by Betty Neels
But once they were drinking their tea, she was content enough to sit and watch the world go by and listen to her companion’s amusing talk. The nagging thought that while they were sitting there she could have been looking at the Rijksmuseum, Rembrandt’s house, the little Museum of Our Lord in the Attic, the royal palace and the Begijnhof, let alone take a trip through the canals on one of the sightseeing boats, clouded her afternoon a little; the sneaking idea that if it had been Ross opposite her instead of Leo, he would have made it his business to ask her what she wanted to do and see and then made sure that she was able to do both was something she firmly refused to think about. She was with Leo and that was all that mattered, and when they had finished their tea and she had hinted that she would like a quick look at the palace and see the Dam Square, she allowed herself to be squashed with an: ‘Oh, lord, darling, you can’t possibly want to go sightseeing—Tourists…’ He shrugged, implying that they were something quite outside his world.
‘I’m not a tourist,’ protested Gemma, ‘and I may never have another chance to see Amsterdam.’
‘Don’t you worry your pretty head about that.’ He took her arm. ‘Now we’re going to stroll along to the Swarte Schaep and have a drink. We’ll eat there later and then visit around…’
‘Visit around?’
‘You’ll see.’
Their meal took a long time. By the time they had had a drink, ordered and then sat down to eat it, it had turned nine o’clock. Dusk, fretted Gemma silently, and she had seen nothing of the city, only the inside of a restaurant and a café. She wasn’t going to see more than that for the next hour or so, either; they went first to Le Maxim, where they danced and watched the floor show, a colourful, noisy affair, before they took a taxi to the Bird’s Club, where Leo was a member. Gemma was quite out of her depth here, admitting apologetically that it wasn’t quite her cup of tea and reminding Leo that it really was time they started back if they were to be at Huis Berhuys round about midnight.
Leo laughed a little then, coaxing her to laugh too. ‘Come on, darling,’ he said persuasively. ‘We’re only just beginning to enjoy ourselves—who is to know what time you get back, anyway?’
‘Well, Ignaas, for one.’
He dissolved into laughter. ‘That old man—he’s a servant!’
Uneasiness crept into Gemma’s head. Leo hadn’t talked quite like that before; perhaps he had had too much to drink. She remembered the small glasses of gin he had tossed off…
‘Leo, I’d like to go back now. You promised.’
He agreed with surprising readiness, and during their walk back to the garage where he had left the car, there was nothing in his manner to bear out her suspicions—indeed, he behaved in exactly the way a girl in love would hope for, so that she felt mean for being suspicious, especially when Leo told her how much he was looking forward to their drive back.
They were south of the Moerdijk bridge, with the last village some kilometres behind them and Zevenbergen about the same distance ahead, when the car’s engine coughed, spluttered, stopped, spluttered again and died. Leo swore, pressed the self-starter and with the tiny spark of life which returned, eased the car on to the grass divider between the up and down lanes. ‘Have to stay like this,’ he muttered. ‘I can’t possibly get enough power to run her on to the shoulder. There’s almost no traffic, anyway.’
‘No petrol?’ asked Gemma. ‘Hard luck, but this is a good place to stop—anything going the other way will pass so close we shall be able to stop them easily.’
Leo glanced at her. She was taking the situation calmly enough; he hadn’t planned it quite like this, but the best laid plans and so on… With luck there would be almost no traffic for some hours. The heavy stuff from the south had gone for the day and wouldn’t start again until the early morning. He slid an arm along the back of the seat and said coaxingly: ‘Don’t hate me, Gemma. I had every intention of getting petrol on our way this afternoon and I completely forgot it.’
It didn’t enter her head not to believe him. She made a comforting comment and looked at the dashboard clock. It wanted only a few minutes to midnight; she would be late back. ‘Is there a garage within walking distance? There was a village…’ She couldn’t remember how long ago they had passed it. ‘How far is it to the next town?’
