by Betty Neels
‘Aye,’ she said slowly. ‘I’m sure. A kiss can mean everything in this world to two people, and it can be just an empty gesture, like saying “How do you do” and not wanting to know.’ She bent down and gave the little girl her doll, then went on, ‘Ye must be proud of the bairn, in a few weeks she’ll be a bonny wee lassie.’
She blew kisses to the small creature, and went back into the ward without looking at him. They said goodbye to the Sister and started on their way back to his office. Maggy kept up a steady flow of small talk, scarcely waiting for his replies before plunging into a fresh topic; walking just ahead of him, so that she didn’t need to look at him. When they reached the office door, she put her hand on the knob and faced him. She had forced a cheerful expression on to her face, but her eyes looked like a small girl’s when she’d been hurt.
‘Thank you for showing me round, Dr Doelsma. It was most interesting.’
He put a large hand over hers, so that she was unable to turn the knob.
‘My poor Maggy,’ he said. ‘You may be six feet tall, but you’ve not grown up yet.’
He opened the door then, and Maggy went inside, and waited while Mevrouw Doelsma made her farewells, then said goodbye quietly herself, before going out to the car and back to the Rapoenburg and the doctor’s house. As they entered the hall, Mevrouw Doelsma said, ‘Paul will be home for lunch. I expect. What a pity the weather is so bad, Maggy—it’s no day for sightseeing.’ She started up the stairs, with Maggy beside her. ‘Never mind, I daresay it will be better tomorrow. We’re staying a few days, anyway, and you shall have two or three days quite free to go sightseeing. We’ll talk about it later, shall we?’ She paused as the phone rang, and waited while Anny answered it.
‘It’s Mr Paul, madam, he asks me to tell you that he will be going to Utrecht almost immediately, and will lunch there. He expects to be home for dinner.’
Mevrouw Doelsma said nothing, but that evening, when she and Maggy went downstairs to the salon and found Paul waiting, she remarked rather tartly,
‘Paul, I know the love of your life is in Utrecht, but did you really have to go this morning? I know you like to go as often as possible, but surely, when we are here…?’
He was pouring drinks at a side table and turned a suddenly forbidding face to her.
‘I’m sorry, Mother, but it is important to me, and there is no point in discussing it, is there?’ He walked across the room and gave her the small glass of sherry she was allowed, then bent his great height and kissed her cheek. He was smiling again. ‘I had no idea that I would be going to Utrecht until I rang up, Mama. Am I forgiven?’
He turned away to get a drink for Maggy, and drew her into a conversation he deliberately made light.
Maggy had spent a wretched afternoon; it seemed obvious to her that Paul, however good his opinion was of her as a nurse, had none at all of her as a woman. She sipped some sherry. How could she have thought even for one moment that he had any interest in her whatsoever? He was quite right, she hadn’t grown up. But now, she told herself firmly, she had very positive proof; Stien lived in Utrecht—the love of his life. Mevrouw Doelsma had said.
Her good Scottish pride came to her rescue. She drank the rest of her sherry in time to answer a question from the doctor in a perfectly natural and friendly voice.
Dinner was a gay meal; they drank champagne to celebrate Mevrouw Doelsma’s recovery, and sat round the table talking long after the meal was finished.
‘Maggy’s having a day off in a couple of days’ time,’ said Mevrouw Doelsma.
Paul glanced briefly at the serene profile; Maggy had contrived not to look at him, save for a fleeting glance when she spoke to him. She didn’t look now.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Amsterdam,’ she replied promptly. ‘I want to see the museums and churches first, and the Dam Palace, and tour the canals, and look at the shops…’
Her companions laughed. ‘Why, Maggy,’ said Mevrouw Doelsma, ‘you’ll be worn out. You must have another day…’
‘Then I shall go again and just walk around, looking.’
The doctor leaned back in his chair. ‘There is a great deal to see, but may I suggest that you keep to the main streets—it’s easy to get lost unless you know the city, especially if you intend to roam. I’ve a map you shall have—there are one or two areas I should avoid if I were you. The Jordaan, picturesque and harmless enough, but if you got lost there I doubt if they would understand you, and you certainly wouldn’t understand them.’ He paused. ‘There are one or two other districts you should avoid.’
