by Betty Neels
When they left shortly after a brief visit to the now clean animal, Phoebe expressed the view that he was a handsome dog, despite his undernourished frame. She wondered, out loud, what sort of a dog he might be and was indignant when Lucius laughed.
‘I shall buy him a collar and a lead,’ she declared. ‘They will make a birthday present for Paul.’ She stopped and turned to look at Lucius. ‘You are going to give him to Paul, aren’t you?’ she asked, suddenly anxious.
He took her arm. ‘Of course, but on one condition, that you are at my house by four o’clock tomorrow, for I can see that I shall need all the support I can get when that animal makes his entry.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE tea party was in full swing when Phoebe arrived at the doctor’s house the following afternoon. She was surprised to find quite a number of people in the sitting room. Two-thirds of them were children, which was to be expected, the remainder were older people—aunts, uncles and a fair sprinkling of guests whom she had already met or seen in or around the hospital—and of course Maureen. One glimpse of her, in a sleeveless green dress, her hair piled in a cluster of curls, silver sandals on her bare feet, was enough to make Phoebe thankful that she had taken extra pains with her own toilette and had put on a blue silk jersey dress which highlighted her eyes in a most satisfactory manner, and added blue kid sandals to match it. Her hair she had done as she always did, rather severely drawn back from her face, and she wore no jewellery at all. She greeted the doctor sustained by the knowledge that she looked as nice, if not nicer than the governess; the thought added a sparkle to her eye and a faint pink to her cheeks and Lucius, greeting her, paused to take a second look.
‘And what have you been up to?’ he wanted to know. ‘You look—pleased with yourself.’
She looked at him with innocent eyes. ‘Me? Nothing—I’ve been working all the morning.’ She gave him a smile and crossed the room to wish Paul a happy birthday. ‘And I’ve something for you, but I’ll give it to you later,’ she explained as Arie Lagemaat bore her off to a corner, where he produced tea and cake for her, saying: ‘Mies told me to look out for you.’
‘If I’d known, I would have changed my off duty so that she could have come—she has far more right to be here than I have.’
He smiled nicely. ‘You’re mistaken there. I’m waiting for the great moment.’
‘Oh—do you know?’
He nodded and smiled as his eyes met hers. ‘I’m to tell Mies all about it later.’
‘Do you think …?’ she began, then caught sight of Mijnheer van Vliet, the vet, standing in the doorway. A moment later Lucius crossed the room to where Paul was standing with his own friends. He took the wicker box hesitantly, his eyes on the doctor’s face, and then, at the small snuffling sound from it, opened it in a rush. He and the puppy eyed each other for a brief moment and then the boy lifted him out to hold him tight against his chest. ‘Is he really for me, Papa?’ he asked in a strained little voice.
‘Yes, for you, Paul—your very own dog.’
Phoebe thought that Paul was going to burst into tears, but instead he said in an excited voice: ‘Oh, Papa, thank you! He’s so beautiful and so—so noble—I shall call him Rex.’
As he spoke his eyes slid past Lucius to where Maureen was standing. They held pleading and defiance, but she turned her head away as Lucius went on: ‘He’s been ill, so I’m afraid Oom Domus will have to take him back for a few more days, but you shall go and see him each day and we’ll have him home just as soon as he’s fit—and as to thanking me, Paul, it is Phoebe whom you should thank for it was she who begged me to have him—you see, someone had just thrown him out and she rescued him.’
Everyone looked at her so that she smiled in lunatic fashion and retreated as far as possible behind Arie, feeling a fool. But when Paul came across to her, the puppy still clutched close, she forgot about the others. ‘You really like him, Paul? I thought he had the sweetest face and such soft eyes. He’s going to be happy with you; you’ll grow up together.’ She produced her own present. ‘I thought he might wear these just to begin with, until he’s learned to obey you, you know.’
She undid the small parcel for him, because he had no intention of letting go of the dog, and watched while he exclaimed over the red collar and lead.
‘I don’t know much about dogs,’ he told her gruffly as he thanked her.
