by Betty Neels
‘An old lady,’ shrugged Juffrouw Schalk. ‘Who does not punish her, I think.’
‘She’s not old,’ shouted Nel, ‘and I don’t need to be punished. I’m a good girl, excepting when I’m with you. I hate you.’
‘Hush, Nel,’ said Olivia. ‘Juffrouw Schalk doesn’t mean to be unkind; she is merely expressing her opinions.’
She looked at that lady, who was red in the face and about to burst into indignant speech. ‘Perhaps Nel might go to the kitchen and get a drink of milk?’ she suggested, and didn’t wait for an answer but sent her on the errand, aware that Juffrouw Schalk was on the point of exploding.
‘You are a fool,’ said that lady. ‘Mrs Brennon tells me this, that you come to look after the child so that you may entice the professor. But you waste your time, miss, for they will marry soon and you will be sent packing.’
Olivia gave her a thoughtful look. ‘What makes you think that I am in the least interested in Mr van der Eisler? I hardly know him. I am merely helping him out in a difficult situation—which never need have arisen if you had treated Nel with kindness.’ She drew a steadying breath. ‘I must say that I agree with Nel; I find you unkind and far too strict. In fact, I don’t like you, Juffrouw Schalk.’
She smiled at the outraged face and walked out of the room, found her way to the kitchen and accepted a cup of tea from a comfortable woman who was plying Nel with milk and biscuits.
She was enjoying a second cup and a three-sided conversation with Nel and the comfortable woman when the door opened and Rita came in.
‘What’s this I hear from Juffrouw Schalk?’ she demanded. ‘That you have questioned her treatment of Nel—the insolence…’
‘No, no, I was quite polite to her,’ said Olivia calmly, ‘and what I said was true. I’m sure you must have seen that for yourself, Mrs Brennon.’ She added, ‘Although if you aren’t at home much you would have noticed nothing.’
Nel had skipped away, to find her uncle no doubt, and Olivia watched Rita’s face grow ugly with rage. Might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb, she thought. Mr van der Eisler, appealed to, would send her packing in the nicest possible way and Rita would weep prettily on his shoulder and tell him that she had had no idea that Juffrouw Schalk had been making her darling Nel unhappy.
‘If I had the time to arrange things differently for Nel, I would do so. Unfortunately I have a most important appointment very shortly, and a dinner party this evening.’ She glared at Olivia. ‘But be sure that I shall not forget this. I shall speak to Mr van der Eisler and ask him to rearrange his plans for Nel.’
‘I’ll wait here, shall I? While you talk to him.’
Rita spoke pettishly. ‘Don’t be absurd. Haven’t I just said that I have no time now? You’ll have to go with Nel and stay with her until I can find the time to discuss this. Am I never to be allowed to live my life as I want? All this stupid fuss—Nel’s only a child…’
Olivia bit back the words she longed to utter and instead thanked the comfortable woman for the tea and held the door open for Rita, who swept past her across the hall and into the room where Nel and Mr van der Eisler were standing at the window, watching the traffic in the street.
Olivia could do nothing but admire the speed with which Rita transformed herself into an ill-done-by and wistful woman.
She said in a wispy voice, ‘Oh, Haso, tell me that I’m doing the right thing—I have so looked forward to these weeks with Nel and everything has gone wrong.’
Her eyes had filled with tears and Olivia wondered how she managed to do that. Crocodile tears, she decided. Rita, she suspected, was only too glad to see Nel’s small back disappear through the door. It was a perfect performance; she watched Mr van der Eisler’s face and wished that just once in a while he would allow his feelings to show. Certainly his voice was kind and patient.
‘I am sure that when Nel has had a holiday with my mother, away from all of us, she will feel quite differently. We must talk about it later, of course, but I think that it might be best for her to return to school in a week or so, and perhaps you can arrange to be free for the Easter holidays.’
Rita pouted prettily. ‘But I’ve already arranged…’ She glanced at Olivia. ‘I don’t wish to discuss this before a servant.’
‘If you refer to Olivia, I must point out that she is not a servant; she is looking after Nel at my request and for your convenience.’
