by Betty Neels
He stared down at her, smiling faintly. ‘You think that being rich makes one miserable?’
‘I don’t know exactly, how should I? I’ve never been rich, but I don’t think wealthy people have much fun…’
‘You wouldn’t marry a rich man?’
She shook her head. ‘They worry about their money, don’t they? When I marry, if my husband wants to worry, then I’d like him to worry about me.’
‘You don’t mind having no money, then?’
‘No.’ She paused and added seriously: ‘Isn’t it funny the way we’re talking, just as though we’ve known each other for years and years.’
He said easily, ‘Oh, I’m a great believer in instant friendship.’ They had reached the Stadhuis and he ushered her up the steps and in through the door to a marble hall; the great staircase faced the door and there were a number of much smaller doors in the walls. Doctor van der Giessen knocked on one of them and poked his head round it to speak to someone in the room beyond. Constantia stood patiently listening to the unintelligible conversation, and wished she could understand just a little of it; if she were to stay much longer she would start to learn.
Her companion opened the door a little wider and an elderly bearded face peered round it at her, smiled, nodded and disappeared again. ‘We can potter,’ her guide informed her.
They climbed the stairs together and he showed her the Council Chamber and waited patiently while she admired the view from its windows, and then the portraits of the members of the House of Orange on its walls before leading her to the Wedding Chamber. Constantia, athirst for information, asked: ‘Does everyone have to get married here?’
‘Oh, yes—it isn’t legal otherwise.’
‘But what about church? I shouldn’t feel married…’
Doctor van der Giessen smiled a little. ‘A number of people are married in church too. A twice tied knot, one might say.’ He put a hand on her arm. ‘Come and see the Steen Tower.’
It seemed that he was a privileged visitor and she was glad of it; the Steen Tower proved to house a small museum, closed for the time being to the public, the contents of which—to do with the law of the land—her companion explained in a leisurely manner. As they were leaving the Stadhuis at length, he asked: ‘Tea? There’s a small teashop just across the Markt.’
He gave her a placid smile and she thought again what a nice man he was and how easy she felt with him. ‘I’d love some, but do you have the time?’
‘Oh, yes. I’ve no surgery until half-past five.’
‘The children?’
‘Playing with friends after school—they’ll be brought home.’
She smiled widely at him. ‘Well then—’ They started to walk across the Markt. ‘What a lovely half day I’m having,’ she told him happily.
He beamed down at her. ‘Yes? And I—it is very pleasant to show one’s home town to someone who is really interested in it.’
They had reached a small corner shop, a pastry cook’s she had thought, but through it was a very small room with tables and chairs, quite empty. They had their tea and Constantia ate a cream cake with real pleasure. ‘For,’ she explained, ‘Mrs Dowling mustn’t have anything like this—I have to eat the same food as she does.’
Her companion looked astonished. ‘But she’s on a diabetic diet, is she not?’
Constantia nodded. ‘Yes—I have sugar in my tea and coffee, of course. But no cake or biscuits or puddings.’
The doctor muttered something in Dutch and she said severely: ‘That sounded rude.’
He laughed. ‘It was. Have another cake—your carbohydrates must be at a very low ebb.’
She speared a second luscious confection. ‘Yes, I thought that too. I’m being greedy. You’ve not eaten anything.’ It occurred to her suddenly that perhaps he hadn’t very much money—three children would cost a lot to feed and he had a dreadful old car. On the other hand, when he had taken off his sheepskin jacket, she had noticed that the grey suit he was wearing was of very fine cloth and most elegantly cut. Of course, being such a size he would have to have his clothes made for him, just as he would have to present a well-tailored person to his patients. Probably he bought a very expensive suit every five years or so. It worried her a little and she said presently: ‘It is kind of you to give me tea—I mean, we’ve only just met, and you didn’t have to…if we’d been old friends or not seen each other for a long time…’
He smiled lazily at her. ‘I hope we’ll soon be old friends, and I have the strangest feeling that I have known you for a very long time.’