‘Oh, miles away,’ said Leo airily, ‘and that village we passed is kilometres away now. We’ll have to sit it out. I don’t mind, we haven’t had a chance to talk…’
‘All this afternoon and all this evening,’ she reminded him.
He laughed softly. ‘You funny girl, that wasn’t talking. There’s such a lot to say—your future… You do love me, darling?’
She surprised herself almost as much as she did him by saying that she didn’t know; she said it so uncertainly that he could be forgiven for assuming that he was being teased a little, but when he tried to kiss her she said quickly: ‘Please, Leo—I was sure that I did—at least I think I was sure, and now suddenly, I don’t know.’
‘Perhaps this will help.’ He had produced a bottle from behind him. ‘Champagne, my beauty,’ and at her surprised glance, he added convincingly: ‘My housekeeper has a birthday tomorrow, I was taking it back…’
Gemma’s heart warmed at his thoughtfulness. Perhaps she was being an idiot; after all, she was in love with him, wasn’t she? Only he hadn’t said that he loved her… She said in a practical voice: ‘Then we certainly mustn’t drink it. Look, Leo, I must get back. I’m going to walk to the next village. I might see a petrol station on the way—one of those self-service ones.’
‘There aren’t,’ he said positively. ‘What’s more, my dear idiot, I’ll be surprised if you find anything in Zevenbergen—and how are you going to manage about the language?’
‘Oh. Well, couldn’t you go?’
‘And leave you alone? Certainly not! We’ll have to stay here until someone comes along.’
‘Would they stop? Will that be long, do you think?’ She tried not to sound anxious.
‘Some hours, I should think. The commercial stuff comes up from Antwerp round about four o’clock…’
She spoke sharply. ‘Well, we can’t sit here all night.’
‘I’m afraid we must, my sweet, so let’s make the best of it.’
Gemma looked around her, but there was nothing; the motorway was white under the moon, the flat country stretched away on either side of them and there wasn’t a light to be seen. Quite suddenly she didn’t feel happy; Leo was wonderful and she adored him, didn’t she, so why wasn’t she beside herself with joy at the idea of spending a few hours alone with him—and he had said that they had to talk about her future, but all she was really thinking about was getting back to Huis Berhuys.
She said in a voice she strove to keep normal, ‘Oh, dear, what are we to do?’ and saw the headlights of a car coming towards them—on the fast lane, too, so that it would pass within a few feet of them and couldn’t fail to see them. ‘Look,’ she cried, and now she didn’t try to hide the relief in her voice. ‘Someone’s coming!’
To her surprise Leo made no attempt to get out of the car. ‘You’ll have to be quick,’ she urged him, ‘it could go past.’
It didn’t. The Jaguar swept to a majestic halt beside them and the professor got out unhurriedly. ‘Trouble?’ he inquired, and didn’t even look at Gemma.
‘I’m out of petrol,’ Leo told him, and she could hear the rage in his voice and wondered at it.
‘I thought it might be that,’ said Ross, and added something in Dutch. He looked at Gemma then.
‘I’ll take you back—get into my car.’ He opened the door and helped her out and took her arm, led her to the Jaguar and sat her in the front seat before going back to Leo. Whatever it was he said didn’t take him long; he got in beside her, reversed the car and started back the way he had come.
‘I’ve broken the law,’ he remarked conversationally, ‘turning on a motorway.’
He could break all the laws he
liked. ‘Leo?’ she asked him urgently. ‘You’ve left him…you didn’t give him any petrol…’
‘There’s an all-night garage a couple of minutes from here; I’ll get them to go out to him.’
‘But Leo said there weren’t any.’
‘He had probably forgotten,’ he said gently, and all at once she wasn’t annoyed with him any more, only anxious to explain.
‘I’m glad you came—we were wondering what we should do…’ She glanced at his severe profile. ‘We left Amsterdam in plenty of time.’ She got no answer, so she tried again; ‘Were you on your way home?’
‘Yes. I called at Huis Berhuys and Ignaas was getting worried, so I decided to come this way—he was afraid that you might have had an accident.’
