by Betty Neels
‘No? I’m disappointed.’ He smiled and his whole face changed. ‘Shall we bury the hatchet for the moment? One day—not too far off, I hope, I shall do my best to interest you in what you so airily describe as my affairs. And now what shall we eat?’
She sighed. He was holding out an olive branch, but only as a gesture, and probably more for his own satisfaction than any intent to please her. She ate the delicious food he had ordered, and plunged once more into polite nothings by way of conversation, thinking how very foolish it was to love someone who barely tolerated you, and that with a remote civility which set her splendid teeth on edge—a reflection which bore her up for the remainder of their journey.
But she forgot her own grievances when they arrived at Mijnheer Pringle’s house and she saw the pleasure on his face. He seemed to have aged a good deal in the short time since she had seen him, but his welcome was sincere, so that she knew then that she had done the right thing in coming. And an equally delighted Juffrouw Blot took her case up to her room before taking her downstairs again to join the men for a drink.
And later, when she had gone upstairs and unpacked and changed her dress, she found that the doctor was staying to dinner. She sat between the two men, one at each end of the table, and ate whatever was put before her, taking part in the talk when she was directly addressed while she wondered if and when she would see Timon again.
Not soon, she surmised, for she heard him tell his host that he couldn’t stay for coffee because he had an appointment later that evening. Liske would be waiting for him, she supposed, and she wished him an austere goodnight in consequence, coupled with even more austere thanks for bringing her to Holland, although, now she came to think about it, she had no reason to do so; he had been the one who had insisted on her coming in the first place. It was mortifying to hear him say, just as though he had read her thoughts: ‘You really have no reason to thank me, Eloise. It was I who persuaded you to come in the first place, and that for my own good reasons.’
She had nothing to say to that and he left very shortly after, leaving her to sit with Mijnheer Pringle and drink more coffee while he talked about his Deborah. They sat up quite late although she was tired enough to have gone to bed hours earlier, but she had her reward when he told her: ‘I shall sleep tonight, Eloise; I can talk to you about Debby—there is so much I want to remember and say, and Pieter won’t allow that. He says it’s morbid; he thinks that I should shut her away and think of other things, but that I cannot do, and I think that you understand that. If you will bear with me for a week or two…’
‘There’s no question of bearing with you, Mijnheer Pringle.’ Eloise’s voice was gentle. ‘I like to talk about Mevrouw Pringle too as well as listen to you—besides, why should you shut her away? She will always be in your head, won’t she—you can’t shut her out. And I think I know how lonely you are.’
‘You will make some man a good wife one day, my dear. I have been depressed and perhaps too sorry for myself—Timon knows that, but now that you are here by some small miracle, I promise you I will take up the threads of my life again.’
Eloise got to her feet. ‘Well, your wife would want you to, you know. She was a happy person and she would want you to be happy too. Will you remember to take your sleeping pills or shall I get them for you?’
‘I will remember.’ He was on his feet too. ‘And I have kept you from your bed, for which I am very sorry. Tomorrow I will start afresh.’
‘The garden,’ suggested Eloise. ‘You must keep it looking just as it always did—we could clear the leaves and light a bonfire.’
He smiled: ‘That I shall enjoy—after breakfast?’
‘After breakfast.’
She was even more tired than she had thought; she had intended to work out some plan for seeing Timon again, but she went instantly to sleep.
She and Mijnheer Pringle were busily engaged in building the bonfire when the doctor drove up. Eloise, sweeping leaves across the lawn at the side of the house, saw him coming up the drive and pretended not to have done so. She was muffled in one of Mijnheer Pringle’s old raincoats, with a scarf over her head because the day was damp and chilly, and for a moment the absurd idea crossed her mind that he might not recognise her, an idea instantly dispelled by his loud: ‘I like the outfit—are you intending to crown the bonfire?’
She shot him a cross look and said peevishly: ‘Certainly not. I don’t happen to be a girl who fusses over her appearance, that’s all.’
‘Meaning that Liske does?’ he wanted to know blandly.