Something in his quiet voice made Rita say reluctantly, ‘I’m sorry—I’m so upset.’ She wasn’t too upset to look at her watch and add, ‘I simply have to go—an important meeting.’ She kissed Nel and then went to him and tucked a hand through his arm. ‘Don’t be angry with me, Haso, we’ll meet and talk. You know that I depend on you utterly.’
Olivia looked away as she kissed his cheek and whispered something with a little trill of laughter. Nel, she noticed, had turned her back and was watching the street outside again. She gave her mother a dutiful kiss when bidden to do so, pressed herself close to Olivia when Juffrouw Schalk came in with her case, and hopped into the car the moment the door was opened. Nobody spoke as Mr van der Eisler drove back to his house. Only once they were inside its warm comfort did he observe, ‘A cup of tea before we go, I think. Do go into the drawing-room and Bronger will bring it—I must do some phoning. I’ll join you presently.’
They had almost finished when he came back, accepted a cup of tea, made a few non-committal remarks about nothing much and suggested that they should leave in ten minutes or so.
He’s angry, thought Olivia, escorting Nel upstairs to fetch a forgotten teddy bear and to collect her own case. It was taken from her by a hovering Bronger, Nel and Achilles were settled on the back seat of the car, and Mr van der Eisler invited her to sit beside him.
An opportunity not to be missed; she would see precious little of him once this small upheaval had been settled. A week, she reflected, or with luck ten days before Nel would be sent back to England—and she with her, no doubt. She would see nothing of him during that time, but just being in the same country was a small comfort.
The afternoon had darkened and she had no doubt that outside the big car’s comfortable warmth it was very cold.
‘We shall have snow,’ said Mr van der Eisler, ‘probably before we reach Tierjum.’
‘Just where is that?’
‘A few miles east of Leeuwarden, a small village close to one of the lakes.’ He didn’t enlarge upon that, and she supposed that he was vexed with her for upsetting Rita. She sat very still and quiet, watching what she could see in the gathering gloom of the countryside.
They were travelling north and sure enough, as they reached the Afsluitdijk, it began to snow. Soft, feathery flakes at first, and then a whirling mass blown hither and thither by the wind.
‘You’re not nervous?’
She glanced at his calm profile. ‘No. If I were driving, though, I should be terrified.’
‘Once we’re off the dijk the wind won’t be so fierce, and we shall be at Tierjum in half an hour or so. Is Nel asleep?’
She turned her head to look. ‘Yes, and so is Achilles.’
‘He’s devoted to her. I must do my best to come up and see her before she goes back and bring him with me.’
It seemed endless, the drive across the dijk—the sea dijk was too high for her to see the sea, but on the other side of the road it was lower, and she could see the grey waters of the Ijsselmeer roughed up by the wind; they looked cold and forbidding.
The dijk ended at last and although the snow was still falling relentlessly there was less wind. ‘Franeker,’ said Mr van der Eisler, sweeping through a small town with lighted shop windows before taking the main road to Leeuwarden. It was a motorway, she supposed, for although she could see lights from time to time there was nothing close to the road. At Leeuwarden he circumvented the town, leaving its lighted streets for the highway again, but only for a short distance, soon turning off on to a narrow brick road. Although she looked hard she co
uld see nothing on either side of them. ‘Fields,’ said Mr van der Eisler briefly. ‘This is a country road.’
He appeared to know it well, which was a good thing, she considered, for there were no signposts visible at the few crossings. It might be near Leeuwarden but it seemed like a distant and isolated spot. Through the snow she glimpsed lights at last, and he slowed the car to enter a village—a handful of small houses, a lighted shop, the dim outline of a church—and then another lane, to sweep the car between brick pillars and high wrought-iron gates and stop before a house whose windows blazed light. The dark evening and the snow prevented her from seeing the house clearly but she had the impression of a flat, solid front before she was urged up double steps and in through an arched doorway. Achilles loped beside her; Mr van der Eisler, with Nel in his arms, was close on her heels.
A tall, bony man with white hair opened the inner door as they reached it and Mr van der Eisler put Nel down and clapped the older man on the shoulder, talking what to Olivia sounded utter nonsense. Dutch was bad enough, although she had begun to pick out a word here and there, but this was something different. Mr van der Eisler suddenly switched to English.
