The End of the Rainbow

by Betty Neels

  They dined at the Coq d'Or, pink and plush and exactly right as a background for the blue dress. Olympia, smitten into dumbness, allowed herself to be seated at a table which she realized was excellently placed, both for seeing and being seen, and she was a little surprised at the number of people who greeted her companion; he was well known, it seemed. She was shy of these strangers, but she had natural good manners and received their good wishes and congratulations with composure even while she hoped that they might be left in peace; there was so much she wanted to know from her future husband, but somehow there never seemed an opportunity to talk to him for more than a few minutes at a time. She ate her way through the superb meal, answering her companion's remarks rather at random, and wondering if the dreamy feeling which she was experiencing was the result of delayed shock at the sudden change of her fortunes, or a little too much of the champagne they were drinking. It wasn't until they were sitting over their coffee that she said suddenly, encouraged by his quiet friendliness and the Dutch courage acquired by the wine, "I don't know anything at all about Ria, or you."

  He regarded her with a thoughtful frown and took so long to answer that she began to think that she had annoyed him in some way, but when at length he spoke his voice was just as placid as usual. "I believe that the nicest way to get to know both of us will be to live with usdon't you agree?" He didn't give her a chance to answer, but went on smoothly: "Would you like to go on somewhere and dance, or shall we sit here and discuss our wedding plans?"

  Her ear caught the faint reluctance in his voice when he had mentioned dancing. "I'd like to talk," she told him, and was pleased to see that he had wanted to talk too.

  "Would you agree to two weeks' time? ten days, if I can arrange things by then-1 take it that you would like a quiet wedding?" and when she nodded: "Get what you need in the way of clothes-something you won't need to change if possible; I shall be able to spare only a short time and we shall have to return to Middelburg after the ceremony. Shall you mind?"

  She wondered, fleetingly, what he would have done if she had said that she did mind. "Not at all," she replied politely, "there isn't anyone…' she broke off and went on a little awkwardly: "I don't suppose Aunt Maria will want to come."

  He smiled a little. "How about Doctor Sims giving you away? I believe he would love to, and is there anyone else you would like to ask?"

  "Mrs. Cooper, she works for my aunt—she's always been so sweet to me."

  They talked for a little longer before they finally returned to the darkened house; Mrs. van der Graaf had retired to bed and there was no sign of Mary. The doctor let them in with his key and once inside showed no sign of wishing to leave but ushered Olympia into the small sitting-room leading from the dining-room, where he invited her to sit down.

  "Stay there," he urged her. "There'll be coffee in the kitchen."

  He was back five minutes later with a tray which he put on the table beside her, before stretching himself out comfortably in the armchair opposite hers.

  "Thank you for my super evening," said Olympia, pouring coffee.

  "The first of many, I hope, although I should point out that I am, for the most part, occupied with the practice. Will you enjoy being a doctor's wife?"

  She had a vision of herself running his house-very efficiently, of course-looking after Ria, giving a hand with the patients, and of course being an intelligent listener when he wanted to talk. Perhaps marriage to him wasn't going to be quite what she had dreamed of, but at least she would have a happy, busy life doing all the things housewives did. She had quite, for the moment, forgotten that he was a rich man and might have a different way of life from the one she envisaged.

  They sat for quite some time, talking comfortably about nothing in particular and it was only when Waldo got up to go that he mentioned that he would be going back to Holland early the next day. "I shan't see you for a time, I'm afraid," he told her in the easy tones of an old friend, "but I shall try and get over before the wedding, even if only for a day."

  Olympia thought this a piece of extravagance, but she said nothing as she walked with him to the door so that she might bolt it after him. On its threshold he kissed her, a light kiss on her cheek and perhaps not very satisfactory. She went up to bed reflecting that he needed to get used to the idea of marrying again; no doubt he found endearments of any sort still painful after the death of his wife. A romantic girl still, she felt sure that he must have loved Estelle dearly. She undressed slowly, savouring the new dress and the delicate underwear, telling herself firmly that she was a lucky girl, although the face which looked back at her from the mirror wore an expression of unconscious wistfulness.

