by Betty Neels
‘Good,’ laughed Laura. ‘Now all you have to do is to make quite sure of Ella and then go and see Reilof.’
He nodded. ‘You won’t say anything to him yet?’
‘No, I won’t—Ella still needs a little coaxing; you want her on your side before you do anything more.’
He was about to kiss her again when the house door opened and Reilof strolled out and Laura, utterly taken aback, said with an aplomb which amazed her, ‘Oh, hullo—Jan has just brought me back from Utrecht. He was going there and I wanted to do some shopping.’
He smiled without saying anything, a very nasty smile, and she added hastily as he allowed his eyes to roam over the car, ‘But I didn’t buy anything.’ She turned to Jan. ‘Thanks for the lift—I expect I’ll see you some time.’
‘I’ll see you at the hospital this evening,’ cut in Reilof, at his pleasantest, ‘that meeting at nine o’clock,’ and Jan said hastily, ‘Oh, yes—I hadn’t forgotten. Tot ziens.’ He got into his car and drove off, waving as he went.
Laura went indoors with Reilof and as he shut the door, he asked: ‘You had a pleasant day?’
‘Very nice, thank you.’
‘You didn’t expect me back until the evening?’
‘No—you said you would be late.’
‘I hope I haven’t disturbed any plans you may have made with Jan?’
‘Plans? Me? With Jan?’ She choked on surprise. ‘What plans could I possibly have with him?’
‘Certainly not shopping in Utrecht,’ he commented silkily. ‘That was a lie, wasn’t it, Laura?’ He was standing in the centre of the hall, watching her.
‘Yes,’ she said steadily, ‘it was, and I can’t explain it. Why are you so angry and suspicious, Reilof?’
He smiled then. ‘You would be surprised if I told you why; I’m surprised myself.’ He came nearer. ‘Laura, is it too late for us to try and regain the friendship we first had? It has been my fault; I’ve treated you badly, anyone other than you would have washed their hands of me long ago, instead of which you’ve run my home to perfection, charmed my family and friends, made devoted slaves of my servants and struggled to learn my language.’ He paused. ‘Do you regret marrying me?’
She longed to tell him just how little she regretted it, but she kept her voice level and friendly. ‘No, I don’t regret that, Reilof, and I can’t see why we shouldn’t be friends. You—your life has been upset and I realise that it made you difficult sometimes.’ She smiled at him. ‘Let’s try again. You know, just now, when you came out of the house I thought you were blazing with rage…’
His dark eyes glinted. ‘Now I wonder why you should have thought that? Have you had tea, or shall we have it in the garden?’
Sometimes the gods were kind, thought Laura. She must seize her chances of happiness whenever she could—this was one of them.
‘I’m famished,’ she told him happily. ‘We’ll go by the pool, shall we? Truus made one of her gorgeous cakes this morning and I could eat it all!’
CHAPTER EIGHT
A WEEK went by, and at its end Laura, reflecting upon it, nodded her head with satisfaction; at least she and Reilof hadn’t fallen out once, or worse than that, ignored each other. He had found time to sit beside her while she drove the Fiat to the Hague to visit his sister, and taken time off to arrange for her to take a driving test; he had even taken her to his consulting rooms to meet the faithful Willa, shown her his surgery and the hospital where he had beds and explained about his lecture tours. It was as though he intended to admit her to part of his life at least, although he wore an air of thoughtful reserve which had prevented her from being anything but pleasantly friendly. She had contented herself in responding readily but without eagerness to any suggestions he had made for their mutual entertainment, and had done a little quiet shopping for a new dress or two, had her mousy hair becomingly dressed and indulged in a whole new stock of make-up. She had applied herself to her lessons too, and taken care not to say anything which might give Reilof cause to think that she wasn’t perfectly content and happy with her life, and although he still spent most of his evenings in his study and avoided being alone with her for any length of time, she told herself that she must persevere and not mind too much.