‘Something you’ll learn very quickly as you go along,’ she assured him comfortably, ‘and I’m sure Mijnheer van Vliet will give you lots of good advice, and your papa too.’ She stroked the puppy’s black nose, ‘I’m glad he’s made you happy, Paul,’ she said.
He turned to go back to his friends and then came close to her to whisper so that she had to bend down to hear what he was saying.
‘I don’t think you’re a scheming woman at all—Maureen says I mustn’t like you, but I do.’
She said nothing, fearful of breaking the first threads of a friendship which was still too fragile to risk breaking with a careless word. She left soon after that, after a quiet goodbye to Lucius and an exchange of polite words with Maureen, whom, she suspected, was very angry indeed, for as they parted Maureen said with deceptive friendliness: ‘You and I must meet some time, Phoebe—I’m sure we have a great deal to say to each other.’
‘I’m free on Thursday,’ said Phoebe, if she had to grasp the nettle she might as well get it over with, ‘can’t we meet for tea?’
‘My dear, I work, or had you forgotten? But I’ll think of something.’
Lucius saw her to the door. On its step he observed blandly: ‘I had no idea that you and Maureen were such good friends,’ and something in his voice made her look at him sharply, but there was nothing but polite interest in his face.
‘We—we know each other very well,’ she answered carefully.
He leaned against the heavy door. ‘You surprise me. I had quite the reverse impression—which just shows you how unobservant I am.’
She smiled at him. ‘Now it’s my turn to say I had quite the reverse impression, despite your notebook.’
His hand went to his pocket. ‘Good heavens—
wait!’ He was thumbing through it. ‘I know I made a note—yes, here it is. Have I asked you to dine with me this evening? If not, I’m asking you now.’
She laughed. ‘No, you didn’t, and if I say yes, will you remember that I did?’
He stared down at her. ‘Oh, yes, I shall remember. Thank you for making Paul’s birthday such a happy one.’
‘It wasn’t me—you said yourself that it was an answer from heaven.’
He held her two hands in his, staring down at her, and she wondered what he was going to say. When he spoke she was disappointed.
‘Tot ziens, then. I’ll pick you up at the hospital at eight o’clock.’
It was on her way back that she began to wonder why he wasn’t taking Maureen out that evening. She might have another engagement, but she was hardly likely to be pleased if he went off with someone else—perhaps he wasn’t going to tell her; perhaps their understanding of each other was so complete that it just didn’t matter. If she were Maureen, though, she wouldn’t share Lucius with anyone, however platonically.
There was one dress in her wardrobe which she hadn’t worn yet, a pastel patterned crêpe. She belted it around her slim waist, caught up a coat and went downstairs as the clock struck eight.
She hadn’t given much thought as to where Lucius would take her, for she had been far too excited to think sensibly about anything, and the sight of him, standing on the hospital steps, smoking his pipe and exchanging the time of day with the porter on duty, most effectively splintered the cool she had struggled so hard to maintain.
As they got into the car, Lucius said, ‘I thought we’d try Schevingenen—everyone goes there. It’s a kind of Dutch Brighton, and if you don’t pay it at least one visit, no one will believe you’ve been to Holland.’
They were out of Delft, streaking down the motorw
ay towards den Haag and the coast, before she said diffidently: ‘I thought you would be going out with Paul and Maureen—you know, for a birthday treat.’
He sounded as though he was laughing. ‘I took Paul to lunch—Reyndorp’s Prinsenhof, I expect you’ve been there? and we spent the evening at van Vliet’s, getting acquainted with Rex. Paul has gone to bed a very happy little boy.’
‘I’m glad,’ said Phoebe, and wished he would mention Maureen, but he didn’t. They entered into a lighthearted conversation about dogs which led, somehow, to talking about her home, and by the time he had parked the car outside the Corvette Restaurant, nothing mattered but the delightful fact that they were to spend the evening together.
It was a gay place and crowded and the menu was enormous. She studied it, hoping for some clue from her companion. It was quickly forthcoming. ‘I’m famished,’ observed Lucius. ‘Paul’s idea of lunch is consistent with his age group—pofferjes, ice-cream and some mammoth sausage rolls—you see, on his birthday, he plays host and orders the food—I merely eat it.’
