Saturday's Child

by Neels, Betty

  She got up and went to the kitchen with the cups on a tray. ‘You could make him happy/ her heart urged her silently, ‘because you love him.’ She drowned the lunatic thought with a gush of water from the tap and washed the cups and saucers with a deliberately empty mind, and when she went back to the sitting room, beyond thanking Mrs Macklin for her confidence, made no reference to their conversation. Instead she enquired how her companion felt and listened sympathetically to Mrs Macklin’s small grumbles about her health. They went to bed soon after that, and Abigail lay trying not to think about the future, because it would be without Dominic and she couldn’t imagine it without him, even though, because he had been let down once, so long ago, he wouldn’t even allow himself to like her. After all, she told herself wryly, she had got used to his irritable manner and cold voice by now; they made no difference to her feelings, and now that she knew their reason, she wouldn’t mind any more—well, not very much.

  The days, with their strict routine and small crises, came and went. The weather became steadily worse, with little flurries of wet snow and leaden skies. Abigail’s boots leaked and she didn’t dare to buy another pair, since she had, as yet, had no money for her first week’s work at the hospital and paying Mrs Macklin had made a hole in what she had. Possibly she would be paid when she had finished working for them, and borrowing from Bolly was out of the question, anyway. She didn’t intend seeing him until the salmonella scare was over. The situation was improving fast now, although there were still a number of nurses off duty, but there had been no fresh infection for some days. The babies were out of danger too, although § they still had a long way to go and needed a great deal of care. She had become very fond of them and delighted in their progress; even little Jantje was improving at last.

  It was in the middle of the second week of her job at the hospital that the professor arrived alone one afternoon. He examined the babies, studied their charts and path lab reports, expressed his satisfaction and then asked her: ‘When do you intend to revert to your normal working hours, Nurse Trent?’

  She kept her voice coolly friendly. Tomorrow, sir. Zuster Ritsma may have told you that there are two more nurses returning to duty, and another one at the end of the week. Is it true that the ward is to come out of isolation in a day or two?’

  ‘Yes. Which duty will you be taking?’

  She knew that too, but she wasn’t going to tell him. ‘I’m not sure—Zuster Ritsma has it all arranged.’

  ‘Your days off?’ he persisted.

  ‘I’m to have those as soon as possible. Zuster Ritsma has kindly said that I may choose.’

  ‘Have you any plans for them? Do you wish to go away, or spend some time with Bollinger? He can be spared.’

  That’s very kind of you. I hadn’t begun to mink about it. I think I should like to take him out for the afternoon—he loves the cinema.’

  He looked at her unsmilingly, his eyes thoughtful, and she was hopeful that he had remembered that she was owed a week’s salary, but all he said was, ‘I see,’ and stalked away.

  She was to do an early shift; half past seven until four each day, and as the professor invariably came before noon and after five, it meant she would see him only once a day, and not at all on operating days. Which, she told herself, was all for the best. It would leave her evenings free to keep Mrs Macklin company too and she could call and see Bolly on her way off duty. An excellent arrangement for all concerned, she reiterated, and began to wonder how much longer they would need her in the hospital.

  She had mentioned it tentatively to Zuster Ritsma over coffee and had been told kindly that the professor had arranged that she should work there and would doubtless tell her when he no longer needed her. ‘Although,’ Zuster Ritsma had added, ‘I hope it won’t be just yet, for we shall be short-staffed for another week or so yet.’ Abigail hugged that fact to her as she went about her work.

  It had surprised her that Jan came to fetch her each evening; she had thanked the professor on the day following the first occasion and he had looked down his nose at her and remarked rather testily that as there were so many nurses off sick, it behoved him to take care of those who weren’t. So she hadn’t mentioned it again, but it was nice to find Jan waiting for her in the cold dark and she was secretly glad that she didn’t need to walk atone through the dim, deserted lanes around the hospital.

