by Betty Neels
'Rijk isn't old,' protested Sophie.
`No, no, I know that-he's twelve years older than I am and eight years older than Iwert, who's doing quite well for himself. I suppose Rijk's the goal we are both aiming for.' He beamed at her confidingly. `He's made a name for himself.'
'I'm sure you'll succeed. Are you going to specialise?'
He plunged into a rose-coloured version of his future. `Though I'll never be as good at it as Rijk' He smiled rather shyly. `But I hope I meet someone as beautiful as you and marry her.'
`Why, thank you, Loewert-she' ll be a lucky girl.' She got to her feet. `Shall we have a short walk before lunch? Rijk says it will snow...'
They took the lane down to the lake and stood looking at its grey, cold water. `It's certainly going to snow,' said Loewert. `Look at those clouds.'
They were massing on the horizon, a nasty grey with a yellowish tinge sweeping towards them, driven by a mean wind.
They didn't stay out long but went back to the house and had lunch together on the best of terms.
They were playing draughts on the discarded tea-tray beside Sophie's chair when Rijk got home. She looked up and smiled as he came into the room, and he bent to kiss her cheek before greeting his brother.
`I've had a wonderful day,' said Loewert. `I had no idea that a sister-in-law could be such fun. I hope I'll be invited again...'
`Any time you like,' said Rijk. `Stay to dinner?"
'I promised Mother that I'd go home. I'd better go now or she may think I've forgotten.'
Sophie got up too and he kissed her with obvious pleasure. `Next time I'll stay for dinner if you'll have me,' he told her.
`I've enjoyed our day together; pass your exams and we'll have a celebration dinner.'
Rijk went out of the room with him and she sat down again and picked up her knitting, presenting a picture of serene domesticity to Rijk when he came back to the room.
He said quietly, `I'm glad you enjoyed your day; Loewert is great fun. Did you have time to look through the invitations?"
'Yes, I did, and there is a note from your mother asking us to go to dinner next week.'
`The entire family will be there-aunts and uncles and cousins, and, of course, Grandmother. Which reminds me-I've opened an account for you at my bank; maybe you will want to buy clothes.' He gave her a cheque-book and she turned it over slowly and then looked inside. It was very like her own cheque-book, save for the sum of money written on its first stub.
`Your quarterly allowance,' said Rijk, watching her. `If you need more money you have only to ask.'
`That's a fortune.' She raised troubled eyes to his.
`You will need every cent of it; it won't do for you to be seen too often in the same dress. You dress charmingly, Sophie, but I can't have my friends saying that I don't give you enough pin money.' He smiled at her. `Do you want to shop in London or den Haag? I'll make some time to go with you.'
`No, no, there are some lovely shops in Leeuwarden. I'll have a good look round. I have brought one or two dresses with me, but perhaps they aren't grand enough.'
He crossed the room and took her hands in his. `They don't have to be grand, my dear, but there will be tea-parties and coffee-parties and several dinner parties we cannot refuse. You don't like dressing up?"
'I've never had much chance to do that.' She smiled up into his face. `But I think I shall enjoy it as long as it's not too often.'
'I'll promise you that. I'm not very social myself, only, now that I have a wife, friends and acquaintances are going to invite us.'
Rauke came in then to take away the tray, and Matt, who had been having his supper in the kitchen, came with him, delighted to see Sophie again, rolling his yellow eyes at the prospect of his evening walk.
`I'll come with you,' said Sophie and, wrapped in an elderly loden cloak kept in the hall closet, went out into the dark evening. The cold hit her like a blow, and Rijk took her arm.
`I said that it would snow,' he said with satisfaction as the first feathery flakes fell.
They walked fast down towards the lake and back again while Matt, impervious to the cold in his thick coat, dashed to and fro, barking. He had a deep, very loud bark.
They went back indoors presently to eat their dinner and discuss which of the invitations they should accept. Afterwards, back in the drawing-room, leafing through them once again, Sophie asked, `Who is Irena van Moeren? She's written a little note at the bottom, but I don't know what it means.'
'Irena? A very old friend; we must certainly accept.' He stretched out a hand for the card.
`She writes at the bottom, "You must come for old times' sake".' He glanced at the date. `I must make a point of being free-you'll like her.'
Sophie murmured a gentle reply; she would hate her. Old times' sake, indeed... And what if she turned out to be the woman she had seen Rijk with?
She sat, the picture of tranquillity, stitching away at her tapestry, not looking at him. If she had done so she would have been surprised to see the look on his face as he watched her.
It was snowing hard when she got up the next morning, and there was already a thick layer covering the lawn and shrubs. She went down to breakfast presently and was met in the hall by Rauke.
His `Good morning' was grave and fatherly. `The professor left early, mevrouw; he was called to an urgent case at four o'clock this morning.'
`He is operating this morning too; the list starts at nine o'clock. I do hope he gets some breakfast...'
