'You mean our aunt Beatrix,' said Joke in a voice of kindly reproval. Anneliese shot her a look of pure dislike and went away without another word.
'I simply must learn to hold my tongue,' said Joke, and giggled. 'I'm afraid I shall be a very nasty sister-in-law. Alemke is much more civil, although it plays havoc with her temper.'
She caught Emmy's sleeve. 'Come and talk to Grandmother. She will be going back to den Haag in the morning. Well, everyone will be going, won't they? Ruerd last of all, after lunch, and that leaves you and the children and me, Emmy.'
'I shall like that,' said Emmy. She was still shaking with rage. Anneliese would go to Ruerd and tell him how rude she had been, and he would never speak to her again…
She was talking to her mother when Anneliese went home with her parents. She gave them no more than a cool nod as she swept past them. The professor, as a good host should, saw them into their car and when he came back went to talk to his grandmother. It wasn't until everyone was dispersing much later to their beds that he came to wish the Fosters a good night and to hope that they had enjoyed their evening.
'I trust that you enjoyed yourself, too, Ermentrude,' he observed, looking down his splendid nose at her.
How nice if one could voice one's true thoughts and feelings, thought Emmy, assuring him in a polite voice that she had had a splendid evening.
He said, 'Good, good. I have to go to Leiden in the morning, but I shall see you before we go after lunch.'
For the last time, thought Emmy, and kissed her mother and father goodnight and went up the staircase to her bed.
* * *
Once breakfast was over in the morning people began to leave—stopping for a last-minute gossip, going back to find something they'd forgotten to pack, exchanging last-minute messages. They went at last, and within minutes the professor had got into his car and driven away too, leaving Emmy and her parents with Joke and the children.
Mrs Foster went away to finish her packing and Mr Foster retired to the library to read the Daily Telegraph, which Cokker had conjured up from somewhere. Since Joke wanted to talk to Tiele about the running of the house once the professor had gone, Emmy dressed the children in their outdoor things, wrapped herself in her coat, tied a scarf over her head and took them off to the village, with Solly and Tip for company.
They bought sweets in the small village shop and the dogs crunched the biscuits old Mevrouw Kamp offered them while she took a good look at Emmy, nodding and smiling while the children talked. Emmy had no doubt that it was about her, but the old lady looked friendly enough and, when she offered the children a sweetie from the jar on the counter, she offered Emmy one too. It tasted horrid, but she chewed it with apparent pleasure and wondered what it was.
'Zoute drop,' she was told. 'And weren't they delicious?'
For anyone partial to a sweet made of salt probably they were, thought Emmy, and swallowed the last morsel thankfully.
They lunched early as the professor wanted to leave by one o'clock. He joined in the talk—teasing the children, making last-minute arrangements with his sister, discussing the latest news with Mr Foster. But, although he was careful to see that Emmy had all that she wanted and was included in the talk, he had little to say to her.
I shan't see him again, thought Emmy, and I can't bear it. She brightened, though, when she remembered that she would be going back to England later and there was a chance that he might take her if he was on one of his flying visits to one or other of the hospitals. The thought cheered her so much that she was able to bid him goodbye with brisk friendliness and thank him suitably for her visit. 'It was a lovely Christmas,' she told him, and offered a hand, to have it engulfed in his.
His brief, too cheerful, 'Yes, it was, wasn't it?' made it only too plain that behind his good manners he didn't care tuppence…
She bade her mother and father goodbye, pleased to see what a lot of good these few days had done them. A little luxury never harmed anyone, she reflected, and hoped that the lodge would be quickly restored to normal.
'When you get home everything will be sorted out,' her mother assured her. 'Your father and I feel so rested we can tackle anything. Take care of yourself, love, won't you? Ruerd says you could do with a few more days before you go job-hunting.'
If it hadn't been for the children the house would have seemed very quiet once its master had driven away, but the rest of the day was taken up with the pleasurable task of re-examining the presents which they had had at Christmas, and a visit to the village shop once more to buy paper and envelopes for the less pleasurable task of writing the thank-you letters.
On the following day they all got into Joke's car and drove along the coast as far as Alkmaar. The cheese museum was closed for the winter, but there was the clock, with its mechanical figures circling round it on each hour, and the lovely cathedral church, as well as the picturesque old houses and shops. They lunched in a small café, off erwtensoep—a pea soup so thick that a spoon could stand upright in it—and roggebrood. The children made Emmy repeat the names after them, rolling around with laughter at her efforts.
It was a surprisingly happy day, and Emmy was kept too busy to think about the professor. Only that night as she got into bed did she spare him a thought. He would be back in Chelsea by now, with Beaker looking after him. He would have phoned Anneliese, of course. He would miss her, thought Emmy sleepily, although how a man could miss anyone as disagreeable as she was a bit of a puzzle.
* * *
There was a phone call from her mother in the morning. They had had a splendid trip back; Ruerd had taken them right to their door, and there had been a letter waiting for them, telling them that the furniture would be removed in a day's time.
