by Betty Neels
‘I’m glad.’
He didn’t want to talk any more. She said goodnight quietly and went up to bed, stifling her hurt because he didn’t need her company.
They breakfasted together, exchanging platitudes, and presently walked along the canal to church. Even though she couldn’t understand a word of it, Matilda found it comforting, and some of the hymn tunes were familiar. After the service there were various friends and acquaintances of Rauwerd’s to meet. They went back to give her teacher a drink and then to lunch and have a quiet hour or so sitting in the drawing-room. There were no Sunday papers in Holland, but there were books and magazines in plenty. They sat there, she quiet as a mouse, reading a book she had no interest in because Rauwerd was immersed in a sheaf of papers and quite obviously didn’t want to be disturbed.
Schiphol was barely half an hour’s drive away. They had tea a little earlier than usual and got into the car. Rauwerd had little to say, which made it difficult for Matilda to voice something she felt had to be said.
‘It’s very kind of you to have Emma,’ she began. ‘I’m very grateful and I know that she is, too.’
‘My dear girl, you said yourself that she will fill a gap in the household. I am the one to be grateful and I’m sure that Jan and Bep will be.’
‘Oh, I do hope they’ll like each other.’
She need not have worried. Emma, still nervous from the flight, so happy to see Matilda again, became, in some miraculous way, a member of the household the moment she set foot inside the front door. She was borne away by Bep to have her tea and then followed Matilda upstairs to her room.
‘Why, Miss Tilly, it’s luxury! Look at that chair and the TV and a bathroom all to myself.’ A few difficult tears trickled down her cheeks. ‘I never thought it’d end like this—you so ’appy and this lovely ’ouse and me in the lap of luxury. I only ’opes I’ll earn me keep.’
Matilda flung a comforting arm about her shoulders. ‘Of course you will, Emma. Bep and Jan need you; there is so much you can do to help and they are both elderly, you know. It means that they can take things a little more easily. There are two daily maids so there is no hard work but there’s masses of silver and glass and furniture to be polished. You’re just what is needed.’
She left Emma to unpack and went to tidy herself for dinner. When she went downstairs Rauwerd was on the phone in the hall. She hurried past him, unwilling to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help hearing him say with clear deliberation, ‘No, Nikky, I can’t manage this evening and I’m pretty busy during the week. Get your notaris to deal with it and let me know if you have any difficulties.’
He followed Matilda into the drawing-room. ‘Nikky is the most unbusinesslike woman I have ever met.’ He went to pour the drinks. ‘But I’ve no intention of puzzling over stocks and shares this evening. I prefer to be by my own fireside.’
He turned to look at her and she switched the peevish frown on her face to an expression of casual interest. She hoped that she had done it smartly enough. ‘I should think that stocks and shares are very complicated things; I wouldn’t know one from the other.’
‘No, perhaps not, Tilly, but I fancy you would make it your business to find out. You’re self-reliant, or do I mean self-sufficient?’
‘Neither of them sound like me.’ And because he was staring at her so hard she plunged into talk. ‘Emma is so happy. She’s not at all worried about being in another country; I dare say she’ll pick up more Dutch in a week than I shall in six months.’
Rauwerd laughed. ‘Not if old Professor Tacx has anything to do with it. What did you think of him? We must have him to dinner one evening.’
‘I liked him, though he seemed a bit fierce.’
‘Just his manner. He’ll make you work hard.’
‘Well, the sooner I can speak and understand Dutch the better. I shall do my best.’
They dined unhurriedly, carrying on a desultory conversation which for some reason Matilda found reassuring, perhaps because it made her feel so secure and married. But her new-found content received a jolt as they sat over their coffee.
‘I have been waiting for you to ask about Nikky.’ Rauwerd’s voice was bland and faintly amused.
Matilda took a big sip of coffee and scalded her tongue. ‘Why?’ she asked baldly. ‘You told me that she was an old friend. I have no intention of prying.’ She went on matter-of-factly, ‘It isn’t as if I were in—in love with you and wanted to know everything about you.’ And, when he didn’t say anything, ‘I’m quite content. That sounds selfish, but I don’t mean it to be. What I’m trying to say is that you have no need to worry about me. I don’t expect you to change your life just because you married me…’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘No? Should I feel flattered, I wonder, or downcast at the idea of making so little impression upon you?’