'I'm sure that he will be looked after, mevrouw. I'll bring the coffee; you must have your breakfast.'
As he set the pot before her Sophie asked, 'Rauke, you speak such good English-have you been there?"
'No, mevrouw. I was with the professor's father during the occupation-underground, of course; we had a good deal to do with escaped prisoners and Secret Service personnel.'
She put out an impulsive hand. `Oh, Rauke, I'm proud to know you.'
He took her hand gravely. `Thank you, mevrouw. Would you care for a boiled egg?'
She was finishing breakfast with Matt in loving attendance when Rijk telephoned.
`Good morning, Sophie; you slept well?"
'Me? Slept? Oh, yes, thank you.' Ungrammatical and incoherent; she must do better. `Are you tired? Was the op a success?"
'Yes, I think so; the next forty-eight hours will determine that.'
`Have you had breakfast?"
'Oh, yes.' She fancied that he was laughing. 'I'm going to scrub in a few minutes. If you go out, be careful, wear wellies-there are several pairs in the outer kitchen-and do take Matt with you.'
`Well, yes, I will. Will you be home in time for tea?' She did her best to make her voice sound brisk and friendly.
`Doubtful; I'll let you know later.' He rang off and she put the receiver down slowly. It was ridiculous to want to cry about nothing. She gave a sniff and blew her beautiful nose and went along to the kitchen to start the difficult but interesting business of deciding what to eat for the rest of the day.
It started to snow while she was out with Matt and she was glad of the wellies, for it was freezing now and the ground was icy. She walked down to the lake and took the track running beside it, which would lead her eventually to the village. The water, grey and sullen, reflected heavy cloud which covered the skies, and here and there there were great patches of ice forming.
`A winter's day and no mistake,' said Sophie to Matt, `and I rather like it; it's like being in a Bruegel painting.'
In the village she bought stamps and a bar of chocolate in the small, crowded shop, exchanging greetings in her awkward Dutch, wishing she knew more words and making do with smiles and nods. The shop's owner was an old woman dressed severely in black, her hair dragged back in a severe bun, bright blue eyes almost hidden in her wrinkled face. She chattered away, not minding that Sophie understood one word in twenty, but she was friendly and when other customers came into the shop they all had a few words to say. Sophie went on her way
feeling as though she belonged, munching chocolate. Matt munched too, keeping close to her as they took the narrow road to the house.
Rijk phoned late in the afternoon. It was snowing hard now and Rauke had drawn the heavy curtains across the windows, shutting out the dark early evening. Sophie, conning her Dutch phrase book, snatched the phone from its cradle. 'Rijk, when will you be home?'
He sounded placid. `Very late, I'm afraid. I may have to operate again shortly. I'll get something to eat here. Don't wait up. What have you done with your day?"
'Well, I went for a long walk with Matt by the lake and then to the village and this afternoon I wrote letters and knitted.'
How dull it sounded; she was fast turning into an idle woman, and he would get bored with her. She said urgently, `I should like to start Dutch lessons...'
`I'll see about it-I know the very person to teach you. What are you knitting?'
He sounded so kind that she felt the tears pricking her eyelids.
`A sweater for you,' she mumbled.
`That's the best thing I've heard all day,' he observed and with a brief `Tot ziens' rang off.
He was already sitting at the table when she went down to breakfast the next morning. His `Good morning' was cheerful as he stood up and pulled out the chair opposite his.
Sophie sat down and poured her coffee. `Were you very late?' she asked. She had waited until she had heard his footsteps soon after eleven o'clock, but she wasn't going to say so.
`Later than I had intended; the snow is piling up in the country roads, although the main roads are clear for the moment.'
'Oh-is it going to snow still?"
'Yes, and the temperature has dropped; we shall be skating by the end of the week.' He passed his cup for more coffee. `Don't attempt to go on the lake, Sophie. The ice looks solid enough, but it isn't safe yet.'
`Will you be home for dinner this evening?' She added quickly, `I only want to know so that Tyske can plan her cooking.'
`I should be home around six o'clock, so tell Tyske to go ahead. You should receive a phone call some time this afternoon from Mevrouw Smit, who will give you lessons in Dutch.'
`Oh, good, thank you, Rijk. Will she come here or shall I go to her?"
'You can arrange that between you. There will be a car for you in a few days, although I suggest that you wait for the weather to improve before you drive yourself; the roads are very bad at the moment.'
He dropped a hand on her shoulder as he went, but he didn't kiss her. Sophie gave Matt the rest of her toast and went along to the kitchen. To keep busy was important. She would answer their invitations during the morning and take Matt for a walk after lunch. There was the family dinner party to think about too...
