs behind them, and before either of the ladies could say a word: "Good morning, and before you say anything further, Miss Randle, I have asked Olympia to be my wife…' He paused for a second and shot a glance at her and something in her white face must have given him his answer, for he went on smoothly: "And she has consented." He crossed the landing and took Olympia's hand in his and smiled down at her, and she, feeling that events were moving of their own accord without any help from her, smiled nervously back.

  "I shall not allow…' began Miss Randle, much incensed.

  "Oh, but I think you will. Has not Olympia honoured her promise to you for a number of years? Now it is your turn to do the same, Miss Randle." His voice was bland enough, but he didn't smile and his eyes were cool.

  "I . ." began Olympia, wishing to put her oar in, and was hushed before she could say another word by the doctor who went on in a conversational manner, "A quiet wedding, I think, if Olympia agrees. We neither of us have many friends in London, and no family. You will, of course, have no objection to her leaving at once, Miss Randle? I have been fortunate enough to find someone who will take her place immediately."

  "Now?" They spoke together, staring at him, Miss Randle with a furious face suffused with wrath, Olympia with delight and relief and a kind of wonder. Any minute now, she thought, I shall open my eyes and find I've been dreaming.

  "Now," said Doctor van der Graaf in a gentle voice which nevertheless invited obedience, "if you will pack what you need, dear girl, I will wait for you."

  Aunt Maria looked to be on the point of apoplexy. "There is no one to do her work-I cannot possibly manage-this is most unethical!"

  He agreed cheerfully and went on smoothly: "The nurse I have secured will arrive this afternoon, Miss Randle. She will, of course, expect to be paid the salary agreed by the General Nursing Council, and since you have mentioned the word unethical, I wonder what salary you have been paying Olympia? Not, I fancy, the amount to which she has been entitled." He gave her a bland smile and pushed Olympia gently towards the stairs. "Go along," he told her, "though perhaps you had better say good-bye to your patients first."

  She looked at him; it was like a dream still. "I feel very mean leaving them."

  "You shall come back and visit them, that's a promise. Besides, they will be delighted to know that you are going to be married. Everyone likes a wedding, you know."

  It took her half an hour to pack her things, and barely five minutes in which to say good-bye to Aunt Maria, who washed her hands of her in no uncertain terms, predicted that no good would come of it and that Olympia would live to rue the day. "And don't come running back to me, my girl, for I'll not lift a finger to help you, just you remember that."

  "I'm sorry you're angry," said Olympia, anxious to part friends even though she was glad to be going.

  "Angry?" her aunt snapped back. "Of course I'm angry; the years I've devoted to you, given you a home, educated and clothed you…'

  "And the years I've worked for you for little more than pocket money!" retaliated Olympia, stung to sudden indignation. "And I would have gone on for the rest of my life if Doctor van der Graaf hadn't come along."

  "And may you never live to regret the day," was her aunt's parting shot.

  There was obviously no more to be said; Olympia, with a murmured good-bye, left her sitting at her desk, her head already bowed over the papers before her.

  Doctor van der Graaf was waiting in the hall, pacing up and down, his hands behind his back, deep in thought. He shot her a penetrating look as she went towards him and said on a half laugh: "Don't stop to have second thoughts. I know exactly what is in your mind; regrets and a half-formed resolution to make a martyr of yourself-and how will your aunt manage and what about the old people." He caught her hand in his. "Olympia, I promise you that everything will be all right. Will you trust me?"

  She studied his kind blue eyes. "Yes." She even achieved some sort of a smile, because no man wanted a watering pot for a wife. "Where am I to go?"

  "Aunt Betsy, just until I can make arrangements for us to get married."

  "Oh, I couldn't!" They were getting into the taxi which the doctor had prudently kept waiting. He said placidly as he got in beside her:

  "Do you dislike her so much? I admit she's formidable in appearance, but she has the kindest heart imaginable-besides, she likes you."

  She answered him a little breathlessly; things had happened so fast that she felt at that moment that she would never catch up with them. "Does she? I like her too, only I thought…'

  He observed unexpectedly: "You have never had a chance to spread your wings, have you, Olympia? I think that you will find the world full of people who will like you."

  "Aunt Maria always told me…' began Olympia a little unhappily.

  "Your Aunt Maria," said the doctor deliberately, "is an odious woman, bent on making you her slave for as long as she needed you and taking gross advantage of your gentle nature. She is making a fortune from that nursing home of hers, and although I grant you that it is well run and the patients cared for adequately, she does it purely for business reasons and not out of pity for her less fortunate fellow beings. She is a hard woman and you are well shot of her."

  Olympia was regarding him with an awakened interest; he had never talked like this before, he seemed suddenly a great deal younger and much more approachable.

  "But she told me that she was only just able to make ends meet -that's why she didn't pay me very much."

  "How much?"

  She mentioned the miserable sum and was answered by an indignant: "Good lord, barely enough to keep you in stockings -or is it tights?" His eye surveyed the tweed suit. "So that's why you wear that thing all the time."

  She sat up very straight, her voice tart. "That is very rude," she told him. "It is was -quite a good tweed when't bought it."