‘Dear Ignaas,’ said Gemma, and then exclaimed: ‘Oh, my goodness, I never said goodnight to Leo— I do hope he gets home safely.’
‘He will.’ Ross’s voice was bland. ‘Did you have a pleasant time in Amsterdam?’
She welcomed his interest; she must have imagined the anger in his voice. She gave him an account of where they had been and added: ‘Of course, I should have liked to have seen the city—the old buildings and the palace and a museum or two, but that would have bored Leo.’
‘You enjoyed the night club?’
‘Well, no, not exactly. I’ve never been to one before and it was a bit unexpected.’
Her companion gave a rumble of laughter. ‘But you have had a taste of night life, haven’t you?’
‘Yes—but I don’t think I’d mind if I didn’t go again.’
They were almost there and he slowed the car. ‘You are going to Leo’s party?’
‘Yes, if—if no one minds. He’s coming to fetch me and bring me back in good time. It’s rather a lot—twice in one week…’
‘Ah, but time is running out, is it not, Gemma?’ he asked softly, and before she could answer stopped the car outside the house.
Ignaas was waiting. He exchanged a rapid conversation with the professor, made a number of tutting noises and shook his head a good deal and went away to fetch the tray of coffee he produced, if needed, at any time of the day or night. Gemma sat opposite the professor, drinking hers and wishing she could think of something to say. Finally she came out with: ‘Did you have a successful time in Brussels?’
‘Brussels?’ He sounded as though he had never heard of the place and she realised that she need not have attempted to make conversation; he was deep in his own thoughts. Gemma drank her coffee quickly after that, thanked him for bringing her back, apologised for the trouble it had given him, and went to bed. She was tired, but not too tired to know that something, she wasn’t sure what, had cast a blight over what should have been a wonderful day. Strangely enough, when she pondered it, it had nothing to do with Leo running out of petrol.
Nobody said a word to her the next morning about her late return; questions were asked as to whether she had enjoyed herself, hopes were expressed that the party would be fun, and that was all. She spent the whole day out of doors with Rienieta, contented in the peace and quiet around her. Leo telephoned in the evening, turning last night’s small adventure into a joke, not mentioning Ross at all, and yet Gemma sensed irritation behind his laughing voice. Reaction, she told herself, after last night; he must have been worried…everything would be all right at the party and perhaps they would have time for that talk.
He was in splendid form when he came to fetch her; he praised her pink dress just as though it was a new model he had never seen before, made a lot more jokes about their trip to Amsterdam, and assured her that she was going to have the night of her life.
It certainly seemed like it when they reached his house. It was crammed with girls and men, spilling into the gardens, eating supper at the little tables which had been set up in the large sunroom at the back of the house. Leo stayed with Gemma to begin with and then, when she was asked to dance, disappeared, to reappear presently to take her to a small table well away from the others. ‘Supper,’ he said smilingly. ‘I tried to think of everything you would like to eat. We’ll dance again presently, shall we, and then I’ll take you round the house.’
She had only drunk one glass of champagne, but she felt a little lightheaded from it. She smiled and said yes and looked at the little dishes of food spread out between them. Everything was going to be all right, the faint unease she had been feeling for days now was fast disappearing. She accepted the glass he offered her, but before she could drink any of its contents, Cor, whom she didn’t like very much but who was one of Leo’s closest friends, sidled up to the table and bent to mutter in his ear. She saw Leo’s faint smile as he listened.
‘I’m wanted on the telephone, Gemma. I’ll be back—finish that drink and have another, and try some of those bits and pieces…’
She felt very alone sitting there with the tables around her filled with people she didn’t know. She ate a prawn vol-au-vent and took a sip of her drink. It tasted of nothing much and she was about to try it for a second time when the professor, materialising from nowhere, took it from her hand. ‘I shouldn’t,’ he said mildly. ‘Vodka and champagne don’t mix very well. Where’s Leo?’
