The Little Dragon

by Betty Neels

  They left the shop without her knowing how much these delightful additions to her wardrobe had cost and the look on her husband’s face warned her not to say anything—not at the moment, at any rate. She did protest, however, when he walked her into Rayne’s, saying: ‘You need something to match that dress, Constantia,’ and then sat down without a word while she made up her mind between pale coffee kid and patent leather. She bought the kid finally, shocked at the price but still not daring to say anything about it, and when in the street once more she had her mouth open to thank him, and at the same time beg him not to spend all his money, she was prevented from doing so by being popped into a passing taxi.

  It was too short a ride to plunge into such a serious topic, and at the hotel her purchases were taken from Jeroen as they entered and they went straight to the cocktail bar where Constantia drank the champagne cocktail he so recklessly, she considered, ordered, and then, resigned to his spendthrift ways, probably because of the champagne, ate her way through Poulet au Champagne and a delicious soufflé. Jeroen had ordered white wine for her and she drank this too and was glad of the coffee to clear her excited head.

  ‘This is a very nice place,’ she told him as she finished her second cup, and didn’t see the twinkle in his eyes as he agreed.

  ‘A walk?’ he suggested. ‘Or do you want to rest?’

  ‘Me? Rest?’ she wanted to know. ‘That would be the most appalling waste of time. I’d love to walk.’

  And walk they did, into Green Park and then into St James’s Park, talking about nothing in particular at first, and then about the children. ‘They’ll be leaving quite soon,’ he told her, ‘but coming back again for a few days while Regina and Bram go to Paris. Shall you miss them?’

  ‘Very much—they’re darlings, all three of them. The house will seem empty.’

  ‘Not as empty as it would have been if you weren’t coming back to it.’ He tucked her arm in his in a friendly way. ‘Let’s find somewhere to have tea.’

  She was beyond being surprised when he took her to the Ritz; evidently he was going to cram as many delights as possible into their brief holiday. She ate the paper-thin sandwiches, the tiny cakes, and drank china tea with the heartwhole enjoyment of someone who was making the most of a lovely surprise, and it was over the elegant little table that he told her that he had seats for the theatre that evening—a musical, and one that she dearly wanted to see.

  She swallowed the last crumb of her petit four and beamed at him. ‘Jeroen, you really are a dear— I never thought…I mean, I thought we would just come over to England to get married and then go back again, and instead of that you’ve loaded me with presents and that marvellous hotel and this gorgeous tea.’

  ‘No less than you deserve, Constantia,’ he smiled suddenly, ‘and it will have to last a long time.’

  She laughed. ‘Well, of course, and I shall treasure every moment of it. Besides, those clothes; they’ll last for years, you know—good clothes always do. I shan’t need anything for ages.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see about that. Shall we walk back or have a taxi?’

  ‘Walk.’ She was positive about that; she wasn’t going to add a penny to the vast amount he must have spent, and taxis were dear these days.

  At the hotel Jeroen suggested that she might like to go to her room. ‘We’ll meet in the cocktail bar at half past six,’ he told her, ‘and wear your pretty dress. The theatre doesn’t start until half past eight, so we shall have plenty of time to dine.’

  She would have liked to have stayed with him for a little longer, but she didn’t dispute the point; perhaps he had had enough of her company for the moment—even good friends wanted a rest from each other’s society. She went up to her room, had a bath and dressed without haste. She was quite pleased with the result when she looked in the mirror in her room; her hair had gone up without a hitch and her new lipstick was just right with the soft pink of the new dress. She went down to the cocktail bar, wishing Jeroen had been with her. But she need not have worried; he was there, waiting for her and in a dinner jacket too. She hadn’t expected that and told him so, adding: ‘You look very handsome, you know, Jeroen.’

  He thanked her, his lips twitching faintly. ‘I can’t call you handsome, my dear, you’re too small and pretty for that; I’ll say that you’re the most beautiful dragon I’ve ever seen.’

