by Betty Neels
They had upwards of a hundred and thirty miles to cover to Dover, for the most part on the motorways, and although he drove fast the professor had the air of a man with time on his hands, embarking almost at once on an undemanding conversation which continued on and off until they reached Dover. He had timed the journey well, for they went on board almost at once and over tea and biscuits Megan was able to study the guidebook of Holland he had thoughtfully provided for her. She had already looked up the area she was going to; the guidebook was more detailed, though, pointing out places of interest and commenting on even the smallest of villages. It seemed from the description that the orphanage was situated in the smallest of all—a handful of houses, a church and a shop which acted as a post office—but it was tucked away in the dunes, a short distance from the beach and nicely screened by a small wood. Castricum was no distance away and there were bound to be buses. The professor, deep in the papers he had taken from his dispatch case, looked up and smiled and she asked, ‘Are there buses to Castricum and Heemskerk?’
‘Certainly there are, although they dwindle during the winter. Everyone cycles; can you ride a bike?’ She nodded. ‘Good, there is bound to be one to spare for you. It’s by far the best way to get around.’
He went back to his reading and she sat looking out of the window at the smooth water, conjuring up pictures of the weeks ahead of her.
The longest part of the journey was ahead of them; they drove from Calais to Gwent and Antwerp, crossed over into Holland and took the motorway to Rotterdam and then on to Hemestede and Leiden. The professor travelled fast and since the motorways circumvented the towns en route Megan had the merest glimpses of villages and churches. It was early evening now and she wondered how late it would be before they reached the orphanage. She hoped that there would be a meal and began to think of things she would like to eat, something which made her even more hungry. She looked guilty when the professor said, ‘You must be hungry. It won’t be long now.’
Presently he turned off the motorway into a narrow bricked road leading to pleasantly wooded country already dim in the twilight. The sea must be close now, thought Megan, but first, according to the guidebooks, there would be dunes. She had neglected to look at the signboards as they had turned off but a glimpse of water ahead of them reassured her, although there were no dunes, only small woods and open fields. The professor slowed as they approached a village and she looked around her—there was the church, a village square with the road running through it and houses clustered round it. There were two shops, she noted, and still no dunes, although the light was bad now and the car lights made the road ahead even darker. Through the village the professor turned the car into an open gateway, swept up a circular drive and stopped before the house.
‘What a marvellous place for an orphanage,’ declared Megan, being helped out of the car, her head swivelling in all directions in order to see everything at once. The house was indeed splendid, with white walls, heavy green shutters at its many large windows and a formidable door reached by double steps with wrought-iron railings.
The professor smiled faintly. ‘This isn’t the orphanage, Megan, it’s my home.’ Then at her thoughtful look, ‘No, no, don’t look at me like that. It is too late to take you to the orphanage this evening; you’ll have a meal and spend the night here.’
He took her by the elbow and marched her towards the house but after a few steps she came to a halt. ‘It really will not do, Professor van Belfeld. Does your wife expect me? Besides, you will want to be alone with her and your children.’
He took her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake so that the elderly man, thin and stooping, his hand on the door ready to open it, stared and decided to leave it closed for the moment.
‘Let us get one thing clear. I have no wife, Megan, nor do I have any children.’
‘But I said—you said…’
‘Hush, and let me finish. I have never said that I had a wife and children. If you chose to think of me as a husband and father that was your concern and the result of a too vivid imagination…’
‘Well, there was no need to be so secretive,’ said Megan crossly. She caught his eye and added, ‘Not that I am in the least interested in your private life.’ She blushed as she said it. ‘If you haven’t a wife, however, I can’t stay here.’
He had taken her arm and was walking her nearer the steps. ‘My dear girl, only consider—am I, a member of the medical profession, likely to jeopardise my reputation? Come, come, I have always considered you a sensible young woman. I have a strait-laced grandmother staying, a married housekeeper of middle years, and two housemaids, both past their prime. Now will you come indoors? I’m hungry.’
There was no point in arguing further, indeed she suddenly wanted to laugh. She mounted the steps beside him, and the elderly man, timing the action nicely, opened the door as they reached it. His wrinkled face creased into a smile as they went in and he and the professor exchanged some words in their own language before the professor introduced him as Litman.
Megan shook hands and he said, ‘You are most welcome, miss,’ in heavily accented English. He said something to the professor, who laid a friendly hand on her shoulder.
‘Stookje, one of the maids, will show you where you can tidy yourself before we see my grandmother. No hurry. I’ll be here, waiting.’
She was led away to a cloakroom at the back of the hall, where she examined her face rather anxiously, feeling nervous about meeting the old lady, but she couldn’t delay for too long; she tidied her hair and powdered her nose and went back into the hall to find the professor waiting for her.