She blushed. ‘You know I don’t mean that. You said before you married me that we would get on well together—that’s what you want, isn’t it?’
He said slowly. ‘Yes. That’s what I wanted, Matilda.’ He got up from his chair. ‘I’ve some telephoning to do. Why don’t you arrange to meet Rose and do your shopping together? I’ll have to be in Amsterdam tomorrow, you can drive there with me and I’ll pick you up on my way home.’
‘That sounds a marvellous idea. I’ll telephone her in the morning.’ She picked up the knitting lying on the table beside her. ‘I’ll go and make sure that Emma is all right. I dare say she’d like a gossip; she must be feeling a bit strange. Then I’ll go to bed, so I’ll say goodnight.’
She gave him a friendly nod and smile; if he didn’t want her company then she would be the last person to let him know that she minded.
Emma was in her room, arranging her bits and pieces just so. Far from feeling strange she appeared to have settled in without a qualm; she liked Jan and Bep and, with Jan’s translating, had already agreed to take over several chores from Bep. ‘Ever so ’appy, I am, love,’ she told Matilda. ‘I reckon we’re two lucky ones, you with that lovely man for a ’usband and me falling on me feet, and all thanks to ’im.’
Matilda agreed with her, wished her goodnight and went to her own bed. She had, she reminded herself, a great deal to be thankful for. She lay awake a long time, planning her clothes for the forthcoming trip. But her last thought was of Rauwerd.
Rose was delighted to go shopping. She took Matilda to Maison de Bonneterie and the two of them spent a delightful hour or so choosing an outfit suitable for Las Palmas in the spring. Having money to spend made it much easier, of course, but Matilda refused to be carried away by the more exotic garments on display and settled for a cotton jersey dress and matching long coat, several cotton dresses in bright colours, and two crêpe evening dresses which would take up no room in her luggage and wouldn’t crush either. She did allow herself to be extravagant over swimsuits and their accompanying cover-ups; surely while Rauwerd was at his seminar she would be able to spend hours on a beach somewhere or, failing that, in the hotel swimming-pool.
The two of them took a taxi back to Rose’s home, a lovely old house in a narrow street tucked away from the city centre. They had lunch, played with little Sybren, examined Matilda’s purchases and gossiped until Sybren arrived at the same time as the tea-tray was brought in and, hard on his heels, Rauwerd.
Rose had flown into Sybren’s arms the moment he arrived and Matilda hoped that the casual, ‘Hello, Tilly’ would pass unnoticed when Rauwerd joined them. He made things easier by leaning down and kissing her cheek—a gesture without warmth, and not to be compared with Sybren’s fierce hug for his small wife, but at least it was something.
They spent an hour—a happy one—before leaving, with the promise that they would return on Saturday for dinner.
‘Finished your shopping?’ Rauwerd wanted to know as he drove back.
‘Yes, thank you. I don’t need to take many clothes, do I? You’ll be busy for the first week, won’t you?’
‘Only until seven or the
reabouts in the evening. I shall need to relax then—dinner, dancing.’ He added airily, ‘And I thought we might hire a car and see something of the island.’
At least two more evening dresses, she reflected, and perhaps more cotton tops and skirts. She said, speaking her thoughts out loud, ‘I’m not very happy in slacks.’
His firm mouth curved into a smile. ‘Then skirts, my dear, although I should have thought that slacks were invented for legs like yours.’
A compliment. The first he had ever paid her. She would go to that chic little boutique in Leiden and invest in a couple of pairs—pastel colours; they would go well with the floral tops she had already bought.
She said quietly, ‘Thank you. Have you been there?’
‘A couple of times. I think you will like it.’
