by Betty Neels
"You're so kind, Waldo." Even as she uttered it she heard her voice ascending into a small wail and felt his hands tighten on her shoulders.
"My dear good girl, there is nothing to cry about; I'm not in the least kind-I wanted to see Gijs anyway, and as for the puppy, I must thank you for asking me to get one, it was something I have been putting off." He bent and kissed her gently. "You look very pretty this evening, dear girl," he ran a finger down one cheek, "and you aren't as thin as you were. When I first met you you were nothing but a small bag of bones."
She managed: "Oh, was I?" still thinking of his kiss. "I mustn't get any plumper, though; none of my clothes will fit."
"Then we will buy new ones." He gave her a charming smile. "Go to bed, my dear." He bent his head to kiss her once more, barely brushing her hair this time. "Sleep well."
She went to bed in a little glow of delight; Waldo had said that she was pretty-he had never told her that before. She curled up in the centre of the wide bed and slept on the thought.
Saturday was a fine clear day, though there was a cold wind blowing. Olympia, in a pretty blue tweed suit she hadn't worn before, her hair piled as the hairdresser had instructed her, felt a spark of satisfaction at the sight of herself in her mirror; she would never be a raving beauty, but with her soft brown tresses becomingly arranged and her face carefully made up, she could almost pass for pretty, and indeed when she went downstairs for breakfast with Ria holding her hand, friendly for once, the long considered look Waldo gave her was all the confirmation she needed of this pleasant fact.
They set out as soon as the meal was over, with Ria electing to sit in the back of the car with a doll for company; she had wanted to sit beside Waldo, but his firm refusal had squashed that, and when Olympia had offered to keep her company on the back seat, she had been refused with stony politeness and a bleak, polite little face which had almost spoilt the morning for her. But not quite; it was impossible not to feel happy, the prospect of a whole day in Waldo's company saw to that.
She was enchanted by her first glimpse of Zierikzee; the sight of the ancient little town as Waldo slowed the car to go through the centuries-old gate into its main street was eye catching as well as unexpected. The sun shone on the canal water, the cobbled streets on either side of it were teeming with all the bustle of a Saturday morning, and the houses lining the canal on either side were so varied and picturesque that she didn't know where to look first.
"Like it?" asked Waldo, going slowly along the canal and then crossing it by a bridge at its end. "Gijs lives just here." He drew up as he spoke before a large house, rather like his own, only this one had a garden at its side and a wing overlooking it. Olympia had time to see that before the door was opened by an elderly woman. "Lien, the housekeeper," Waldo introduced her, said something to make her smile, bade the excited Ria behave herself, and marshalled his small party into the long hall. There were double doors on one side of it; they were thrown open at that moment and Gijs and Serena van Amstel came out to welcome them. In the general hubbub of chatter which followed, Olympia had a chance to take stock of her host and hostess; Gijs, she decided at once, was nice, large and placid and good-natured, and Serena was quite lovely with a dark, gipsy-like beauty which Olympia envied even as she decided that she was going to like her very much. Their greetings over, Serena said gaily: "Come upstairs and leave your things-Ria too. The men will start talking shop at any moment; we'll give them ten minutes to get the worst of it off their chests."
They climbed the stairs at the back of the hall and Olympia said impulsively: "This is fun-I mean, having an English girl to talk to."
Serena turned to look at her. "Have you met Netta and Emmy? Nice, aren't they? but I know what you mean." She smiled engagingly. "I would have come down to Middleburg to see you, only I'm hindered by this…' she patted herself gently. "Gijs has lovely old-fashioned ideas about taking care of me, and that means he doesn't like me driving my little Mini-so I don't."
She led the way into a finely furnished bedroom where she helped Ria with her coat and tidied her hair while Olympia made the best of herself at the mirror, listening to the two of them talking. Serena's Dutch sounded wonderful and she said so.
"Yours will be just as good in no time at all," her hostess assured her. "Are you having lessons? And going shopping helps enormously-the thing is to blunder along and never mind tenses and things like that; everyone's far too sweet to laugh at you and in a couple of months you'll be able to hear your own mistakes and put them right."