  But it was impossible to remain wistful for long. Waldo might not be there, but as his aunt pointed out, that was a good thing, for there was a great deal to do. Olympia was whisked off to a hairdresser to have her silky abundance of hair trimmed and dressed with an expertise which turned her ordinary little face into something almost pretty. There was the wedding outfit too; bearing in mind the remarks Waldo had made about losing no time after the ceremony, Olympia had discarded for good the vague dreams she had nourished about white satin and gauze; probably he had no idea that a girl set great store upon such things, and if she had mentioned it would have changed his plans in order to accommodate her, however inconvenient to himself; something she could not allow.

  As it was, she could not help but be satisfied with the dress and jacket she finally decided upon. It was of fine wool in a rich honey colour, very plainly cut and horribly expensive, and because after all it was her wedding, she bought a hat, an extravagant affair, small and headhugging with honey-coloured roses bunched at the back. There were shoes and gloves and handbag too, and trying them on a little anxiously before the mirror in the pretty bedroom, she hoped that it was the kind of outfit of which the doctor would approve. The hat was rather a giveaway, but she could take it off after the ceremony if he wanted her to, for she hardly expected him to like the idea of looking like a honeymoon couple. There was to be no honeymoon, anyway; she was to be plunged straight into her future life and perhaps, all things considered, that would be a good thing too.

  She didn't see him until the evening before the wedding was to take place and then only for a very short time; just long enough to meet the best man, an English cousin of sorts, the doctor explained, Bill Bentinck by name, big and thickset and obviously an old and good friend. Olympia liked him even though they exchanged a bare dozen words.

  The church was deeply quiet and almost empty when Olympia arrived there with Doctor Sims. She paused on its steps to brush down her companion, for as usual he had been careless with his cigar ash, and when they went inside, the aisle, even in such a very small church as this one, seemed a great length so that she had time to change her mind at least twice about marrying the doctor before she reached his side, but her last-minute doubts vanished when she caught his eye and found him smiling at her in an understanding way. She fetched a sigh of relief then, because there was no more time in which to have doubts, and took the hand he held out to her.

  There seemed barely time to cut the cake and drink the champagne which Mrs. van der Graaf had insisted upon, before Waldo said that they must leave. Olympia bade the little group of friends good-bye and turned round to find Waldo standing behind her. "You had better wear this," he told her in a matter-of-fact voice, and helped her into a coat-mink, a rich light brown mink. She wanted to smooth its soft fur and at least take a look at herself in it, but again there was no time. She glanced at him, very elegant in his dark grey suit, but he was looking at Bill Bentinck, smiling at something he was saying; it was hardly the moment to thank him. Amidst a chorus of good-byes, they went out of the house together.

  There was a car drawn up to the pavement, a Lamborghini Euraco S, a glorious thing, its cream paintwork spotless. Waldo opened its door and ushered her in and then went round to his own seat. When he had settled himself beside her, she asked breathlessly, "This ca
r—is it yours?"

  "Yes." He looked at her with a half smile. "Don't you like it?"

  "Not like it?" she echoed. "It's marvellous - absolutely super," and before he could start the car: "Thank you for my lovely coat-I've never had a fur one before." An obvious remark which he received with the faintest twitch of his lips.

  "My wedding present." His glance flickered over her. "You look charming, Olympia, and that's a pretty thing on your head. You've done your hair differently, too."

  She drew a deep breath of pure pleasure. "Oh, thank you-I did hope you might notice-the hairdresser showed me how. I-I wanted to look as nice as possible."