  She was a little tired on the morning of her new shift; it had meant getting up at six o’clock to get her breakfast and take Mrs Macklin a cup of tea before she left the house, and she had been late off duty the evening before, but she cheered up as she walked along the familiar little back ways in the semi-dark, replying to the milkmen and postmen and paper boys’ cheerful Goeden Morgen, as she hurried by. The night nurse was cheerful too, for the night had been without worries. The babies were asleep, so Abigail helped with the older children’s breakfasts, laughing a good deal with them because half the time she couldn’t understand what they were saying and when she spoke herself they found her accent so comical. Jantje woke up presently and she went to give him his bottle. He was very slow still; she sat on the low chair by his cot, cuddling him close and encouraging him while he blinked up at her with eyes still lacklustre from his illness. ‘Beautiful boy,’ she urged him, ‘drink up like a good lad.’ She kissed the top of his small bald head. ‘I wish you were mine.’

  ‘You like babies—children?’ The professor’s voice sounded harshly from behind her and the bottle jerked in her hand so that Jantje, sucking half-heartedly, stopped altogether.

  ‘Yes,’ said Abigail, and hoped that he couldn’t hear the uneven thud of her heart, and then to Jantje, ‘Come along, my lovely boy, it’s good for you.’

  ‘No,’ said Henk from the doorway, ‘it’s Guinness that’s good for you, is that not so?’ It sounded funny in his strongly accented English and she gave a chortle of laughter and laughed again when he said, ‘Since he seems to understand English; can you not also say, ‘Time, gentlemen, please?’’

  ‘That’s an idea, he’s such a slowcoach.’ They were both standing by her now and she looked up and smiled, to meet Henk’s cheerful face and the professor’s bleak stare, which she ignored, saying cheerfully, ‘He’s better, isn’t he, sir?’

  ‘Yes, Nurse Trent.’ He turned away to examine the other babies as Zuster Ritsma joined them and they all talked babies for a few minutes while Abigail coaxed the last of Jantje’s feed into him and popped him back into his cot. She was about to pick up the next baby when Zuster Ritsma said, ‘Nurse Trent, there are nurses returning, is it not good? Today at one o’clock there will be two, one will work here tomorrow and you will take a day off. There are three days due to you, is it not, but the others you shall have when you wish. The professor wishes it so.’

  Abigail looked at the professor who was frowning at nothing in particular. When he looked at her the frown turned into a scowl. ‘We are still not fully staffed,’ his voice was stiff. ‘I do not wish you to be overtired, otherwise you will be of no use here. Also it is convenient.’

  ‘Charming!’ Abigail’s voice rang with annoyance. ‘Such thoughtfulness does you credit, I must say.’ Her usually soft voice had an edge of sarcasm. ‘It’s nice to know I’m useful, even if only as a cog in your machine.’

  She would have liked him to have looked uncomfortable or even ashamed—had she not, only the day before, told him that she was to choose her days off?—and now they were being thrust upon her without a by-your-leave. He appeared to be neither; there was a gleam in his blue eyes which might have suppressed temper, but his expression remained bland; beyond a faint lift of the eyebrows he might not have heard her. She turned her back, picked up the baby she was going to feed and bore it away to change its nappy. She hated him! The hate lasted a good five minutes and was then wiped out by a flood of love which made nonsense of her own bad temper and his own disregard of her as a person. She fed the baby and thought of all the good reasons why he should be so horrible, then forgave
him for all of them.

  He didn’t come again that day. The two nurses, Zuster Vinke and Zuster Snel, came on at noon; the three of them worked together until it was time for Abigail to go off duty.

  It was still cold and it didn’ t seem to have got light all day and now that was fading, making the lighted shops she passed seem very cheerful. Almost home, she stopped at a banketbakkerij and bought some crisp little biscuits, which would be nice for tea, for she had no doubt that Mrs Macklin would be waiting for her. She couldn’t afford the biscuits, her store of money was now so low that even that small luxury was an extravagance, but she was feeling reckless and a little defiant. She turned into the square with the windows of its little houses shining a welcome, her head full of plans for the next day. She wouldn’t be able to do much—visit Bolly, naturally, and perhaps take Mrs Macklin to see Professor de Wit. He didn’t live very far away; she wondered uneasily if it was too far for the old lady, or would she have to have a taxi? She decided to break into her fare which she still had saved; after all, she would be paid soon, especially as she made up her mind, there and then, to ask about it at the hospital the moment she returned. She opened the little house door and shut it thankfully upon the dark outside, calling, ‘It’s me, Mrs Macklin,’ as she cast her outdoor things on to the banister of the little staircase. ‘I’ll get the...’ she began as she went into the sitting room, and stopped, because the professor was standing before the stove.

