by Betty Neels
There had been no message from Rijk and although she hadn't expected one she had hoped that he might find time to phone before he left. He would be back at his home. She corrected herself; he wasn't going home, he was going straight to Schiphol. He would be in Greece now, bringing his skill to bear upon a patient with no thought of Christmas and certainly not of her.
She was mistaken. On Christmas Eve a basket of red roses, magnificent enough for a prima donna, was delivered and the card with it was in his handwriting too. He wished her a happy Christmas and was hers, Rijk.
She placed it in a prominent position in the drawing-room and looked at it every time she went into the room. He had thought of her even though he was so busy. Her lovely face took on an added sparkle and she bore her brothers' teasing remarks about red roses for love with good humour. Of course, that hadn't been Rijk's meaning; red was, after all, the colour for Christmas. It was only much later, going to bed after going to midnight service with her family, that Sophie allowed the thought which had been nagging her to be faced. Surely Rijk could have written to her or telephoned? She had made all kinds of excuses for him, but she found it hard to believe that he couldn't have scribbled a postcard before he got on the plane.
The roses had been a lovely surprise, of course, but if he had had time to arrange for those he surely could have phoned her too? She lay awake wondering about it and when, at length, she slept she dreamt of him.
She hadn't been home for Christmas for several years and, despite her uneasy thoughts, she found herself soothed and reassured by the ritual of giving and receiving presents, lighting the tree, going to church again and helping her mother serve up a dinner which never varied from year to year. As she ate her turkey and Christmas pudding she wondered where she would be in a year's time-here with Rijk or in Friesland, sharing Christmas with him and his family.
`Such a pity Rijk isn't here,' observed her mother. `I wonder what kind of a Christmas he is having?'
The professor wasn't having Christmas at all; he was undertaking a tricky piece of surgery on his patient's brain and, being a man with plenty of will-power, he hadn't allowed his thoughts to stray from this difficult task. Even when the long and complicated operation was over, he stayed within call, for the next day or two were crucial. On New Year's Eve, flying back to his home, satisfied that his work had been successful, he allowed himself to think of Sophie. He had swept her into a promise of marriage to him, but that, he was only too well aware, was only the beginning.
Rauke was waiting for him at Schiphol with an ecstatic Matt on the back seat, and he drove through the early evening back to his home, to change his clothes, wish his household a happy New Year, and then get back into his car again and drive to his parents' house, where the entire family were celebrating. He was a tired man, but no one looking at him would have seen that; he joined in the final round of drinks before midnight, piled his plate with the delicious food, and on the stroke of midnight toasted the New Year with champagne. The ceremony of kissing everyone, shaking hands and exchanging good wishes over, the professor slipped away to his father's study, and picked up the phone to dial a number.
Sophie and her family were still sitting round the fire, drinking the last of the port her father had brought up from the cellar and making sleepy plans to go to bed, when the phone rang and, since Sophie was nearest to it, she got up to answer it. Rijk's quiet voice, wishing her a happy New Year, sent a pleasant little thrill through her person; she had hoped that he might phone, but she hadn't been sure about it. She said fervently, `Oh, Rijk,' and then, `A happy New Year to you too. Where are you?"
'In Leeuwarden. I got back a few hours ago. I'll be with you the day after tomorrow I'm not sure when. You'll be at home?"
'Yes, oh, yes.'
`I'll see you then. Tot ziens, Sophie.' He rang off and she felt vague disappointment at the brevity of his call, but it was quickly swamped at the thought of seeing him again. It surprised her that she had missed him so much.
She was in the kitchen washing her mother's best china when Mrs Broom put her head round the door.
'Yer young man's at the door, love.' She beamed at Sophie. `Ere, give me them plates and wipe yer `ands, mustn't keep 'im awaiting.'
Sophie thrust a valuable Wedgwood plate at Mrs Broom and dashed out of the kitchen, wiping wet, soapy hands on her pinny as she went. It was a deplorable garment, kept hanging behind the kitchen door and worn by anyone who needed it, regardless of size, but she had forgotten that.
The professor was in the hall talking to her mother, towering over her, immaculate in his cashmere overcoat and tweeds. He looked as though he might have come fresh from his valet's hands, and Sophie slithered to a halt, suddenly conscious of the apron and the fact that she hadn't bothered with her hair but tied it back with a ribbon.
The knowledge that she wasn't looking her best made her say crossly, `I didn't expect you so soon,' and then, `It's lovely to see you, Rijk.'
She rubbed her still wet hands on the apron. `I was just washing the best china...'
The professor's eyes gleamed beneath their lids. `I like the hair,' he said and bent to kiss her. `Shall I come and help you with the plates?"
'No, of course not.' She smiled, her good humour restored, feeling comfortable with him just as friends should with each other. `I'll fetch the coffee-did you come over on the night ferry?"