Phoebe laughed. ‘It sounds frightful, but I expect he loved it and thought you did too.’ She added helpfully, ‘I’m hungry.’
He sighed with exaggerated relief. ‘Good—let’s have herring balls with our drinks and then oyster soup, duckling stuffed with apples, and finish with Gateau St Honoré?’
It sounded delicious, although she wasn’t sure about the oysters; perhaps they would look different in soup, but by the time they had had their drinks and demolished the herring balls, she was prepared to like anything. Over their meal she found herself telling Lucius exactly why she had taken Sybil’s place. ‘I thought it was an awful thing to do at first,’ she explained a little shyly, ‘and then Sybil was so determined to leave, and all the arrangements had been made—and I was longing for a change.’ Her voice, without her knowing it, was wistful.
‘Ah, yes,’ his voice was gentle, ‘and to get away from someone, perhaps?’
The excellent Burgundy they had been drinking betrayed her. ‘Well, yes, that too—though he did turn up at the wedding.’
Lucius lifted a hand to the waiter and sat back comfortably while the plates were changed. ‘And does that mean that there will be more wedding bells?’ His tone was so casual that she answered almost without thought.
‘Heavens, no! It was just that he was put out because I didn’t fall into his arms like a ripe plum.’ She added ingenuously: ‘I’ve forgotten what he looks like.’
‘Yes?’ he smiled. ‘You’re more of a peach than a plum, you know. One is sorry for the young man.’ He speared a portion of duck. ‘But you have another admirer, did you know?’
She kept her eyes on her plate. Maureen or not, had she at last made an impression on his vague abstraction?
‘Paul,’ he went on cheerfully. ‘A bit of a slow starter, wasn’t he? But now you’re female number one in his world. Maureen had better look out.’
And so had I, thought Phoebe, but all she said was: ‘How charming of him. I should like to be friends.’
‘Nice of you, Phoebe, after that strange episode in the warehouse. I find it hard to imagine that he did it purely for fun—he must have had some reason.’ His eyes searched hers across the table, and silently she agreed with him. Aloud she said comfortably: ‘Oh, you know what boys are like, always up to something.’ She looked around, desperate to get the conversation on to an impersonal level. ‘What a delightful place this is. I expect you come here often.’
His eyes twinkled. ‘No—why should I? Only when I’m celebrating something.’
‘Paul’s birthday; it was kind of you to ask me.’
His lips twitched, but he said no more on the subject, but presently asked her how many more weeks she had in Holland.
‘Three—less than that.’ She forced her voice to sound cheerful, thinking with dismay that the time was indeed short, and a week of it night duty, too. For the first time for some weeks she wondered what she would do when she got back to England. She might have pursued this melancholy train of thought if her companion hadn’t said to surprise her: ‘The time has gone very slowly, but probably you haven’t found it so.’
Phoebe stared at him, her pretty mouth slightly open. ‘No—I haven’t. It’s all fresh for me and everything’s strange, but I expect it’s different for you—one nurse after the other coming for a few weeks and then going again. I forget I’m one of a number.’
He didn’t answer, only turned as the waiter arrived at the table.
‘Ah, here is the famous Gateau St Honoré,’ he observed. ‘I think it deserves a bottle of champagne, don’t you?’
She was on the point of begging him to curb his extravagance, but when she caught the gleam in his eyes, she closed her mouth firmly. Only when the waiter had gone and they were drinking it did he ask her:
‘And what were you on the point of saying, dear girl? I have the impression that you disapprove of champagne—surely not?’
‘Of course I don’t.’ She hesitated and went rather red. ‘I—I just thought it was—well, champagne is rather expensive—you know, it’s for special occasions.’
‘You don’t consider this a special occasion?’ he was teasing her now. ‘Besides, let me set your mind at rest. I have quite enough money to drink champagne with every meal if I should wish to do anything so foolish.’
The red deepened; the knowledge vexed her. ‘I beg your pardon,’ she said stiffly, ‘I had no intention of prying.’
