by Betty Neels
Tabitha smiled and said nothing, for it wasn’t much use saying that she envisaged a future in which the speaking of the Dutch language, however rudimentary, would be superfluous. It was fortunate that they were approaching Breskens and in watching the long queues of cars and road freighters waiting for the ferry, the conversation was channeled into another subject. They had to wait a little while, so Tabitha got out of the car and went to talk to Muriel behind them until at last they saw the funnel of the ferry sliding along behind the dyke and they were able to go aboard, where the two less active members of the party were left below while Marius escorted Muriel and Tabitha up to the deck. The river was wide and the water calm. Flushing, still in the distance, looked pleasant in the evening sun. Tabitha leaned over the rail and watched the blue-grey water and listened to Marius telling Muriel the town’s history, but it was his deep quiet voice to which she listened so that she didn’t hear a word of what he was saying.
They didn’t go into Flushing but drove past the naval base and the shipyards and turned away towards Middelburg, a mile or two away and almost at the end of their journey. They didn’t go through that city either, rather to Tabitha’s regret, for it looked intriguingly old-fashioned. She was forced to be content with Marius’s assurance that they would spend the day there before their return. They were in the country again by now, on a good road running between flat green fields and clusters of trees, and ahead, on the near horizon, she could see a huge church dome and beyond it a slender steeple, fairylike in its delicate tracery even at that distance. ‘That is Veere,’ said Marius. His voice sounded happy.
They seemed to come upon the little town quite suddenly, first over a little bridge spanning a little water, very quiet and peaceful, and then passing the great church with its massive dome. ‘It’s got an interesting history,’ explained Marius. ‘It’s not used any more, though it’s kept in repair.’
He had slowed the car so that Tabitha could look about her. The road had become quite narrow and countrylike, with small cottages on either side, and she was quite unprepared for the sudden right turn into a broad cobbled street running alongside a narrow stretch of water crammed with boats of all kinds, and lined on its other tree-shaded side by lovely old houses. There was another road, running off at right angles, away from the water, but they passed that and she barely had time to take a quick glimpse up it before Marius brought the car to a stop. ‘Here we are,’ he said.
He had stopped about two-thirds of the way down the quay-side and as he got out he said over his shoulder to Mr Bow: ‘Remember, Knotty?’ and Mr Bow said in a pleased voice: ‘Indeed, dear boy, I remember. While you are helping our dear Tabby out of the car I shall have a few minutes’ contemplation.’ He fixed his former pupil with a bright blue eye, then closed them both, as though to lend force to his statement. Tabitha, watching Marius walk round the bonnet to open the door for her, wondered why he was smiling, but she forgot about it immediately as she got out and the beauty of her surroundings burst upon her. For the moment, however, she had no eyes for anything else but Marius’s house, and with him silent beside her, she stood studying it.
It was a tall house, taller than its neighbours, and she noticed that each of the old houses was different from its neighbours, too, even though there was no space between them. The house she was looking at had two large windows downstairs and an important street door with a square fanlight, very much ornamented, above it, the whole framed with white painted woodwork. Above these were three more windows, a little smaller, and above those again, three more, even smaller, crowned by a tiled, pointed roof which also contained a miniature window, flanked by shutters. The house shone with its fresh paintwork and plaster front and its windows twinkled in the evening light. She said on a breath: ‘It’s lovely, Marius!’ and longed to go inside, and as if in answer to her wish, the door swung open and Hans—for it could be no one else—stood on its step.
She said: ‘That’s Hans, isn’t it?’ and turned to look at Marius, to find him staring down at her, his look so searching that she asked sharply: ‘What is it?’
But he didn’t answer, only laughed softly and turned away to speak to Muriel getting out of their car, so that the lovely moment was gone in a little whirl of greetings from Hans, comments on the journey from everyone and the unloading of the invalids and the luggage. The invalids were a little stiff and Mr Bow admitted to some pain, and Tabitha suspected that Mr Raynard wasn’t sorry the trip was over either. Once indoors, she decided, she would make them comfortable in the living room, give them each some Panadol and allow them to rest for a few minutes before the supper Marius had mentioned. She gathered up some of the smaller luggage and followed the others into the house, where Hans, hovering in the hall, removed it from her grasp and ushered her through a door on the left. It opened into a room which extended from the front to the back of the house, which hadn’t looked all that big from the outside, but the room was surprisingly large and it was obvious that the house extended back to a great depth.
As in the hall, the walls were oak-panelled to head height, above which they were ornamented with some quite beautiful plasterwork, as was the ceiling. The floor was close-carpeted in a deeply piled carpet of a dim terra-cotta shade and the furniture was, as far as she could judge in one brief glimpse, a happy mixture of the very comfortable and the antique. A room to be explored at her leisure, but now there was no time, for Marius was standing before her, saying in his calm way: ‘Welcome to my home, Tabitha.’