"The grammar…?"
"Don't bother with it," counselled Serena airily. "That will come later-you should have heard me when I started. Do you chat with Ria?"
"A little…"
"Difficult, is she? Not to be wondered atno mother for all that time and only Elisabeth de Val spoiling her." She looked at Ria, standing on tiptoe to look in the mirror. "She's a poppet, though."
"Oh, yes, and I'm very fond of her. Elisabeth's been very kind and helped me a great deal. I think I should have been lost without her during the first few days-she knew everything."
"I'm sure she did. Shall we go down and prise those men apart? They've probably gone to the surgery to read each other extracts from the Lancet."
But the men were waiting for them, the coffee tray ready on one of the tables in the comfortable sitting-room. From then on the day could be nothing but a success; Ria, borne away by Lien to the kitchen to drink her milk, returned presently with Gus, Serena's dachshund, clasped to her small chest. "Dog," she declared importantly, and smiled widely, and having secured an audience, elaborated with: "A little dog."
"Oh, you clever girl!" cried Olympia. At least here was something she had achieved with Ria. She looked across the room at Waldo and smiled delightedly and he said lazily: "You'll have to look to your laurels, Olympia, or Ria will beat you to the language stakes."
He picked up the little girl and sat her on his knee, Gus and all, and smiled at her over the dark head, so that she glowed once more with content and for the next few hours she lived in an illusion of happiness, helped perhaps by the undoubted bliss of the van Amstels, as well as Waldo's air of relaxed pleasure; even Ria seemed to accept her at last. The hours passed too quickly; it seemed no time at all before they were getting into the car again with a sleepy, contented little girl safely tucked up on the back seat, the prospect of future visits lightening the uncertainty of Olympia's mood, for she discovered that once they had left the van Amstels, Waldo had become very quiet, and after one or two abortive attempts at conversation, she had allowed her thoughts to take over, wondering what had gone wrong; everything had been absolutely wonderful, but now, all at once, he had become withdrawn, just as though she had annoyed him in some way. She got out of the car in a defiant mood when they reached the house, and followed by Waldo with the sleepy Ria, went indoors, where she was kept busy for the next hour, getting the little girl ready for bed and seeing to her supper.
There was still half an hour till dinner when she eventually got downstairs and the sittingroom was empty, and when she went along to the kitchen Emma told her smiling that there was nothing to do. She went back to the sittingroom and wandered round, moving things and putting them back again, switching the TV on and then off. She was choosing a record when Waldo came in.
"I didn't know you were down," he remarked pleasantly. "I was in the study."
"Working?" she spoke for something to say. "You have a great deal to do."
"Not more than I can manage-and this isn't work." He didn't tell her what it was, only offered her a drink and began to talk casually about their day. He talked throughout dinner too, amusing small talk which required little or no reply from her, only when she met his eyes from time to time she was disconcerted at their intentness, so that she found herself asking: 'Waldo, why were you so-so silent on the way home? Have I annoyed you? I thought the day was so delightful…'
"It was. If I was quiet it was because I had something to think abou
t-and you never annoy me, dear girl."
It was extraordinary how he never quite answered her questions, so that even now she had no idea what he meant. They went back to the sitting-room for their coffee and presently, unable to bear staying there with him any longer without bursting out with her doubts and fears and love, she pleaded tiredness and said that she would go to bed. But as she stood up he came over to her and caught her gently by the arms. "There's something I want to say," he began. "I'm not quite sure how to say it because it's something I'm not sure about myself, but perhaps together…will you stay for a few minutes?"