  "And you did-and do," he assured her as the car purred into life and slid smoothly forward. Olympia turned to wave to the little party on the steps of the house. She would see them all again, she supposed, but she had no idea when. She had no idea about anything much, had she? She thought about it for a moment and somehow it didn't matter.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THEY were going, the doctor explained as they threaded their way through London and out on to the motorway to Dover, to cross to Ostend and then drive, in the matter of an hour or so, to Middelburg, and Olympia, who had spent some time poring over a map of Holland while she had been staying with Mrs. van der Graaf, was able to follow his remarks about their journey with no trouble at all. She had never been out of England before and she was wildly excited, but she kept these feelings hidden under a serene face, for it was obvious that Waldo thought nothing of the journey, just as she had thought nothing of the journey by bus down Primrose Hill. The nursing home seemed a long way away now; she had gone back to see the patients, but Aunt Maria had barely spoken to her and then with a spite which had made her wince. She hadn't come to the wedding either, only written a letter warning Olympia of her folly. She had torn it up and then cried a little about it. Perhaps later, when Aunt Maria had got used to the idea, she might not feel so badly about it; indeed, she had no reason to-she hadn't been inconvenienced at all, for Waldo, true to his promise, had found a splendid nurse to take her place, an older woman who got on well with Mrs. Cooper and the others and was very efficient besides. Olympia had wondered where Waldo had found her and hadn't liked to ask. He had said that they were friends, but there had been times when she had found it difficult to talk to him or ask him questions. Doubtless, she thought hopefully, that would come right in time.

  But he wasn't being difficult now; he talked pleasantly about the day's happenings as he sent the car down the A2, and once on board the ferry there was so much to see that, her tongue nicely loosened by the lunch they had eaten on the way, Olympia kept up a constant flow of questions and observations, to all of which her companion lent a patient ear, answering her with a charming courtesy although he must surely have found them a little boring. She didn't think of that until afterwards, when they were in the car, tearing along towards Holland and Middelburg. She had fallen silent now, suddenly overcome with fears of the future. Supposing Ria didn't like her, and how about the housekeeper Waldo had mentioned? Supposing she couldn't cope with his household or fit into his life? Supposing his friends disliked her? She became very quiet indeed.

  They were over the River Schelde and leaving Vlissingen behind, with the towers and spires of Middelburg before them, only a mile or so away, when Waldo said gently: "You're a little scared, aren't you? You have no need to be, I promise you; everyone knows that you are coming as my wife and they will be delighted to welcome you and be your friend. Now don't worry." He cast her a quick, shrewd glance. "Tea will be nice, won't it?" he asked lightly, and she, feeling better already, agreed quite cheerfully.

  Her future home was in the very heart of the small city, almost in the shadow of the great church with its tower-Lange Jan. The house, large and solid and square, flanked by similar dwellings, faced the entrance to the Abdij-the abbey, its twelfth-century buildings, beautifully restored, encircling a large open space which she barely glimpsed from the street. And the street itself was charming with a grass plot in its centre and a scattering of trees, a little backwater of a place and peaceful. That much she was able to see before the doctor stopped the car before his door, helped her out and ushered her into his home.

  The hall was narrow with a tiled floor, plain white plastered walls and a splendid ornamental plaster ceiling, its swags of fruit and flowers running riot and spilling down the walls to ornament the tops of the doors. There was a large console table along one wall, on which was a great bowl of spring flowers, and a staircase half-way down the hall, set at right angles to it. There was a passage beside it and a woman came hurrying along it to meet them. She broke into speech as she caught sight of them and the doctor said easily: "This is my housekeeper, Emma-she speaks no English, but you will find her a treasure and I'm sure you will soon learn something of our language."

  Olympia shook hands and smiled nervously, a smile which Emma returned with a wide welcoming one of her own. She was a short, dumpy little woman with dark hair worn severely in a bun, and very neat in her dress. Olympia suddenly felt at ease with her; language or no language, she thought they might be friends. Emma said something to the doctor, smiled again at Olympia and opened one of the mahogany doors which lined the hall.

  "Tea," said Waldo, his hand under her elbow,"in the sitting-room. We can go round the house presently."