Gemma was so surprised that she couldn’t speak for a moment, then she said a little crossly because he threatened to spoil her lovely supper with Leo: ‘He had to telephone. He’s coming back…’
‘Yes? Then take pity on me and stroll in the garden for a minute or two—he’ll find you quickly enough.’
She got to her feet unwillingly. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here—you didn’t say you were coming…’
If he found this speech ungracious he gave no sign. ‘Er—no. I decided to call in briefly.’ He looked around him with a hint of distaste. ‘I don’t much care for this sort of thing.’
They were in the garden now, a pleasant place and warm in the setting sun. The professor paused at a seat and suggested that they might sit down. ‘I’ve had a busy day,’ he confided, and bore out this remark by remaining silent for several moments. Gemma looked around her; probably Leo was looking for her, but she could hardly get up and leave the professor sitting. Besides, his silent company was soothing, although why she should need to be soothed she had no idea. She glanced sideways at him and found his blue eyes on her; even as she looked they assumed a sleepiness which threatened to overcome him at any moment. One couldn’t sleep at a party; she began turning over in her mind some suitable topic of conversation.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE privet hedge behind them was thin and high. Gemma became aware of voices, sounding very clear in the quiet evening.
‘I shall speak English,’—the voice was a woman’s, ‘for my French is bad and your Dutch is even worse, my dear. You are enjoying your self?’
‘But of course—such a delightful party, but tell me, what is it which necessitates Leo going away into the house with Cor? And why are they so amused together?’
Gemma wasn’t really listening; she was picking nervously at the skirt of her dress, trying to think of something to talk about, since her companion remained so disobligingly silent, but the banality she was about to utter remained unsaid, for the voice, pitched a little higher now, went on: ‘It is very amusing—that plain English girl with the funny name and so dull—she does not excite, you understand? Well, Leo and Cor had a bet that Leo would get her to fall for him in less than three weeks, and now today he declared that he had won and they are settling the bet.’
The speaker’s unseen companion gave a little laugh. ‘She is stupid enough to think that he is in love with her? How can it be possible? She has no looks and she is also plump—besides, she is good.’
Their laughter was in unison and unkind. ‘And now what will he do? He surely has no interest in her?’
‘Of course not. I told you, he has found it amusing, that is all. He flies to Curaçao tomorrow—he had everything planned very well…’
‘He is a wicked one.’ Again the unkind little laugh. ‘And
when this girl discovers…I should like to be there…’ There was a faint rustle of skirts. ‘Let us go back and see what is happening.’
Gemma listened to the sound of their retreating footsteps. The colour had drained from her face, leaving it white and pinched; not even the evening dusk could conceal its plainness now. She didn’t look at her companion, not even when he stood up.
‘I shan’t keep you a moment,’ he told her in a casual, friendly voice, just as though he hadn’t heard every word of the disgraceful conversation. ‘Will you stay here? I shall be back very shortly.’
Gemma nodded, still not looking at him. She felt sick; to give way to strong hysterics would have been a great relief, to shout and scream and drum her heels on the velvet turf… The professor turned on his heel and made his way to the house, shouldering his way through the noisy groups of people in the drawing room, to cross the hall and enter a small room on its other side. Leo was there, so was Cor, so too were a handful of their friends. He paused to look at them, his pleasant mouth thinned and turned down at its corners, and although he had said nothing at all, the group spread out, leaving Leo more or less alone.
The professor spoke genially. ‘Ah, there you are, de Vos. I hear that you are planning to go to Curaçao tomorrow. A pity that you may have to postpone the trip—on account of this.’ He stretched a powerful arm and caught Leo by the collar of his jacket and shook him like a rat, then stood him carefully on his feet and knocked him down with a well-placed fist on his jaw. He stood over him for a moment, dusting off his hands while his calm gaze roamed round the room until it lighted on Cor. His arm came out once more. ‘You too,’ he said gently, and knocked him down as well; then without hurry he nodded unsmilingly at the astonished faces around him and took his way to the sideboard, where he poured whisky into a glass and left the room with it in his hand.
