The Mistletoe Kiss

by The Mistletoe Kiss (lit)

  'A kitten.'

  Mrs Foster offered a chair. 'Just like Emmy—always finding birds with broken wings and stray animals.' She smiled from a plain face very like her daughter's, and he thought what a charming woman she was.

  'I offered to look at the little beast,' he explained. 'It was tied to a door handle…'

  'People are so cruel. But how kind of you. I'll get a clean towel so that we can put the little creature on it while you look. Have a cup of tea first, won't you?'

  Emmy came in then, with the tea tray, and they drank their tea while the kitten, still in its box, was put before the fire to warm up. George sat beside it, prepared to be friendly. Snoodles had gone to sit on top of the bookcase, looking suspicious.

  Presently, when the kitten had been carefully examined by the professor and pronounced as well as could be expected, he thanked Mrs Foster for his tea with charming good manners, smiled at Emmy and drove himself away.

  'I like him,' observed Mrs Foster, shutting the front door.

  Emmy, feeding the kitten bread and milk, didn't say anything.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ANNELIESE found Ruerd absent-minded when they met on the following day—something which secretly annoyed her. No man, she considered, should be that while he was in her company. He was taking her out to dinner, and she had gone to great pains to look her best. Indeed, heads turned as they entered the restaurant; they made a striking couple, and she was aware of that.

  She realised very soon that he had no intention of talking about their future. She had a splendid conceit of herself—it never entered her head that the lack of interest could be anything else but a temporary worry about his work—but she had the sense to say no more about her plans for the future, and laid herself out to be an amusing companion.

  She considered that she had succeeded too, for as he drove her back to the hotel she suggested that she might stay for several more days, adding prettily, 'I miss you, Ruerd.'

  All he said was, 'Why not stay? Perhaps I can get tickets for that show you want to see. I'll do my best to keep my evenings free.'

  He drew up before the hotel and turned to look at her. She looked lovely in the semi-shadows, and he bent to kiss her.

  She put up a protesting hand. 'Oh, darling, not now. You always disarrange my hair.'

  He got out, opened her door, went with her into the foyer, bade her goodnight with his beautiful manners and drove himself back home, reminding himself that Anneliese was the ideal wife for him. Her coolness was something he would overcome in time. She was beautiful, he told himself, and she knew how to dress, how to manage his large household in Holland, how to be an amusing and charming companion…

  He let himself into his house and Beaker and Humphrey came into the hall.

  'A pleasant evening, I trust, sir?' asked Beaker smoothly.

  The professor nodded absently. Humphrey had reminded him about the kitten and Ermentrude. He frowned; the girl had a habit of popping into his thoughts for no reason. He must remember to ask about the kitten if he saw her in the morning.

  * * *

  Emmy, still refreshed by her days off, was a little early. She settled down before the switchboard, arranged everything just as she liked it and took out her knitting. She was halfway through the first row when she became aware that the professor was there. She turned to look at him and, since it was a crisp autumn morning and the sun was shining and she was pleased to see him, she smiled widely and wished him good morning.

  His reply was cool. He took his spectacles out of his pocket, polished them and put them on his commanding nose in order to read the variety of notes left for him at the desk.

  Emmy's smile dwindled. She turned back and picked up her knitting and wished that she were busy. Perhaps she shouldn't have spoken to him. She was only being civil.

  'It's Friday morning,' she said in a reasonable voice, 'and the sun's shining.'

  He took his specs off, the better to stare down at her.

  'The kitten—is it thriving?'

  'Yes. Oh, yes, and Snoodles and George are so kind to it. Snoodles washes it and it goes to sleep with them. It's a bit of a squash in their basket.' She beamed at him. 'How nice of you to ask, sir.'

  He said testily, 'Nice, nice…a useless word. You would do well to enlarge your knowledge of the English language, Ermentrude.'

  'That is very rude, Professor,' said Emmy coldly, and was glad that there was a call which kept her busy for a few moments. Presently she turned her head cautiously. The professor had gone.

  I shall probably get the sack, she reflected. The idea hung like a shadow over her for the rest of the day. By the time she was relieved, Authority hadn't said anything, but probably in the morning there would be a letter waiting for her, giving her a month's notice.

  She went slowly to the entrance, wondering if a written apology to the professor would be a good idea. She began to compose it in her head, pausing on her way to get the words right so that the professor had plenty of time to overtake her as she crossed the entrance hall. He came to a halt in front of her so that she bounced against his waistcoat. Emmy, being Emmy, said at once, 'I'm composing a letter of apology to you, sir, although I really don't see why I should.'

  'I don't see why you should either,' he told her. 'What were you going to put in it?'

  'Well—"Dear sir", of course, to start with, and then something about being sorry for my impertinence.'

  'You consider that you were impertinent?' he wanted to know.

  'Good heavens, no, but if I don't apologise I dare say I'll get the sack for being rude or familiar or something.'

  She received an icy stare. 'You have a poor opinion of me, Ermentrude.'