‘That’s funny—I felt like that too when we met. Perhaps we’ve met before and haven’t remembered.’ She poured more tea for them both. ‘Do you ever go to London?’
‘Yes—from time to time.’
‘Well, perhaps that’s it? St Anne’s isn’t a very big hospital, but it specialises in deficiency diseases and diabetes and metabolism.’
‘And do you plan to go back there?’
She shook her head. ‘Oh, no, I thought I’d do private nursing for a year because one can really save money, and then I shall go to Canada or New Zealand.’
‘Your family don’t mind?’ he asked.
‘I haven’t a family. I can only just remember my parents. An aunt brought me up; she died a year or two ago. There isn’t anyone else.’
‘No boy-friend?’
‘No.’
He leaned back in his chair and looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I’m surprised. Don’t you approve of us?’
She had to laugh. ‘Of course I do, only I’ve never met anyone I wanted to marry. I expect I shall one day.’
‘I expect you will, too. In the meantime you have Mrs Dowling to contend with.’ He took a pipe from his pocket. ‘Would you mind if I smoked?’
‘Not a bit.’ She savoured the last crumbs of her cake. ‘I should be going.’
‘You have a half day—surely you can stay out as long as you wish?’
‘Oh, yes, of course. I wasn’t going back to Mrs Dowling. There’s an organ recital at the Walloon church—I thought I’d go.’
‘And until then?’ he prompted.
‘Well, I want to look at the shops and learn my way about the town.’ She picked up her gloves and began to put them on. ‘I have enjoyed my afternoon. Thank you very much, Doctor van der Giessen.’
She stifled quick disappointment at his noncommittal, ‘That sounds very pleasant,’ and when she got up he rose to his feet too with no sign of reluctance—and there was no reason why he should do otherwise, she told herself sensibly.
All the same, the rest of her half day seemed flat. Constantia had faced loneliness for several years now, quite cheerfully, too, but now she felt lonely. As she prepared for bed later she decided it was because she hadn’t met anyone—any man—with whom she had felt so relaxed. Probably she would see him again from time to time, but she would have to take care not to go out of her way to do so. He had been kind because she was a stranger in Delft and he had wanted her to see something of it. He would be a very good friend, she thought sleepily; impersonal friendliness among the young men she had known had been a rarity…
She closed her eyes, content with her day, and then opened them again as Mrs Dowling’s bell pinged in her ear. Constantia stifled a yawn, put on her dressing gown and slippers, and went along to the large room at the front of the house. Mrs Dowling always rang when she had had a half day; probably to make her pay for her free time. Constantia made a charmingly naughty face and opened the door.
‘There you are,’ declared her patient, quite unnecessarily. ‘I can’t sleep—I’ll have a cup of tea. What did you do with yourself?’
‘Oh, I had a delightful afternoon,’ Constantia told her happily, and went away to make the tea.
CHAPTER TWO
CONSTANTIA SAW Doctor van der Giessen three days later, on a rather bleak Sunday afternoon, because Mrs Dowling had decided that it suited her to allow Constantia to have her half day then…th
at there would be very little for her to do hadn’t entered her patient’s head. She was having friends in for tea and bridge, and there would be no need for her company.
So Constantia wrapped herself up in her winter coat once more and went for a walk. The Hotel Central would be open, she would have tea there and then go back and write letters and perhaps spend an hour conning the Dutch phrase book she had purchased; and if the walk palled, there were two museums which would be open until five o’clock. She had been saving them for a wet day, but they would pass a pleasant hour.
She was making her way towards the Nieuwe Plantage when she saw the doctor coming towards her. He wasn’t alone; there were three small children skipping around him and two magnificent long-haired Alsatian dogs were at his heels, and trotting along on a lead, a small black and white dog of no known parentage.
‘Another half day?’ asked the doctor as they drew level with her and came to a halt.
‘Yes. Mrs Dowling is playing bridge this afternoon.’
‘We were just saying that we would like something nice to happen—and here you are.’
‘Well,’ began Constantia, ‘you’re very kind to say so.’
‘Paul,’ he introduced the elder of the two boys, ‘and Pieter, seven and nine years old, and Elisabeth—she’s five.’
