by Betty Neels
‘He’ll just look at me and say nothing very much, but he won’t be pleased. I never know what he’s thinking.’ She added pettishly, ‘He’s so old…’
‘Is he?’
‘I don’t want to marry him after all—I thought he’d do instead of…’ She broke off and glanced at Suzannah, who kept an uninterested expression on her face so that Julie went on, ‘Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. Someone else can have him and I wish her luck. Heaven knows, plenty of girls have tried.’
‘I dare say he’s wedded to his work…’
Julie, her fright forgotten, laughed. ‘You are green, aren’t you?’
‘I’m afraid so. Would you like a hot drink?’
‘No, but will you stay here until I go to sleep? That chair’s quite comfortable.’
She took a long time to doze off, but at last Suzannah was able to creep back to her own cold bed and fall into a brief, troubled sleep before it was time to get up.
Julie was still asleep when she went down to breakfast. Mevrouw van Dijl had coffee in her room and her husband had left the house some time before; Suzannah sat down to her solitary meal.
She had just poured her coffee and was contemplating the basket of bread and rolls when the door opened and Anna came in. ‘Professor Bowers-Bentinck,’ she announced, and he walked past her and crossed the room unhurriedly to stand by her chair.
He stared down at her for a few moments and she stared back.
‘Good morning, Suzannah. Why are you so pale?’
It would take too long to explain just then, so she said, ‘Does anyone know you’re here? Should I tell Mevrouw…?’
‘Anna will do that.’ He turned to say something to the maid and then sat down at the table. ‘You won’t mind if I share your breakfast? I’m on my way to a seminar in Amsterdam—it seemed a good idea to call in on my way.’
And, when she had nothing to say, ‘And now tell me why you look so whey-faced.’
CHAPTER FIVE
’WHAT A beastly thing to say,’ said Suzannah, finding her tongue at last. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me; we had rather a wakeful night.’
‘Ah, yes, so I would imagine from the look of you…’ He broke off as the butler came in with a tray: fresh coffee, eggs in a basket, toast, croissants and a variety of breads. He arranged these on the table before the professor, murmured ‘smakelijk eten’ and went away.
The professor poured himself some coffee, examined the bread basket with interest, took an egg and helped himself to butter, perfectly at ease, and Suzannah, wishing to appear just as relaxed, asked, ‘Do you often have breakfast here?’
He took a sip of coffee and added sugar, and although he spoke seriously she had the idea that he was amused.
‘When Julie was ill, before I operated, I saw her frequently. This is a good time of day for a visit, before I start work…’
‘Oh, yes—well. I thought you were in England.’
‘So I was. I came over on the night ferry with the car; I’ve a couple of things to do while I’m here—I shall go back tonight.’
‘Isn’t that rather a rush?’
He shrugged. ‘No, now let us apply ourselves to the matter in hand.’ If he saw the quick colour come into her cheeks at his snub, he gave no sign. ‘How is Julie? I want your opinion, Suzannah—nothing professional.’
She said tartly, ‘Well, I can’t be that, can I? I’m not professional. She’s been good-tempered for most of the time, although she doesn’t like me being here, you know, and really it must be tiresome for her to have me trailing round all the time. When we’re alone we get on very well…’ She paused, remembering the nasty little slights she had had to put up with. ‘Until last night she has slept for at least eight hours at a time and gone to bed at a reasonable hour, although she hated that. But last night was different; some friends came to see her and they didn’t leave until late; she was a bit excited by the time that she was in bed. She woke crying, afraid that she was going to die and that you hadn’t told her the truth when you said that she was cured. It took some time to settle her and she asked me to sit with her until she fell asleep.’
‘And when was that?’
‘About five o’clock.’
‘And what did you tell her?’
‘I told her at once that she wasn’t going to die and that you wouldn’t lie to her.’
‘She believed you?’
‘Oh, yes, after a time.’
‘Has she talked to you about a young man who is abroad?’