Maggy looked at him with brows raised. ‘But, Doctor,’ she said mildly, ‘I’m six feet tall, but for a quarter of an inch, and well used to managing for myself.’
A corner of the doctor’s mouth twitched. ‘The particular district I have in mind is behind the Oude Kerk, which I imagine is one of the churches you wish to see. We call it the Rossebuurt. The—er—ladies of the town ply their trade there.’ He added gently, ‘They’d do you no harm, but you would be out of your element, wouldn’t you?’
Maggy could think of nothing to say in answer to this, but sat, staring at him, and going slowly very red. Mevrouw Doelsma came to her rescue. ‘Paul, you’re making Maggy blush; be quiet! Give the child your map and mark off the less inviting areas and then she’ll know what to avoid.’ She got up. ‘Now I’m going up to bed; I’ve had an exciting day.’
Accompanied by Maggy, she crossed the lovely room and the hall and started up the stairs. The doctor had come with them; now he kissed his mother and turned to Maggy.
‘When Mother is safely in bed, will you come down again and I will give you the map.’
Maggy took a step up the stairs, away from him. ‘Perhaps you would leave it somewhere?’ She glanced around her. ‘On one of the tables here perhaps?’ She took another step. ‘I’m rather tired, Doctor. I think I shall go to my room when I’ve put Mevrouw Doelsma to bed.’
‘It would be better if I showed you the map—if you are too tired to come down, I’ll come up to your room presently, shall I?’ He looked at his watch. ‘Half an hour—forty minutes?’ He was laughing at her.
Maggy quelled him with a severe glance. ‘I’ll be down in half an hour or so, Doctor,’ she said soberly, and went upstairs without another word.
It was almost an hour later when she knocked on the library door and went inside. The doctor got up from his desk and came over to her, for she had made no effort to go into the room. He held the map in his hand. ‘You’ll have to come over to the desk, I think, so that I can spread it out.’
She went rather reluctantly to stand beside him while he pointed out the areas he had ringed and the neat list of train and bus times he had written in one corner.
‘I don’t like you going alone, Maggy, but I have no right or reason to ask you not to. Will you ring up either the hospital or here if you want to be fetched. The phone numbers are here.’
Maggy took the map from him. ‘It’s a great trouble ye’ve taken, Doctor, and I’m grateful.’
‘I am, after all, responsible for you while you are under my roof, my dear girl, and it’s very little I’m doing.’
She turned to the door, and he made no attempt to stop her.
‘Thank you. Doctor, I’ll away to my bed.’
She was at the door when he spoke. ‘Still friends, Maggy?’
She turned and gave him a steady look. ‘Aye, Doctor, still friends.’
Maggy went down to her breakfast the next morning, wondering if she would see the doctor. There was no sign of him, however, although when she returned to her patient, who had breakfasted in bed, it was to hear that he had been in to see his mother while Maggy was at her own breakfast. There was very little nursing treatment to be done, and later, when Mevrouw Doelsma was dressed and she was standing looking out of the window, she said suddenly,
‘We will go for a little run in the car—Paul has arranged for Pratt to stay on for a few days.’ She
seemed delighted with the idea, and Maggy agreed readily—it was a pleasant enough day, and it would be nice to see something of the country around Leiden. Pratt installed them both comfortably in the back of the car, and asked, ‘A little drive to the villa, perhaps, madam?’
‘An excellent idea, Pratt, and keep off the main roads, won’t you?’ Pratt agreed gravely to this request, and took them through the peaceful, quiet countryside; he drove at considerably less speed than did the doctor, and it took them an hour or more to reach the village of Loenen, where, it seemed, Mevrouw Doelsma wished to go. It was an enchanting spot, on the banks of the River Vecht. They left the village and travelled along the road running beside the river; on both banks there were charming, rather ornate villas. Maggy found them rather too elaborate—they reminded her of birthday cakes—but there was no denying their charm, or the beauty of their surroundings.