The snow stopped during the morning and after lunch she wrapped herself in her top coat, tugged a woolly cap over her head, put on the thick gloves she had prudently bought in Leeuwarden, and began to walk briskly towards the village with Matt. It was slippery underfoot and very cold but the air was exhilarating and when she reached the village the few shops had their lights on and those people she saw called a greeting to her. There were lights on in the one hotel too; she supposed that if there was a good deal of skating, they would have plenty of custom. It was a sports centre, even if it was a small one.
Matt expected chocolate; she bought a bar and, since it was still reasonably light, decided to walk back along the track by the lake.
The water had become ice overnight; it looked solid enough but she remembered what Rijk had said. Once it was pronounced safe she supposed the whole lake would be crowded with skaters; he had told her that she would find it easy to skate, but she felt doubtful about that. The lake looked cold and vast and very lonely in the gathering gloom.
The track curved away from the water for a short distance and then turned back to the lake, and now she could see the lights from the house; in a few minutes she would go through the little wooden gate which led to the grounds. There would be tea waiting and perhaps a phone call from Rijk...
High-pitched shrieks brought her to an abrupt halt; there were children ahead of her, standing dangerously near the edge of the lake and screaming; they sounded excited until one of them darted on to the ice and started to run.
Sophie ran too; she had reached them when the ice cracked and the small figure disappeared. The children were silent now, dumb with shock, and she turned to the nearest.
'Help!' she shouted, and then, gathering her sparse vocabulary together, added urgently in Dutch, `Go and get help! Quick!'
The child, a small boy of six or seven, gave her a frightened look and ran off and the others followed him as she took off her coat and boots and started across the lake; it gave at once under her weight, and Matt, slithering and slipping beside her, sent up great splashes of icy water. The child was standing now, the water up to his chest, shrieking his head off and not moving, and when she reached him he stopped his screams, his small face bluish with cold and his teeth rattling. She put an arm, heavy with freezing water, around him. `Come on.' She tried to smile from a face rigid with cold. `We can get back easily.'
He didn't move, however, and she realised that in a few minutes she would be in like case; the numbness was already creeping into her legs and in a very short time she wouldn't be able to use them.
Matt had kept close to her, uncertain but willing, and now she said, `Fetch the master, Matt. Hurry-the master.'
He didn't like to leave her, but he went, plunging through the broken ice and racing away, jumping the gate and tearing up to the house. She. watched him go, and then, fighting the bitter cold, she took a deep breath and started to scream for help. It was a quiet evening and surely someone would hear her.
Rijk had just stopped in front of his door when Matt reached him and he said sharply, `You're soaked-you've been in the lake.' He put out a hand, but Matt shook it off, barking furiously and then turning and running back round the house, to appear a moment later, still barking, dancing impatiently round Rijk, then running off again.
The professor was a fit man despite his vast size; he ran as fast as Matt, vaulted the gate, and came to a halt by the lake in time to hear Sophie's shouts. Matt was already in the water; Rijk tossed off his coat and waded in after him. The water was already freezing over...
It wasn't far but it was hard going, for the ground was a slithering mud. When he reached her he put an arm round her. `All right, my darling, we'll be out of here in no time...'
`Legs,' said Sophie through chattering teeth.
`I know. I'm going to put an arm round you both. Hold on to the child; it's only a few yards.'
They were halfway there when the first of the men arrived with torches and ropes. They waded into the water and, while one of them took the boy in his arms, the other one took Sophie's arm and between them he and Rijk half carried Sophie in to the bank.
The professor said something to the men, picked Sophie up and started towards the house, the man and the child with him, Matt panting beside him, while the second man ran ahead.
The door leading to the kitchen was open, light streaming from it and Rauke waiting there. The professor spoke to him and he went away to return within minutes with an armful of blankets. Moments later the child was being undressed by Tyske and one of the men and rolled into a blanket and Sophie, her sodden person swathed in yet more blankets, was laid carefully in one of the old-fashioned basket chairs by the Aga.
Rijk hadn't spoken; he went over to the child and Tyske took his place, taking off Sophie's stockings and rubbing her feet and legs with a towel. She talked soothingly as she did so and Sophie bit her lip, trying not to cry as life began to return to them.
She turned her head to see where the boy was and asked, `De kind? Is OK?' Tyske nodded and smiled and went on rubbing.
The kitchen seemed full of people; the boy's mother had been fetched and the child was sitting up now, drinking warm milk, still shaking and crying. The professor had been telephoning from a corner of the ki
tchen and the boy was sitting on his father's knee now, still crying.
Sophie looked up at Rijk as he came over to her. `He's all right?"
'He's fine. I'm sending him to the cottage hospital at Grouw for the night-he can have a check-up there. His father can borrow the Land Rover.'
He smiled at her. `I' m going to carry you up to your room and Tyske will help you have a warm bath and get to bed. One of the maids is getting you a warm drink.' His eyes searched her face. 'You'll feel better after a good night's sleep.'
`But you-you're cold and wet too.'
