by Betty Neels
The doctor owned one of the gay little chalets set out where the dunes and the sand met, and the two girls went at once to change in the curtained alcove in its well-furnished interior. They emerged presently, in an atmosphere of artificial bonhomie, Maureen drawing all eyes in her scarlet bikini and white cap. It was some consolation to Phoebe that the doctor merely glanced at Maureen without much interest. He did the same to her, too, which she found disappointing, for while she made no effort to compete with her companion, she was aware that she made a pleasant enough picture in her sky-blue swimsuit. She wandered on down to the water’s edge, leaving Maureen to wait for Paul and Lucius; the girl was obviously back in favour after whatever it was that had gone wrong when they had called at his house. Phoebe wandered slowly into the chilly water, wondering just how firmly entrenched the governess was in the doctor’s household; she seemed full of confidence and very self-assured; he must like her very much, and although she hated to acknowledge it, probably he fancied her as well. She sighed and started to swim seawards.
She was a competent swimmer, no more. Within a few minutes she was overtaken by the other three, cleaving their various ways out to sea with an ease she frankly envied. The doctor had shouted something to her as he passed, but she hadn’t heard what he had said and it didn’t really matter. She called back brightly and swallowed so much water that she was forced to tread water while she coughed and spluttered. When she had her breath back she turned prudently for the shore; she had come quite a long way—too far, perhaps. She deliberately made her strokes slow and steady—she wasn’t tired, only a little scared. All the same, her relief was very real when Lucius idled up beside her.
‘Tired?’ he asked.
‘No—but I’ve not been quite as far as this before and I’m not sure how far I can go.’
He headed her off so that she found herself swimming parallel with the shore instead of towards it. ‘In that case, we can stay as we are,’ he told her, ‘tell me if you get tired, I’ll give you a hand.’
She applied herself to her swimming, happy that he had sought her company, sorry that it took up so much of her attention that she had little opportunity of doing anything else. All the same when he asked: ‘Your plans are made for your trip home?’ she was able to say: ‘Yes, thank you—after my night duty—you remember?’ She spoke cautiously, not quite happy about holding conversations in the North Sea while swimming.
She heard him grunt. ‘You will fly?’
‘Yes, in the morning—I shall be home during the afternoon.’
‘You will meet all your friends?’
It was a question. ‘Yes.’
‘You have a great many. One in particular?’
She thought of Jack and hesitated. ‘Not really. You asked me the other day.’
‘I forget,’ he said laconically, and then: ‘Race you in!’ and he allowed her to win.
They were lying on the sand, soaking up the sun, when Maureen and Paul joined them and Lucius asked the boy to go to the chalet and fetch the flask of coffee they had brought with them, but it was Maureen who suggested with an air of great friendliness that Phoebe might like to go with him. ‘For he’ll never manage the mugs as well,’ she said gaily. As Phoebe got to her feet she watched the little smile on Maureen’s face. It was amused and faintly contemptuous and she made no effort to hide it because Lucius was lying on his back with his eyes shut, and there was no need.
In the chalet they found the coffee and a tin of biscuits, and when Phoebe asked Paul where she should find the mugs, he shrugged his shoulders and turned his back, making for the door.
‘There’s no need to be rude,’ she told him firmly. ‘I asked a civil question and I deserve a civil answer.’
He shrugged his shoulders again and pointed to a wall cupboard. ‘They’re there.’
She collected four, added spoons and asked: ‘Paul, why do you dislike me?’
He stuck out his lower lip. ‘I don’t know you,’ he muttered.
‘No—and I don’t know you, do I? But that’s no reason to dislike a person.’
He gave her a flickering glance from his dark eyes. ‘Maureen says you’re …’ He stopped, and she saw that he wasn’t going to say anything more, but at least she had a clue. Heaven knew what the girl had told him. She said quietly: ‘Let’s go, shall we?’