‘Meaning no such thing,’ she declared, and uttered the lie with conviction. ‘And why bring her up?’
He smiled his nasty smile. ‘I like to annoy you, my dear.’
He turned away and walked to where Mijnheer Pringle was happily forking the leaves and debris into a pile and the two men stood talking for a few minutes before Timon when back to his car, with nothing but a nonchalant wave as he passed her. ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish,’ muttered Eloise, and poked at her pile of leaves with such venom that they scattered all over the lawn again.
They were having their lunch when her host remarked: ‘Timon asked us for dinner this evening and of course I accepted.’ He didn’t wait for her to reply, but went on: ‘Shall we finish the garden this afternoon, or are you tired? We have made splendid progress.’
‘Let’s finish it,’ suggested Eloise, her mind busy on what she should wear that evening—she hadn’t anything, she concluded, and abandoned the idea of competing with Liske, who would certainly be there too. Aloud, she said: ‘Have you been to see any of your friends? When the garden’s finished would it be a good idea to call on them all—you won’t see them for a bit if you’re going to Curaçao.’
He liked the idea. ‘Of course, that is a good idea—we will do that, but we must remember that Pieter is coming for the weekend.’ He added with pathetic cheerfulness: ‘We shall be quite gay.’
Eloise tried to imagine being gay with Pieter and her mind boggled. ‘How nice—I expect he’s looking forward to his trip.’ She gave her companion another cup of coffee and deliberately led the conversation back to his wife.
Later, going through her scanty wardrobe in a rather hopeless way, Eloise decided to wear a grey jersey dress; indeed, with the exception of the dress she had bought for her mother’s wedding, there was no other there; a variety of slacks and woollies and a skirt or two, but none of those would do. It would have to be the grey. She put it on without much enthusiasm, piled her hair into a shining topknot, did her face with care, and went downstairs to find Mijnheer Pringle. So far the day had been successful; they had been busy in the garden until dusk, and he looked better for it, although now he looked a little tired; perhaps it would be a better idea if they went visiting the next day and gave the garden a rest—she put the idea to her companion as they drove to the doctor’s house.
There were welcoming lights shining from the ground floor windows as they arrived. Eloise, getting out of the car, wondered just how much it would cost to maintain such a magnificent home; a small fortune, probably. The doctor must be a rich man—another good reason why she must forget him as quickly as possible. She sighed and then smiled widely at Bart’s welcome, pleasure at seeing her again lighting up his elderly face. He took their coats and led them across the hall to the drawing room where Timon was waiting for them. He was standing at the other end of the big room, staring out into the dark grounds from the french windows, but he turned round when he heard Bart’s voice, and Eloise had the impression that he had been so deep in thought that he hadn’t heard their arrival, although his face was impassive and he seemed his usual unruffled self as he poured their drinks, wanting to know how they had spent their day and what their plans were for the days ahead. Eloise sipped her sherry, hating the grey dress and making polite answers to her companions’ remarks. She wasn’t surprised when Timon said casually: ‘Liske should have been here long ago—probably she has been delayed.’
/> Doing what? Eloise asked herself silently, and answered her own question. Making up her mind which of her many dresses to wear. She peeped at the doctor and came to the conclusion that he was either angry or worried about something; the blandness was so very pronounced. But there was little change in his expression when Liske at last joined them, and Eloise, studying his face closely, could see no sign of the delight a man in love would surely show the object of his affections. True, he crossed the room to greet her and when she threw her arms around him and kissed him, he didn’t appear to mind.
Eloise looked away quickly before Liske could see her watching them and chatted airily to Mijnheer Pringle until Liske came over to say hullo with what she considered to be a smug smile, but then she would have felt smug herself if she could look gorgeous in a silver lamé suit, with blonde hair bouncing on her shoulders, delicate wrists loaded with gold bracelets which tinkled and clashed each time she moved her useless, pretty little hands. She was all charm and friendliness towards Eloise, who feeling that at the moment she possessed neither of these attributes, was aware of being at a disadvantage. Indeed, she suspected that the horrid girl had deliberately engaged her in talk so that their companions could have ample opportunity to appreciate the vast difference between them. Certainly Eloise’s tall, well built person served to emphasise the grace and daintiness of Liske.