'Yes. I've a case this afternoon at St Agnes's but I wondered if we might go and see your parson this morning? I'll come back this evening and we'll go out to dinner; there is a good deal to discuss.'
She nodded. `Yes. Are you going to be in England for a while?"
'I'm afraid not. Two or three days. I've a good deal of work waiting for me and I'd like to get it done before the wedding.'
`Yes, of course.' They went into the sittingroom, where her mother had prudently retired, and presently, over coffee which that lady brought, the conversation turned to the wedding.
`A quiet one?' her mother asked and went on, `Just a handful of people-we can all come back here for lunch afterwards if you would like that. I dare say you'll want to be off somewhere or other.'
`We shall catch the night ferry to Holland; I can spare only a couple of days.'
`Well, let me know what you arrange between you,' said Mrs Blount comfortably, `and I'll fit in.' She spoke cheerfully; like all mothers she would have liked to see her beautiful daughter swarming down the aisle in white satin and her own wedding veil, which she had kept so carefully for just such an occasion; it might have comforted her if she had known that Sophie had had a fleeting regret that the white satin and veil weren't for her. Only for a moment, however; a romantic wedding would have been ridiculous in their case. All the same, she would find something suitable for a bride, however modest the wedding...
Her father and Tom came in presently and she slipped away to take great pains with her face and hair and present herself in a quilted jacket and woolly gloves, ready to go to the rectory with Rijk.
They walked there, talking idly about this and that, very much at ease with each other, and when they reached the rectory the professor, while giving the appearance of asking Sophie's opinion about dates and times, had everything arranged exactly as he had planned it. The wedding was to be at eleven o'clock in the morning in two weeks' time by special licence; it was to be a quiet ceremony. As they would be leaving for Holland that same day they were both most grateful to the rector for arranging to marry them at rather short notice.
`Delighted, delighted,' observed the old man, `and I trust that I may have the happy task of christening your children.'
Sophie smiled, murmured and avoided Rijk's eye, and was a little surprised to hear his agreement, uttered in a grave voice, although she felt he meant it. Of course, she told herself, he didn't want to hurt the rector's feelings. That was the one doubt she had about their marriage; she liked children and she rather thought that Rijk did too, but if they kept to their agreement and lived the life he had envis
aged there wouldn't be any. Of course, perhaps later on... In the meantime, she told herself, they would share a very pleasant life together without heartbreak and the pitfalls of falling in love. She walked back with Rijk, quite content with her future.
He left shortly after they got back with the reminder that he would be back in the early evening. As he got into the car he asked her, `Have you any preference as to where we should go?"
'Must it be a restaurant?' she asked diffidently. `Would it be a bother to Percy and Mrs Wiffen if we dined at your house?'
She was rewarded by his pleased look. `No bother at all; they're all agog at the idea of a wedding and I'm sure they're longing to see the bride again.' He kissed her cheek lightly, got into the car, and drove off, leaving her to go into the house and go through her wardrobe for something suitable to wear. The brown velvet skirt and ivory silk blouse with the frilled collar would do nicely...
The evening was a great success; Percy and Mrs Wiffen had presented them with a delicious meal and afterwards they had sat in the drawingroom by the fire, talking. Waking in the night, Sophie had been unable to remember what they had talked about, only the satisfying memory of it. It was only when she woke again just as it was getting light that she knew without any doubt at all that she had fallen in love with Rijk.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SOPHIE got up and dressed, although it was still early; to lie in bed was quite impossible. She dragged on an old raincoat, tied a scarf over her hair, pulled on her wellies, and went quietly out of the house.
Montgomery and Mercury, delighted at the prospect of a walk so early in the day, slid through the back door after her, and she was glad of their company.
It was drizzling with a cold rain and the wind was bitter, but she really hadn't noticed either. `Now I'm in a pickle, aren't I?' she asked them. `Must I say that I've changed my mind or shall I go ahead and marry him and then pretend for the rest of my days that I've nothing but friendly feelings towards him?'
Mercury gave a sympathetic yelp and Montgomery huffed deep in his throat.
`The thing is,' went on Sophie, intent on getting things straight in her head, `is it better never to see him again or marry him and never let him know that I love him?' She added in a shaky little voice, `He's the one, you see. I know that now; I can't think why I didn't discover it earlier. No one else really matters. He does like me, we get on so well togetherlike old friends, if you see what I mean-and I don't think I could bear never to see him again...'
She stopped in the middle of the muddy lane and the dogs stopped with her, looking at her with sympathetic eyes. 'I'm going to marry him,' she told them briskly. `Half a loaf is very much better than no bread.'
She turned for home, her mind made up, and feeling relieved, so that when, over breakfast, her mother broached the subject of buying clothes she agreed that the sooner she did some shopping the better.
