by Betty Neels
‘Another hour or two, and we’ll be home, dear. Pratt sends his regards; he and Mrs Pratt hope to see you soon.’ He transferred his gaze to Maggy, who looked tranquilly back at him. ‘It’s roughly a hundred and forty miles.’ he said. ‘The ambulance will take about four hours to do the journey. I believe there is everything you require here; there’s a flask of coffee…’ He stopped as she nodded. ‘Of course, you would have discovered that for yourself. I’ll travel behind you. If you want anything, anything at all, wave through the back window.’ He added dryly. ‘Wave to me first, won’t you, before you ask the driver to stop, otherwise I might run into you.’
Maggy nodded meekly, hiding a slight scorn. Presumably he thought that, outside nursing, she was a fool.
‘What word do I use to stop the driver?’ she asked sensibly.
He smiled. ‘Stop. It’s the same word; but in any case I’ve warned him to pull up if you appear worried.’ He looked her up and down, and said with some amusement,
‘The seat is too small for you, isn’t it? I’m afraid they don’t cater for Amazons. Shall I find you a cushion?’
His solicitude met with a cold reception. She drew her black brows together and said tartly,
‘I thank you, no, sir. I’m well able to look after myself.’
His eyes widened with laughter. ‘But of course, Sister, I apologise if I implied otherwise.’
She felt her cheeks redden as he turned away to speak to his mother before shutting the door and going back to his car.
The journey seemed endless. Mevrouw Doelsma possessed herself of one of Maggy’s hands, sighed contentedly and went to sleep. Maggy looked out of the window, trying to see the names of the towns and villages which they went through—not always successfully. The Rolls kept at a discreet distance behind them, and she felt a pang of sympathy for the doctor compelled as he was to travel at such a moderate speed.
The country was charming—bright with autumn colours, flat as a plate and incredibly tidy. As they slowed down through the towns she was able to glimpse the small gabled houses, living proofs of a long-dead age, and seemingly too diminutive to house a normal family; whereas the churches were so vast that she could only assume that they stood forlorn and half empty each Sunday.
It had been explained to her that they would be taking the eastern road to Oudehof. Maggy had looked up the route carefully beforehand, but as much of it led along the main motorways, which skirted the towns, her carefully acquired knowledge was not of much use to her. However, after a little time they entered country reminiscent of the New Forest and she at last knew where she was. The Veluwe—the road was bordered by charming thatched houses, quite small, but modern and enclosed in large gardens so perfect that she guessed that they must be occupied by the wealthy. The road widened again, and they emerged into rolling meadowlands with tantalising glimpses of small towns. She looked at her watch—there was, she reckoned, less than an hour of the journey to go. Mevrouw Doelsma woke up and asked where they were, and shortly after Maggy caught sight of a fast disappearing signpost.
‘Heerenveen,’ said Maggy. ‘That’s not far from Oudehof, is it?’
‘No, we’re nearly home, Maggy. We turn off on the road to Balk; Oudehof is a mile or two this side of the village.’ She smiled faintly. ‘You know, dear, I thought, once or twice in the hospital, that I should never see Oudehof again. I do hope you are going to be happy there—it is very quiet, and you are so young and pretty, you should be having fun.’
Maggy laughed rather wistfully. ‘Dinna worry, Mevrouw Doelsma, I’ll not miss what I seldom had.’
Her patient raised her eyebrows. ‘But, Maggy… I’ve not liked to ask you before, but surely you must have boyfriends, or one special one?’
Maggy chuckled. ‘Nay, where will I find a wee man to top my size?’ Her gaze fell on the sleek car loitering behind the ambulance and she looked away quickly with pink cheeks. ‘I’ll be very happy, Mevrouw Doelsma; I’ve never been in a foreign land, and everything is strange and exciting to me.’
She broke off as the ambulance turned off at right angles from the main road. Her patient became quite animated.
