by Betty Neels
There were two cars, hopelessly entangled, and one was blazing with thick black smoke pouring from it. Well away from it there were people on the grass verge of the road, some sitting and two lying, and she could see Radinck bending over them. She fetched up beside him, took the torch he was holding from him and shone it on the man lying on the ground. ‘Noakes is coming as soon as he’s got his coat on,’ she said quietly.
‘Good girl!’ He was on his knees now, opening the man’s jacket. ‘Shine the light here, will you? There are scissors in my bag, can you reach them?’
Noakes arrived then, out of breath but calmly dignified. He listened to what Radinck had to say and with a brisk: ‘OK, Professor,’ turned and went back again. ‘And bring some blankets and towels with you!’ shouted Radinck after him.
The man was unconscious with head injuries and a fractured pelvis. They made him as comfortable as they could and moved on to the other silent figure close by. Head injuries again, and Radinck grunted as he bent to examine him, but beyond telling Caro to wrap one of the towels Noakes had brought back round the man’s head and covering him with a blanket he did nothing. There were three people sitting on the frosty grass—an elderly man, a woman of the same age and a girl. Radinck looked at the older woman first, questioning her quietly as he did so. ‘Shock,’ he said to Caro, ‘and a fractured clavicle—fix it with a towel, will you?’ He moved on to the man, examined him briefly, said, ‘Shock and no injuries apparent,’ and then bent over the girl.
The loveliest girl Caro had ever set eyes on; small and fair with great blue eyes, and even with her hair all over the place and a dirty face she was breathtaking. ‘Were you driving?’ asked Radinck.
It was a pity that Caro’s Dutch didn’t stretch to understanding what the girl answered, nor, for that matter, what Radinck said after that. She held the torch, handed him what he wanted from his bag and wished with all her heart that she was even half as lovely as the girl sitting between them. She had looked at Radinck’s face just once and although it wore the bland mask of his profession, she knew that he found the girl just as beautiful as she did; he would have been a strange man if he hadn’t. The girl said something to him in a low voice and he answered her gently, putting an arm round her slim shoulders, smiling at her and then, to Caro’s eyes at least, getting to his feet with reluctance.
‘Stay with them, will you, Caroline?—this poor girl’s had a bad shock, the others aren’t too bad. I’ll take a look at the other two, though there’s nothing much to be done until we get them to hospital.’ He stood listening for a moment. ‘There are the ambulances now.’
He went away then and presently as the two ambulances slowed to a halt, Caro saw him directing the loading of the two unconscious men. The first ambulance went away and he came over to where she was waiting with the other three casualties. ‘Go back to the house,’ he told her. ‘There’s nothing more you can do. Get a warm drink and go to bed. I’ll follow these people in to the hospital, there may be something I can do.’ She hesitated, suddenly feeling unwanted and longing for a reassuring word. He had spoken briskly, as he might have spoken to a casual stranger who had stopped to give a hand, only she felt sure that he would have added his thanks.
‘Do as I say, Caroline!’ and this time he sounded urgent and coldly angry. She turned without a word and went down the drive, her feet and hands numb with cold, and climbed the steps slowly to where Juffrouw Kropp was waiting, wrapped in a dressing gown, and any neglect she had suffered at her husband’s hands was instantly made up for by the care and attention she now received. Hardly knowing what was happening, she was bustled upstairs and into bed where Juffrouw Kropp tucked her in as though she had been a small girl and Marta waited with a tray of hot drinks. Both ladies stood one each side of the bed, while she sipped hot milk and brandy, reassured themselves that she had come to no harm and then told her firmly to go to sleep and not to get up in the morning until one or both of them had been to see her.
‘But I’m not ill,’ protested Caro weakly.
‘You have had the grippe,’ Juffrouw Kropp pointed out. ‘The Professor will never forgive us if you are ill again.’
Caro searched her muddled head for the right words. ‘He’s gone to the hospital—he’ll be late and cold…’
‘Do not worry, Baroness, he will be cared for when he returns. Now you will sleep.’
‘I ought to be there.’ Caro spoke in English, not caring whether she was understood or not.
‘No, no, he would not like that.’
