by Betty Neels
"And now the bracelet," he advised, and turned her round to face him. "The necklace is charming, but the bracelet is perhaps a little heavy for your wrist-you are so small, I must find something daintier."
"Oh, no," she declared, "I like this very much, I've never had any jewellery…' She stopped; it was unfair to arouse his pity and she would despise herself for it, too. "Thank you very much, Waldo."
He didn't let go of her wrist but took her other hand in his too and she waited, her heart pounding fit to crack her eardrums.
"Olympia…' He stopped as the door opened and Aunt Betsy came in.
The others came then, with Elisabeth last, apologizing for being a few minutes late. She crossed the room to meet Olympia half-way and kissed her and then said in her clear, soft voice: "How very nice you look, Olympia, and you are wearing the van der Graaf corals-I thought that Waldo was never going to give them to you, although you deserve them above anyone. It must have been so difficult for you, learning our way of life, and this big house and having servants-and then Ria, such a naughty little girl not to like you."
She stopped suddenly, her hand over her mouth. "Oh, dear-I shouldn't have said that, and everyone listening." She looked round the room with a contrite face. "Please forgive me."
There was a nasty little silence before Olympia, with a slightly heightened colour, said reassuringly: "There's no need to be sorry, Elisabeth. Everyone here knows I'm-I'm new to the job and I could never have managed if you hadn't helped me, and you still do help me. I'm glad you like the corals, they do go very well with this dress, don't they?"
She was aware that Waldo had come to stand beside her; she felt his hand, very light, on her waist. He said good-naturedly: "I think Olympia deserves diamonds at the very least. I must start saving up."
There was a general laugh at this little joke and Elisabeth was given a drink and swept into the light chatter which her ill-timed observations had interrupted. But for Olympia, chattering away gaily to her guests, the evening had been spoilt; she felt sorry for Elisabeth and each time she glanced at her she felt sorrier; she looked as though she was ready to burst into tears at any moment, although it was plain that she was making a great effort to behave normally, and after dinner, she slipped into a chair close to Waldo, watching his face; as though she were trying to draw reassurance from his very placidity.
But if anyone else noticed anything amiss, they gave no sign, the dinner had been eaten, praised generously and Olympia, becomingly pink-cheeked, had ushered her guests back into the sitting-room where over coffee the conversation, thanks to Waldo's skilful guidance, became lighthearted and amusing and remained so until everyone got up to go; all but Elisabeth; she stayed where she was while Olympia and Waldo saw their guests away, wished, in turn, Aunt Betsy a good night, and returned to the sitting-room.
Elisabeth almost ran to meet them. She flung herself into the doctor's arms and now she made no attempt to stop her tears. "Oh, Waldo," she sobbed, "I have been so thoughtless, all those things I said-I was not thinking, you understand? They were private things which only we know about-I shamed poor Olympia and I am so upset. Your aunt looked as though she wished to kill me, and the others stared so."
He patted her shoulders and said something in Dutch which Olympia, standing forgotten, couldn't catch, but she heard him well enough when he said: "I'll take Elisabeth home, she is upset-and she was always a sensitive girl."
And I, thought Olympia silently and in sudden rage, am insensitive and not in the least upset, l suppose. Elisabeth had been unwittingly unkind at her expense, but she didn't hold it against her; even the best of friends could drop a clanger at times, but someone-Waldo, for instance-might take the trouble to find out if she felt upset too; after all, she had been made to look pretty inadequate, to say the least. Her listeners must have got the general impression that before her marriage to Waldo she had been living on a very inferior social plane-and so, in all fairness, she had, but that was hardly the point. She answered now with forced cheerfulness, "Yes, do," kissed Elisabeth good night and shut the front door after them. But once they had gone her uplifted mood disintegrated into a snappishness which sent her off to bed; let Waldo find the house silent and no one about when he got back. Upon impulse she took off the necklace and the bracelet, laid them in their case and took it along to his room and laid it on the tallboy, then flounced back to her own room; let him have the things back again, for obviously she wasn't quite suitable to wear them, she told herself, flinging off her clothes in a very haphazard way, kicking her expensive shoes over the carpet and dragging on her dressing gown. She had been made to feel like a kitchen maid in front of her guests, she decided, her temper rising. She picked up her hairbrush and began to drag it through her hair, then stopped this self-torture because someone was tapping on the door.