It was halfway through the following week, while she was sitting in the drawing room, working away at the petit-point she had always hankered after, when Piet came to tell her that there was a lady to see her. He spoke in Dutch to her nowadays, very slowly and simply, but she recognised it as a compliment of the highest order and she replied in that language, asking him to usher in the visitor. It would be Ella, perhaps, or Barones van Deille ter Appel, a formidable old lady who had known Reilof since he was a small boy and was embarrassingly inquisitive on occasion; she had taken a fancy to Laura and had a habit of calling at all odd hours. Laura put down her needlework and prepared to receive her visitor, but she was neither Ella nor the Barones.
Joyce stood in the doorway, looking lovelier than ever, dressed with an elegance which betokened money and plenty of it. She had, Laura considered, rather too much jewellery on her person, but she dismissed that thought as a spiteful one as she got up from her chair and went to meet her sister, thanking heaven silently that she was wearing the new blue denim dress, very simple, beautifully cut and obviously not off the peg. ‘Joyce, my dear, what a surprise! We had no idea…’
‘I didn’t mean you to—we’ve been spending a few days with Father and Larry said we could come for a quick visit, he’s got business with someone at the Hague anyway.’ Joyce pecked Laura’s cheek and sank into a chair and looked around her. ‘Well, well, Laura, you haven’t done so badly for yourself, have you? You could have knocked me down with a feather when Father told me—did you catch Reilof on the rebound? You live in style too—I had no idea it was like this. Reilof told me about it, but I didn’t pay much attention, I imagined it to be some hideous Victorian villa. He must have a great deal of money.’
Laura didn’t answer. ‘Tell me all about yourself,’ she begged, ‘and Larry, of course. Have you a lovely home, and do you like America? You don’t write often, you know, and then you don’t say much…’
‘There’s so much to do, I haven’t time to write letters. I always hated it anyway, and we’ve three homes—two houses and an apartment. Larry is rich, you know, he gives me everything I want.’ Joyce’s blue eyes studied Laura’s calm face. ‘And Reilof? Does he hang you round with jewels and buy you more clothes than you can ever wear?’
Laura was saved the problem of answering this, for at that moment Reilof came in. He was early—hours early, and just for a moment she wondered if he had known about Joyce coming, and then dismissed the idea. She gripped the silver teapot with a hand which shook a little, and watched his face with anxious eyes. He had paused in the doorway, staring across the room at Joyce, who was smiling her lovely smile at him, but he wasn’t smiling, his eyes narrowed for a moment and then his expression became bland, giving nothing of his feelings away.
After the tiniest pause, he said: ‘Joyce…’ and crossed the room towards her, but before he reached her she had jumped up to meet him halfway to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him. Not a sisterly kiss; Laura looked away because she couldn’t bear to watch them.
‘I’ll get some fresh tea,’ she said brightly to no one in particular, and clutching the teapot, went blindly out of the room. Reilof hadn’t said a word to her—indeed, he hadn’t appeared to have noticed her, and she fought back tears as she rushed across the hall to encounter Piet halfway. He took the teapot from her and said with gentle reproof: ‘You should have rung, mevrouw,’ and went off to the kitchen with it, leaving her with nothing to do but go back to the drawing room.
Joyce was back in her chair and Reilof was standing near her and they were laughing together; they looked round as she went in and he said easily: ‘Larry and Joyce have asked us to dinner this evening, Laura. They’re at the Hotel Hooge Vuursche—will eight o’clock suit you?
’
Laura agreed pleasantly that it would and busied herself pouring the tea which Piet had brought in, aware that Joyce had taken the conversation into her own hands and had no intention of including her in it, although Reilof drew her into their talk whenever possible. And Joyce was at her best, wistful and gay by turns, grumbling prettily that Larry had to spend so much time away on business: ‘All the way to the Hague,’ she pouted at Reilof, ‘and here’s poor little me on my own…’
‘Could you not go with him?’
She made a charming face. ‘And what should I do with myself while he’s with his dreary business friends?’ She smiled enchantingly at him. ‘Reilof, couldn’t you spare a day—two days, and take me out? It’s such a pity not to see something of Holland while I’m here.’