The room they entered was beautiful with a high, elaborately plastered ceiling, the pale apricot walls echoing the colour of the heavy silk curtains at the long windows. A great fireplace dominated the room, flanked by bow-fronted display cabinets each filled with Delft Blue china. The floor was polished wood almost covered by thin old silk carpets and the chairs and two sofas were large and comfortable. A grand room, but lived-in.
There was someone in it now; an old lady sitting tall and erect and very straight in her chair. She had a quantity of white hair piled high above a thin, beaky-nosed face and was dressed in a pale grey dress of some fine material which owed nothing to modern fashion and formed a suitable background for the fine diamonds sparkling in the rings on her fingers. There was a ginger cat on her lap, who opened an eye as they went in and then closed it again, but the two dogs sitting by the old lady came across the room barking loudly and waving their tails—a golden Labrador and her companion, an elderly greyhound. They greeted the professor with delight and sniffed delicately at Megan’s closed fist. ‘Rosie and Swift,’ murmured the professor, and urged her towards the old lady’s chair.
He bent to kiss her elderly cheek, murmuring something which made her chuckle before introducing Megan. His grandmother held out her hand. ‘I am delighted to meet you, my dear, even if only so briefly.’ Her English was as faultless as her grandson’s, betraying only the faintest accent. ‘Perhaps we shall have time for a little talk before you go but now I am sure that you need your supper. I shall go to my room now but if you are not too tired will you come and see me before you go to bed? Just for a few minutes?’
Megan shook the bony hand gently. ‘I should like that, Mevrouw van Belfeld; thank you.’
The professor had been standing and watching her. Now he said, ‘We’ll have a meal now, Grandmother, and I’ll see that Megan visits you in about an h
our.’
They had their supper in a small panelled room at the back of the hall, facing each other across a round table covered with white damask and sparkling with glass and silver and delicate china. For all the world, reflected Megan, tucking into asparagus soup, as though it were eight o’clock in the evening instead of almost midnight. The soup was followed by a smoked salmon soufflé and a salad, very good crème fraiche and early strawberries and coffee. Hardly a meal to induce early sleep but they had both of them had a long day and as far as she was concerned nothing would keep her awake once her head was on the pillow.
Litman had served them and they had talked little, and when they had finished their coffee the professor lost no time in accompanying her up the staircase to the gallery above. A number of passages led from it and he ushered her along one of them, tapped on a door at its end and urged her inside. The room was large, its wide windows overlooking a wide lawn and a circle of trees easily seen in the moonlight. It was furnished with heavy pieces in the Beidermeyer style and his grandmother was sitting in the middle of a vast bed, propped up by pillows, the ginger cat stretched out beside her, and she was reading but she put down her book as they went in and called, ‘Come over here, child,’ and patted the bed beside her. ‘I shall not keep you long, and you, Jake, can go to bed. Mies shall take Megan to her room.’
The professor gave a grunt of amusement. ‘You can see, Megan, how sternly my grandmother upholds the proprieties? I’ll say goodnight.’ He went over to the bed and kissed the old lady and then, much to Megan’s surprise, kissed her too. ‘Don’t be late for breakfast,’ he cautioned her. ‘We have to make an early start.’
When he had gone, the old lady said, ‘Sit on the bed, Megan—I’m a little deaf. Jake tells me that you have been working at the same hospital as he. A ward sister, were you not? And such a very pretty girl—surely you must be engaged to be married?’
Megan said, ‘Yes,’ and then, ‘No,’ and then, at her companion’s request, told her a little about her home and family. Presently the old lady nodded in a satisfied manner. ‘Jake has made a very good choice,’ she observed. ‘You will be very happy in Holland, my dear.’ She turned a smiling face to Megan. ‘You may kiss me goodnight, child. You will be gone long before I leave my room in the morning. It has been delightful meeting you. Mies will take you to your bedroom now.’
Megan bent to kiss the soft old cheek and was led away by a severe-looking Mies who, none the less, turned down the bed and drew the curtains in a pretty little bedroom on the other side of the gallery, then turned on the taps in the adjoining bathroom and wished her, ‘Wel te rusten.’ Megan had no idea what she meant but it sounded kind.
A lovely house, she thought sleepily, curled up in her bed at last. What a pity I shall never see more of it.
There wouldn’t have been time anyway; she and the professor breakfasted with a friendly speed and were on their way before eight o’clock. She had no idea in which direction he was driving now but presently she saw the dunes ahead of her and asked, ‘Are we nearly there?’
‘Yes—through this village.’ They were passing through a cluster of houses around a church. ‘And along this brick road. The sea is on the other side of the dunes.’
The orphanage was a long white building with a red roof, surrounded by a wide expanse of grass and ringed about by trees. Opposite the building at the far end of the grass was a flowerbed alive with colour and the professor broke the silence to say, ‘The children all own a small plot of their own at the back of the orphanage to grow what they want.’
