by Betty Neels
‘Well, Fenwick’s, it’s at the other end of Bond Street.’
He spoke to the driver, gave him some money, and put his head through the window. ‘Buy something pretty,’ he advised her, ‘and I’ve settled with the man.’
Fenwick’s didn’t seem to have changed very much. Becky made her way to the gown department and set about the serious business of buying something pretty. It would have to be practical too, since it was an extravagance she didn’t mean to repeat for a long time. She found what she wanted before long; a wide skirt in palest grey patterned with delicate pink roses and a pale pink crépe blouse to wear with it. It cost more than she had bargained for, and she still had sandals to buy. Luckily there was quite a bit of the hour left; she hurried into Oxford Street and found exactly what she wanted—pale grey sandals with high heels. They were on the bargain rack outside the shop and although they looked like leather, they were plastic and very flimsy, but they would do. She almost ran into the street to find a taxi, terrified of being late.
At the hotel the doorman helped her out, assured her that he would pay the driver and called a boy to carry her parcels up to her room, where, with five minutes to spare, she had a quick look at the dress and hung it up before presenting herself in the sitting room.
‘Ten minutes,’ said the Baron. ‘If you will start on my mother now.’ He had been sitting by the window with his eyes shut, but now he got to his feet and wanted to know if she had had a successful time at the shops.
‘Oh, yes, thank you,’ said Becky happily, and went away to get the Baroness on to her feet.
At the hospital the Baron handed them over to a young man in a white coat who was introduced as Jimmy Mathers, before he excused himself and went back to the car, leaving Becky and the Baroness to be escorted to the X-ray department. The Baroness was inclined to be peevish and it took all Becky’s tact to get her to do as she was asked. It was tedious, complained the little lady, having to come to the hospital—surely it could have been done at the hotel, and just when she wanted her tea…
Becky promised tea, explained with patience why it was really better to attend the hospital and pointed out that the taxi was waiting for them the moment they were ready.
‘Oh, well,’ sighed the Baroness, ‘let us get it over and done with, then.’ She handed Becky her handbag and stick. ‘You will come with me tomorrow, won’t you, my dear?’
‘Of course, Baroness. Now if you will just lie down here—I’ll help you…’
They were back at the hotel, half way through tea, when the Baron joined them. He refused tea, saying that he had already had it, and he stayed only a few minutes, explaining that he had to go out again. ‘But don’t forget that we are dining at seven o’clock,’ he warned, as he went.
Becky dressed with care but no waste of time; the Baroness had taken longer than usual, complaining that her legs ached, so that Becky had spent quite a while massaging them before helping her patient to dress. Now, wriggling into her outfit, she thanked heaven that her hair-style was a simple one and her make-up just as simple. The dress looked nice. She twirled to and fro before the wall mirror, looking closely at the sandals; at a distance and unless they were inspected very closely, they didn’t look cheap at all. With a final pat to her already smooth hair, she went along to the sitting room. The Baroness would be waiting…
She wasn’t, but the Baron was, standing with his back to the room, looking out of one of the windows. Her heart danced at the sight of his broad shoulders, elegant in his black jacket, and it danced even harder when he turned round.
‘I always thought you were nice to look at,’ he told her softly. ‘You look very pretty, Becky—indeed, I might say beautiful.’
She paused in the doorway feeling shy and happy and sad all rolled into one.
‘Thank you, but it’s not true, you know. I mean, when you think of Juffrouw van Doorn…’
‘But I’m not thinking of her.’
Her eyes were very dark. ‘Yes—well, I think you should be. I mean…’
‘Just what do you mean, Becky?’
She was pleating a fold of her skirt in nervous fingers, wishing she had never started this conversation. ‘She’s so beautiful,’ she managed at last.
‘Do you know what I told her that day she came— you remember? just before we left home?’ He strolled across the room to stand before her, staring down into her upturned face.
She thought how very blue his eyes were. ‘No.’
‘I told her that I was going to marry you.’ He stooped and kissed her. ‘No, don’t say a word; you’re going to tell me that you don’t believe it, and I’m not surprised, I didn’t believe it myself at first. Just get used to the idea, Becky.’
She had no words and no breath, and perhaps it was just as well that the Baroness came into the room at that moment, demanding with charming persistence that someone should give her a drink. Becky was given a glass too and drank its contents, not having the least notion what it was. She had no idea what she ate at dinner either; she sat in a dreamlike state answering when she was spoken to, avoiding Tiele’s eye, prudently refusing more than one glass of the champagne he had ordered; she was muddled enough as it was.
She became even more muddled as the evening wore on. Nothing in the Baron’s manner bore out his astonishing remarks to her before dinner; he treated her with a placid friendliness which made her wonder if she had dreamed the whole thing—only, she told herself, no one could dream up a kiss like the one he had given her. She sat between mother and son, her eyes on the stage, seeing nothing of the play, and feeling so peculiar that she began to wonder if it was the champagne. But it wasn’t the champagne, she knew that when Tiele possessed himself of her hand, holding it gently in a cool, firm grip.