  His ‘Good evening, Miss Trent,’ was very stiff. ‘I am just about to go—I am already late. I called to see how Mrs Macklin does and find her very well, so well, in fact, that she is going on a small outing tomorrow. There is a concert of Viennese music tomorrow evening in the Concertgebouw which she is anxious not to miss. Perhaps you would care to accompany her?’ he added carelessly. ‘I don’t suppose you are interested.’

  ‘Why should you suppose that?’ enquired Abigail, falling neatly and unwittingly into his trap. ‘I should enjoy it very much! ‘

  ‘Yes?’ If she had any doubts about accepting, the one syllable would have decided her; it contained enough faint mocking disbelief to furnish a whole scathing sentence.

  ‘Yes,’ she reiterated, and realised too late why he had been so adamant about her day off—she would be company for Mrs Macklin who he would not wish to go alone. If it hadn’t been that she liked her erstwhile patient far too much to disappoint her, she would have said a decided no. She gave the professor a smouldering look and saw that he knew exactly what she was thinking. She said hastily before her temper got the better of her, ‘Shall I get the tea, Mrs Macklin? And does the professor intend to stay?’

  It seemed that he didn’t. She showed him to the door, wished him a chilly goodbye and went to put the kettle on.

  They had almost finished tea, talking trivialities in which the professor had no part, when Mrs Macklin observed, ‘Dear me, Abigail, I almost forgot. Dominic asked me to tell you that Jan would be here with the car at ten o’clock tomorrow morning and he will take you wherever you wish. Dominic will be away all day and if .you would care to lunch with Bollinger at his house, he hopes that you will do so—he has already mentioned it to Bollinger, I believe.’

  Which meant, thought Abigail, that Bollinger would be expecting her and she couldn’t disappoint him. She might as well go straight there in the morning; it would be pleasant to have a long talk to him and having lunch there would solve the vexed question of her shortage of cash. Perhaps the professor was making amends, although he hadn’t seemed particularly friendly just now. On the contrary; he had got his own way again. She said aloud, That will be very nice. I would have gone to see Bolly anyway, but I had thought that perhaps you and I could have gone round to see Professor de Wit in the afternoon.’

  ‘A very kind thought, Abigail, but as it happens, he will be at the concert with us, so we shall be able to have a good chat there. I’m greatly looking forward to it. What will you wear?’

  ‘Oh, lord,’ exclaimed Abigail, dismayed, ‘I haven’t got anything—at least only a very plain velvet dress—it’s brown and I’ve never liked it. I only packed it at the last minute because I thought it might be useful—it’s that sort of a dress. Will it do, you think?’

  ‘I’m sure it will. You’re not a girl to need frills and flounces. Look how well that pink dress becomes you, and that’s simple enough.’

  Abigail agreed reluctantly and wished wholeheartedly for a new dress, although no one would see her at the concert and her two patients were much too kind to criticise her appearance. ‘What will you wear?’ she asked in her turn. The two ladies spent a delightful evening discussing clothes.

  By the time Jan came she had breakfasted, taken Mrs Macklin hers on a tray, tidied her own room and dressed herself ready to go out. The weather showed no signs of improving, but in the comfort of the big car, it didn’t matter. She spent the short journey practising her Dutch upon Jan, who obligingly corrected her many mistakes and helped out when she lacked a word. She thanked him nicely, as she always did, when they arrived at the professor’s house and got out, to be admitted by a delighted Bollinger.

  It was only a week or so since she had seen him, but it seemed much longer than that. He led her into the small sitting room and poked up the bright fire in the grate, then went away to return a few minutes later with a tray of coffee and with Colossus and Annie at his heels. They made much of her and then planted themselves side by side before the fire.

  ‘Regular little charmer, is our Annie,’ observed Bollinger, ‘makes rings round the boss, she does, sits on his lap the instant he takes a chair. Lucky Colossus don’t mind—fair spoils the little beast does that dog.’

  ‘I’m glad. She’s quite a beauty now she’s plump and well fed. And now tell me, Bolly, how are you getting on?’