‘Yes. I think she loves him, only she believes that he doesn’t love her. Sometimes she says that she will marry…’
She stopped and went a painful pink, and the professor said, ‘Go on, Suzannah,! It is important that I know everything.’
‘She sometimes says that she will marry you, only then she changes her mind because you’re too…’
‘Old,’ prompted the professor. ‘As I am. I should point out to you that patients who have serious operations frequently believe themselves to be in love with the surgeon; it wears off the moment they realise that they are perfectly well again and resume a normal life.’
She stared at him thoughtfully. ‘But isn’t that awkward for you?’
‘An occupational hazard, shall we say, and not all that frequent.’ He took some toast and buttered it. ‘Thank you for your help. And what about you?’
‘Me? Oh, I’m fine.’
‘You have your free time, your day off and your salary?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
‘I think that you have had to put up with Julie’s occasional small rages; she can be shockingly rude.’
Suzannah said nothing and he went on, ‘You feel that you can stay for another few weeks? Have you made any friends?’
She looked at him in astonishment. ‘Good heavens, no—none of Julie’s friends speaks to me.’ And she added quickly, ‘Well, why should they?’
‘Why indeed?’ He finished his coffee. ‘Shall we go and see Julie now? Anna will have told her mother that I am here; I’ll see her when I’ve examined Julie.’
‘She’s in bed.’
‘Yes, I know that. I should like to see her before she has had time to realise I’m here.’
Julie was still asleep. She looked quite beautiful, her hair, grown again since her operation, framing her flushed face. The professor stood looking at her for a minute or two, and then picked up one arm flung across the counterpane. She woke then, staring at him, at first with bewilderment and then with delight. ‘Guy—oh, I’m so glad to see you. Are you staying for a few days? Will you take me out one evening? Just us two?’
He leaned over the foot of the bed, smiling a little. ‘I’m on my way to Amsterdam and it seemed a good idea to call in and see how you were. I’d like to take a look, if I may. It won’t take long.’
She made a face. ‘Don’t you ever think of anything but your work? I feel fine.’
‘Suzannah tells me that you have done exactly what I wished you to do; another week or two and you’ll be out of my hands.’
He bent to examine her eye reflexes and then turn her head gently from side to side. ‘Nothing hurts? You have a good appetite? Don’t feel sick? Sleep well?’
Julie was sitting up in bed, her arms round her knees. ‘I’m sure Suzannah told you everything. I can’t move without her…I’m fine. Last night I had a bad dream, but it didn’t last.’
The professor sat down on the side of the bed. ‘You have nothing to worry about,’ he told her, ‘you have made a complete recovery but, just like anyone else, you need a little time to get over your operation. Do not do more than you have been doing; in a couple of weeks I’ll let you off the hook for three months before I need see you again.’
‘And Suzannah? Can she go?’
‘In two or three weeks’ time, yes.’
A remark which Suzannah heard with some trepidation.
He went away presently, and when Suzannah encountered Mevrouw van Dijl later in the morning it was
to hear that he had gone again. He could have said goodbye, thought Suzannah forlornly, listening to Mevrouw van Dijl’s gentle voice. ‘Such a dear little boy,’ she was saying. ‘I knew him a very long time ago, before I married, and when Julie was born he was a schoolboy and so good and kind to her. She was a difficult baby.’
She’s a difficult grown woman too, thought Suzannah.
A few days later Julie’s two brothers came. The elder, a rather solemn man in his late twenties, was married and had left his wife at home as she was expecting a baby. He was called Cornelius and, while he was obviously fond of his sister, he viewed her with a hint of disapproval; his brother on the other hand was very like Julie: good-looking and not averse to drawing attention himself. They both worked in their father’s business and were just back from America, and while Cornelius had little to say about their trip, Hebert was full of the places he had visited and the people he had met.
No one had thought of introducing Suzannah when they arrived. It was only when Julie said carelessly, ‘I almost forgot, this is someone Guy wished on me until I’m perfectly well. Her name’s Suzannah.’