They lunched at the hotel and later bathed again, but this time Lucius didn’t come near her in the water, and yet he had been his usual kindly self at lunch and a very attentive host. She swam around for a little while, then went and lay on the sand waiting for the others, wondering when they would go back—after tea, she supposed, a meal which they took picnic fashion from a tray brought out from the hotel. It was still warm. Phoebe would have liked to have stayed where she was, soaking up the sun and dreaming, but instead she was forced to keep alert, answering Maureen’s sly questions and parrying her remarks, sweetly made. ‘Such a pity you don’t have more time to swim—you poor thing, having to work so hard, you never have a chance to get good at anything, do you?’ Her voice dripped kindness.
‘No,’ said Phoebe, her voice pleasant although she seethed, ‘but it wouldn’t make any difference. I’m far too cowardly.’
‘Oh, never that! Cautious, perhaps some people have no spirit of adventure …’
Phoebe had thought Lucius to be asleep, he had been so quiet, but now he interrupted them. ‘A remark which can hardly be applied to Phoebe. I doubt if she would have come to Holland otherwise.’ He rolled over and looked at her and smiled lazily. ‘You’ll come back to dinner, Phoebe? It will be a pleasant end to a pleasant day.’
She thanked him nicely. Only his innate kindness and his beautiful manners had made him invite her, she felt sure, but the invitation gave her a badly needed uplift. ‘I’ve only got my beach clothes with me,’ she told him.
His unexpected: ‘I like blue, it suits you,’ took her quite by surprise and he went on: ‘I’m sure none of us mind, and it will give me a good excuse to wear a shirt and slacks.’
He kept his word. When Phoebe went downstairs after making the best of her appearance in one of the beautiful bedrooms at the back of the house, it was to find him as informally dressed as she was so that she forgot the blue and white cotton shift she was wearing—forgot it until Maureen joined them. She, clever girl, had changed into an artlessly simple white dress which showed off her tan to perfection and made her look like some Greek goddess. She had brushed her dark hair until it gleamed and wore plain gold hoops as earrings, and on her bare feet she had gold kid sandals—she was wearing false eyelashes too, and Phoebe drew a thin trickle of comfort from the knowledge that her own, long and curling, were more than their equal. Secure in this knowledge, she was able to compliment Maureen upon her appearance in a serene manner before going to sit by Paul, whom she engaged in uneasy conversation until dinner was ready.
Because Paul was to dine with them, the meal had been put forward half an hour and they ate it in a room at the back of the house, filled with mellow old furniture, the table decked with fine china and silver worn paper-thin with age. The talk was general, and because Paul was with them, of a lighthearted nature. Phoebe, despite the presence of Maureen, enjoyed herself even though the boy avoided speaking to her and his governess, in a dozen subtle ways, allowed her to see just how firmly she was ensconced in the doctor’s household. But Lucius at least made it his business to entertain her, so that her chagrin was all the more intense when, after dinner and when Paul had gone to bed, she suggested that she should go back to hospital and Lucius made no attempt to persuade her to stay, as he might well have done, for it was still early.
‘I’ll run you back,’ he told her, and got to his feet with no sign of regret, and when she protested that she could walk the short distance, he took no notice at all but walked with her to the door while she bade Maureen good night.
They were halted at the door by that young lady’s: ‘Don’t be long, will you, Lucius, and will you take me home? A
ll that fresh air has made me too sleepy to be sociable tonight.’
Lucius had nodded without speaking and Phoebe got into the car beside him wondering what exactly Maureen had meant—was she in the habit of keeping him company in the evenings, or was she merely once more reminding Phoebe that she was firmly entrenched both in the doctor’s home and his affections? She mulled it over while they drove to the hospital in silence. It was only when he stopped before its entrance that he spoke.
‘I enjoyed our day. Perhaps we may do it again, Phoebe. I hope you enjoyed it too, though perhaps not as much as I.’ He turned to look at her. ‘I’m indebted to your sister for persuading you to take her place—we might never have met.’