‘You’re not prying,’ he told her placidly. ‘I volunteered the information, didn’t I? I’m flattered that you were kind enough to consider my pocket—not many girls would.’
The blush which she had succeeded in quenching to some extent returned. ‘That’s unusual too,’ he went on, ‘a girl who blushes. Drink your champagne, we’re going for a walk.’
They went first to the southern end of the promenade where the fishing harbour, packed with herring boats, lay under the clear evening sky. There was a great deal to see, at least for Phoebe, who found the fishermen’s wives in their voluminous dresses and white caps quite fascinating. They lingered there while Lucius explained the variations of costume to her; he explained about the annual race by the herring boats to bring back the first herrings, too, and showing no sign of impatience, answered her fusillade of questions about one thing and another. And when she had seen enough, he took her arm and walked her back, the boulevard on one side, the firm, fine sand and the sea on the other, until they reached the lighthouse at the other end, pausing to examine the obelisk marking the exact spot where William had landed after the Napoleonic wars, and then walked back again.
It was a fine evening, pleasantly warm and fresh after the rain, and there were a great many people about, strolling along arm in arm, just as they were. Phoebe heaved a sigh of content because for the moment at any rate, she was happy, and although she told herself it was probably the champagne, she knew quite well that it was because she was with Lucius. And make the most of it, my girl, she admonished herself silently.
It was dark by the time they got back to the Kurhaus Hotel; strings of lights festooned the boulevard; the café and restaurants still crowded, were ablaze with lights too, and there was music everywhere. It seemed a fitting end to their evening to sit outside the restaurant, looking at the sea and drinking a final cup of coffee, and surprisingly, still with plenty to say to each other, although thinking about it later, Phoebe was forced to admit that she had done most of the talking.
It was midnight when they reached the hospital and when she began a little speech of thanks as they got out of the car Lucius stopped her with: ‘No need of thanks, Phoebe. I haven’t enjoyed myself so much for a long time—and I’m coming in—I want to have a look at Wil.’
But that didn’t stop her from thanking him just the same, once they were in the hospital. The hall porter had his back to them, there was no one else about. Lucius heard her out, clamped her immovable with his hands on her shoulders and kissed
her soundly. ‘Go to bed,’ he said, ‘my delightful Miss Brook.’
* * *
She didn’t see him at all the next day, and when Doctor Pontier came to do a round on the following morning, she asked with careful casualness where he was.
Her companion gave her a quick look. ‘The boss is in den Haag,’ he told her. ‘Some international meeting or other—it lasts three days, I believe. He’s there all day; doesn’t get home until the evening and leaves again early each morning.’
She murmured something. Lucius hadn’t said anything to her when they had been out together, but then, her common sense told her, why should he? She refused an invitation to the cinema, pleading a headache, and went off to cope with little Wil, who was poorly again.
She had just got off duty that afternoon and was on her way up to her room when the warden called after her that there was a young lady to see her. At least Phoebe, understanding only a few words, guessed that was the message. She turned and went downstairs again; it would be Maureen, her instinct warned her—and it was. Phoebe, seeing her sitting there in the comfortable rather drab little sitting room she shared with the other staff nurses, regretted that she had had no warning of her visitor; she would have re-done her face at least and tidied her hair. She said: ‘Hullo, Maureen,’ and her visitor smiled from her chair and said slowly: ‘Hullo. My dear, how frightfully worthy you look in that uniform, though I must say it’s a bit ageing—perhaps you’re just tired.’
Phoebe sat down in a small overstuffed chair, smiled her acknowledgement of this remark, and waited for Maureen to begin.
‘This business with that damned dog—how clever of you, Phoebe. Did you hope to win Paul over to your side because you knew Lucius is soft about him? If you did, you’re more of a fool than I thought. What did you hope to gain, I wonder? Lucius? Oh, I’ve seen your face when you look at him, so don’t pretend that you’re not interested. But it’s no good, my dear, I’ve got him where I want him—I only have to whistle and he’ll come, he and his home and his cars and his lovely bank balance. You see he thinks Paul adores me and he would do anything for the boy.’