She gave up and closed her eyes, not knowing that while Marta crept out with the tray, Juffrouw Kropp perched herself on the edge of a chair and waited until she was quite sure that Caro slept.
She wakened to find that lady standing at the foot of the bed, looking at her anxiously, but the anxious look went as Caroline sat up in bed and said good morning and then gave a small shriek when she saw the time.
‘Ten o’clock?’ she exclaimed, horrified. ‘Why didn’t someone call me? Is the Professor back?’
Juffrouw Kropp shook her head. ‘He telephoned, Baroness. He will be back perhaps this afternoon, perhaps later.’
Caro plastered a cheerful smile on her face. ‘Oh, yes, of course, he’ll be busy. I’ll get up.’
‘Marta brings your breakfast at once—there is no need for you to get up, mevrouw, it will snow before long and it is very cold outside.’
Under Juffrouw Kropp’s eagle eye Caro put her foot back in bed. ‘Well, it would be nice,’ she conceded. The housekeeper smiled in a satisfied way and shook up the pillows.
‘There has been a telephone call for you— Baroness Raukema van den Eck—she heard about the accident. I asked her to telephone later, Baroness. She hopes that you are all right.’
It was nice to have a friend, reflected Caro, sitting up in bed eating a splendid breakfast, someone who wanted to know how you were and really minded. Not like Radinck. She choked on a piece of toast and pushed the tray away and got up.
It wasn’t until the afternoon that Radinck telephoned, and by then any number of people had rung up. Becky, of course, wanting to know exactly what had happened, asking if Caroline were quite better, did she need anything, would she like to go over and see them soon. ‘Tiele saw Radinck for a few minutes this morning,’ went on Becky. ‘He was getting ready to drive one of the crash people home—the girl who was driving. You’ll know that, of course. I must say it’s pretty good of him to go all the way to Dordrecht with her—let’s hope the snow doesn’t get any worse.’
Caro had made some suitable reply and put down the phone very thoughtfully. Of course, there might be some very good reason why Radinck should take the girl back home—something urgent—but there were trains, and cars to hire and buses, and most people had friends or family who rallied round at such a time. She did her best to forget about it, answered suitably when a number of other people she had met at the burgermeester’s reception telephoned, took Rex for a quick walk in the garden, despite Juffrouw Kropp’s protests that she would catch her death of cold, and settled down by the fire to con her Dutch lessons.
The weather worsened as the day wore on; it was snowing hard by the time Radinck telephoned. He sounded cool and rather casual and Caroline did her best to be the same. ‘I’m in Dordrecht,’ he told her. ‘I took Juffrouw van Doorn back to her home; she had no way of reaching it otherwise and her parents must stay in hospital for a few days. I shall do my best to get back this evening, but the weather isn’t too good.’
‘It’s snowing hard here,’ said Caro, anxious not to sound anxious. ‘If you’d rather not drive back—I expect you can find a hotel or something.’
‘Juffrouw van Doorn has offered me a bed for the night—probably I shall accept it. You’re all right?’
‘Perfectly, thank you.’ And even if I weren’t, she added silently, I wouldn’t tell you. ‘Do you want me to tell anyone? Have you any appointments for the morning?’
His low laugh came very clear
ly over the wire. ‘Really, Caroline, you are becoming the perfect wife! No, there’s no one you need telephone. I can do it all from here.’
‘Very well—we’ll expect you when we see you.’
‘Caroline—about last night—’
She interrupted him ruthlessly. ‘I’m sorry, I must go. Goodbye, Radinck.’
The rest of the day was a dead loss.
They were to go to a party the following evening. Becky had telephoned to know if they were going and Caro had improvised hurriedly and said that they expected to be there but Radinck would let her know the moment he could leave Dordrecht. ‘The weather’s awful there,’ she invented, ‘and I told him not to come home until the roads were clear.’
And Becky had said how wise she was and she hoped they’d see each other the next day.