‘Thank you,’ said Tabitha gravely. ‘It’s beautiful—how can you bear to leave it?’ She was so earnest about it that he laughed.
‘You shall have a good look round at your leisure. Now I’m going to leave you to deal with our invalids while Hans takes the luggage up to our rooms. We can settle them in later, after supper—their rooms are upstairs, but that will be splendid exercise for them both just as long as you and I are there to make sure they don’t lean too heavily on their plasters.’
He was interrupted by the entry of a dog, a black Keeshond who greeted his master with a great show of affection before submitting to being introduced to the company as Smith, and presently when Marius went away, the dog went with him, leaving Tabitha to arrange the two invalids in comfortable chairs with suitable support for their injured legs, and as she had had the forethought to provide them with a pile of charts and maps, and Hans had arrived at exactly the right moment with a tray of drinks, there was no fault to find with their comfort; they settled down happily to con the charts just as Marius returned, accompanied by a plump fair-haired girl whom he introduced as Anneke. ‘She doesn’t speak a word of English,’ he explained, ‘but if you two girls like to go upstairs with her, she will show you your rooms and so forth. Supper will be about ten minutes if you’re agreeable.’
They followed Anneke into the hall which had a door at its end and an arched opening beside it, which, Tabitha discovered, led directly to a staircase. It had shallow oak treads and curved into the wall and had rails on either side of it, most beautifully carved. The staircase led on to a landing which meandered off in all directions into short cul-de-sacs, each of which ended in a door. Anneke chose the first of these, flung open its door, and stood aside for them to go in. The room was large with two old-fashioned sash windows overlooking the garden—the walled garden, Tabitha decided after a quick peep. It was furnished with solid mahogany of the late Empire period, polished to an exquisite patina, the curtains were of blue and green chintz, as was the bedspread. The walls were covered in the palest pink which was repeated exactly in the shades of the bedside lamps and the wall lamp convenient to the comfortable chairs drawn up to the table set between the windows. It was a charming room, warm from the sun and fragrant with the bowl of roses on the dressing table.
‘Ours,’ said Muriel with satisfaction. ‘Here’s our luggage.’ She looked at Anneke, who smiled and nodded and crossed the room to open what appeared to be a cupboard door, revealing a shower room with the satis
fied air of a magician carrying out a successful trick. Muriel sat down in one of the chairs. ‘I’m going to sit and admire my surroundings for five minutes,’ she announced. ‘I’ll find you presently, Tabby.’
Outside on the landing again Tabitha resisted a desire to linger over the paintings on the walls and asked experimentally: ‘Mr Bow’s room?’
She was understood—another door was opened on to a smaller room, but just as delightfully furnished. It had a view of the harbour and Tabitha would have liked to spend a few minutes at the window, but instead she obeyed Anneke’s beckoning hand and peered into another shower room, tiny but beautifully equipped. Marius certainly had a well appointed house.
She was a little disappointed when Anneke started up a smaller staircase in one corner of the landing—there were still three doors, all shut; she dearly wanted to see what was behind them. The next landing was the same size as the one below and had the same little passages. Her bedroom was presumably down one of them. It was—facing the harbour just as Mr Bow’s did, but a far larger room, all pink and cream and slender Hepplewhite furniture. It too had its bowl of roses and a little pile of books and magazines on the bedside table, and for her comfort, a small velvet-covered armchair by the window so that she could sit at ease, watching the ever-changing scene below. This time she knew what to expect when Anneke opened one of the doors in its walls, although this time it wasn’t a shower room but a miniature bathroom, pink-tiled and its floor covered with a thick pile carpet. She followed Anneke out on to the landing again and called down the stairs. ‘Muriel, I’m up here when you’re ready,’ and went back again to examine her room more thoroughly before tidying herself. She was just ready when Mrs Raynard arrived to look round with a good deal of interest and approval. ‘It’s a lovely house,’ she commented, ‘quite perfect and with every conceivable modern comfort one could wish for. I’m dying to see all over it, aren’t you, Tabitha?’
Marius came to meet them when they went downstairs. He gave them each a glass and asked: ‘Everything all right, I hope? Ask for anything you want.’
‘It’s perfect,’ said Tabitha. ‘I can’t think of the right words.’