  She wrinkled her nose at him, laughing, and from that moment the evening was a success. Champagne cocktails again and then dinner in the restaurant. Hors d’oeuvres this time, followed by sole and a salad, and rounded off with millefeuille. They drank champagne too, and then sat too long over their coffee so that they had to hurry to the theatre. In the taxi Constantia tried to thank Jeroen again.

  ‘I’ve never had such a heavenly time,’ she told him. ‘I’ll never, never forget it—you’re sure it’s not boring you?’

  He picked up her hand as it lay on her silken lap. ‘I have never felt less bored in my life,’ and then: ‘I should have bought you a fur coat.’

  She was anxious at once. ‘Oh, does my winter coat look odd? It was lucky I packed it…I can take it off the minute we get to the theatre. And you’re not to buy me another thing.’

  His, ‘No, my dear,’ was so meek that she had to laugh.

  The show was good, and besides that she knew that she looked nice and had one of, if not the handsomest escort in the theatre. She returned to the hotel in a pleasant haze of excitement and tiredness and happiness, only dimmed a little when Jeroen bade her goodnight in the foyer, explaining that he had a letter to write. She thanked him quietly once more, adding: ‘And thank you too, Jeroen, for quite the nicest wedding day any girl could have.’

  Her hand was in his and just for a moment his grip was so fierce that she winced, but he let it go almost at once with a pleasant: ‘I enjoyed it too, my dear. I hope you sleep well. Shall we go down to breakfast?’

  She nodded, and nodded again at his, ‘Nine o’clock?’ and went on up the stairs this time. She looked round when she reached the gallery above. He was still standing at the foot of the stairs, staring up at her.

  The day had gone too fast, she thought, sitting beside him as he drove out of London towards Dover. They had roamed the city streets, wandered through the parks and lunched, finally, at the Savoy River Restaurant, where they had eaten lobster mousse, followed by guinea-fowl and foie-gras, rounding off these delights with a milk pudding which Constantia had declared should have had another name, it was so delicious.

  And afterwards they had walked along the Embankment, talking about nothing much, and then found their way back to the Connaught where they got into the car once more. And now they were well on their way home, Constantia sat quietly; they had left the outskirts of the city behind at last, but the country wasn’t very interesting.

  She turned her attention to her companion, watching his hand resting lightly on the gears—a large hand, beautifully kept, with the wedding ring on its fourth finger and a glimpse of a watch beneath a spotless cuff. She frowned a little; the watch was a very good one, paper-thin gold on a crocodile strap—perhaps it had been a present from that nice old man who allowed him to live in his house. She dismissed the thought and went on looking at the hand. Strong and firm and gentle too; just looking at it made her feel certain that the future was going to be secure and…she paused in thought. It would be happy, too. She smiled to herself and asked: ‘What time do we get home?’

  She couldn’t see the sudden gleam in the doctor’s eyes. ‘Seven o’clock—half past, it rather depends on the traffic. I told Rietje to let the children stay up provided that they were bathed and ready for bed.’

  He slowed the car’s race through Canterbury and when they were clear of the town turned off the road after a few miles.

  ‘Why are we going to a place called Pett Bottom?’ asked Constantia.

  ‘There’s an inn there—the Duck—I’ve been there before. I believe they’ll give us tea.’

  It was a c
harming little place and they had their tea, sitting by a wood fire, but they didn’t sit long over it; there was the Hovercraft to catch on time, although Dover was a bare fourteen miles away now.

  This time Constantia was determined to keep awake, a resolution which was wasted upon her companion, for with a nicely worded excuse, he got a handful of papers out of the briefcase he had taken from the car and began reading them, leaving Constantia free to close her eyes should she so wish. A quite uncalled-for indignation caused her to be more wide awake than she had been for hours.

  But she couldn’t remain indignant for long. They were on the point of landing when he remarked: ‘There’s one thing I like about you, my dear, you don’t chatter.’

  He drove to Delft very fast; it was barely seven o’clock when he drew up outside the house in Oude Delft. Its door was flung wide as he went to help Constantia get out, and the children spilled out on to the step shouting and laughing, delighted to see them back again. And Rietje and Tarnus were in the hall too, and hovering in the background, Bet. Constantia thought she saw movement at the back of the hall too, but by the time the boys had shaken her hand and Elisabeth had hung round her neck and she had a chance to look again, its dimness was empty. She must have imagined it.