Phoebe sought for a suitable answer to this and could think of none. After a short silence, she came up with: ‘I enjoyed myself very much, thank you, Doctor …’
‘Lucius.’
‘Lucius.’ She smiled at him. ‘Good night.’
For answer he bent his head to kiss her, a gentle kiss on the corner of her mouth. ‘I’ve been meaning to do that for some time,’ he informed her, ‘but I’ve such an infernal bad memory!’ He got out of the car, opened her door and waited by it until the porter had opened the wicket in the door. She looked back and waved a little uncertainly and he raised a hand in casual salute. All the way over to the Home she was wondering if he was going to kiss Maureen good night too.
* * *
She woke the next morning to the realisation that she would be going on night duty that evening and she didn’t particularly want to. It would mean that she wouldn’t see anything of Lucius; consultants didn’t do rounds at night, they had their registrars and housemen for that. Only upon very rare occasions or in some emergency did they appear on the wards, and that wasn’t very often. She would have to resign herself to not seeing him at all and the idea didn’t please her at all. She told herself what fun it had been trying to capture his attention; that it had been amusing even if not very successful, but at least he had noticed her a little and the detestable Maureen hadn’t liked it. Presumably the doctor was old and wise enough to know what he was about, but Phoebe distrusted the governess as well as disliking her, nor did she think that she had a good influence upon Paul, despite her air of efficiency.
She wished she knew more about the fracas in his house, too, although Maureen had got back into his good graces quickly enough, surely a sign that he fancied her, for he had been very angry … Phoebe reminded herself that she was very sorry for him. She frowned at her reflection as she pinned on her cap and repeated, out loud, that she was sorry for him for all the world as though she had contradicted herself. He was wrapped up in his work, unnoticing of the web Maureen was spinning for him—and Paul, would she be good to him? She thought not, for she wasn’t the maternal type and the little boy badly needed mothering. She went down to breakfast and consumed her coffee and boterham, her head full of gloomy thoughts, not the least of which was that, counting her nights off, it would be a full two weeks before she would see Lucius again.
She was mistaken, for, coming off duty the next morning, yawning her head off and longing for her bed, she found him waiting at the head of the basement stairs.
‘Five minutes,’ he told her without preamble, and when she looked at him, bewildered. ‘You’d better have a cup of coffee, we can breakfast after our swim.’
‘Our swim?’ she repeated stupidly, her eyes huge for want of sleep. ‘Is this something you forgot to tell me, Doctor van Someren?’
He looked thoughtful. ‘Possibly—you know what a head I have for remembering things, you must make allowances—anyway, I’ve told you now, haven’t I?’
‘I’m tired.’
‘So am I,’ he assured her. ‘I’ve been up half the night. We need some exercise, so bustle up like a good girl. I’ll be in the car.’
It was ridiculous, she told herself, half laughing, half angry, as she tore off her uniform and flung on a cotton dress, pulled the pins out of her hair, brushed it perfunctorily, tied it back anyhow and raced downstairs, her swimsuit under her arm.
‘Honestly,’ she declared roundly as Lucius opened the Jaguar’s door, ‘I’ve not had time to do anything—I look a sight!’
‘For sore eyes. Is that not what you say? You should wear your hair like that more often.’
‘In a tangle?’ she asked incredulously, ‘and with nothing on my face—I feel awful.’
He was going slowly through the still quiet streets of Delft. ‘At least you do not have to waste time putting on your eyelashes,’ he observed mildly. ‘Now shut your eyes and take a nap, I’ll wake you when we get to Noordwijk.’
It was difficult to open her eyes; Phoebe felt his hand on her shoulder, but the urge to ignore it was very strong, but the hand was gently persistent, she woke up and found that he had parked the car in the hotel grounds again. ‘Come on, lazybones,’ he teased her gently as he helped her out of the car, put a key into her hand and said: ‘Get undressed while I order breakfast,’ and strolled away.