There was no word from Radinck the next day. Caro ordered the meals as though he were expected home, took Rex for a snowy walk, rehearsed her choir and then telephoned the people whose party they were to attend and made their excuses. She was on the rug before the fire in the sitting-room when Radinck walked in, with Waterloo purring beside her and Rex leaning heavily against her. He bounded to the door as Radinck came in and Caro looked round and then got slowly to her feet. ‘You didn’t telephone,’ she observed, quite forgetting to say hullo.
‘No, I’m sorry I couldn’t get back sooner—the roads are bad.’ He fended Rex off with a gentle hand and sat down. ‘How quiet and peaceful you look, Caroline.’
Appearances can be deceptive, she thought. She wasn’t either, inside her she boiled with rage and misery and jealousy and all the other things which were supposed to be so bad for one. ‘I hope the trip wasn’t too bad,’ she remarked. ‘Would you like some coffee?’
‘Yes, thanks. Aren’t we supposed to be going to the Laggemaats’ this evening?’
‘Yes, but I telephoned them about an hour ago and told them that as you weren’t back we would probably not be able to go. I hope I did right.’
‘Quite right. Did you not wonder where I was?’
She said evenly: ‘When we married you particularly stressed the fact that that was something I was never to do.’
She poured the coffee Noakes had brought and handed Radinck a cup.
He said testily: ‘You seem to have remembered every word I said and moreover, are determined to keep to it.’
Caroline didn’t answer that but asked in her quiet little voice: ‘How are the people who were hurt in the accident?’
‘The first man is in intensive care, the second man died on the way to hospital—I think you may have guessed that; the two older people who were in the second car are to remain under observation for another day or so. Their daughter—Ilena—I drove home.’
Caro busied herself pouring a cup of coffee she didn’t want. ‘Oh, yes, Becky told me when she telephoned yesterday.’ She was careful to keep all traces of reproach from her voice. ‘I’m so glad she wasn’t hurt; she was the loveliest girl I’ve ever seen.’
‘Extraordinarily beautiful,’ agreed Radinck blandly, ‘and so young, too. She asked me to stay the night and I did.’
‘Very sensible of you,’ declared Caro calmly. ‘Travelling back in all that snow would never have done.’
‘What would you say if I told you that I’ve never allowed bad weather to interfere with my driving?’
She could say a great many things, thought Caro, and all of them very much to the point. She didn’t utter any of them but said prudently: ‘I think it was very wise of you to make an exception to your rule.’
She put down her coffee cup and picked up her work again, glad to be able to busy herself with something.
Radinck stretched out his legs and wedged his great shoulders deeply into his chair. ‘Don’t you want to know why I took Ilena home?’
‘You must have had a good reason for doing so— I daresay she was badly shaken and not fit to travel on her own.’
‘She was perfectly able to go on her own. I drove her because I wanted to prove something to myself.’ He frowned. ‘I seem to be in some confusion of mind—about you, Caroline.’
She looked up from her work, her eyes thoughtful as she studied his handsome and, at the moment, ill-tempered face. Her heart was thundering against her ribs. That he was about to say something important was evident, but what, exactly? She had promised herself that she would make him love her, but it seemed probable that she had failed and he was going to tell her so. She said steadily: ‘If you want to talk about it I’m listening, Radinck.’
It was a pity that just at that moment the telephone on the table beside him should ring. He lifted the receiver and listened, frowning, and then embarked on what Caro took to be a list of instructions about a patient. The interruption gave her time to collect her thoughts, which were, however, instantly scattered by the entry of Noakes, announcing Tiele and Becky.
‘We were on our way to the Laggemaats’,’ explained Becky, ‘and Tiele thought it would be an idea to pop in and see how you were.’
She kissed Caro, offered a cheek to Radinck and perched herself on a chair close to Caro, spreading the skirts of her dress as she did so.
‘That’s pretty,’ observed Caro. ‘It’s new, isn’t it? I love the colour. I was going to wear a rather nice green…’
Tiele had bent to kiss her cheek and said laughingly: ‘Oh, lord—clothes again! Radinck, take me to your study and show me that agenda for the seminar at Brussels. Are you going? We could go together—we need only be away for a couple of days.’