  The room was warm and welcoming; claretcoloured curtains draped in their satin swathes on either side of the tall windows, matched the silky carpet on the wooden floor. The furniture was large and comfortable, the chairs roomy. There was a sofa facing the chimneypiece, with two chairs, on either side, and a scattering of little tables bearing reading lamps and a miscellaneous collection of silver and china. Olympia crossed this pleasing apartment and took the chair the doctor offered. She hadn't known what to expect, but she was delighted to find that her half-formed notions as to Waldo's home had been entirely eclipsed by a quite beautiful reality.

  Tea came; delicate china upon a silver tray. She poured out a little clumsily while Waldo, sitting opposite her in a great winged chair, talked placidly about things that didn't matter while she thanked him silently for being so understanding. There were three cups on the tray; she was on the point of asking who was to join them when the door opened and Ria came in. She wasn't in the least like her father; small and dark, with an elfin face lighted by enormous dark eyes and a mop of brown hair brushing her small shoulders. She gave Olympia a hand with wary politeness, and Olympia, understanding the wariness, was careful to be friendly and nothing more. That the child was devoted to her father was evident; she shrilled her delight at seeing him again and giggled happily when he tossed her high before sitting her down on a stool between them. She was a charming child with charming manners; Olympia was enchanted by her even though she took care to sit back quietly and leave father and daughter to talk together.

  "You won't mind if we speak Dutch?" he had asked her. "Ria hasn't started English yet-I daresay she will pick it up quickly enough with you, though."

  He turned back to the small creature and became immersed in talk once more and presently had drawn Olympia into a three-sided conversation in which he acted as interpreter. It was a little laborious, but they all laughed a good deal and Olympia began to think that getting to know Ria might not be so difficult after all, but when they all got up to tour the house, she was shocked at the look of dislike the little girl threw at her. She told herself that it was natural enough that Ria shouldn't take to her at once; she would have to have patience and go slowly. With Waldo between them they crossed the hall and began their tour of inspection.

  The dining-room came first, panelled in grey wood and with a moss green carpet and heavy velvet curtains of the same shade, setting off the mahogany furniture to great advantage. The walls were hung with cream silk and there were a number of charming flower paintings hung around the room. There was a long sideboard too, holding a splendid collection of silver. Olympia, gazing round her, tried to imagine
herself sitting at the long table, facing Waldo, guests on either side of them, and her imagination boggled; it was something of a relief to see the small sitting-room at the back of the house, with its french windows opening on to a surprisingly large garden. It was a cosy, well lived in room, with comfortable leather chairs, a great many books on the shelves which lined the walls and a circular table to one side, piled with more books and magazines. There was a games table too and an old-fashioned stove, very ornate with its polished nickel plating. A room in which to sit comfortably and read or write and sew.

  The doctor's study was next to it, a smaller room, sparsely furnished and very businesslike, and leading from it, a small surgery. "I sometimes see patients here," he explained, "though most of them come to my consulting rooms on the other side of the Abbey buildings." He led the way down the hall and up the uncarpeted oak staircase, Ria clinging to his hand. "You can see the kitchen later on," he suggested. "Emma will want to show you round-come and see your room."

  It seemed enormous after her dim and poky bedroom at the nursing home. It was furnished with a restrained luxury which enchanted her; there was a Hepplewhite fourposter against one wall, its draperies of palest pink, and the carpet was a riot of pale roses on a cream ground. The curtains at the two windows were of a deep rose brocade and between them was a delicate rosewood dressing table holding a triple mirror, and to match the polished brown of the furniture, the day-bed was covered in a rich brown velvet, as were the two comfortable chairs on each side of the burnished steel fireplace.

  Olympia blinked. "Is this really my room?" she asked in a small voice.

  "All yours. It hasn't been in use for yearsit was my mother's, and nothing in it has been changed."

  Not Estelle's then. She felt thankful about that, although she wasn't sure why, but it had beenn thoughtful of him to tell her.