Once she had shaken off sleep she felt better, and by the time she was in her swimsuit she felt almost normal again. It was a lovely morning, cool enough to make her shiver a little as she came out of the chalet to find Lucius waiting for her.
She went to the water’s edge, her toes curling under the chilly little waves, poking her hair unceremoniously into her cap, and he joined her there. She had barely tucked the last few stray curls away when he caught her briskly by the hand and ran her into the sea. The water was cold but not unkindly so. Phoebe gasped and laughed and finally swam, feeling her body glow and an energy she didn’t know she possessed after a hard night’s work.
‘This is gorgeous—I could go on for ever!’
He made a wide circle round her, tearing through the water at a great rate before settling alongside her. ‘You see? I knew you would feel better for it. We’ll do this every morning while you’re on night duty.’
He gave her a gentle shove in the direction of the beach.
‘But your time?’
‘There’s always time to do the things one wishes to do, have you not discovered that?’ He rolled over on to his back, paddling along slowly to keep pace with her earnest efforts. ‘I don’t start work until nine or half past, and we shall be back by then.’
‘But Paul—won’t you miss seeing him off to school?’ she spluttered, her mouth full of water. ‘And won’t he mind!’ she managed.
‘We go our own ways in the morning—in the winter we breakfast together and during his holidays, of course. When he was quite a little boy we agreed about certain things. He understands that not having a mother he must accept that some things have to be different.’
Something in his voice warned her not to ask any more questions. When they reached the beach she said lightly: ‘That was really marvellous—and how lovely it is with almost no one here.’
His eyes swept the empty expanse of sand. ‘Just the two of us,’ he agreed, and his eyes came to rest on hers. ‘Lovely.’ And something in his face made Phoebe say hastily, ‘I’ll go and change, I won’t be a minute.’
They ate a gargantuan breakfast, sharing the hotel’s large dining room with only a handful of people, for it was not yet nine o’clock. Phoebe, buttering toast with a lavish hand, observed: ‘I could stay up all day, I feel so wide awake,’ and had the remark greeted by a derisive chuckle from her companion.
‘I’ll check on that tomorrow morning,’ he promised her, ‘and now if you’ve finished …?’
An hour later, sitting up in bed, she felt so full of energy still that she decided that she wouldn’t sleep; she would read for an hour or so and then get up and make a cup of tea. But she didn’t open her book at once. She was wondering what Maureen would think, and possibly say, when she discovered that Lucius had taken her swimming and that the exercise was going to be repeated each morning until she went to England. Her satisfaction at the thought of Maureen’s annoyance was tinged by regret at having to leave
Delft, even for a few days. It would be lovely to see Sybil married, but she wished it could have been at some other time. She closed her eyes on the thought and slept.
She didn’t wake until she was called at half past six and when she told Lucius that in the morning they laughed about it together. By the third morning she managed to have a cup of coffee on the ward, so as not to keep him waiting while she went to the dining room, and when they returned from their swim she changed into her cotton dress and sandals, put up her hair and went out to buy another beach outfit. She was coming out of the shop, a woefully expensive but eminently becoming ensemble dangling in its gay carrier bag, when she met Maureen—the last person she wished to see, for she was longing for her bed. The fine energy engendered by her swim was oozing slowly away and she was in no state to parry Maureen’s clever thrusts, and she wasn’t sure if her temper, now she was tired, would stand up to pinpricks. Maureen had stopped, so Phoebe braced herself.
But therewas no need. The governess was pleasant, even friendly—she mentioned the early morning swim and gave her opinion that it was a splendid idea; she sympathised about the lack of time Phoebe had in which to enjoy herself while she was on night duty too. ‘But you’ll make up for that at your sister’s wedding, won’t you?’ she suggested, laughing.
Phoebe tried to clear her sleep-laden wits. Maureen was behaving quite out of character and she wondered why. Besides, she was sure that she had never mentioned her trip to England to her. ‘I didn’t know I had told you,’ she essayed.