‘This is Tober, Olivia. He has been with the family forever—before I was born—he is part of our lives.’
She held out a hand and said, ‘How do you do?’ and was a little surprised when Tober told her that he did very well in quite tolerable English. He was embraced by Nel then, before taking their coats and leading the way across the wide hall to the double doors on one side. Nel was hanging on to his hand and Achilles was trotting sedately beside him.
Very much at home, thought Olivia, and as though she had voiced her thought Mr van der Eisler said, ‘Nel comes to pay us a visit each time she comes to Holland and, as for Achilles, he regards it as his second home—as indeed it is.’
They had reached the doors and Tober had opened them to reveal a large, lofty room with tall, narrow windows at one end, almost concealed by thick brocade curtains of tawny silk. The walls were hung with the same silk panels, separated by white-painted columns. The floor was polished wood and covered with silky carpets and there were massive bow-fronted display cabinets against the walls and an enormous fireplace with a stone hood. A museum, thought Olivia, and then as her eye took in the comfortable chairs, the tables with their pretty table-lamps, the pile of books on the sofa-table, the jumble of knitting cast down on a low stool and the tabby cat curled up in one of the chairs, A museum perhaps, but a lived-in one, warm and very welcoming.
Nel had darted forward to where a lady was sitting by the fire, and Olivia, propelled gently by a large hand between her shoulders, perforce followed her. The lady got to her feet, stooped to kiss Nel, and then advanced a few steps to meet them.
‘Haso—how delightful to see you, my dear.’ She lifted her face to receive his kiss. ‘And this is Olivia. Welcome, my dear, I am so delighted to have guests.’
She held out a hand, smiling at Olivia. She was of the same height and still a beautiful woman, with bright blue eyes, iron-grey hair, brushed severely back from her forehead, and an upright figure. ‘You had a good drive here? The weather can be most unpleasant at this time of year. You must have a cup of coffee before you go upstairs, and you, Nel, shall have warm milk and some of those little biscuits you like so much.’
The coffee was brought and Olivia, sitting beside her hostess before a blazing fire, felt that life just for the moment was perfect. Mr van der Eisler sat in a great wing chair with Nel on a stool beside him and Achilles already dozing at his feet; she smiled at him and his answering smile was kind. It was also impersonal.
Presently she was taken upstairs by Tober’s wife, Anke, a short, stout little person, dressed severely in black and bearing all the hallmarks of an old family retainer. It was extraordinary, reflected Olivia as she followed her up the wide, curving staircase, that in this modern world Mr van der Eisler’s family appeared to have no shortage of help. He was well served in his London home, and equally well here. Perhaps this house belonged to his mother—perhaps she could discover that while she was here…
She and Nel had adjoining rooms and shared a bathroom. Both were charmingly furnished in soft pastel colours and rosewood. Olivia, running a hand over the patina of the sofa-table, which did duty as a dressing-table, reflected that the house was perfect. She could hardly wait for the morning to examine it from the outside. Nel, tugging at her hand, brought her back to reality, and she tidied the pair of them and they went downstairs again. Nel, she noted, was a changed child, laughing and skipping around—a contrast to the unhappy child she had seen in Amsterdam. Perhaps when Mr van der Eisler and Rita married he would alter things.
He and his mother broke off their conversation as they went in and he said easily, ‘We shall dine early as I must get back. Come and sit down and have a drink, Olivia—Nel, Anke has made some of that lemonade you like so much, and I think that you might stay up for dinner just this once.’
He was rewarded with a hug and a great many kisses. ‘You really are a super uncle,’ said Nel. ‘It would be nice if I could live here with you and live with Granny in England.’
His mother said gently, ‘But you would miss your mother, liefje.’
‘I wouldn’t, because she’s never home with me, only that awful Juffrouw Schalk. She has a wart…’
‘I dare say your mother will be able to find someone else without a wart…’
Nel shook her head.
‘I’ll talk to Mummy,’ promised Mr van der Eisler, ‘and see if she can find someone you’d like to be with when she’s not there.’