But he said nothing. They went back to the hotel when the play was over and had a light supper in the restaurant and presently the Baroness said that she really would have to go to bed and Becky, terrified of being left alone with Tiele although it was the one thing she most wanted to happen, accompanied her to her room and helped her to her bed. Tiele had bidden them both goodnight, and if Becky had hoped secretly that he would suggest that she should join him again, she took care not to admit it, even to herself.
He had gone out when she went along to the sitting room in the morning. She made a quick breakfast and then spent the next hour making sure that the Baroness would be ready to leave at half past nine—something which was achieved, but only just. The Baron returned punctually, wished them a cheerful good morning and without waste of time drove them to the hospital. Becky, studying him covertly, could see no signs of a man in love, especially with herself. He handed them over to the care of the Orthopaedic Ward Sister, observed that he would see them later, and went away.
Mr Lennox was a thorough man. The Baroness, examined exhaustively, was allowed to leave about noon with the request that she should return that afternoon. ‘A final test or two,’ said Mr Lennox sooth-ingly. ‘Let your nurse bring you back at three o’clock. There will be no need for her to wait, I shall have the pleasure of driving you back to your hotel myself.’
There was no sign of the Baron when they got back to the hotel. They lunched in the sitting room, discussing the morning’s activities, and after the Baroness had rested Becky called a taxi and took her back to the hospital, prudently leaving a note for the Baron.
It was well after three o’clock by the time Becky had satisfied herself that the Baroness was in good hands and that Mr Lennox really did intend to take her back later. ‘Go and enjoy yourself, my dear,’ begged the Baroness. ‘They tell me that I shan’t be leaving here for an hour—why not do some shopping? If I’m not back by five o’clock, you can telephone…’
Becky bade her a cheerful goodbye. She wasn’t going to do any shopping; she was going to get on a bus and go to the nearest park and walk, perhaps that would clear her head. She went briskly through the entrance, across the forecourt and on to the crowded pavement—right into the arm
s of Basil.
The shock sent the colour from her cheeks and rendered her dumb. She could only stand and stare at him, grinning down at her with a look of vindictive triumph. It was only when he put a hand on her arm that she tried to wrench it away and couldn’t.
‘Not so fast, Rebecca.’ Basil’s voice was as smooth and nasty as it had always been. ‘What a gift from heaven, my dear, dear Rebecca! Mother isn’t really up to running the house, you know, and somehow the housekeepers we engage don’t stay more than a week or two. She’ll be delighted to see you again—you shall come back with me…’
‘I won’t!’ said Becky fiercely. ‘And you can’t make me. I’ve a good job and I’d rather die than go back.’
‘At the hospital, are you? Well, it shouldn’t be too hard to cook up some reason why you should come home, but it would be far better for you, little step-sister, if you came quietly with me now.’
She gave another tug and his grip tightened. She didn’t like the idea of making a scene, it would mean the police, probably, and that would involve the Baroness and Tiele. At the thought of him she said desperately: ‘Oh, Tiele!’
The Baron, standing on the other side of the street watching, frowned. He had been on the point of going into the hospital, waiting for the traffic to allow him to cross. Now he didn’t wait, but dodged between buses and taxis and cars and gained the pavement in time to hear Basil say: ‘Don’t be a fool, Rebecca! You can’t make a scene here—come along…’
The Baron’s voice, very soft, sent Becky’s heart soaring. ‘Not so fast, my friend. Rebecca stays where she is.’ He added in a voice which sent shivers down her back: ‘You are the unspeakable Basil, I take it?’
Basil went a rich plum colour. ‘And who are you?’ he blustered. ‘What right have you to interfere?’
‘All the right in the world, my good fellow; Rebecca is going to be my wife.’ His hand closed like a vice on Basil’s arm and plucked it away from Becky. ‘You mentioned making a scene—I have no inhibitions about doing so; if you are not out of my sight in ten seconds, I’ll make a scene you will never forget.’
It was amazing how very quickly Basil melted into the unnoticing passers-by. Becky, very pale still, stood shivering, and Tiele slid a vast arm round her shoulders.
‘A nice cup of tea,’ he observed placidly, ‘is just what we need.’ But when Becky looked at his face, his eyes weren’t placid at all, they were dark blue with rage.
She said apologetically: ‘I’m sorry—he took me by surprise, and I was frightened. I’m all right now…’
‘Are you indeed? The colour of watered milk and shaking like a fairy in a snowstorm.’
‘You’re angry.’
His smile warmed her. ‘Yes, but that cup of tea will soothe me back to my usual arrogant, ill-mannered self.’