He had gone to sit in his great winged chair by the window. ‘My dear girl, I’m a working man.’
‘Home at half-past three in the afternoon?’ she interpolated quickly.
His eyes rested momentarily on Laura. ‘That was for a special reason—besides, why shouldn’t Larry take you? Surely he can spare a day?’ He glanced again at Laura, sitting so quietly, her face a pleasant mask that felt as though it would crack any moment now. ‘Laura has a car—I’m sure she would drive you around.’
Joyce’s face clouded for a moment, and then broke into smiles. ‘But it’s you I want to go with, Reilof—there’s so much to talk about.’
He got up and went over to Laura with his cup and saucer. ‘We shall have this evening,’ he reminded her, ‘and now you must excuse me, I’ve a patient to see and a good deal of work to do. Until this evening, then.’
He smiled at her and then spoke to Laura. ‘I’m expecting Jan. Will you tell Piet?’ His dark eyes searched her face unsmilingly and she answered lightly,
‘Of course—is he to go straight to your study?’
He nodded briefly, ‘Please,’ and was almost at the door when Joyce cried:
‘Oh, Reilof, you must take me out tomorrow! I’m so lonely—and I thought… I’ve been looking forward to spending a day with you, there’s so much I want to explain…’ She had never looked prettier, but all he did was shake his head and laugh a little and go away without saying anything.
He had scarcely closed the door behind him when Joyce spoke. ‘Well, you may have caught him, Laura, but I doubt if you’ll keep him—for one thing, he’s still in love with me, though I don’t suppose you would know that—and you don’t exactly sparkle, do you? He must find you dull… Why on earth did you marry each other?’ She didn’t wait for an answer but went on: ‘Oh, I’ve no doubt that he was in the mood to marry anyone when he discovered that he couldn’t marry me.’ She saw the tell-tale colour creep into Laura’s cheeks and declared triumphantly, ‘That’s it, isn’t it? Oh, don’t bother to answer, I can see by your face—and you? I suppose you saw the chance to marry well and took it.’ Her laugh was unkind. ‘I can’t say that I blame you; I’m quite sorry that I didn’t marry him myself.’ She looked round the beautiful room. ‘All this, and some of it’s priceless, I should imagine—but he didn’t tell me, I thought it was just an ordinary house. He told me the furniture was old, but I never thought… He’s clever too, isn’t he? Father was telling me—a professor of something or other and one of the best-known, too, with a marvellous future—probably he’ll get a knighthood.’
‘They don’t give titles in Holland, at least not in the same way as they do in England.’ Laura was aware as she spoke that it was a pointless remark to make; Joyce wasn’t listening. She had curled her legs under her and sat, chin in hand, deep in plans which were nonsense but which somehow she managed to make horribly possible.
‘Who knows,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘divorce is easy.’ She smiled widely across at Laura. ‘You may have him for a month or two, ducky, just while I divorce Larry, then all you’ll have to do is to leave him, then he can divorce you—he’ll see that you’re provided for. You’ll be able to live where you like. Yes, I think I should enjoy living here—it’s got something…’
Laura had listened to this amazing speech with growing horror and rage. ‘You’re mad,’ she said slowly, ‘and you don’t mean a word of it—you’re happily married to Larry.’
Joyce gave her a contemptuous look. ‘Larry?’ she shrugged. ‘He’s all right for the moment. And I’m not mad, Laura, didn’t you see Reilof kiss me just now? Under your nose, though I daresay you’re prissy enough to look the other way. He couldn’t help himself.’ She smiled. ‘You never imagined that he’d look at you again if he could have me?’
Laura felt as though a leaden weight filled her chest. It was like being in a hideous nightmare, only she wouldn’t be able to wake up from it. True, she hadn’t seen Reilof kiss Joyce, but then, just as her sister had said, she hadn’t looked. With a great effort she kept her voice quiet and steady. ‘No, I’ve never imagined that, but isn’t this whole conversation getting a little ridiculous?’