‘Olivia,’ Nel cried happily. ‘You wouldn’t would you? Oh, do say yes.’
Mr van der Eisler spoke in a smooth voice. ‘Olivia has to go back home to her mother and grandmother, Nel.’
Olivia watched the small face pucker; any moment now there would be a storm of tears. ‘I dare say,’ she said loudly, ‘that you could come and see me sometimes—you have lots of holidays.’
Mevrouw van der Eisler agreed enthusiastically to this. ‘What a splendid idea. We must talk about it while you’re here. But Tober is here to tell us that dinner is on the table—I’m sure that you must be hungry.’
They dined in the splendour of a room at the back of the house, with high windows looking out over what Olivia supposed was the garden. The furniture was massive and old, and its walls were hung with rather dark portraits of handsome ancestors, staring down at the celery soup, the roast duck and the elaborate iced confection offered in Nel’s honour.
Conversation flowed easily but they didn’t linger at the table. Nel was sleepy by now, and Olivia suggested that she should take her up to bed.
‘Of course,’ agreed Mevrouw van der Eisler, ‘but come down as soon as you can and have your coffee.’
So Olivia went upstairs with Nel, ran her bath while she undressed, sponged her briskly, towelled her dry and popped her into bed, already almost asleep. Even when she was free to go back downstairs she hesitated—mother and son might wish to talk together, and she had no idea how long he was staying; he had said nothing to Nel when she had kissed him goodnight. She pottered round her room, putting on more lipstick and taking it off again, and finally went slowly down the staircase.
Mr van der Eisler was in the hall, shrugging himself into his overcoat.
‘There you are,’ he said cheerfully, ‘just in time to say goodbye.’
His words fell like so many stones. She summoned a steady voice. ‘I hope you have an easy trip back,’ she said brightly. ‘Has it stopped snowing?’
‘No, and isn’t likely to for a few days, but you’ll be cosy enough here. As soon as Rita and I have had a chance to talk I’ll let you know what has been decided.’ He came towards her and took her hand. ‘I’m grateful to you, Olivia, but I won’t keep you longer than is absolutely necessary. This is a sorry business, but Nel’s happiness is important. At the same time one must admit that her mother has every right to her own
life, but I think I can solve that for her.’
Well, of course he could, thought Olivia pettishly; he had only to marry the woman and everyone, except herself of course, would be happy.
She said in a cool, sedate voice, ‘I’ll take good care of Nel, Mr van der Eisler,’ then edged away from him, relieved to see his mother coming from the drawing-room.
‘You’ll phone me, Haso?’ said that lady. ‘I shall be glad to see a satisfactory end to this—a suitable end too.’ She added, ‘I know Rob was your greatest friend…’
Olivia slipped away into the drawing-room, empty except for the cat, for Achilles was returning with his master. Tober came in with fresh coffee, smiling and nodding, and she smiled and nodded back, her ears stretched to hear the heavy front door close. If she saw Mr van der Eisler again it would be briefly, to discuss her and Nel’s return to England. She might as well begin forgetting him from that moment.
The door opened and he crossed the room with rapid strides, swung her round, kissed her hard and quickly and, without a single word, went away again. She heard the door close with a dull thud and a moment later his mother came back to join her.
So much for forgetting him, reflected Olivia foggily. Now I’ll have to start all over again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MEVROUW VAN DER EISLER glanced at Olivia as she sat down. ‘Oh, good, Tober brought fresh coffee. We’ll have a cup and talk about Nel. I love having her here but I am grateful for someone to look after her. We’ve always got on well—she’s a dear child, isn’t she? But just with me she might get bored. Luckily Haso’s young brother will be home for a few days—he’s in his last year at Leiden. I’ve two daughters also—perhaps Haso didn’t tell you?—both married, one in Canada and the other in Limburg. Dirk is twenty-four, determined to be as successful as Haso. He’ll be company for you too. You haven’t brothers or sisters?’
Olivia found herself being put through a gentle catechism regarding her own life. The questions were put so kindly and the answers listened to with so much sympathy that she discovered that she didn’t mind.