The two men went away and Becky, declining coffee, remarked: ‘We weren’t sure if Radinck would be back. The roads are very bad further south. He telephoned Tiele about some patient or other quite late last night—said he’d gone to a hotel in Dor-drecht and planned to leave early this morning, but he got held up—you know all that, of course.’ She ate one of the small biscuits on the coffee tray. ‘He must have been glad to have handed that girl over to her aunt—a bit of a responsibility—supposing he’d got landed in a snowdrift!’ She giggled engagingly.
Caro had listened to this artless information in surprise and a mounting excitement. If what Becky had told her was true, why had Radinck let her think that he’d stayed at the girl’s house? Had he wanted to make her jealous? On the other hand, did he want her to believe that he had thought better of their dryas-dust marriage and wanted to put an end to it? More likely the latter, she considered, although that was something she would have to find out. She wasn’t sure how and she had a nasty feeling that whatever it was Radinck had been going to say wouldn’t be said—at least not for the moment.
In this she was perfectly right. The van den Ecks went presently and Radinck went almost at once to his study with the observation that he had a good deal of paperwork to do. Which left Caro with nothing better to do than go to bed.
CHAPTER NINE
THE SNOW LAY thick on the ground when Caro looked out of her windows in the morning. It was barely light and she could see Radinck, huge in a sheepskin jacket, striding down to the stables with Rex at his heels. He would be going to see how Queenie fared before walking Rex in the fields beyond. It would have been lovely to be with him, she thought, walking in the early morning cold, talking about his work and planning a pleasant evening together. Which reminded her that there was another party that evening and presumably they would be going: a doctor from the hospital and his wife—she searched her memory and came up with their name—ter Brink, youngish if she remembered aright and rather nice. She would have to ring Becky and ask what she should wear. She bathed and dressed and went downstairs and found Radinck already at the table.
It was hardly the time or place to expect him to disclose what he had intended to say to her, but she sat down hopefully and began her breakfast. But beyond a polite good morning, the hope that she had slept well, and could he pass her the toast, he had nothing to say, but became immersed in his letters once again. Caroline was glad that she had a modest pile of post b
eside her plate for once. It seemed to keep her occupied and by reading each letter two or three times, she spun out her interest in them until Radinck put his own mail down and got to his feet.
‘You feel well enough to go to the ter Brinks’ this evening?’ he asked her pleasantly.
‘Oh yes, thank you. Where do they live?’
‘Groningen—not far. I should be home about teatime and we shall need to leave here about half past six.’ He paused on his way to the door. ‘Be careful if you go out—it’s very cold and treacherous underfoot.’
‘Yes, Radinck.’ She smiled at him as she spoke and he came back across the room and kissed her hard and quick. Caroline sat a long while after he had gone trying to decide whether he had meant it or whether he was feeling guilty; she remembered all the books she had read where the husband had tried to make amends to his wife when he had neglected her by being kind to her, only in books they sent flowers as well.
They arrived a few hours later—a great bouquet of fragrant spring flowers; lilac, and hyacinths, tulips and daffodils, exquisitely arranged in a paper-thin porcelain bowl. The card said merely: Flowers for Caroline, and he had written it himself and scrawled Radinck at the end. Caroline eyed them at first with delight and then with suspicion. Was he, like the guilty husbands in all the best novels, feeling guilty too? She was consumed with a desire to find out more about the beautiful girl in Dordrecht. She was a satisfyingly long way away, but absence made the heart grow fonder, didn’t it?
Caro spent the whole day vacillating between hope and despair, so that by the time Radinck came home she was in a thoroughly muddled state of mind—made even more muddled by his unexpected friendly attitude towards her. He had always—well, almost always—treated her with punctilious politeness, but seldom with warmth. Now he launched into an account of his day, lounging back in his great chair, looking to be the epitome of a contented man and even addressing her as Caro, which seemed to her to be a great step forward in their relationship. She went up to change her dress presently; it was to be a long dress occasion and she chose one of the dresses she had bought in den Haag. A rose pink crêpe-de-Chine, patterned with deeper pink roses, it had a high neck and long tight sleeves and the bodice was finely tucked between lace insertions. She swept downstairs presently, her mink coat over her arm, and then stopped so suddenly that she very nearly tripped up. She had never thanked Radinck for his flowers.