She bought the slacks the next day and then went for her first Dutch lesson. Professor Tacx was a dear old thing although she quickly discovered that he was going to be a hard taskmaster. Her brain addled with Dutch verbs, she went back home with enough work to keep her busy for the rest of the week, only she would have to get it done before then for she was to have another lesson on Friday.
At dinner that evening Rauwerd asked, ‘Lesson go well?’
‘Oh, yes, I enjoyed it. How long will it take before I can speak Dutch?’
‘Some months, but you’ll be able to understand it before then and make yourself understood. Shopping and so forth. I must remember to speak Dutch to you and, of course, you can practise on Bep and Jan.’
‘Should Emma have lessons?’
‘She’ll pick up all she needs just being with Bep and Jan. Lessons would only bother her. Our grammar is quite different and I doubt if she will want to read Dutch; there are plenty of paperbacks and papers in English. Tell me what she enjoys reading and I’ll arrange for it to be sent.’
‘That’s kind of you. She seems quite at home already.’
‘Good. And you, Matilda? Do you feel at home?’
She raised serious eyes to him. ‘Yes, Rauwerd. I love this house and I like your parents very much. I only hope that I’ll be a help to you—giving dinner parties and entertaining your friends.’
‘Ah, yes. When we get back we must give a small party, don’t you think? And there will be the Spring Ball at the medical school and several evening functions to attend, here and in den Haag.’
‘I had a note from Beatrix Thenus asking me to go to coffee on Thursday. She wants to talk to me about joining a fund-raising scheme—something to do with children…’
He glanced across the table at her. ‘Yes? I imagine you will be asked to attend similar functions as well as innumerable charitable organisations.’
‘You would like me to join them?’
‘My dear, you must do as you please. They are mostly worthwhile and I can’t imagine that you will want to fritter away your days. I’m involved in several schemes to do with children; it would be nice if you shared my interest.’
‘I’d like that.’ She was eager to hear more but his laconic, ‘Good. Shall we have coffee in the drawing-room?’ stopped her from asking any more questions.
The week came to its end with another lesson from Professor Tacx and a delightful dinner with Rose and Sybren. The next week went as smoothly, with more lessons, packing for their trip and an almost imperceptible taking over of the household reins. She was careful not to trespass on Bep’s domain in the kitchen and the house, but she began to deal with bills and accounts, spent time with Bep learning the price of things and what to buy, and she went to the cellars with Jan and inspected their contents under his knowledgeable eye. She wasn’t likely to be called upon to choose wine, but she was abysmally ignorant on such matters.
Any qualms she might have had about Emma settling down were quickly put at rest; Emma declared herself to be completely at home and content. There were tasks enough in the old house; beautiful furniture to polish, the linen cupboards to keep tidy, smalls to wash, clothes to press. She had never been so happy, she assured Matilda. Ignorance of the language didn’t bother her in the least; she trotted off to the shops with Bep, and in her free time took herself off to the town to explore on her own. She and Bep also shared an enthusiasm for knitting and she was already busy on a pullover for Rauwerd, a thank you present for his kindness.
Matilda had searched the bookshops for information about Las Palmas, and by the time they were due to leave she had worked her way through several guidebooks and a brochure or two, so that she wasn’t completely ignorant about the city and the island. She wore the coat and dress in which to travel and was conscious of Rauwerd’s approval as they got into the car.
They drove to Schiphol not saying much, with Jan sitting in the back so that he might drive the car back to Leiden, and once at the airport they went aboard immediately. How quickly one got used to comfort and ease, reflected Matilda, settling into her first-class seat. It was a mid-morning flight and the plane was only half full. She looked from the port-hole as they took off and then, since Rauwerd had opened his briefcase and taken out a sheaf of papers, buried her pretty nose in one of the magazines he had bought her.
When their lunch was served he put his work away. ‘The nice part about you, Matilda,’ he observed, ‘is that I don’t have to worry about ruffling your feelings if I need to do some work. You like flying?’
Her feelings, if he did not know it, were ruffled, but she said matter-of-factly, ‘I’m not sure. Uncle and I, when we went on holiday, which wasn’t often, used to take the car and tour around Britain.’