  He grinned, quite unabashed. "I'm sorry. Does it help if I tell you that you would look nice in anything'? And dear girl, since we are to be man and wife, let us be honest with each other. We are already good friends, let us remain so, with no false pride between us, and if we must, let us argue and quarrel and make it up again, just because we are friends, and more than anything else, let us enjoy each other's company."

  Olympia received this speech with mixed feelings; the doctor sounded so very sure of himself, rather like a cook, who, having got hold of a good recipe, was convinced that come what may, it would turn out to be a success. She nodded, bolstered up by a determination to make their marriage succeed.

  She was given a welcome such as she had never had before in her life. Mrs. van der Graaf, it seemed, could think of nothing nicer than that Olympia should stay with her for as long as she wished. She was swept upstairs, her hostess steaming ahead of the convoy, as it were, with Olympia, flanked by Mary, and the doctor, burdened with her luggage, bringing up the rear. The stairs led to a landing with four doors. Mrs. van der Graaf opened one of them and ushered her party inside. The room was not over-large, but by Olympia's standards, the epitome of luxury. The furniture was painted white and the bed was covered with a pink satin bedspread and eiderdown which looked far too magnificent for use.

  There were a great many little table lamps dotted about, with frilly shades tied with velvet ribbons, and they and the curtains and carpet were of a deeper shade of pink with a delicate pattern of blue upon them. It was the sort of bedroom any girl would have loved; perhaps a little exaggerated in its prettiness, but to Olympia, fresh from her austere little room, it was perfection. She stood speechless while Mary disposed of her luggage and Mrs. van der Graaf inspected the small pile of book
s on the bedside table, giving it her opinion that a few magazines wouldn't come amiss. She then tweaked the counterpane into even smoother folds, begged Olympia to remove her coat and tidy herself and then come downstairs for a nice glass of sherry before lunch.

  They drank it in the sitting-room and the conversation was quite impersonal, sustained almost wholly by the doctor and his aunt. Presently, however, what with the sherry and the return of her self-confidence Olympia began to join in the talk, and because both aunt and nephew shared the gift of putting people at their ease, she began to feel normal again, and not someone living in a dream, although heaven knew that life seemed strange enough at the moment. They were on the point of going in to lunch when her hostess remarked, "You must be wondering why I haven't wished you happiness, Olympia, but you looked…never mind that now. But I do, child, wholeheartedly. You will both of you be very happy."

  She nodded her head in deep satisfaction and led the way to the dining-room.

  The doctor left after lunch and as she had had no chance to speak to him alone, Olympia saw him preparing to leave with something like panic. He wished her good-bye matter-of-factly and added, "Tot ziens," and when she wanted to know what that had meant, said: "I suppose "Until we meet again" is as good a translation as any."

  "When shall I see you?" she wanted to know in a voice which held sudden panic.

  "This evening. I thought that we might go out and celebrate, you and I. Would you like that?"

  She nodded, enchanted at the idea, then remembered unhappily: "I haven't anything to wear-1 couldn't possibly go, I haven't even got a party dress."

  He was at the door, looking very large in his coat and very reassuring too. "My dear, my aunt will take you out with her this afternoon and you shall choose everything you need-my wedding present to you."

  She thanked him shyly and he bent and kissed her cheek, rather awkwardly, as though he wasn't sure about it.

  The afternoon was the most wonderful she had ever known; it was as if all the birthday treats, Christmas parties and presents which she had never had, combined together to make her wildest dreams come true. They went to Harrods, driven there in an elderly Rolls-Royce by an equally elderly chauffeur, and once in the store they repaired to the Gown department where Mrs. van der Graaf, apparently a wellknown customer, commanded instant attention. Seated bolt upright and with the head saleswoman in close attendance, she began briskly: "Now, Olympia, look around you and choose a few dresses to try on." She peered into a little notebook she had taken from her handbag. "Let me see-a couple of evening dresses, I think, and something pretty for dinner-a suit and a light coat and something for the day-undies, of course-but let us get the dresses first."

  Olympia heard her out, her eyes getting rounder and rounder. She fastened them upon the saleswoman who retreated to a tactful distance while Olympia said in a frenzied whisper: "Mrs. van der Graaf, I couldn't possibly-I think there's some mistake. Why, that's several outfits, not just one, and this…' she looked around her at the opulence of their surroundings, "isn't the right department-it's the model gowns, far too expensive."

  Mrs. van der Graaf smiled with kindly amusement. "Dear child, I suppose Waldo neglected to tell you that he was a rich man? I thought so. I assure you that you can choose anything you like without fear of bankrupting him."

  Olympia had caught sight of a blue confection draped tantalizingly over an elegant chair. "Oh," she breathed, "I didn't know. Will you tell me if I spend too much money?"

  Her companion reassured her on this point and suggested that she might like to take a closer look at the blue dress, something which she was only too pleased to agree to.