Cornelius had said how do you do civilly enough, but Hebert had looked her over. ‘Hello,’ he said in fluent English. ‘I wouldn’t have your job for all the tea in China.’ And he pulled a face and made her laugh. ‘What do you think of Holland?’
‘Well, I haven’t seen enough of it to know,’ she told him.
‘Kept tied to Julie’s heels? We must do something about that.’
He pulled up a chair and, oblivious to his sister’s black looks, began to tell Suzannah something of den Haag.
They were staying a few days, he told her, and when he discovered that she was free the next day he offered to show her round the city. Suzannah felt flattered and touched by his kindness, and, although she had intended to spend the day filling the gaps in her scanty wardrobe, she agreed at once. It would be pleasant to have someone to show her the high points of den Haag and was a chance not to be missed; perhaps she wouldn’t be there for very much longer, and she might never come to Holland again.
The day was a success, it seemed to her, happily unaware of Hebert’s careless amusement at her enthusiastic sightseeing. He mentioned it casually to Julie that evening, not meaning to be unkind but impatient of what he considered to have been a rather boring day.
‘Well, it was your fault for asking her,’ said Julie tartly.
‘The girl doesn’t get much fun; you must be the very devil to look after.’ He sounded sulky and Julie laughed.
‘You’ve done your good deed anyway, Hebert. We must hope that she doesn’t expect any more outings with you.’
She need not have worried; Suzannah had enjoyed her day with Hebert but she had no expectation of it being repeated; for one thing, he would be gone again within a week, and she had only one day off in each week. He had been a pleasant companion, but she had the good sense to know that she was as unlike his usual companions as chalk from cheese. She went to bed content, although her contentment might not have been so undoubting if she had known that the professor had telephoned while she was out with Hebert and, since she hadn’t been there to answer him, he had been put through to Julie who, feeling bored and bad-tempered, had embellished Suzannah’s day out with her brother. The professor was no fool; and the same, even allowing for Julie’s airy exaggerations, he found himself surprisingly put out. Suzannah was one of the world’s Marthas, reliable and undemanding, surprisingly sharp-tongued when the occasion arose, but sensible and kind too. She had no business spending her day with Hebert, who was bent on amusing himself with not much thought of others. The professor was vexed to find that the idea of Hebert turning on his considerable charm in order to attract Suzannah was distasteful to him. He had put down the receiver with deliberation, his handsome features cast in a disapproving mould.
‘Silly girl,’ he remarked to the empty room. A remark both unfair and untrue and, coming from him, surprising.
He went back to England that evening and two days later flew off to Cairo for an urgent consultation and subsequent operation on an influential member of Middle East politics. He operated successfully and stayed in Cairo until the patient was out of danger, and if he thought about Suzannah at all during that time it was fleetingly.
Back in London, he satisfied himself that Julie’s family doctor was happy with her progress and plunged into a backlog of work, so that it was almost three weeks before he went to Holland again.
Suzannah had found the three weeks irksome; Julie was, as far as she could judge, quite well again, but since she had promised the professor to try and curb Julie’s activities she went on cajoling and persuading her to lead a moderately quiet life. A thankless task which earned her Julie’s increasing impatience and peevishness.
Moreover, it was becoming increasingly difficult to get even an hour to herself during the day. Julie, rebellious about an afternoon nap, would rest only if Suzannah read to her, pointing out that she might just as well sit quietly with her as moon around on her own. That Suzannah had no intention of mooning once she was free to go out made no difference to her; if Suzannah stood firm and insisted on a couple of hours to herself while Julie rested, she would return to find the girl either in a state of hysterical rage which took the rest of the day to calm, or she would have phoned one of her friends and gone off in her car, coming back home hours later by which time Suzannah’s nerves, not to mention her mother’s, were worn to threads.
When the professor came she was determined to ask him if she might go back to England. She had very little idea of what she would do when she got there, but she had some money saved and, armed with a reference from Mevrouw van Dijl and one from the professor, she would surely find work.