  She shook hands with Rietje too, as well as Tarnus and the bashful Bet, and was then carried on a tide of excited children into the dining room. Someone had decked the table with a white damask cloth, gleaming silver and glass; they had also arranged a bowl of spring flowers in its centre. She counted five places and the small, dressing-gowned figures dancing and leaping round her assured her in excited voices that they were to stay up for dinner.

  ‘It’s your wedding party,’ they explained, ‘Oom Jeroen said we could, he left a list of things—you’ll see.’ And Elisabeth chimed in: ‘You’ve got a new dress, I think you look very pretty—Oom Jeroen, doesn’t Constantia look pretty?’

  The doctor was in the doorway, watching them all and smiling. He said instantly: ‘Very pretty.’ His eyes met Constantia’s over the children’s heads. ‘The new dress is a great success, my dear.’

  She pinkened, because although she had had it on all day, she had begun to think that he hadn’t noticed. She blurted out: ‘I thought you hadn’t seen that I was wearing it…’

  His smile widened. He said blandly: ‘Forgive me for not mentioning it sooner. You see, you look nice in anything.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Constantia, and tried hard to think of something graceful to say. She couldn’t, so she said ‘Oh,’ again and watched the smile reach his eyes. It was Elisabeth who broke the little silence by exclaiming: ‘Please may we eat our dinner soon? It’s a very special one and I’m hungry!’

  They all started to talk again and Constantia was urged to go to her room and tidy herself as quickly as possible. ‘And don’t be long,’ begged Jeroen, ‘then we can have a drink before these brats fall on the food.’

  They had their drinks in the quiet of the little sitting room, while the children went off on some very secret errand of their own. But there was little time to talk, for they were all back again in no time at all, carrying a variety of packages, wrapped in bright paper.

  ‘Wedding presents,’ Paul told them solemnly, and then joined his brother and sister to stand between Jeroen and Constantia, watching anxiously while they untied them. Constantia had a small china dog, vaguely resembling Prince, who was sitting quietly at her feet; a pincushion fashioned like a strawberry, and a notebook with a pencil tied to it. She exclaimed over each one in turn, touched that the children should have liked her enough to choose their presents with such obvious thought.

  ‘A pincushion!’ she exclaimed. ‘Just what I need on my dressing table, how clever of you, Elisabeth—and this dear little dog—he’s like Prince, he can sit on the bedside table, can’t he? And the notebook—that I’ll use every day, you may be sure. Thank you all, my dears.’ She glanced over to where the doctor was sitting. ‘And do let’s see what your uncle has.’

  ‘A pen,’ he observed. ‘Now I use those almost every minute of my day—’ He smiled at Paul. ‘Thanks, jongen, and a truly splendid handkerchief.’ His smile was for Elisabeth, who rushed forward to be kissed. ‘And this…’ He had unwrapped two china dogs this time, vaguely Alsatian in outline. ‘Sheba and Solly,’ he said promptly, ‘I shall put them on my desk where I can see them. How delightful to have presents, and such a surprise.’

  He got to his feet and held out a hand for Constantia. ‘And now let us eat this special dinner.’

  Rietje had excelled herself. They had clear soup, served by Tarnus, who seemed to have been pressed into service for the occasion, and showed a remarkable aptitude for the task, and this was followed by trout meunière accompanied by tiny new potatoes and individual salads, but the crowning glory of the meal was the dessert; an ice pudding which Rietje had cunningly fashioned in the shape of a two-tier bridal cake. Constantia was persuaded to cut it with some ceremony, and everyone drank champagne, the children’s tiny glasses filled with as much care by Tarnus as the grown-ups’ were.

  And after that the children, still talking excitedly, went up to bed. Constantia, coming down again after tucking them in, found the doctor crossing the hall from his study. ‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ he observed, ‘my registrar telephoned on the chance of finding me back—there’s a case at the hospital I should really see.’