  She made haste to put things right. 'No, no, I think you are very nice…' She paused. 'Oh, dear, I'll have to think of another word, won't I?' She smiled at him, ignoring the cold eyes. 'But you are nice! I suppose I could call you handsome or sexy…'

  He held up a large hand. 'Spare my blushes, Ermentrude. Let us agree, if possible, on nice. I can assure you, though, that you are in no danger of being dismissed.'

  'Oh, good. The money's useful at home, you know.'

  Which presumably was why she was dressed in less than eye-catching fashion.

  'The matter being cleared up, I'll drive you home. It's on my way.'

  'No, it's not. Thank you very much, though; I can catch a bus…'

  The professor, not in the habit of being thwarted, took her arm and walked her through the door.

  In the car he asked, 'What are you doing with your evening? Meeting the boyfriend, going to a cinema, having a meal?'

  She glanced at him. He was looking ahead, not smiling.

  'Me? Well, I haven't got a boyfriend, so I won't be going to the cinema or out for a meal. Mother and Father are home, so we'll have supper and take George for a walk and see to Snoodles and the kitten. And we'll talk…' She added, 'We like talking.'

  When he didn't answer she asked, 'Are you going to have a pleasant evening, Professor?'

  'I am taking my finacée to Covent Garden to the ballet, and afterwards we shall have supper somewhere. I do not care for the ballet.'

  'Well, no, I dare say men don't. But supper will be fun—especially as it's with your fiancée. Somewhere nice—I mean, fashionable…'

  'Indeed, yes.'

  Something in his voice made her ask, 'Don't you like going out to supper, either?' She wanted to ask about his fiancée but she didn't dare—besides, the thought of him getting married made her feel vaguely unhappy.

  'It depends where it is eaten and with whom. I would enjoy taking a dog for a long walk in one of the parks and eating my supper…' He paused. 'Afterwards.' Which hadn't been what he had wanted to say.

  'That's easy. Get a dog. You could both take it for a walk in the evenings and then go home and have a cosy supper together.'

  The professor envisaged Anneliese tramping round Hyde Park and then returning to eat her supper in his company. No dressing
up, no waiters, no other diners to admire her—his mind boggled.

  He said slowly, 'I will get a dog. From Battersea Dogs Home. Will you come with me and help me choose him, Ermentrude?'

  'Me? I'd love to, but what about your fiancée?'

  'She returns to Holland in a few days.'

  'Oh, well, all right. It'll be a lovely surprise for her when she comes back to see you again.'

  'It will certainly be a surprise,' said the professor.

  He dropped her off at her house with a casual nod and a goodnight, and began to drive to his own home. I must be out of my mind, he reflected. Anneliese will never agree to a dog, and certainly not to long walks with it. What is it about Ermentrude which makes me behave with such a lack of good sense? And why do I enjoy being with her when I have Anneliese?

  Later that evening, after the ballet, while they were having supper, he deliberately talked about Ermentrude, telling Anneliese something of the bomb scare, mentioning the kitten.

  Anneliese listened smilingly. 'Darling, how like you to bother about some little girl just because she got scared with that bomb. She sounds very dull. Is she pretty?'

  'No.'

  'I can just imagine her—plain and mousy and badly dressed. Am I right?'

  'Yes. She has a pretty voice, though. A useful attribute in her particular job.'

  'I hope she's grateful to you. I mean, for a girl like that it must be a great uplift to be spoken to by you.'

  The professor said nothing to that. He thought it unlikely that Ermentrude had experienced any such feeling. Her conversation had been invariably matter-of-fact and full of advice. As far as she was concerned he was just another man.

  He smiled at the thought, and Anneliese said, 'Shall we talk about something else? I find this girl a bit boring.'

  Never that, thought the professor. Though unable to hold a candle to Anneliese's beauty. If circumstances had not thrown them together briefly, he would never have noticed her. All the same he smiled a little, and Anneliese, despite feeling quite confident of Ruerd's regard for her, decided there and then to do something about it.

  * * *

  Emmy told her mother and father about going to Battersea Dogs Home with the professor.

  'When does the professor intend to marry?' asked her mother.

  'I've no idea. He doesn't talk about it, and I couldn't ask him. We only talk about things which don't matter.' She sighed. 'I expect he'll tell me when he's got the time to choose a dog.'

  * * *

  But although he wished her good morning and good evening each day, that was all. He didn't ask after the kitten either.

  It was towards the end of the next week when Emmy came back from her dinner break and found someone waiting for her. After one look she knew who it was: the professor's fiancée; she had to be. He would, she thought, decide for nothing less than this beautiful creature with the perfect hairdo and the kind of clothes any woman could see at a glance had cost a small fortune.

  She said, 'Can I help? Do you want the professor?'

  'You know who I am?'

  Emmy said diffidently, 'Well, not exactly, but Professor ter Mennolt mentioned that his fiancée was staying in London and—and you're exactly how I imagined you would be.'