Pratt slowed down and turned into an unpretentious gateway leading to one of the smaller and less ornate of the houses. Maggy caught a glimpse of the river at the back of the garden as he drew up before its solid front door. They got out, assisted in a fatherly fashion by Pratt. ‘We’ll have coffee here,’ said Mevrouw Doelsma, as he rang the bell. The door was opened by a short, stout, elderly woman in a blue striped dress and white apron, who broke immediately into speech.
‘Madam dear! Come in—I said to myself today, Madam will be here any day now; and so I told Mijnheer.’ She paused for breath and embraced Mevrouw Doelsma, then stood back and looked at her. ‘You look wonderful, madam, and how’s my boy? I haven’t seen him for weeks.’
Mevrouw Doelsma took this torrent of speech calmly. ‘Mr Paul is a busy man, as you know, Nanny.’ She turned to Maggy, standing patiently beside her. ‘Maggy, you must meet Nanny. She looked after Paul and Saskia and Wiebecka, and now she lives here and looks after my brother-in-law.’
Maggy proffered a hand, and shook the small plump one offered to her carefully, taking care not to squeeze the elderly fingers with her own strong large ones. Nanny looked her up and down, and she stood quietly waiting for the sharp blue eyes to have their fill.
‘There’s a big girl now,’ said Nanny comfortably. ‘Not far short of Master Paul, I daresay.’
She led the way indoors through an elegant small hall into the living room, and went to fetch the master of the house.
He was, even at seventy, very like Paul. He had the same grey eyes and straight nose, and the same air of arrogance. He greeted them with delight, and openly looked Maggy over as they drank their coffee.
‘You’re a fine girl,’ he said with the outspokenness of the elderly. ‘I like an Amazon myself—just as Paul does—or perhaps he hasn’t told you that,’ he added slyly.
Maggy blushed, but answered coolly enough, ‘No, I don’t believe he has.’
‘You can colour up too,’ he went on relentlessly. ‘Haven’t seen a girl blush for years—didn’t know they could any more.’ He put on a pair of old-fashioned spectacles and peered at her. ‘Has Paul seen you blush?’
Maggy put down her coffee cup carefully.
‘Very probably—it’s an unfortunate habit I haven’t been able to stop.’
She was scarlet by now, and decided that he was quite the most impossible old gentleman she had met. She was horrified when he answered her unspoken thought.
‘I’m a rude old man, aren’t I?’ He spoke with satisfaction in his careful English. He added obscurely, ‘I’m fond of Paul.’
Maggy replied politely that she supposed he was, and he smiled at her, looking so like Paul that she smiled back. ‘Delightful,’ he murmured, and then out loud. ‘Go and have a look at the garden, you’ll be glad of a breath of air. You’re too young to be cooped up indoors.’
Maggy got up obediently and went outside and walked around the small paths between the flower beds, and down to the river, where she sat down to admire the view on a seat thoughtfully provided for just that purpose. She supposed she could stay for half an hour or so. Mevrouw Doelsma would want to talk for a little while. She decided that she liked Paul’s uncle despite his forthright manner; she wished she knew more about him. Her thoughts were interrupted by Nanny, who had appeared silently beside her and offered to keep her company. Maggy made room for her on the seat, and spent the next ten minutes asking questions about the river and the fairy-tale houses bordering it. Nanny replied to her questions at some length, so that Maggy not only heard about the houses but the people who lived in them as well.
When she at length paused to draw breath, Maggy asked. ‘Have you lived here long, and may I know your name? I don’t feel that I should call you Nanny.’
‘The name’s Coffin—a good West Country name, miss. I came to Holland with Madam when she married and I’ve been here ever since. The master sent us to England, but Master Paul, he wouldn’t go—stayed with his father. Not eight he wasn’t, but very determined. He was a fine boy, and grown to a fine man. Very naughty he was when he was a little boy.’
It was obvious to her listener that Nanny adored him. ‘That makes two of us,’ thought Maggy wistfully. She listened to the old lady reliving her busy, happy past, until, in the middle of an involved story about Paul’s eventful childhood, she broke off.
‘There, miss, you won’t want to hear all this…?’
Maggy answered without thinking. ‘Oh, but I do! Please go on—I’m so very interested.’ She was watching the river as she spoke, and didn’t see Nanny’s beady eyes studying her face. Nanny said nothing, but finished her story, and then said surprisingly,
‘I’d be happy for you to call me Nanny, miss.’