‘Maggy, tell me anything you see, so that I know where we are.’
They travelled several kilometres thus, with Maggy describing windmills, canals, and houses as they passed them, until they turned off the narrow road through a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates and bowled along a semi-circular drive—Maggy could just see its other end sweeping back to the road again via another pair of gates. She twisted round and craned her neck to see through the tiny window behind the driver, and caught her first glimpse of Oudehof. It was red brick, square, and so symmetrical that it appeared to have been cut out of cardboard, and then stuck on to the surrounding countryside. There was an imposing door, approached by double steps, and flanked by large flat windows—the same windows crossed the face of the house in two neat rows above the door, capped by a steep roof. The house had the air of having been there a long time, and had every intention of remaining just as it was for a comfortable forever.
The ambulance drew up in front of the entrance, and before the driver was out of his seat, the Rolls had slid to a halt a couple of feet behind them, and it was the doctor who opened the door. His eyes went at once to his mother.
‘All right, Mama? I’ll carry you up to your room.’ He slid the stretcher partly out on its runners, picked her up in his arms, and strode off to the door, where a small group of people had gathered.
Maggy, collecting the odds and ends of their journey, thought how much nicer it would have been if he had at least suggested that she should go with them. She eyed the figures in the doorway, feeling shy. Doubtless Dr Doelsma expected her to follow him. She walked across the broad sweep of the drive towards the door, and as she did so one of the people standing detached himself and came to meet her. He was grey-haired and pleasant-faced, and when he spoke she realised he was English. ‘I’m Pratt, the butler, Sister.’ He took her case and her cloak; he didn’t smile, but she sensed his friendliness towards her. ‘I’ll take you to Madam’s rooms, and later on, if you will ring, Mrs Pratt will take you to your room.’
She gave him a grateful glance and followed him into the hall. It was square and rather dim, and the black and white tiled floor gleamed richly underfoot. The walls were panelled and hung with portraits. There were doors leading off on either side, and a broad staircase, elaborately carved, rose from the back of the hall to a half-landing, and then branched off on either side to the floor above. Maggy found herself gently ushered past the handful of men and women gathered near the door and led upstairs to a broad corridor. He crossed this and knocked on a door decorated with swags of fruit and flowers, delicately carved in the wood. The doctor’s voice answered and Pratt opened the door and ushered her in. Mevrouw Doelsma was lying on a fourposter bed; the doctor was in the act of covering her with a rug and looked over his shoulder at Maggy. He spoke rather testily. ‘Why have you been so long?’
Maggy went over to the bed and eyed him coldly across it.
‘Because, unlike you, sir, I didn’t ken the way around the house.’
There was a faint giggle from the bed. ‘You deserved that, Paul.’
A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. ‘I’m sorry, Sister MacFergus. I had no intention of giving you such a poor welcome to Oudehof. If you would be kind enough to settle my mother in bed, I’ll find Mrs Pratt and tell her to bring up tea.’
He disappeared, and Maggy lost no time in getting Mevrouw Doelsma comfortable, thinking as she did so that it must be very pleasant to sleep between such fine linen sheets, monogrammed and embroidered; each of the square pillows was embellished with lace, and the counterpane of peach and silver brocade seemed to her eye to be old but still magnificent. Tea came just as she was finished, and, rather to her surprise, the doctor as well. He introduced Mrs Pratt after she had greeted her mistress with every sign of delight, and when she had puffed her good-n
atured person away, said,
‘Will you pour out, Maggy?’ He pulled up a chair to the small drum table where the tea tray had been set, and waved her to it. She hesitated. ‘Will ye no’ like to have tea together, sir? I have to unpack.’
‘Certainly you must unpack, but only after we’ve had some tea. Do please pour out.’