She had managed to get her free days, but only after a good deal of arguing, and now, with another one due the next day, Hebert had come home for a day or so and, very much to her surprise, asked her if she would like to go to Panorama Mesdag, a vast painting on a circular canvas of Scheveningen. The building in which it was housed was in the centre of den Haag, and he suggested that they might go in the afternoon.
‘I dare say you will want to shop in the morning; I’ll meet you outside the Ridderzaal at two o’clock.’
She had intended to walk along Scheveningen’s lengthy boulevard, have a snack lunch somewhere and go window shopping in the afternoon, giving the shops in den Haag a wide berth so that she wouldn’t be too tempted to spend any money. The future began to loom, vague and uncertain, and money was the one thing she would need. Perhaps on her very last day off she would splash out.
She spent the morning wandering round the department stores, and after a cup of coffee went to the Mauritshuis and studied the paintings it housed before finding a small café and making another cup of coffee and a kas broodje last as long as possible. And presently it was time for her to find her way to the Ridderzaal. It was a chilly day and there was no one loitering there, so she walked up and down for ten minutes or so and was on the point of giving Hebert up when she saw him coming towards her. But not alone; he had a young woman with him, a pretty, fair girl, wrapped warmly and fashionably; not quite as young as Suzannah had first thought but exquisitely made-up, with fair hair falling in a silky cloud to her shoulders.
Hebert took Suzannah’s arm and began walking rapidly away from the Ridderzaal. ‘This is Monique, Suzannah, an old friend of mine.’ He turned his head to laugh at the girl. ‘She will join us for the afternoon…’ He started an easy conversation which allowed Suzannah very little chance to talk, and from time to time he and Monique exchanged a low-voiced talk in Dutch so that by the time they reached Panorama Mesdag Suzannah was beginning to get the impression that she was de trop. Indeed, once they were inside she wished heartily that she hadn’t come. But for the moment at least she forgot her awkwardness. They had entered through a series of rooms hung with Mesdag’s paintings, and then at the end of a narrow passage they climbed a few steps and emerged
to find a vast circular painting of Scheveningen in the late nineteenth century, so lifelike that she felt she must get over the guard rail and join the fishermen mending their nets by the North Sea. She went slowly, and it wasn’t until she was halfway round that she realised that her companions were no longer to be seen. There weren’t many people there, and those that were were engrossed in the vast painting, and they hardly noticed her hasty search round the circle. They weren’t there; perhaps they had gone back to look at the paintings and would return presently. She told herself with her usual common sense that since she wasn’t likely to see Panorama Mesdag again before she went back to England, she might as well complete her visit.
Fifteen minutes later she made her way out again, to pause at the entrance and look up and down the street. Dusk was still an hour or two away, but the afternoon was already becoming dim and it was difficult to see any distance. She waited for a few minutes and then turned her steps towards Noordeinde. She would have an early tea and then take a tram back to Scheveningen. She had gone only a few steps when she saw Hebert and Monique coming towards her.
‘Suzannah, Monique remembered that she had to collect something from the chemist and it seemed a good chance to go while you were looking at Panorama Mesdag; we did try to attract your attention inside, but you were so engrossed…’ He laughed too loudly and went on quickly, ‘Shall we have tea? There’s a splendid place close by…’
Suzannah didn’t believe a word; not only did he look guilty, Monique was looking decidedly uneasy. She agreed cheerfully to having tea, reminding herself that it was none of her business anyway, although she wondered why Hebert had asked her to be such an obvious third when he and Monique were, for the most part, unaware of her company.
The café to which he led them was hardly splendid. It was in a side street, clean as Dutch cafés were, however humble, and almost empty of customers. Hebert ordered tea, which came as glasses of hot water with a tea bag in each saucer, and a plate of little biscuits, and then, with a muttered excuse, carried on a low-voiced conversation with Monique.