'So now we can get things straight,' said her mother happily. 'And Ruerd is so splendid—he unloaded a box of the most delicious food for us, and a bottle of champagne. One meets such a person so seldom in life, and when one does it is so often for a brief period. We shall miss him. He sent his kind regards, by the way, love.'
An empty, meaningless phrase, reflected Emmy.
She was to have the children all day as Joke was going to den Haag to the hairdresser's and to do some shopping. It was a bright, cold day, so, with everyone well wrapped-up, she led them down to the sea, tramping along the sand with Tip and Solly gavotting around them. They all threw sticks, racing up and down, shouting and laughing to each other, playing tig, daring each other to run to the water's edge and back.
Emmy shouted with them; there was no one else to hear or see them, and the air was exhilarating. They trooped back presently, tired and hungry, to eat the lunch Cokker had waiting for them and then go to the nursery, where they sat around the table playing cards—the littlest one on Emmy's lap, her head tucked into Emmy's shoulder, half asleep.
They had tea there presently and, since Joke wasn't back yet, Emmy set about getting them ready for bed. Bathed and clad in dressing gowns they were eating their suppers when their mother returned.
'Emmy, you must be worn out. I never meant to be so long, but I met some friends and had lunch with them and then I had the shopping to do. Have you hated it?'
'I've enjoyed every minute,' said Emmy quite truthfully. 'I had a lovely day; I only hope the children did, too.'
'Well, tomorrow we're all going to den Haag to have lunch with my mother and father. They were away for Christmas—in Denmark with a widowed aunt. They'll be here for New Year, though. You did know that we had parents living?'
'The professor mentioned it.'
'Christmas wasn't quite the same without them, but we'll all be here in a few days.'
'You want me to come with you tomorrow?' asked Emmy. 'I'm quite happy to stay here—I mean, it's family…'
Joke smiled. 'I want you to come if you will, Emmy.' She wondered if she should tell her that her parents had been told all about her by Ruerd, and decided not to. It was his business. They had never been a family to interfere with each other's lives, alt
hough she and Alemke very much wished to dissuade him from marrying Anneliese.
There was undoubtedly something Ruerd was keeping to himself, and neither of them had seen any sign of love or even affection in his manner towards Anneliese, although he was attentive to her needs and always concerned for her comfort. Good manners wouldn't allow him to be otherwise. And he had been careful to avoid being alone with Emmy at Christmas. Always polite towards her, his friendliness also aloof. Knowing her brother, Joke knew that he wouldn't break his word to Anneliese, although she strongly suspected that he had more than a casual interest in Emmy.
They drove to den Haag in good spirits in the morning. The children spoke a little English and Emmy taught them some of the old-fashioned nursery rhymes, which they sang for most of the way. Only as they reached a long, stately avenue with large houses on each side of it did Emmy suggest that they should stop. Joke drove up the short drive of one of these houses and stopped before its ponderous door. 'Well, here we are,' she declared. 'Oma and Opa will be waiting.'
The door opened as they reached it and a stout, elderly woman welcomed them.
'This is Nynke,' said Joke, and Emmy shook hands and waited while the children hugged and kissed her. 'The housekeeper. She has been with us since I was a little girl.' It was her turn to be hugged and kissed before they all went into the hall to take off coats and scarves and gloves, and go through the arched double doors Nynke was holding open for them.
The elderly couple waiting for them at the end of the long, narrow room made an imposing pair. The professor's parents were tall—his father with the massive frame he had passed on to his son, and his mother an imposing, rather stout figure. They both had grey hair, and his father was still a handsome man, but his mother, despite her elegant bearing, had a homely face, spared from downright plainness by a pair of very blue eyes.
No wonder he has fallen in love with Anneliese, reflected Emmy, with that lovely face and golden hair.
The children swarmed over their grandparents, although they were careful to mind their manners, and presently stood quietly while Joke greeted her parents.
'And this is Emmy,' she said, and put a hand on Emmy's arm. 'I am so glad to have her with me for a few days—she's been staying with her parents over Christmas at Huis ter Mennolt. Rik's away, and it's lovely to have company.'
Emmy shook hands, warmed by friendly smiles and greetings in almost accentless English. Presently Mevrouw ter Mennolt drew her to one side and, over coffee and tiny almond biscuits, begged her to tell her something of herself.
'Ruerd mentioned that he had guests from England when he phoned us. You know him well?'
The nice, plain face smiled, the blue eyes twinkled. Emmy embarked on a brief résumé of her acquaintance with the professor, happily unaware that her companion had already had a detailed account from her son. It was what he hadn't said which had convinced his mother that he was more than a little interested in Emmy.
Watching Emmy's face, almost as plain as her own, she wished heartily for a miracle before Anneliese managed to get her son to the altar. Mevrouw ter Mennolt had tried hard to like her, since her son was to marry the girl, but she had had no success, and Anneliese, confident in her beauty and charm, had never made an effort to gain her future mother-in-law's affection.