Waldo-with the case in his hand and looking most satisfyingly annoyed. "I gave you these, Olympia," he told her in a quiet voice, "they're yours now."
"And I've given them back." Her voice was a little loud; it also held a decided wobble because he really did look rather angry. "I refuse to accept something which I quite obviously am not worthy of."
"Of which I am not worthy," he murmured. "You're getting your grammar muddled."
She shot him an infuriated glance. "Grammar has nothing to do with it," she snapped. "I'm neither entitled nor deserving of the family corals."
He put the case down on the bedside table and leaned against the door, his hands in his pockets, looking as though he were rather enjoying himself. "Rubbish, you deserve them all right, and as my wife you are entitled to them."
"Neither reason makes them acceptable to me," she declared, "and there was a third reason, wasn't there? They went well with my dress well, I've decided I don't like it any more, so now I won't need the corals to go with it."
He crossed the room so quickly that she jumped to her feet and retreated behind the stool she had been sitting on. Of no use, of course; he plucked it out of his way as though it had been a feather and gripped her shoulders. "Vixen," he said pleasantly, "you surely haven't let poor Elisabeth's ill-chosen words upset you?"
"Since you ask-a little late in the day yes, I have allowed them to upset me. To be reminded at my first dinner party that I'm not quite-quite," she paused for a word, "upper crust, is upsetting, nor did I like to be told in front of your friends that I had failed with Ria. I daresay," she went on bitterly, "the child realizes that I come from a different background-children are sharp little things, you know. But don't," she went on, her voice regrettably shrill, "allow my feelings to disturb you-not that I suppose that to be likely. And now you will be kind enough to go away."
To her surprise and secret dismay, he went.
CHAPTER EIGHT
OLYMPIA went down to breakfast the next morning a little uncertainly with Ria dancing along beside her. Waldo was still out with Niko, so she had time to see the post as usual. There was one envelope with a London postmark, the handwriting large and flowing and feminine. She itched to open it as she laid it on top of the pile, but whatever her own feelings that morning, Waldo, when he joined them, certainly didn't seem to share them; he wished her good morning in a perfectly normal voice, kissed Ria, tickled her to make her giggle, besought Niko to behave himself and sat down to his breakfast. Olympia, pouring coffee, watched his quick frown as he saw the letter, but he didn't open it at once, and when he did he read it with no change of expression, and presently he put it back in the envelope and gave his attention to his meal with the inquiry as to what time Aunt Betsy had decided to leave them, for all the world as though they were the best of friends, thought Olympia peevishly.
Aunt Betsy, she told him coldly, had decided to go back by plane, and hoped that he would get her a seat before he left for the surgery.
"I'll see what I can do-it shouldn't be too difficult at this time of year. Has she any preference as to time?" He had risen and reached for the telephone extension. "If she goes on an afternoon
flight I could run her over to Schiphol."
"She said she didn't mind but she hoped you would be able to drive her there."
He smiled as he put through a call. "We'll all go, shall we?" He didn't look at her or wait for an answer but talked for a few minutes on the telephone before replacing the receiver. "Three fifteen-couldn't be better. Will you let her know?"
She nodded and got up to wipe Ria's face. She kept her back to him while she did it and was glad of it when he observed casually: "I've been thinking, Olympia-it might be a good idea if you were to take driving lessons and have your own car, that will make you independent of me in the future."
Paving the way for solitary years ahead? she wondered. Even if he didn't want her as his wife, he would take care of her, she knew that, It would have been wonderful if she could have been a combination of Elisabeth and the unknown girl in London, instantly loved by Ria and with Waldo at her feet. She stifled a giggle, for the idea of Waldo at anyone's feet was a little too much, even for her imagination, and made haste to murmur a suitable answer to his remark.