Joyce got up and wandered across to the little walnut cabinet against the wall. ‘You’ve always been a fool,’ she observed. ‘Do you really suppose that you can pretend that everything’s just as you want it to be? I meant every word. You’ll see, Reilof will take me out tomorrow because he wants to—then perhaps you’ll believe me.’
Laura’s voice was sharp. ‘However much he wanted to do so, his work is more important to him than anything else. He would never neglect it for anything other than some emergency.’
‘Pooh—there you go again; that’s what you want to think.’ Joyce opened the cabinet door and took out an exquisite soft paste Sèvres trembleuse cup and saucer. ‘What’s this pretty thing?’
Laura told her. By now she knew and loved everything in the old house; to give it up would break her heart for a second time. Not that she intended to give Reilof up without a fight; only if he really loved Joyce enough to go through all the dreary business of a divorce would she do that. She wanted him to be happy above everything else, and if to part from him was the answer then she would have to do it, but first she would have to be very sure that that was what he wanted.
‘I must just go and speak to Piet,’ she said. It was a respite; she gave him instructions about Jan, told him that they would be out for dinner and went back to the drawing room, pausing on the way through the hall to peer at herself in the great gilded mirror hanging there. The face which stared back at her looked exactly the same as usual; which considering that her heart was breaking and the little world which she had been building so precariously was in ruins around her, seemed extraordinary.
Joyce went presently, borne away by a taxi Laura had asked Piet to get for her. Her farewells were gay and lighthearted and Laura wondered if she had forgotten all the dreadful things she had said—perhaps she had been teasing. She went upstairs and spent half an hour deciding what to wear, and another hour bathing and doing her face and hair before getting into the pearl-grey chiffon dress she hadn’t yet worn.
It had a high bodice and a low neckline, with long tight sleeves and tiny pearl buttons to fasten it. She put on the diamond and ruby earrings, added the ring Reilof had given her, and with a last look in the pier-glass, went downstairs. There was still an hour before they needed to leave for the hotel; she went to the little sitting room and sat in an upright armchair, spreading her gossamer skirts carefully round her before she picked up a book to read.
She didn’t read of course, for a conglomeration of thoughts, all of them unhappy, chased themselves round and round her head. None of them were either sensible or constructive, and presently she discovered that she had given herself a headache. But she thrust this on one side, willing her brain to think lucidly. As far as she could see, she had two alternatives; to ignore the whole thing and continue to run Reilof’s home, welcome his friends, arrange pleasant little dinner parties for them, accompany him to those same friends’ houses, deal with all the petty interruptions which might threaten him or interfere with his work, and wave a cheerful goodbye when he went
on a lecture tour. She viewed these tasks without much enthusiasm, but she had been engaged upon them since they had married and she was prepared to go on doing them for as long as he wanted her to—which might not be long, not if Joyce had her way.
And the alternative—to tell him that she loved him. An impossibility, and supposing—just supposing she was fool enough to do that, how would it help the situation? Not at all, as far as she could judge. She would force Reilof’s hand and he would hate her for it, for whatever his feelings were for Joyce, he would consider himself in honour bound to remain her husband; he was that kind of a man. She would merely make all three of them unhappy. It would have to be the first course, at least it gave Reilof and Joyce the chance to be happy together if they loved each other so dearly. Larry might have something to say, of course, but she couldn’t be bothered with him at the moment; she had enough on her own plate and he was a grown man, capable of charming Joyce away from Reilof in the first place. He couldn’t be such a fool.
Reilof came in just then, and she sat up straighter than ever and smiled brightly at him. He looked elegant and remote and thoughtful, although he apologised for keeping her waiting. ‘And that’s a new dress, isn’t it?’ he remarked surprisingly. ‘And very charming too, a splendid background for the earrings.’
It was a warm evening and Laura didn’t need a wrap as she accompanied him out to the Rolls and got in, arranging her dress carefully once more, and during the short journey she made small talk about nothing much, pretending not to notice how brief and absent-minded his replies were.