She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Don’t say that—it’s not true.’ She opened them to tell him: ‘I called you and you came.’
‘Let us say rather that kindly providence arranged for me to be on my way to meet you at the hospital—I was on the other side of the street.’ He took his arm from her shoulders and put a hand under her arm. ‘There’s an Olde-Worlde Tea Shoppe in the next street—it’s rather out of its environment and it’s run by a dragon with a light hand at pastry.’
Becky, who had been wanting to cry, giggled instead. ‘I don’t suppose you know the first thing about pastry.’
He walked her down a narrow turning, round a corner and into a quiet little cul-de-sac, unexpected and almost rural in the centre of the city. The tea room was at its end, sandwiched between a narrow house with window boxes and a tiny dress shop called ‘Angel’s Boutique’. There weren’t many people sitting at the small round tables, and the Baron chose one at a window, so that he could sit on the window seat. ‘For I doubt if these chairs are up to my weight,’ he explained, and then turned to smile with tremendous charm at the light-handed dragon, already hovering.
‘Tea, if you please,’ he begged her in a voice as charming as his smile, ‘and some of your little cakes—and perhaps a plate of thinly cut bread and butter.’
‘Tea is not tea without bread and butter,’ observed the dragon severely. ‘I am glad that there are some people who know what is right and proper.’ She sent a chilling glance at the two girls sitting close by, with a dish of eclairs between them and no bread and butter in sight. When she had gone Tiele remarked: ‘I’ll wager my table silver that she’s been someone’s nanny.’
Becky was feeling better. ‘The bread and butter bit? Yes, I think you’re right. Tiele, do you think he’ll come back for me?—Basil?’
He stretched a hand across the table and took hers in its secure grasp. ‘No, my darling, he won’t come back again, and I shall be there if he does.’
‘Oh, why do you…’ She broke off as the dragon arrived with a tray and arranged everything just so before leaving them again.
Just as though she had finished the sentence he answered her: ‘You are my darling. Becky, it took me a little while to discover it—and to admit it— but now I find that I cannot live without you, nor do I wish to.’
He poured the tea for them both and passed her a cup. ‘Drink that, my dearest heart—you’ve had a bad fright.’ He hadn’t let go of her hand and she took no notice of the tea, only sat there staring at him.
‘Nina?’ she spoke under her breath.
‘She loved my money, Becky darling, not me.’
Becky heaved a deep sigh. ‘I love you,’ she said simply. ‘But didn’t you l-love her at all?’
He shook his head. ‘No. I took her out a good deal; she amused me… But I don’t want to be amused in that way, darling— Oh, I shall laugh at you a dozen times a day, but we shall share our laughter.’
He was interrupted by the dragon who swept up to the table, wanting to know if the bread and butter wasn’t to their liking. ‘Because you’ve eaten none of it,’ she pointed out severely.
Tiele charmed her with another smile. ‘It is quite perfect,’ he told her. ‘We are about to eat every morsel.’
She smiled then, looking at them in turn. ‘Well, you don’t have to hurry,’ she said as she went away.
Becky was made to eat her tea then and when she tried to get her hand back Tiele engulfed it even more tightly. ‘No, you’ll have to manage with the other one,’ he told her. ‘I’ve been wanting to hold your hand for a long time, and now that I have it, I don’t intend to let it go.’
Becky obediently ate her bread and butter. Half way through the second slice she said: ‘It doesn’t seem true…I can’t believe… Tiele, I’m plain and I haven’t any pretty clothes and I’m not witty—and your big house terrifies me even though I love it.’
He lifted her hand and kissed it gently. ‘You’re the most beautiful girl in the world and I’m going to give you all the pretty clothes you could possibly want. I don’t like witty girls with shrill voices—you have a lovely voice, my darling.’ He grinned at her. ‘And when the house has some children in it, it won’t seem so large.’
He poured more tea and Becky, suddenly on top of her world, took one of the cakes he was offering her. She said a little shyly: ‘People in love aren’t supposed to eat…’
‘Then we will be the exception to the rule, my love.’
Presently they bade the dragon goodbye and wandered out into the street. There was no one about, only the dragon watching them through a window.
‘We must go back,’ said Becky. ‘Your mother will wonder what has happened.’
‘No, she won’t—she knows that I’m going to marry you.’
‘Are you?’ asked Becky demurely. ‘I haven’t been asked yet.’
The words were no sooner out of her mouth before she was in his arms.
‘Dare to say no,’ said the Baron, and gave her no chance to say anything at all. Being kissed like that, thought Becky hazily, took all one’s breath; to try to speak would be a waste of time. She kissed him back instead, and the dragon, looking fie
rcer than ever, wiped away a sentimental tear and nodded her head with satisfaction.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-0521-5
THE PROMISE OF HAPPINESS
Copyright © 1979 by Betty Neels.
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