The morning passed rapidly with Aunt Betsy demanding everyone's attention in her pleasant, commanding way, and Ria, excited at the prospect of an outing, getting terribly in the way. They lunched without Waldo and by some miracle they were ready for him when he arrived shortly after the meal.
They were to go in the Rolls; Olympia got into the back beside Aunt Betsy while Ria, very cock-a-hoop, was perched beside the doctor. The child was quite well now, and longing to go back to school, a wish which had that very morning been vetoed with consequent tears, but now all that was forgotten; she sat beside Waldo, entertaining him with her childish chatter, while the two ladies carried on a conversation which, on Olympia's part at least, was a trifle forced.
Aunt Betsy took a bit of getting off-she refused to be hurried for a start; her luggage, and there was a great deal of it, had to be checked, dealt with and consigned to official care; she required information on all and every aspect of her journey and expected to be accorded the care given to a VIP. To all these vagaries Waldo responded with good-humoured patience, while Ria and Olympia kept out of the way and did as they were told. Not that they minded that; neither of them had been to Schiphol before, it was a treat which they were both enjoying, and for the time being at least they were friends. But this was shortlived, alas, for once Aunt Betsy was safely airborne and the three of them were back in the car, speeding back to Middelburg, Ria's mood changed. She wanted to go to Elisabeth's house for tea, she informed her papa, and when this was quietly refused, threw a fit of tantrums which the doctor calmly ignored and Olympia seemed powerless to stop. It was a relief to get home and hurry the cross little girl indoors, while the doctor, with a murmured word of apology, drove himself to the surgery. By the time he got back again, Ria had exhausted herself, but not before declaring that she didn't like Olympia at all, that she wished she had never come to live with them, and that nothing would be nicer than that she should go away again. Olympia, quite puzzled at the child's outburst, preserved a calm front, but by the time Ria was in bed she was quite exhausted, and Waldo's cool assumption that she had had no difficulty in calming the child down hardly added to her good humour. They ate their dinner together in a slightly restrained atmosphere, and when Waldo, reverting to his old habit again now that their guest had gone, went to his study, she felt nothing but relief. She went to bed early and fell at once into an exhausted sleep which lasted until the early hours of the morning, which gave her plenty of time to lie awake thinking about the future.
Ria was unnaturally quiet during breakfast; she had apologized to Olympia at the doctor's calm instruction, but Olympia had seen the sullen set of the small mouth and the narrowed eyes; she was still very much disliked, despite the apology, but she accepted it cheerfully, and the morning, taken up with Mijnheer Blom, passed much as usual. It was after he had gone that Ria began to cry again and no cajoling on Olympia's part could discover the cause. It was a relief when Waldo came home for lunch, for Ria cheered up at the sight of him, regaled him with an account of her lessons, asked a great many questions about Aunt Betsy's journey and evinced so much interest in his replies that the meal passed off a great deal more happily than Olympia had dared to hope.
It was after lunch, when Ria was in the kitchen to attend to Niko's meal under Emma's eye, that the doctor asked, "What is the matter, Olympia? Here is Ria full of false gaiety and you wrapped in gloom. Trouble between you again?"
"Yes, Waldo. I've tried hard to be friends, but she doesn't like me, and you can't blame her for that-why should she, after all? She's a dear little girl and very loving-it's I who am at fault, though I don't know why. I suppose she doesn't remember her mother? I mean photos of her and people talking about her, so that she seems real to her still?"
"I think not. Estelle died soon after she was born; she can have no possible recollection of her."
"No. Perhaps she remembers you feeling sad, though."
His eyebrows lifted. "My dear girl, I didn't feel sad, not in the way I imagine you to mean. I didn't love Estelle."
"Not love…but you love Ria?" she stuttered a little in surprise.
"Very much, but Ria is not my daughter."
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. "Not your daughter?" she reiterated stupidly. "I don't understand."