  Constantia swallowed disappointment; she had been looking forward to a quiet hour round the fire in the sitting room, but this was what she had to expect now she was a doctor’s wife. She said cheerfully, hiding her feelings very well, ‘Oh, of course. I hope it’s nothing too serious. Will—will you be gone long?’

  ‘Probably. Don’t wait up. I’ll see you at breakfast.’

  It seemed to her during the following days that he had never been so busy. True, they saw each other fleetingly at meals and sometimes for an hour in the evenings, but there was no chance to deepen their friendship; their talk was of the children, or some particularly interesting case he had in his care. He was always careful to ask her how she had spent her day, though, and she quickly developed the habit of running through her more interesting chores for his benefit; the Meissen dinner service she had so carefully washed and returned to the great bow-fronted cabinet in the drawing room, the dear little chair she had discovered on the upstairs landing with the worn embroidered seat.

  ‘Would he mind?’ she wanted to know, ‘the owner, I mean, if I worked another one? I’ve never done gros-point before, but I could try.’

  ‘I imagine he would be delighted.’ The doctor leaned back and put a hand up to his face. ‘He’s particularly fond of that chair.’

  ‘Oh, well, I’ll do it—I’d like to do something for him. When shall I meet him?’

  ‘I hope quite soon, Constantia. Did I tell you that the children’s mother will be coming home next week? I thought we might have a dinner party for her and Bram. But first of all there’s to be a family party in our honour.’

  ‘Oh—I hope your family will like me, Jeroen, and—and can we afford a dinner party?’ She frowned faintly: ‘Will there be a lot of guests?’

  He smiled a little. ‘Let me see: Tante Wilhelmina and Oom Jorus, Tante Elisabeth and Oom Dirk, Great-Aunt Julia and Great-Uncle Laurentius, Grandmother van der Giessen, cousins Landrof, Bartholina, Adilia, Hestia and Cyro, sisters Regina and Juditha, brothers Marre and Renaut, and then of course there are…’

  ‘Jeroen,’ Constantia besought him, ‘for heaven’s sake—I’ll never remember their names! However many more…’

  ‘You wanted a family,’ he observed mildly.

  ‘Oh, indeed I do, only to meet them all at once like that! What shall I wear? My lovely new dress—would that do?’

  ‘It will do delightfully. The reception for our wedding will be at Grandmother’s house in den Haag.’

  ‘You won’t leave me alone, will you?’ she asked him anxiously, and was soothed by his calm, ‘No, my dear, I won’t
do that.’

  But even if she didn’t see him very often to talk to, Constantia found her days happy enough. She enjoyed looking after the lovely old house, seeing that the children got to school and ate their meals and did their homework in the evenings, and most of all she enjoyed the evenings when they gathered in the nursery and played cards or Spillikins or Monopoly, and always, even if it was only for a few minutes, Jeroen joined them, sitting round the table with them all, joining in whatever game they were playing. But he wasn’t always in to dinner; lectures and meetings and consultations were all too frequent, so that Constantia spent lonely evenings after the children were in bed, working carefully at her gros-point, watching television and trying to understand what was being said.

  She was making a little progress with the language now, going shopping with Rietje, twisting her tongue round some of the outlandish words. There was plenty to occupy her days, she told herself bracingly; she had her family now and a house to run, although Rietje still did most of that. But she was learning fast, and spent hours in the kitchen watching the housekeeper cooking, and when Rietje had gone in the evenings, trying her hand at some of the easier dishes.

  She had had letters to write, too, answers to the letters she had had from Jeroen’s family. They had been kind and welcoming and completely uncurious, accepting her as Jeroen’s wife with graceful charm; once she had got used to the idea, she found that she was looking forward to meeting them all.

  But first she was to meet Regina and her husband, for they would come for the children as soon as they returned to Holland. They were to arrive in the afternoon, spend the night and then take the children with them on the following morning, back to den Haag where they lived. Constantia, the excited children packed off to school, went anxiously round the house making sure that everything was just so. Jeroen had gone to his surgery, but she would see him presently when they had coffee together, and make sure that everything was just as he would like it. But when she asked him, looking anxious, he only laughed and told her that everything was quite perfect and not to worry.