Bart announced dinner almost at once, but Liske lifted a shoulder and said in a little-girl voice: ‘But, Timon, I’ve only just got here—I couldn’t possibly swallow my drink so quickly.’
He smiled across the room at her. ‘You’re very late,’ he pointed out, ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to leave the rest of your drink. Shall we go in?’
Liske pouted, tossed off the contents of her glass and went to join him while Eloise got up more slowly, conscious of her size and the inadequacy of the grey jersey. It surprised her when the doctor came towards her, saying casually: ‘Cor, look after Liske, will you?’ and took her arm.
‘I can see that Cor is feeling better already,’ he said quietly. ‘Thank you, Eloise, you are just what he needed, you know.’ He began to walk unhurriedly to the door, his hand still on her arm. ‘Have you any plans for the next few days?’
‘I wondered if we were to call on some of his friends? There’s a lot to do in the garden, but I think he’s tired, and if we gardened every day he’d get quite exhausted.’
He nodded agreement. They were in the hall now, with Bart watching them from the dining room door. ‘Sunday,’ mused the doctor, ‘supposing we go over to my sister’s place. I don’t think you’ve met her; she was at the funeral, but there were so many there. I’ll come for you and Cor about ten o’clock—we’ll go for lunch.’
She felt a pleasant warmth underneath the despised jersey; he was only being kind and thoughtful, of course, but a day in his company would be something to treasure.
Dinner was delicious; thin soup, roast duckling with cherry sauce and a creamy pudding of great richness. Eloise ate with healthy appetite, enjoying every morsel, while she pondered the fact that food, served on exquisite china and eaten with solid silver, tasted so much better. They drank claret with the duckling and a delicate white wine with the sweet, and Liske, who had behaved very prettily until the mouthwatering dish was presented to her, remarked rather pointedly that she didn’t dare touch a morsel of it. ‘For I should hate to get fat,’ she trilled, and glanced across the table at Eloise, about to lift the first morsel to her lips. You couldn’t answer rudeness like that, she decided furiously, and defiantly had a second helping.
They had coffee in the drawing room and Timon talked about Deborah Pringle in such a natural, unselfconscious way that presently Cor Pringle joined in, relaxing more and more as the evening wore on, but Liske, not in the least interested, wandered about the lovely room, picking up the trifles of china and silver lying on the little tables, doing her best to change the conversation, until she declared that she had a headache and would go home.
The doctor rose, sympathised with the headache and went with her into the hall, leaving the drawing room door half open, and although Liske was speaking Dutch, Eloise had no difficulty in guessing that she was furiously angry about something. The doctor’s voice, on the other hand, sounded calmer than ever. He came back presently, looking quite inscrutable, and rang for more coffee, declaring that it was far to early to break up such a pleasant evening, so that it was an hour before Mijnheer Pringle suggested they should really go home otherwise Eloise would be asleep on her feet. So she got to her feet too, though reluctantly. She had enjoyed sitting there, listening to the two men talking quietly, joining in herself from time to time and loving the peace and quiet of the room. It was while Timon was helping her into her coat that he said softly: ‘You look exactly right sitting in my drawing room, Eloise, in that pretty grey gown—you’re a very restful person.’ He lifted her hand and kissed it and she could only goggle at him. ‘No bracelets,’ he murmured, ‘to drive a man insane.’
She managed to find her tongue at last. ‘Oh—well, I haven’t any, you know.’
He smiled down at her. ‘Thanks for coming this evening,’ and then in a brisker tone: ‘Remember to be ready on Sunday. I shall look forward to it.’