She found herself yielding to his compelling charm, and took her place at the table, pouring tea from a magnificent silver tea-pot into paper-thin china cups. The small meal was a lighthearted affair, and Maggy relaxed despite herself after a few minutes of the doctor’s easy conversation, forgetting to be shy of her rather grand surroundings, so that an hour slipped away before he suggested that she might like to see her room and unpack.
Mrs Pratt, summoned once more, led her through a door leading from her patient’s room into another similar one, equally beautifully furnished. From here they went into the corridor, where Mrs Pratt opened another door, revealing a luxurious bathroom.
‘This will be for your own use while you are here, Sister, and please ask me or Pratt for anything you may require.’ The housekeeper nodded and smiled, and puffed back into the bedroom; she was a stout little woman, but very light and active on her feet. Expressing the hope that Maggy would be very happy while she was at Oudehof, she went away, leaving her to unpack and put her clothes away in the vast drawers and closets, where they were immediately lost in a luxurious vastness. When Maggy had tidied herself she went back to Mevrouw Doelsma’s room, where the doctor was lounging in a very large chair by the window; he got up and she went in, saying,
‘Ah, Sister, there are one or two things to discuss, are there not?’ There was no trace of the charming friendly man with whom she had had tea; rather he was the bland consultant, giving instructions to his nurse—which, she supposed, in all fairness, was their correct relationship. They walked over to the window and she listened composedly to his directions. ‘My mother’s own doctor will call tomorrow morning; if he suggests any changes you will of course follow his wishes. Now I expect you wish to get my mother ready for the night—I suggest that she has a really long sleep. Order anything you may require from Mrs Pratt.’ He smiled briefly at her, went over to bed and kissed his mother and wished her goodnight, and left the room.
Mevrouw Doelsma was tired but happy. Maggy dallied over the preparations for bed and stayed with her while she ate her supper, then, leaving a bedside lamp burning and one or two books within reach, prepared to take the tray downstairs. Her patient, looking extremely comfortable against her pillows, said,
‘Now go down and have dinner, Maggy. I shall be all right. I’ll ring if I want you.’
Maggy went downstairs with the tray to be met with a rather shocked Pratt, who assured her that there was no need for her to be carrying trays and that she had only to ring when she needed anything done. He put the tray down on a marble-topped wall table in the hall, and opened a pair of double doors and showed her into the dining room, led her to the vast table and pulled out her chair.
‘Master Paul has gone back to Leiden, Sister. He wished you good night and hopes that you will be comfortable.’
Maggy ate the delicious meal, barely noticing what was on her plate. The room was large and of a rich unobtrusive splendour; she felt lost and very lonely in it. Why had she imagined that the doctor would stay—at least to dine? She was, after all, only the nurse. She sat at the gleaming mahogany table, drinking her coffee and wishing she had never come. She must have been mad to have consented to the doctor’s wishes, she should have had nothing more to do with him, and then forgotten him completely. Upon reflection, she admitted to herself that this would have been very difficult indeed. She got up and strolled over to the window; it was a lovely moonlit evening, she could see quite clearly across the gardens to the country beyond. She closed her eyes and thought of her own lonely beautiful Highlands; she longed to be there, walking the dogs, with her home in the valley below; a small safe refuge where she could shut out the rest of the world—she opened her eyes—only she wouldn’t be able to shut out Paul.
Maggy got up the next morning after a night of dreams and bouts of heavy sleep, and went to the window. It was a lovely morning; the country around was calm and peaceful, she could see a great distance in every direction. She dressed and went to see how her patient did.
Mevrouw Doelsma, after a sound night’s sleep, was in the best of spirits. The day passed happily enough, as did the next two days. Maggy found that she had a fair amount of time to herself while her patient rested. Mrs Pratt took her on a tour of the house, which, she learned, was more than two hundred years old. A great deal of the furniture was almost as old too, and very beautiful. Maggy spent a long time studying the portraits on the walls. Several of them were very obvious ancestors of the doctor. She was surprised to find that there was an extensive park behind the house, and a sizeable stable block, which she made up her mind she would explore one day. She had already made friends with the gardeners and Piet, the groom, who spoke no English, but made things surprisingly clear by means of nods and smiles.