Emmy would, however, do very nicely. Joke had told her that she was right for Ruerd, and she found herself agreeing. The children liked her and that, for a doting grandmother, was an important point. She hadn't forgotten Anneliese once flying into a rage during a visit because Joke's youngest had accidentally put a grubby little paw on Anneliese's white skirt. It was a pity that Ruerd hadn't been there, for her lovely face had grown ugly with temper. Besides, this quiet, rather shabbily dressed girl might be the one woman in the world who understood Ruerd, a man who's feelings ran deep and hidden from all but those who loved him.
Emmy was handed over to her host presently, and although she was at first wary of this older edition of the professor he put her at her ease in minutes, talking about gardening, dogs and cats, and presently he bade her fetch her coat.
'We have a garden here,' he told her. 'Not as splendid as that at Huis ter Mennolt, but sufficient for us and Max. Let us take the dogs for a quick run before lunch.'
They went through the house, into a conservatory, out of doors onto a terrace and down some steps to the garden below. Max, the black Labrador, Solly and Tip went with them, going off the path to search for imaginary rabbits, while Emmy and Ruerd's father walked briskly down its considerable length to the shrubbery at the end.
All the while they talked. At least, the old man talked, and a great deal of what he said concerned his son. Emmy learned more about Ruerd in fifteen minutes than she had in all the weeks she had known him. She listened avidly; soon she would never see him again, so every small scrap of information about him was precious, to be stored away, to be mulled over in a future empty of him.
Back at the house she led the children away to have their hands washed and their hair combed before lunch. They went up the stairs and into one of the bathrooms—old-fashioned like the rest of the house, but lacking nothing in comfort. She liked the house. It wasn't like Huis ter Mennolt; it had been built at a later date—mid-nineteenth century, she guessed—and the furniture was solid and beautifully cared for. Beidermeier? she thought, not knowing much about it. Its walls were hung with family portraits and she longed to study them as she urged the children downstairs once again, all talking at once and laughing at her attempts to understand them.
She was offered dry sherry in the drawing room while the children drank something pink and fizzy—a special drink they always had at their grandmother's, they told her, before they all went into the dining room for lunch.
It was a pleasant meal, with the children on their best be-haviour and conversation which went well with eating the lamb chops which followed the celery soup—nothing deep which required long pauses while something was debated and explained—and nothing personal. No one, thought Emmy, had mentioned Anneliese once, which, since she was so soon to be a member of the family, seemed strange.
Christmas was discussed, and plans for the New Year.
'We shall all meet again at Huis ter Mennolt,' explained Joke. 'Just for dinner in the evening, and to wish each other a happy New Year. Ruerd will come back just for a day or two; he never misses.'
They sat around after lunch, and presently, when the children became restive, Emmy sat them round a table at the other end of the drawing room and suggested cards. 'Snap', 'beggar your neighbour' and 'beat your neighbour out of doors' she had already taught them, and they settled down to play. Presently she was making as much noise as they were.
It was a large room; the three persons at the other end of it were able to talk without hindrance, and, even if Emmy could have heard them, she couldn't have understood a word. Good manners required them to talk in English while she was with them, but now they embarked on the subject nearest to their hearts—Ruerd.
* * *
They would have been much cheered if they had known that he was in his office at St Luke's, sitting at his desk piled with patients' notes, charts and department reports, none of which he was reading. He was thinking about Emmy.
When he returned to Holland in a few days' time, he would ask Anneliese to release him from their engagement. It was a step he was reluctant to take for, although he had no feeling for her any more, he had no wish to humiliate her with her friends. But to marry her when he loved Ermentrude was out of the question. Supposing Ermentrude wouldn't have him? He smiled a little; then he would have to remain a bachelor for the rest of his days.
He would have his lovely home in Holland, his pleasant house in Chelsea, his dogs, his work…but a bleak prospect without her.
* * *
Joke, Emmy and the children drove back to Huis ter Mennolt after tea. With the coming of evening it was much colder. 'We shall probably have some snow before much longer,' said Joke. 'Do
you skate, Emmy?'
'No, only roller-skating when I was a little girl. We don't get much snow at home.'
'Well, we can teach you while you are here.' Joke added quickly, 'Nanny isn't coming back for another couple of days. Her mother has the flu, and she doesn't want to give it to the children. You won't mind staying for a few days longer?'
Emmy didn't mind. She didn't mind where she was if the professor wasn't going to be there too.
'You've heard from your mother?' asked Joke.
'Yes; everything is going very well at last. The furniture will be gone today and the plumber has almost finished whatever it was he had to do. By the time the term starts they should be well settled in. I ought to have been there to help…'
'Well, Ruerd advised against it, didn't he? And I dare say your mother would have worried over you if you had worked too hard or got wet.'
'Well, yes, I suppose so.'
The Mistletoe Kiss Page 15