So would she, but why, she pondered on their way back, should he look forward to it? Because he had quarrelled with Liske and wanted to teach the tiresome girl a lesson? Or perhaps she was coming too—she hadn’t thought of that. It worried her all the way home and long after she was in bed and should have been asleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ELOIS AND Mijnheer Pringle spent the next two days visiting, first the Potters, where they stayed for lunch, then on to the van Eskes, where they remained for tea and drinks before they went back home, and on the second day to the Haagesmas, who insisted on them remaining for both lunch and dinner. And all of them, Eloise was delighted to find, talked their fill of Deborah Pringle; perhaps the doctor had primed them, she wasn’t sure, but of one thing she was certain, that Mijnheer Pringle was a happier man than he had been when she had arrived. They spent the next day in the garden, in windy rainy weather, and played chess in the evening, at which game Eloise showed herself to be possessed of some skill, for her father had taught her as a child.
And the next day was Sunday. Without going too deeply into her reason for doing so, Eloise put on the grey jersey again, wrapped herself in her new winter coat and went downstairs to join Mijnheer Pringle. She barely had the time to brush him down and find his hat before the Rolls purred to a standstill at the front door and they were joined by Timon.
Liske wasn’t with him; that was the first thing Eloise saw as they went outside. She was ushered into the back of the car, sharing it with Bluff the dog, who made much of her and then, at a quiet word from his master, retired to his corner. She sat, a hand on his woolly neck, as the doctor, with Mijnheer Pringle beside him, drove out of the gates and took the road to Groningen. ‘It’s not a long drive,’ he told her over his shoulder, ‘north of the city but well out in the country.’
Which meant very little to her without a map, but she was content to watch the countryside, bare with the beginnings of winter, while the two men talked quietly together. The villages all looked rather alike, small and compact, clinging to their churches in the centre, but away from them the great farmsteads squatted in wide meadows, their enormous barns, their pristine paintwork and well ordered gardens bearing witness to their prosperity. There were horses in the fields too, great powerful beasts, standing about in Sunday idleness, but the cows were indoors, kept warm against the chilly wind.
The road wound through the fields, occasionally plunging into a small copse, and it was in the middle of one of these that the doctor turned the car into a rough lane at right angles to the road. It was lined with trees, bare now, but the thickets on either side were dense enough. A little further on, when they reached an open gate, the track changed to a well kept brick surface which in its turn curved into a sweep before
a roomy house with a great many windows, each crowned with eaves and embellished with small balconies. The front door was wide and lofty and reached by a short flight of steps, and there was a verandah running round the house on either side. It looked a pleasant, homely place and as Eloise got out she could hear dogs barking and children’s voices. They all came tumbling out to meet them; a small boy, two little girls and a young woman with a baby under one arm, and behind her, the master of the house with a couple of golden labradors. For a few minutes they stood in a group while she was introduced; the dogs gavotting round them and the children tugging at their uncle’s hands and then Eloise was whisked away to take off her coat by her hostess, a pretty girl, a good deal younger than her brother, who begged her to call her Juliana and hoped with the same breath that she liked children: ‘For we have four, as you can see, and we like to have them with us as much as possible—Bram is away all day—he’s an anaesthetist at Groningen hospital, and says he never sees enough of them.’ She paused for breath and then went on before Eloise could speak: ‘Yes, I can see exactly what Timon meant when he told me about you.’
Eloise paused in the tidying of her hair. For the life of her she couldn’t stop herself asking: ‘Oh? What did he say?’
‘That you weren’t pretty but that you had beauty.’
Eloise turned to stare at her hostess, her mouth open. ‘He said that? Well, he must have been joking.’
‘I think not, I believe he might be vexed if he knew that I had told you. Shall we go down?’
The rest of the morning was an unqualified success; they drank their coffee in a comfortable sitting room with the children, mouselike, eating biscuits, and later they had lunch, a leisurely meal taken in a room overlooking a beautiful garden. And after lunch, lulled by the wine she had drunk and the gentle stream of conversation around her, Eloise sat with her hostess, the two little girls on either side, answering her questions. It wasn’t until much later on that she realised that she had told Juliana almost all of her life’s history.