  'And what was that?' Anneliese sounded amused.

  'Quite beautiful and splendidly dressed.' Emmy smiled. 'I'll show you where you can wait while I try and get him for you.'

  'Oh, I don't wish to see him. He was telling me about the bomb scare here and what an unpleasant experience it was for everyone. He told me about you, too.' She gave a little laugh. 'I would have known you anywhere from his description—plain and mousy and badly dressed. Oh, dear, I shouldn't have said that. Forgive me—my silly tongue.'

  Emmy said quietly, 'Yes, that's a very good description of me, isn't it? Are you enjoying your visit? London in the autumn is rather special.'

  'The shopping is good, and we enjoy going out in the evenings. Do you go out much?'

  Her voice, too loud and with a strong accent, grated on Emmy's ears.

  'Not very much. It's quite a long day here. When I do go home I walk our dog…'

  'You have a dog? I do not like them, and certainly not in the house. I dislike cats also—their hairs…'

  Emmy's relief telephonist was showing signs of impatience, which made it easy for her to say that she had to return to her switchboard.

  'It's been nice meeting you,' said Emmy mendaciously. For once she agreed with the professor that 'nice' was a useless word and quite inappropriate. She hoped that she would never see the girl again.

  'I won't keep you from your work. It was most satisfying to find that Ruerd's description of you was so accurate.'

  Anneliese didn't offer a hand, nor did she say goodbye. Emmy and the relief watched her go.

  'Who's she?'

  'Professor ter Mennolt's financée.'

  'The poor man. She'll lead him a dance; you see if she doesn't.'

  'She's very beautiful,' said Emmy, in a voice which conveyed nothing of her feelings. Though her goodnight in reply to the professor's passing greeting was austere in the extreme.

  The following evening, after a wakeful night, and a different day, it held all the hauteur of royalty in a rage.

  Not that the professor appeared to notice. 'I'm free on Sunday. Will you help me choose a dog—some time in the morning—or afternoon if you prefer?'

  He didn't sound friendly; he sounded like someone performing an obligation with reluctance. 'My fiancée has gone back to Holland this morning,' he added inconsequentially.

  'No,' said Emmy coldly. 'I'm afraid I can't.'

  He eyed her narrowly. 'Ah, of course—you consider it very incorrect of me to spend a few hours with someone other than Anneliese. The moment she sets foot in the plane, too.'

  'No. At least partly.' She frowned. 'It was the bomb which…' she sought for the right words '…was the reason for you speaking to me. In such circumstances that was natural. There is no need—'

  He said silkily, 'My dear Emmy, you do not for one moment imagine that you are a serious rival to Anneliese? For God's sake, all I have asked of you is to help me choose a dog.'

  'What a silly thing to say,' said Emmy roundly. 'It is the last thing I would think. I am, as you so clearly described me, plain and mousy and badly dressed. Certainly no companion for you, even at a dogs' home!'

  He said slowly, 'When did you meet Anneliese?'

  'She came here to see me. She wanted to see if you had described me accurately.' Emmy added stonily, 'You had.'

  The professor stood looking at her for a long minute. He said, 'I'm sorry, Ermentrude, it was unpardonable of me to discuss you with Anneliese and I had no idea that she had come here to see you.'

  'Well,' said Emmy matter-of-factly, 'it's what any woman would do—you could have been lying about me.' She gave a rueful smile. 'I might have been a gorgeous blonde.'

  'I do not lie, Ermentrude. I will not lie to you now and tell you that you are neither mousy nor plain nor badly dressed. You are a very nice—and I use the word in its correct sense—person, and I apologise for hurting you. One day someone—a man—will look at you and love you. He won't notice the clothes; he will see only your lovely eyes and the kindness in your face. He will find you beautiful and tell you so.'

  Emmy said, 'Pigs might fly, but it's kind of you to say so. It doesn't matter, you know. I've known since I was a little girl that I had no looks to speak of. It's not as though I'm surprised.' She gave a very small sigh. 'Your Anneliese is very beautiful, and I hope you'll be very happy with her.'

  The professor remained silent and she put through an outside call. He was still there when she had done it.

  He was not a man in the habit of asking a favour twice, but he did so now.

  'Will you help me choose a dog, Ermentrude?'

  She turned to look at him. 'Very well, Professor. In the afternoon, if you don't mind. About two o'clock?'

  'Thank you. I
'll call for you then.'

  He went away, and just for a while she was too busy to reflect over their conversation. Which was a good thing, she decided, for her bottled up feelings might spill over. She would go with him on Sunday, but after that good morning and good evening would be sufficient.

  Later, when she considered she had cooled down enough to think about it, she thought that it wasn't that he had discussed her with Anneliese so much as the fact that he hadn't denied calling her plain which had made her angry. On the other hand, supposing he had denied it—and she'd known that he was lying? Would she have been just as angry? In all fairness to him she thought that she would. She liked him even if there was no reason to do so.