Maggy realised that Nanny was bestowing a favour, not lightly given. She answered gravely, ‘Thank you, Miss Coffin. I should like to call you Nanny.’
Nanny nodded her head. ‘I have the second sight,’ she said obscurely, and plunged back into the past, sure of her audience.
Mevrouw Doelsma and Maggy, being driven back to Leiden by the sedate Pratt, had plenty to talk about; at least, Mevrouw Doelsma chattered happily about the visit.
‘Did you like Mijnheer Doelsma, Maggy?’ she asked.
‘Aye. Mevrouw Doelsma, I did—he and the doctor are very like.’
‘Yes, indeed. They’re fond of each other too. It’s Paul’s house, you know, but he gave it to his uncle to live in until his death, and it’s so convenient that Nanny is there to keep house for him—Isn’t Nanny wonderful?’
Maggy agreed. ‘I didn’t know there were nannies like her—I mean outside books.’
‘She’s never changed since she first came to me; that’s—let me see. Paul’s thirty-six—it must be all of thirty-seven years. She went and looked after Saskia’s and Wiebecka’s babies when they were born, but she wouldn’t stay with them—said she had to be free to look after Paul’s children when he marries.’
That was the second time in twenty-four hours that Paul’s marriage had been mentioned. Maggy watched the half-formed wisps of her dreams dissolve into a bleak future, then turned her attention to the countryside, asking sensible, observant questions of her patient which kept that lady fully occupied until they reached the doctor’s house once more.
They ate a leisurely lunch, and having seen Mevrouw Doelsma tucked up for her afternoon nap, Maggy donned a raincoat, tied a scarf under her chin against the threatening rain, and set off to explore. Pratt, appearing in a silent, magic sort of way, opened the front door and hoped that she would enjoy her walk. She smiled at him, went down the double steps to the pavement, and started walking along the Rapenburg. The houses which lined the canal were beautiful, some very old, some not so old, but all making a harmonious whole. She didn’t hurry, but looked at each house as she passed it. She turned back from the contemplation of a particularly fine fanlight, to find the Rolls loitering to a gentle halt beside her; the top was down, and Dr Doelsma, apparently impervious to the chilly wind blowing along the canal, was sitting at the wheel. He waved a languid hand, elegantly gloved.
‘Good
afternoon, Maggy. Off duty?’
She nodded, looking cross because she was blushing for no reason at all, and because she was wearing her serviceable raincoat and had her hair tied up anyhow in the first scarf she could find. His glance flickered over her, and he said,
‘Don’t worry, Maggy, you look delightful.’
Her brows met in a thunderous frown, and an explosive, ‘Och!’ burst from her lips, but before she could answer, he had waved again and slid quietly away. By concentrating hard on the houses she was passing, she managed not to think of him at all, as she made her way to Noordeind, where she turned back and started to walk back on the other side of the canal. There was a nice old house on the corner which had been turned into a restaurant, and she stopped to look at it. The interior was discreetly veiled from the vulgar eye of the passer-by, but it looked expensive. She stood in front of the door, wondering what it would be like inside, and heard nothing at all until the doctor spoke just behind her.
‘Ah! As usual, Sister MacFergus is in the right place at the right time.’
Before she could turn her head, she was guided by an inescapable hand on her elbow through the door. It was another Dutch interior—very old, very quaint and quiet. She sat down, speechlessly obedient, at the small table to which he had guided her, while he ordered tea. He sat down opposite her, the frail chair creaking alarmingly under his weight.
‘And what have you done today, Maggy?’
She undid her head-scarf with fingers which shook slightly, willing her voice to normality.
‘Mevrouw Doelsma took me to visit your uncle at Loenen.’
‘Uncle Cornelis?’ He laughed softly. ‘Was he outrageous? I’m sure he made you blush, Maggy—’he watched her across the table. ‘Yes, I see he did.’
She looked down her exquisite nose at him.
‘Your uncle is—is very nice. I like him.’
‘I’m sure he liked you too. He has a passion for large women.’