She stared up at him; she had no idea what he wanted to talk about, but he was looking at her with that curious intentness again, as though he were trying to discover something in her face-some secret. She had no secrets-but of course she had, an enormous one, never to be told. She managed a smile. "Of course I'll stay-tell me what…' but got no further, for the front door bell pealed and they heard Emma's brisk step in the hall. But Waldo still held her fast. Only when the door was opened and Emma's voice said flatly: 'Juffrouw de Val, Mevrouw," and Elisabeth came in, did he release her, and then slowly. His voice held nothing but pleasure as he greeted Elisabeth, though, and Olympia hastened to exclaim: "How nice to see you-I'll get some more coffee, you must have a cup."
Elisabeth looked apologetically at her. "Olympia, I'm so sorry-to call at such an hour and uninvited. Please forgive me, I am not yet used to…' She paused and went on diffidently: "Until you came, I walked in and out as though this were my home and I do not always remember-1 am truly sorry." She looked so upset that Olympia gave her a quick comforting kiss.
"You're always welcome here, you know that. Now I'm going to get that coffee."
When she got back ten minutes later the two of them were at a table, a great many papers spread out before them, deep in talk. Olympia poured the coffee, set it near them and went back to her chair. After ten minutes or so she got up again and went to the small secretaire in one corner of the room and started to write a quite unnecessary letter. It gave her something to do and made her feel less lonely.
It was half an hour before Waldo turned round to say: "Sorry about this, Olympia, but Elisabeth has some business she couldn't deal with and she knew I would be home at this time. We shan't be much longer."
Olympia murmured in a cheerful voice and began on another letter. She wrote without haste, but even so, she had it finished long before Waldo started to tidy up the papers which covered the table. "That settles that," he observed cheerfully. "Elisabeth, I should go along and get these dealt with as soon as you can."
Elisabeth thanked him in her soft voice. "I've spoilt your evening," she declared. "I feel so mean. Why not come over tomorrow evening for a drink after dinner, just to show there's no hard feelings?"
She spoke to Olympia but looked at Waldo. Olympia looked too. He didn't seem to dislike the idea, so she accepted with a bright smile which most successfully disguised her disappointment. Elisabeth was a dear, but if they went out tomorrow evening there would be no time to talk. She felt annoyed with Waldo for accepting when he could so easily have made some excuse; perhaps he had had second thoughts about telling her whatever it was he had wanted her to know, and anyway, she thought crossly, he wasn't going to get the chance now. Waldo had gone out to the street to see Elisabeth into her car; Olympia took care to be going upstairs as he came in again. From half-way up she turned to smile at him. "Good night," she called, "I did enjoy my day." She didn't wait to hear his reply but ran up the rest of the stairs and into her room.
Sunday was largely Ria's day, and Olympia, remembering her own bleak childhood, understood this and agreed with it wholeheartedly. Sunday was a family day; however busy Waldo was during the week, unless he was on call, it was Ria's right to have the lion's share of him. She quite cheerfully took a back seat, only making sure that the household ran smoothly, that there was a suitable festive tea if any of Ria's small friends should come round to play, and that she was properly dressed and in good time for church in the morning. Waldo, she had discovered, was an unobtrusive pillar of his church and had taken it for granted that she would be too. And indeed she had been glad of this; at the nursing home she had seldom had the opportunity of going to church on a Sunday, for Aunt Maria, who set great store on presenting the right image to her world, attended regularly, which meant that Olympia had to stay in charge of the patients.
She put on the tweed suit again, adding a pretty little hat, the price of which still made her feel faint, elegant gloves and a handbag which matched her shoes, a combination she had always longed to achieve before her marriage and had never quite managed. She tucked away a stray end of hair, marvelling as she did so how easily it was to get used to having enough money, although she still wasn't quite used to getting the charming gifts Waldo gave her-flowers, a scarf, a beautiful coral and gold brooch which he told her had been in his family for years. She was wearing it now on the jacket of her suit, but he probably wouldn't notice that she had it on and she felt shy of bringing it to his notice, for she had the uneasy feeling that although he gave her so much, he did it as a friend would give; to give her pleasure but not from any deeper feeling on his part.