He looked surprised. ‘This is your first flight? My dear girl, if I had known I wouldn’t have occupied myself with these notes.’
He sounded concerned and she said quickly, ‘Oh, that’s all right, I’m not nervous.’
He talked as they ate lunch and she felt relaxed and soothed. He could be a delightful companion when he wanted to be, and very amusing, too.
‘We are staying at a rather nice hotel, not very near the shops or the beach, but there is a car waiting for us. It’s called the Santa Catalina and, since I’d rather you didn’t go out on your own, it won’t matter that it’s a little way out of the centre of the city.’
She received this high-handed arrangement of her days silently and he went on, ‘I’ll be at the conference and various meetings each morning, back at the hotel for lunch and then back at three o’clock until about seven in the evening. Everything closes in the afternoons but we can swim or drive around the island. There is plenty of night-life…’
‘Clubs and things?’ asked Matilda doubtfully.
He smiled. ‘They abound. I dare say we shall be content with a visit to one of the bars on Las Canteras beach and perhaps some dancing. The hotel is very comfortable but quiet, but there is nothing to stop us driving to Maspalomas—Sybren was telling me of a good hotel there where we can dance or visit the casino.’
Perhaps not high-handed after all. ‘That sounds fun,’ she said.
‘For our second week I thought we might go to Tenerife. I’ve booked at the Botanico in Puerto de la Cruz; there’s a dance floor and cabaret and it’s in a small park. I think you’ll like it. We’ll have a car there, too, and explore.’
It all sounded marvellous; by the time the plane landed Matilda was happy and excited.
The car was waiting at the airport and Rauwerd drove the fourteen miles into the city and on to their hotel. Matilda was instantly impressed; it was built in the Spanish style and lay well away from the road, surrounded by trees and a rather pretty garden. Once inside she could see that it was pleasantly and comfortably furnished. Their rooms were on the first floor and were large and airy and overlooked a small park. Altogether charming, she decided, and told Rauwerd so when he came into her room.
‘I’ve asked for some tea to be sent up,’ he told her, ‘and when you’ve unpacked we might go for a short run in the car so that you can get your bearings. Unless you are tired.’
‘Tired! It would be criminal to be tire
d—just look at those trees…’ She craned her neck over the balcony. ‘And geraniums, hundreds of them.’
After tea they drove through the busy city and along the coast road to Arucas, a charming little town of white-walled houses, dominated by a modern cathedral. They returned along a winding road which brought them back to Las Palmas, humming with evening traffic, had a drink in the bar and then went to change for dinner.
A delightful evening, decided Matilda, laying her sleepy head on the pillow later that night.
The evenings which followed it were just as delightful. True, she found the days lonely; there was a limit to the amount of sunbathing and swimming in the hotel pool she could enjoy. By the time Rauwerd returned in the evening, she was more than glad to see him, for lunch, although they ate it together, was usually a hurried meal, for, contrary to custom, the members at the conference had decided to do without a siesta. But even though she was tempted, she stayed at the hotel and was rewarded for this by evenings spent driving to Maspalomas to dance or to stroll along the esplanade to one of the numerous bars, or to try their luck at the casino.
On the last day, after Rauwerd had got back from his final conference, he took her into the city and wandered around the shops, waiting patiently while she bought embroidery, leather handbags for Emma and Bep, and exquisitely stitched handkerchiefs for the maids, and when she admired a beautifully made silver bracelet, he bought it for her and clasped it around her wrist.
She thanked him a little shyly. ‘It’s been a lovely week,’ she told him and he nodded.
‘Next week will be even better’, he observed.
They went by hydrofoil to Tenerife, transferred to the car waiting at the quay, and drove to the hotel. Puerto de la Cruz captured Matilda’s fancy at once and the hotel, a short distance from the centre of the town, appeared delightful. It was surrounded by a large garden with banana plantations beyond it, and was close to the botanical gardens. Inside it was as superbly comfortable as one could wish for. She was surprised to find that they had a suite, their rooms opening on to a sitting-room whose doors gave on to a patio and a swimming pool.