Mevrouw Doelsma was proving herself to be an excellent patient and progressing well, but Maggy took care not to stray too far from the house. They spent a long time in each other’s company, and Maggy listened enthralled to her patient recounting the history of the house and the family. Of the doctor there was no sign. His mother spoke of him frequently, but gave no clue as to his whereabouts.
Maggy went to bed at the end of her fourth day there resigned to the possibility of not seeing him again. She presumed that he would come to see his mother, but it would be unlikely that he would seek her out other than to give her his instructions, and enquire as to his mother’s condition. She told herself not to cry for the moon, and resolved to enjoy herself as far as possible while she was in Holland.
CHAPTER FIVE
MAGGY SUPPOSED IT was the wind that wakened her—it was sighing and rustling around the old house; she supposed that she would get used to it in a day or so. She lay listening to it, and gradually became aware of another sound. She sat up in bed and looked at her watch. Who would be walking about at half past one in the morning? She strained her ears and was sure that she heard voices. She got out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown and slippers, and went to the door and peered into the corridor. There was a dim light at the head of the stairs, and nothing to be seen, but the sounds, faint as a whisper, were still playing a duet with the wind. Maggy left the door open and padded across her room and into that of her patient. Mevrouw Doelsma was sleeping quietly. Maggy slid into the corridor and down the stairs; the dining room door was slightly open and there was a thin ribbon of light gleaming palely from it. She crossed the hall, thoughtfully picking up a poker as she passed the massive stove against one wall. The dining room was in darkness, but the kitchen beyond was brightly lit. She went steadily towards the partly open door, swallowing fear with a throat gone dry, and pushed it open. There were two people in the kitchen; one of them was Dr Doelsma. He and a very pretty girl were sitting side by side on the kitchen table in the middle of the room. He looked over his shoulder as Maggy went in, put down the mug he was holding, and got to his feet.
‘Sister MacFergus, were we making so much noise?’ He caught sight of the poker and came forward and took it from her. ‘An Amazon, and armed!’ he murmured with a twinkle, then turned to the girl still sitting on the table and said casually,
‘Stien, this is Sister MacFergus, of whom I told you.’ He smiled at Maggy, standing pokerless and awkward between the door and the kitchen table. ‘May I introduce Juffrouw Stien van der Duren from Utrecht hospital?’
The girl got off the table and came over to Maggy, holding out her hand. She was small, barely up to Maggy’s shoulder, and slim and very pretty with fair hair hanging in a shining curtain to her shoulders. Maggy shook hands, aware of her own junoesque proportions enveloped rather bunchily in a sensible dressing gown.
‘How do you do,’ she said ra
ther stiffly. ‘I’m sorry I disturbed you. I heard noises and thought I should see who it was. I’ll wish you both a good night.’
She turned to the door, the dignified exit she had planned quite spoiled by a chair which she hadn’t noticed and which she now tripped over. The doctor’s large hand prevented her from falling, but she didn’t look at him as she brushed past him with a muttered, ‘My thanks to the doctor.’
As she went up the stairs she heard the girl’s soft laughter.
Maggy awoke early and dressed, made her patient comfortable with her morning tea, and went down to get her own breakfast. Picking up her second cup of coffee, she took it to the window and stood looking out across the park. Presently she became aware of two people cantering towards the house, and had no difficulty in recognising them. The doctor, on a raw-boned bay worthy of his size, was slightly ahead, but drew in his mount so that his companion could catch up with him. Stien, Maggy noted sourly, looked as attractive on horseback as she did on her two feet. She watched them turn the corner of the house, talking animatedly, before going back to the table, banging her cup and saucer down on it, and going to the door. She had her hand on its big brass handle when she heard her name. Dr Doelsma had come in through the french window.