He drew up before a wide door, helped her out, clanged the great bell hanging on the wall and went inside to be met in the square hall by a motherly-looking woman with bright blue eyes and a cheerful face. She was stout and wearing a plain dark grey dress with a white collar and cuffs and a large watch pinned to her formidable bosom. She shook the professor’s hand, greeting him like an old friend, and exchanged a few words with him before he introduced Megan. ‘Megan Rodner, Katje—Megan, this is the directrice, Juffrouw Bal. She will talk to you presently but just now someone will show you to your room while we have a quick talk before I go. I must be in den Haag by half-past ten.’
Somehow she hadn’t expected that. His home was such a short distance away and she had expected to see him several times before he went back to England. He was going to be in Holland for several weeks; he had told her that. Now she had a sudden panicky feeling that she would be left alone with no chance of seeing him again. But perhaps he would come back and see her…
His next words dispelled her hopes. ‘I am sure you will be very happy here,’ he told her, ‘and return to England full of plans for the future.’
She stared up at him, her eyes mirroring her thoughts so clearly that his own eyes gleamed beneath their lids, but he said nothing more and shook her hand and wished her goodbye in his calm, friendly way. There was nothing more to do then but accompany the girl who had been summoned to show her to her room. Halfway up the stairs she turned to look at him. He wasn’t even looking her way. She watched his vast person as he accompanied the directrice out of the hall, fighting down a strong wish to rush after him and tell him that she had no plans for the future, not if the future meant never seeing him again. It was a bit late in the day, she reflected sadly, resuming her climb, to discover that she was in love with him.
Her room was at the front of the house. It was small and sparsely but quite prettily furnished and it was spotlessly clean with rose-patterned curtains and bedspread. She went to look out of the window and the girl went with her. She had been introduced as Sine, a tall bony girl, a little older than Megan, but she had a nice open face and she was very friendly and spoke quite good English.
‘A fine car,’ she said as they stood looking down on the Rolls-Royce below. ‘Professor Baron van Belfeld is a rich man. He is also most good and kind—’
‘Baron?’ asked Megan.
‘You do not know that he is this?’ Sine looked surprised. ‘Perhaps in England he is Professor only?’
Megan nodded. Somehow knowing that he was a baron made him even more remote, although, she reflected sadly, as far as she was concerned now he could be a belted earl—if there were such a person in Holland.
Presently he and the directrice came out together, shook hands, and he got into his car and drove away. He hadn’t looked up, but then why should he?
‘That’s that,’ said Megan softly and then, ‘I shall unpack? And is this the overall I am to wear?’
Sine nodded. ‘You will please wear it and when you have unpacked you will go to the directrice. In fifteen minutes perhaps?’
‘Very well, and thank you, Sine.’
Left alone, she unpacked quickly and tidied everything neatly away and got into the overall. It was pale blue cotton, nicely made and very well-fitting with short sleeves and a high collar. Beside it was a pile of white aprons and she hesitated about putting one on and decided against it. Sine hadn’t been wearing one. She did her hair again, powdered her nose rather carelessly and went downstairs. She could hear the children now and babies crying, although there was no sign of anyone. She knocked on one of the doors in the hall with ‘Directrice’ painted on it and went inside.
The directrice was sitting at her desk and smiled at her as she went in.
‘Do sit down, Miss Rodner. It must all seem strange to you but very soon you will feel comfortable. Sine will be with you and will show you round presently and you will meet the rest
of the staff. Now I will tell you your duties. I wish you to work with the babies. We have seven at present; the youngest is not quite three months old, the oldest just one year. There is another girl who works with you alternately so that you have duty from three o’clock in the afternoon until ten o’clock at night when there is a girl for the night. In the second week your duty will be from seven o’clock each morning until three o’clock. You will have one day free each week when there is a part-time girl to relieve you. Sine will explain that to you. You relieve each other for meals and there are two extra girls on duty who can take over wherever they are needed. It is very hard work but most rewarding and you have time each day to yourself. You are a trained nurse? We have a small sickroom and if there should be illness I hope that you will undertake any nursing duties. You understand that the children are healthy; the older ones go to school in the village each day, and the little ones have a kleurterschool in the mornings. The babies have their own nursery but they are taken out of doors as often as possible.’ She paused. ‘I must tell you much, must I not? You are not alarmed?’
Megan smiled. ‘Not at all, Directrice. It is a delightful change from London.’
‘That is good. I myself have been in London in my youth. It is a fine city but I missed the sea and the country. Now Sine shall take you to drink coffee and then you will inspect everything. You will go on duty at three o’clock today and one of the part-time girls will be with you to show you all. I must tell you that my staff are called by their birth names; that is nicer for the children and for you all. What is your name, Miss Rodner?’
‘Megan.’
The directrice nodded. ‘A nice name.’ She had touched the bell on her desk. ‘Here is Sine.’ She nodded dismissal. ‘I hope you will be happy with us, Megan.’