The children shook hands and smiled at her. They were nice-looking and very clean and neat; she wondered how the doctor managed that.
‘And the dogs—Solly and Sheba, and this…’ He indicated the nondescript animal now worrying his shoes, ‘is Prince.’
Constantia stroked three silky heads and said ‘Hullo,’ and the doctor observed: ‘Good, now you know everyone. We’re on our way back from the usual Sunday afternoon walk.’ He paused and went on smoothly: ‘We mustn’t keep you—your free time is precious.’
Constantia’s tongue almost tripped over itself in her hurry to agree. Not for the world would she have admitted, even to herself, that she would have welcomed a few minutes spent in the doctor’s company, not to mention the children and the dogs. She bade them all a cheerful goodbye and walked off in a purposeful fashion as though she really had somewhere to go. She longed to look round and watch them on their way home, but if one of them happened to look round at the same time, they might think that she was being nosey.
She walked on, not seeing her surroundings at all; they would be home by now—a small, shabby house, probably, if the car was anything to go by, but it would be cosy inside and they would have tea round the fire and do jigsaw puzzles and draw, and the doctor would sit in his chair and admire the children’s efforts and catch up on his reading when he wasn’t called upon to help with the jigsaw puzzle… She made herself think about something else; it was only because she felt a little lonely that she was allowing her imagination to run away with her, and she had better hurry back to the town’s centre or the museums would be closed. There might be a café open where she could get a cup of tea.
She couldn’t find a caf, but she did discover the Hofje van Elisabeth Pauw, a cluster of almshouses round a courtyard, old and peaceful and delightful to see even on a cold March afternoon. And as the Hofje van Gratie was close by it seemed a shame not to take a look at it while she was in that part of the town. By the time she had found her way back to the Markt square, it was too late to visit a museum; she went instead to the Hotel Central and had coffee in its dim warmth. There were a lot of people there, sitting in family groups or couples with their heads close together; it gave her the illusion that she was one of them, so that she settled quite happily to writing the postcards she bought at the bar and presently ordered more coffee and a ham broodje to go with it. Nel would have kept some supper for her—soup and something cold which she was expected to take to her room on a tray.
The house was quiet as she went in an hour later. Constantia started gingerly up the stairs, intent on gaining her room without Mrs Dowling knowing that she was back. A half day was a half day, after all, although her patient seemed to think that once she was in the house, she could resume her duties at the drop of a hat. She had gained the landing when Mrs Dowling’s harsh voice called: ‘Is that you, Nurse? Come in here.’
Constantia sighed and turned her steps to the front of the house where Mrs Dowling spent so much of her day. That lady looked up from her book as she went in with a peevish: ‘I can’t think what you find to do, Nurse—you might just as well stay in the house.’
‘I find exploring Delft very interesting, Mrs Dowling.’
‘Huh—and who do you meet on the sly?’ Mrs Dowling suddenly smiled rather nastily. ‘So you do meet someone—I can see it in your face.’
‘No, Mrs Dowling, I don’t, not an arranged meeting, and that’s what you’re hinting at. I did meet someone this afternoon—we said good afternoon and that was all.’
‘Who was it?’ demanded her patient.
‘I don’t think it could be of any interest to you, but there’s no secret about it. Doctor van der Giessen—I met him with Doctor Sperling a day or so ago.’
‘Him—he hasn’t any money,’ said Mrs Dowling deliberately.
Constantia’s grey eyes surveyed her with veiled contempt. ‘He’s a hardworking doctor—surely that’s more important?’
Her patient made a vulgar noise. ‘And what use is that with three children to clothe and feed and educate? I don’t know him, but Doctor Sperling has hinted as much. He’s poor.’ She uttered the word with contempt.
Constantia composed her features into mild interest and said: ‘Oh?’
‘Don’t tell me you haven’t made it your business to find out? I thought all nurses were after doctors. Well, now you do know, so there’s no point in making eyes at him.’