  She listened patiently to the recital of his days. Not exciting, but she could see that he had enjoyed every minute of them, and when he had finished she explained carefully about not getting her pay and why she couldn’t give him any money. As she had known he would, he offered to lend her all he had, but she refused gently and with gratitude, telling him that she would certainly be paid at the end of the week. And that awkward fact negotiated, she went on to give him a light-hearted account of her own week, making it out to have been much easier than it was.

  Bolly, who was no fool, shook his elderly head and said, ‘It can’t have been much fun, Miss Abby—the boss told me each evening how you was getting on—real hard work, he said it was, and you not saying a word of complaint.’

  ‘Well,’ Abigail replied reasonably, ‘I really didn’t have much to complain about, you know,’ at the same time swallowing surprise because the professor should have said that.

  There was a great deal to talk about. Somehow sitting there in the comfortable room, life seemed suddenly secure and pleasant, with the dog and kitten between them and the cheerful firelight turning the silver coffee service to gold; for all the world as though it were home, thought Abigail wistfully.

  Presently Bolly went away to return with Mevrouw Boot, both carrying loaded trays, the contents of which they proceeded to arrange on the small rent table under the window, and when, after a short chat, the housekeeper went away, Bolly said diffidently: ‘Miss Abby, here’s your lunch. The boss said you was to have it here. I usually eat with Mevrouw Boot, but the boss, he suggested you might like me to stay with you.’

  ‘Well, of course I should love you to stay,’ Abigail went round the table to give the old man a hug. ‘You’re my friend, Bolly, I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  He beamed at her. That’s the very words the boss used,’ he commented, and pulled out a chair for her to sit down.

  ‘Oh?’ she tried not to sound interested. ‘Did he?’

  Bollinger placed a pipkin of soup before her and removed its lid, and its fragrance caused her small nose to twitch in anticipation of it.

  ‘That’s right,’ he agreed. ‘He’s a fine gentleman, is the boss,
once you get to know him.’

  And that was something in which Bolly had been more successful than she—for she didn’t know him at all and it didn’t seem likely that she ever would. She sighed, dismissed the unhappy thought and applied herself to her soup.

  They went for a walk when they had finished lunch, taking Colossus with them and leaving Annie curled up before the fire, and although it was cold and windy, Abigail enjoyed it, just as she enjoyed the tea they found waiting for them when they got back, for it was like the teas she remembered when she was a child—hot buttered muffins in a silver dish, tiny sandwiches and a sponge cake as light as a feather.

  ‘What a marvellous cook Mevrouw Boot is,’ she commented, licking a jammy finger.

  ‘You’re right there, Miss Abby—made the muffins, she did. The boss said you was to have a good English tea—muffins, he says, and an English cake, and see there’s plenty of milk in the jug. We done our best.’

  ‘It’s marvellous,’ Abigail praised him, much struck by the professor’s attention to detail—for instance, knowing that there was never enough, if any, milk served with tea in Holland. ‘I must go to the kitchen and thank Mevrouw Boot.’

  Which she did before setting out for the Begijnhof once more, after promising that she would meet Bolly for coffee in a day or two’s time.

  She found Mrs Macklin in her bedroom, doing things to her hair.

  ‘Heavens, am I late?—it’s not till eight o’clock, is it?— there’s still supper...!’

  ‘Yes, dear,’ said Mrs Macklin, ‘there’s plenty of time. I thought I’d get all ready except for my dress; I can put that on after supper. Erwten soup—it’s been on all the afternoon—and yoghurt for afters.’

  ‘Very nice.’ Abigail, who wasn’t fond of pea soup, remembered her splendid lunch, went downstairs again to lay the supper table.

  She dressed after supper when everything had been tidied away and she had laid her breakfast ready for the morning, but first she fastened Mrs Macklin into the handsome black dress, laid the table wrap ready and then went to her own room. Twenty minutes later she was standing before her mirror, eyeing her reflection with distaste, intent on her face and quite failing to see that the brown dress matched her eyes exactly and showed off her pretty figure to advantage. She had made up her face with care and had done her hair with even more attention to detail; now she put on her tweed coat over the despised brown velvet and went downstairs. She found Mrs Macklin already there, looking very grande dame, even though, as she pointed out to Abigail, she had lost so much weight (hat the dress was loose-fitting.