"Probably not; you didn't know about ithow should you? It is something which no one knows." His voice was cool. "She is the daughter of my young brother and my wife. Willem was killed a week or so before they were to have been married." His voice had become very calm, but she could see that his hands were clenched so that the knuckles shone white and his face was bleak. She saw something else too-out of the corner of her eye. The door had moved-had opened a fraction which widened very slowly as she watched. Someone was outside, listening. Please God, not Ria, she prayed silently and cried urgently: "Don't say any more, Waldo, not now," and watched the door imperceptibly close again.
The doctor spoke heavily. "You're quite right, there is no reason for you to be told, is there? It's something I have done my best to forget, for Ria's sake."
"Is that why you married Estelle?"
He had turned away to look out of the window. "Yes, and if by that you mean did I marry her because I was in love with her, no, I did not. We had very little liking for each other, but my brother's child had to have our name, it was the least I could do."
He came back from the window and picked up his case and walked to the door. It seemed to Olympia, watching him unhappily, that he was always going away. The thought made her say in a strong voice: 'Waldo, that isn't what I meant at all. Please wait, there's something…'
He interrupted her, his voice kind, his face as placid as it always was. "Shall we forget this?" he suggested. "I know that I can trust you, Olympia, never to speak of it to Ria-or anyone else. It need never be spoken of again."
He had gone before she could think of anything to say and she heard his voice, quite normal and cheerful, as he spoke to someone in the hall.
The door opened again, and just for a second she thought that he might have come back and she took a step forward without knowing it. But it wasn't Waldo, it was Elisabeth, her pretty face smiling. As she came in she said in her sweet voice: "Hullo, Olympia-I met Waldo on the doorstep as I was on the point of knocking and he let me in. I've come to see if you would like to come shopping. I have a few small things to buy and I would enjoy your company."
Olympia smiled at her. Dear Elisabeth, kind and thoughtful and prepared to like everyone, even if she did create awkward situations. An afternoon out would be pleasant, but she shook her head regretfully.
"I'd have loved it, but have you forgotten that I told you Mijnheer Bloin is coming again this afternoon because he can't manage tomorrow morning?-he'll be here at any moment."
She had hardly finished speaking when Ria came running in, and although her manners were too good to allow her to ignore Olympia entirely, she acc
orded her only the briefest glance before running to Elisabeth, whom she greeted with every sign of delight. At least there was one thing to be thankful for, thought Olympia, watching them chattering happily together, there was nothing in the little girl's face to indicate that she had been the listener at the door. Relief swept over her in a warm tide so that she asked quite gaily: "Did Niko eat his dinner, Ria?"
The child nodded briefly and turned back to Elisabeth, asking her something in an urgent voice.
"Ria wants to come with me-may she do that? I shall not be long, you understand-half an hour, an hour. I will bring her back for her tea."
Olympia glanced at Ria; the child wanted to go and there was no earthly reason why she shouldn't. She agreed readily enough and went upstairs with the child to brush her hair and help her put on the new red anorak they had chosen together only that week. That had been a shopping expedition too, although brief and certainly not successful. Ria had gone with her unwillingly and even when she had been invited to choose the colour she wanted, she had been remotely polite about it, there had been no fun, no giggles, only a well-brought-up little girl minding her manners. Olympia stifled regret, wished her a cheerful good-bye and watched her skip down the staircase to join Elisabeth waiting in the hall. They went out of the house together, hand in hand, leaving it quiet and empty. Olympia, with nothing much to do, picked up her knitting once more, but after a row or two she let it fall into her lap. Perhaps she would take a walk, a really long walk, with Niko, but she had to dismiss this idea immediately; Niko had already had a long walk, and a healthy bout of exercise in the garden besides; he was tired, indeed, he was stretched out before the cheerful little fire crackling on the hearth. She got up and wandered to the window, the fine spring day was deteriorating slowly; great grey clouds were nosing their way over the washed-out blue of the sky, presently it would rain.