  The ball had been set rolling; the dress was pronounced to be exactly right, an exquisite fit and just the thing for her. So for that matter was the deceptively simple cream organza the saleswoman offered, also the deep pink chiffon, with its long full sleeves and demure high neck, so right for a quiet little dinner party. Feeling that she would wake at any moment and find herself back in the unwelcoming chilly hall of the nursing home, Olympia chose a jersey dress in chocolate brown, and because it had been so hard to fix her choice, added a leaf green one to it. A tweed suit came next, all honey browns and purples and greens, and a camel coat to go over the dresses, because, as Mrs. van der Graaf pointed out, it was still only early spring and chilly. She topped this collection with a trouser suit which had taken her fancy, and then, engulfed in sudden horrified realization of the cost of them all, appealed to her hostess. "I can't, you know," she declared earnestly, "I simply can't-this lot must have cost a bomb!"

  Mrs. van der Graaf blinked. "I told you that I would warn you if you got too extravagant, Olympia," and added in a businesslike manner, "Shoes-and a pair of those boots girls wear nowadays."

  Olympia submitted meekly but with pleasure. Boots were chosen, the kind of footwear she had never been allowed to have, or indeed could have afforded-shoes were chosen too, evening slippers and walking shoes, elegant trifles which she would, presumably, wear as a matter of course during the day and every day. Olympia, looking, if only she had known it, like a little girl seeing a Christmas tree for the first time, a kind of miracle. But they hadn't finished with her yet; she was borne away to the undies department where, surrounded by silk and chiffon and nylon of every colour of the rainbow, she chose the lovely things she had so often gazed at in shop windows and never thought to have. Watching these expensive trifles being tenderly packed between layers of tissue paper, she found herself wondering what Aunt Maria would say if she could see her now.

  They returned in time for tea, a meal which Mrs. van der Graaf was loath to miss but which Olympia would cheerfully have gone without so that she might have followed Bates the chauffeur and Mary up the stairs to her room with all those heavenly boxes and packages. But tea was pleasant, nonetheless, with her hostess giving her little thumbnail sketches of her nephew; they were vague, though, and prevented her from asking the direct questions she was dying to ask; supposedly she would have to ask them of Waldo.

  She was dressed and ready far too soon, despite the delays occasioned by the trying on of the various garments hung carefully in the vast wardrobe in her room, so it was with a good half hour to spare that she went down to the sitting-room, to fidget around until the doctor made his appearance. But the wait had been worth while; he stopped in his tracks as he encountered her anxious gaze, his brows raised in a surprise which for her was the best of compliments, especially when it came from a man as good-looking and well dressed as he.

  His voice dropped pleasantly into the little silence. "Delightful, Olympia-you take my breath."

  She said ingenuously: "Oh, do I?" and smiled widely at him. "I'm so glad; I wanted to look as nice as possible because you've given me such a mass of gorgeous clothes. I want to thank you."

  He had come to stand beside her and was smiling down at her with gentle amusement. "I see that I have thanks enough-you look like the princess in the fairy story."

  "You mean the ugly duckling who turned into a swan," she corrected him.

  "No," he shook his head, "a princess. Where is my aunt?"

  "She went to her room to fetch something."

  "A woman of tact. I have something for you, Olympia."

  A ring, sapphires and diamonds in a curious setting and even she, who was ignorant of such things knew it was valuable. As he put it on her finger the unwelcome thought that it might have belonged to his first wife crossed her mind and she stiffened.

  He read her thought. "No, it was never in the possession of Estelle," he told her. "It is very old and has been in my family for many years. It was my mother's."

  She had flushed a little because he had seen so easily what she had been thinking, but she looked at him frankly now and said in a shy voice: "Thank you very much, I'll treasure it, and I'm sorry I thought that-I should have known better."

  His brows lifted. "Why should you? You know very little about me, after all." He greeted his aunt as she cam
e in, leaving her with a feeling that she had been snubbed, but she shook the feeling off; it would never do if she were to be sensitive about everything he said; they were friends, were they not? He should feel free to say anything he liked to her and she must learn to receive it in like vein, so she turned a tranquil, smiling face to him when he asked her if she was ready, andd stood quietly while Mrs. van der Graaf examined her ring, talked about it for a few minutes, and then bade her get her coat. Olympia made for the door, then paused. In the excitement of shopping that afternoon there was one thing which they had forgotten; she had no coat. Nothing-no power on earth would make her wear the camel coat over the delicious blue dress she was wearing. She was on the point of saying that she didn't need a coat anyway, even though she would risk getting her death of cold, when the doctor murmured: 'Ah, yes-I had quite forgotten," and caught her by the arm and marched her into the hall, where draped over a chair was exactly the coat she would have chosen had she been buying one for herself. A rich dark brown velvet, severely cut, with a long wide skirt to it and a little upstanding collar. Exactly right. She drew in her breath like an excited child and gave him a look of delight. "Oh, Waldo-it's super," and then in faint reproach, "You couldn't have forgotten about it…'

  He grinned. "You like it? Good." He held it for her to put on and she turned and twisted before the big gilded mirror, preening herself. "Thank you, Waldo, thank you a thousand times. I've never had so many beautiful things before-it's wonderful, almost too wonderful to last."

  He made no reply to this childish remark, but ushered her out into the street to the waiting taxi and during the short journey talked placidly about nothing in particular.