They walked the short distance to church, through the Abbey courtyard and out the other side, Ria between them, holding their hands, chattering like a small magpie and proud of herself in her best coat. And after church they went home to coffee and then got into the car-the second car Waldo kept in the garage behind the house, a Daimler double six VP, and this time Ria was squeezed between them.
The puppy was a Welsh collie, still small and woolly and endearingly anxious to love and be loved. They made the return journey with Ria on the back seat this time, her arms round the puppy's neck, and the rest of the morning was taken up with choosing a name for him, although it was a foregone conclusion that Ria's insistence that he should be called St Nikolaas would overrule the more sensible suggestions put forward by her elders. It was the doctor who convinced her finally that the noble-sounding name could be shortened very nicely to Niko, a suggestion which was happily received, and the rest of the day was occupied most satisfactorily in introducing Niko to his new home.
Olympia, watching the little girl playing in the garden with her new companion felt the same illusion as she had had at the van Amstels' house; on the surface everything was so exactly right, and yet she felt uneasily that she was there under false pretences. True, she was managing to establish herself; Emma and Joanna liked her, she had several friends and a number of acquaintances, and when they dined out she could not fail to see the pleased look on Waldo's face whenever he looked at her-sometimes she thought it had been more than pleased-proud would have been the better word; she had basked in that look of his and yet still she didn't quite fit in; countless small things showed up her ignorance of a comfortably run household; she would never, she felt sure, get used to being a rich man's wife, even though Elisabeth, when she had been extra silly about something, pointed out in her kind way that over the years she would become accustomed to her new way of life. "You do very well," she had encouraged her, "and you work so hard at it, too-but not too hard, Olympia. You don't want Waldo to see that-it would irritate him, you know, to see that you are not quite—quite… men are strange."
And as the days passed she thought of that whenever she looked up and found him looking at her with that intense inquiring look. Perhaps he was regretting his marriage, perhaps he was comparing her with Estelle, who must have been the right sort of wife for him; lovely and used to luxury and servants and doing very little all day. She tried to stifle the disturbing thought in hours of homework for Mijnheer Blom, who became quite alarmed at her industry and begged her not to overwork. She was making progress now, though, learning with a fierce concentration, so that she could go shopping by herself and answer the telephone without becoming panic-stricken. She had even engaged Elisabeth's mother in conversation when they had gone round for drinks. Mevrouw de
Val spoke almost no English and had been delighted when Olympia understood at least part of what she was saying and could even reply after a fashion, although her replies were a little vague; Elisabeth had carried Waldo off to the greenhouse to see some plants she was worried about, and Olympia was appalled at the strength of her desire to get up and go with them. She was bitterly ashamed of herself when they came back later, because Elisabeth was carrying a bowl of hyacinths which, she explained in her pretty way, were especially for her dear Olympia. Olympia buried her sensible little nose in their fragrance; she had never felt so mean in all her life.
It was three days later-and happy days they had been, too, with the puppy to occupy her as well as looking after a small girl who seemed at last to be more friendly. She had made marmalade too, and done some baking under the motherly eye of Emma; the only small cloud in her sky had been the fact that Waldo hadn't made any attempt to continue the talk which Elisabeth had interrupted. He had been busy, with an epidemic of measles in the town and a series of lectures to give in Utrecht, she would have to have patience with him as well as with his little daughter. But now this morning, he had left the house for his surgery, taking Ria with him as usual, and she had spent half an hour at the store cupboard with Emma deciding the day's meals, but now that this little task was done, there was still a little time before Mijnheer Blom would arrive. She strolled from the kitchen to the small sitting-room, just in time to take the receiver from its cradle as the telephone rang. Answering it was still something of an adventure; sometimes it was one of her everwidening circle of friends, or one of the partners with a message for Waldo, sometimes it was a patient and she was forced to call Emma. She said now in her careful Dutch, "coed Morgen, met Docteur van der Graaf."
The voice at the other end was unmistakably English, feminine and flustered. "Do you understand English?" it wanted to know. "I must speak to Doctor van der Graaf privately-it is very urgent. Would you fetch him for me, please?"