`And I wonder how many of Rijk's family are coming to the wedding?' her mother mused. `Should I invite them?' She didn't wait for an answer. `I'll write a note to his mother and invite any member of the family who might wish to come.' She began to reckon on her fingers. `There will be nine of them if they all come, and I haven't counted the husbands...I
'They won't come to the wedding,' said Sophie. `Just his mother and father and perhaps a brother or sister. He told me that there will be a big family gathering when we get back to Friesland.'
`Then I'll cater for about twenty to be on the safe side. I must see about the wedding-cake this morning. When will you go shopping, love?"
'Tomorrow; I don't need much...'
`No, dear, perhaps not, but one or two good outfits besides your wedding clothes.'
Sophie gave her mother a dreamy look, her head full of Rijk. 'Winter-white if I can find it, a coat and dress, and I'll have to buy a hat.'
Her mother gave her a thoughtful look; if she hadn't known better she would have said that the dear girl was in love, her head in the clouds and her wits addled.
`That would be very nice,' she said in a matter-of-fact voice. `Will you be seeing Rijk before the wedding?'
`No, he goes back to Holland tomorrow. He wants to clear up as much as possible before we are married.'
She went up to London the next morning. Her father drove her into Chipping Ongar and put her on the London train with instructions to spend the cheque he had given her, and if she needed more money she had only to ask for it. There was money in her own bank account too; if she wanted to she could be wildly extravagant. Why not? she reflected. It was her wedding and she wanted Rijk to be proud of her.
She avoided the big stores where the sales were in full swing; there were several boutiques where, even if they had sales, they would have something to suit her tucked away.
By late afternoon she was tired, hungry and triumphant. She also had a charming outfit for the wedding, a winter-white dress and long loose coat to match it in a fine woollen material. Even with a few pounds taken off as a concession to the sales, the price had been horrific, but, as the owner of the boutique had said, it was an outfit which could be worn repeatedly and not lose its chic. There was a hat to go with it too, a confection of velvet and feathers, faintly pink-tipped.
`A wedding outfit?' murmured the saleslady, who had seen Sophie's ring.
`Well, yes-a very quiet wedding...'
`Exactly suitable and very elegant. You have a splendid figure, if I may say so, madam. I expect you have already bought a good deal, but I do have a jersey suit-so suitable for this time of year. It is your size and I would be pleased to make a reduction on its price.'
A jersey suit would be useful, Sophie had reflected, and, since it was a perfect fit and a mixture of blues and greens which suited her dark hair and eyes, she bought that too.
She had snatched a hasty lunch then before going in search of something for the evening. Rijk lived in some style; certainly there would be at least one dance or dinner. This time she found exactly what she wanted-a dress with a full long skirt, the bodice square-necked and with tiny sleeves. It was in almond-pink chiffon and suitable, she hoped, for an eminent surgeon's wife, and since she still had some money in her purse she bought a brown and gold brocade top, high-necked and longsleeved; it would go well with her brown velvet skirt... Marks and Spencer provided her with new undies and, well pleased with her purchases, she went back home.
It had been a lovely day and beneath the excitement of buying new clothes was the knowledge that she loved Rijk, and that was exciting too, so that when he phoned later that evening she was for the moment bereft of words.
In answer to his quiet `Sophie?' she said breathlessly, 'Rijk, where are you?"
'At Eernewoude. What have you done with your day?"
'I bought a wedding-dress... Will you be there until you come back here?"
'No, four or five days here and then a quick trip to Brussels to see a patient and then here again until I leave for England. You may not hear from me for a day or two...'
`That's all right,' said Sophie. She wanted him to phone her every day-twice a day if possible just to hear his voice, but on no account must he ever know that. `You don't need to bother; we'll see to everything.'
She wasn't sure, but it sounded as though he had laughed before he said goodbye.
There was plenty to keep her occupied at home; her mother had sent invitations to Rijk's family and was happily immersed in preparations for the wedding breakfast. `Something simple,' she declared, `if you have to leave for the ferry.' She paused. `But doesn't that go at night? Rijk said he would want to leave directly after we have had lunch.'
`Perhaps he wants to call at his London house,' suggested Sophie.
`Probably.' Her mother frowned. `Smoked salmon and those little cheese puffs, baby sausage rolls and tiny quiches-the kind you can hold in your hand without them going crumbly-and the cake, of course...'
Sophie said, `Yes, Mother,' in a dreamy voice. As far as she was concerned they could chew cardboard just as long a
s she and Rijk were safely married. It would take time, she reflected, to get him to fall in love with her. She knew that she was a lovely girl and, while not in the least bit conceited, she knew that it was an asset. Rijk thought of her as a friend; all she had to do was to get him to see her in a different light... as an attractive woman as well as a practical young woman who understood his work and was prepared to take second place to it in his life.
She thought about it a good deal during the next few days. The thing was to make him see her in a new light. She still hadn't planned a course of action by the time he returned, and it was hard to behave as she always had done, to greet him with the friendly pleasure he expected and answer his questions about their wedding in a matter-of-fact voice.