Constantia went a little pale; she said evenly: ‘If you’ll excuse me, Mrs Dowling, I still have an hour or so of my half day—I have some letters to write. I’ll say goodnight.’
‘You’re so damned ladylike!’ snapped her patient.
She had spoilt what was left of the day, of course. Constantia went along to the kitchen and collected her frugal supper and then went to bed early, for there was nothing else to do. She took great care not to think about Doctor van der Giessen at all.
Doctor Sperling came the next morning and because Mrs Dowling complained of headache, prescribed tablets—to be fetched by Constantia immediately, for the apotheek would be unable to deliver them at once. ‘Just over the bridge,’ he told her, ‘go through the shopping precinct, you will find it a little further along. You will need to get there by noon—they will be closing for lunch.’
Mrs Dowling glanced at the diamond-studded watch on her bony wrist. ‘Yes, go now, Nurse, and you, Doctor Sperling, can stay for a few minutes and see what is to be done about my diet. I need variety—my appetite needs tempting.’
Constantia felt a pang of pity for Doctor Sperling as she slipped away. Even ten minutes away from her patient was a pleasurable little bonus. Not even that lady’s ‘Hurry back, Nurse,’ could dim that. She whipped off the cap Mrs Dowling insisted that she wore, fetched her coat and let herself out of the house.
She had finished her errand and was almost at the bridge when Doctor van der Giessen, carrying his bag, came out of a doorway.
His ‘Good morning’ was genial. ‘Free so early in the day?’ he wanted to know.
She beamed at him warmly, for it was like meeting an old friend. ‘No, just an errand—some pills for Mrs Dowling; Doctor Sperling wanted her to have them at once.’ She gave a small skip. ‘I have to be very quick.’
He was blocking her path and he made no move to stand aside.
‘It’s not good for you to rush around. I prescribe two minutes of standing just where you are—we can while them away with a little light conversation. Did you enjoy your half day?’
‘Oh—yes. I walked to the Hofje van Elisabeth Pauw and then I went to see the other one close by, and by then it was too late to go to a museum, so I had coffee at the Central Hotel—it’s nice there. Ther
e were a lot of people.’
His eyes were quick to see the wistfulness on her face. He said gently: ‘And then what did you do?’
‘I went back…’ She remembered Mrs Dowling’s remarks and went bright pink.
‘And your patient was waiting for you?’ he prompted.
‘Yes, she was—but it didn’t matter.’ She smiled at him. ‘I really must go.’
He fell into step beside her, and as they crossed the bridge asked: ‘When is your next half day?’
‘Thursday. There’s a bridge party. It’s market day, isn’t it? I’m going to have a super time going round the stalls.’
He caught her arm in a casual grip and steered her across the busy street. ‘I have a half day too—perhaps we could go together.’
They were on the pavement outside the Hotel Central’s coffee room, full of people sitting at the little tables in its windows, watching the street and the passers-by in it.
‘Oh, I’d love that.’ Constantia sounded like a happy child, ‘but wouldn’t it bore you?’
He was looking at the curious faces peering at them through the glass, but he turned to look down at her. ‘No, it wouldn’t. I enjoy your company.’ He smiled in a friendly fashion and went on casually: ‘I’ll be here waiting for you.’
‘Two o’clock,’ pronounced Constantia, and added, ‘You have no idea how marvellous it is to have a friend.’
‘You think of me as a friend?’ There was mild interest in his voice.
‘Oh, yes. I hope you don’t mind?’
‘I’m delighted. Shall we shake on it?’ They shook hands and the interested faces on the other side of the glass window smiled, although neither of them noticed that.
Constantia was late. Mrs Dowling made a point of pointing that out to her. She grumbled on and off for the rest of the day too, so that Constantia went to bed with a faint headache; not that that mattered. Thursday wasn’t too far away; she would wash her hair, she decided rather absurdly, and fell to wondering if she should have it cut short and permed—perhaps not, supposing it didn’t suit her? Unlike most pretty girls, she had never considered herself more than passable—although it doesn’t matter what one looks like to a friend, she reminded herself, and that was what Doctor van der Giessen was.