He nodded in a satisfied way and she went and sat by Mr Bow until it was time for them to go in to supper, which they ate in an atmosphere of great conviviality, with Anneke looking after them and Hans appearing from time to time to make sure they were eating sufficient of his delicious cutlets and accompanying dishes of vegetables, which he followed with fresh peaches poached in brandy and a great deal of whipped cream. They drank their coffee round the dining table so that Mr Bow and Mr Raynard did not have to make the journey back to the sitting room, and under cover of the general conversation Tabitha found the opportunity to look about her. The dining room was at the end of the hall, by the staircase; a small room furnished with an oval table and straight-backed chairs which she thought might be William and Mary. There was an oval-fronted sideboard along one wall and a glass-fronted corner cupboard which was full of china and glass. The window looked out on to the garden at the back of the house and was draped with mulberry damask curtains; a carpet of the same colour covered the floor. Above the table hung a crystal chandelier, small replicas of which hung around the walls. It seemed to her to be a cosy room despite its richness. It would be pleasant to dine there on a dark winter’s day—with Marius, of course, after he had got home from a hard day’s work. She smiled at the thought and jumped visibly when he said: ‘Tabby’s a long way away,’ and when she looked round her they were all smiling. She said, stammering a little: ‘I’m so sorry—it’s such a pleasant room—I was thinking about it…’
‘I’m flattered that it has such an effect upon you.’ Marius’s voice was casual and friendly. ‘I know how you feel—each time I leave home I’m positively homesick.’
It was nice that he understood; she gave him a wide smile and joined with enthusiasm in the spirited discussion as to what they should do the next day, and could not but admire the tact with which Marius put forward the suggestion that his two friends might like to take things easy. Mindful of what he had said, Tabitha added her gentle persuasion to his, adding the artful rider that someone would have to make a list of provisions for the trips they intended making. This apparently satisfied the two invalids, who shortly afterwards consented to go to bed—an undertaking which took some time and caused a good deal of merriment before they were safely in their respective rooms. It was while Tabitha was helping Mr Bow into bed and putting the cradle thoughtfully provided in position under the bedclothes that the old man said:
‘I fancy this holiday will do us all a good deal of good, my dear Tabitha. I for one feel a different man already, for it is surprising how everything takes on a better colour when there is once more a future to look forward to.’
Tabitha was putting a bedsock over his toes, because he got cold feet and he was, after all, an old man, and she didn’t look up. ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ she agreed cheerfully, her bright voice concealing the cheerless thoughts she harboured concerning her own future.
But it was impossible to be low-spirited when she wakened the following morning to find Anneke standing by her bed with morning tea. There was a note on the tray—she recognized Marius’s hieroglyphic writing and opened it to decipher it with the ease of one used to reading the almost unintelligible scrawl of the medical profession. ‘It’s early,’ he had written, ‘but come down as soon as you are dressed. I want to talk to you.’
Tabitha’s heart sang; not only was it a glorious morning but Marius wanted to talk to her. As she dressed she sensibly told herself that it was probably about Mr Bow and Mr Raynard, which sober thought did nothing to steady her pulse. Ten minutes later, in navy slacks and a white cotton sweater, her hair tied back and hanging to her waist, she went downstairs.
There was no sign of Marius in the hall, nor was he in the vast sitting room. She went back along the hall and into the dining room. That was empty too, but there were several doors in it. She tried two and found cupboards, but the third revealed a small room, its walls lined with books, its French window opening on to the garden. There was a large desk bearing a powerful reading lamp and a great many papers on it. Marius was sitting behind it, writing. He looked up as she went in with the air of a man who hadn’t expected to be disturbed, and she said hastily:
‘I couldn’t find you—I didn’t mean to trespass, only you said come down as soon as I could be dressed.’
He got up and came round the desk to stand before her, studying her with a laughing leisurely gaze. ‘You may go where you like in my house, Tabitha—if I had known that you would be so quick I would have been waiting for you. What did you do? Wave a wand?’
She laughed. ‘No—but I didn’t bother with my hair.’
He put a hand behind her and gave its brown silkiness a gentle tug.
‘Well, don’t bother while you’re here—it looks nice.’ He grinned suddenly: ‘Good morning, Tabitha,’ and when she looked up, kissed her and said immediately: ‘Come and see the boat,’ and led her through the house and out into the bright morning where they were joined by Smith. There weren’t many people about yet; a paper boy with his load of news, the postman, a waiter stacking chairs outside a café—there was more movement on the boats though, a leisurely coming and going which fitted in very well with the summer morning’s gentle warmth.
‘You wanted to talk to me,’ reminded Tabitha as they went along, and when he slipped an arm through hers and said: ‘Presently, dear girl,’ she was content to let it rest there because she wanted to look about her as they crossed the street to the water’s edge. Just below them lay the boats—yachts, motor cruisers, dinghies, catamarans, yawls, rowing boats and a great number of inflatables. To their right lay a low brick building which she guessed to be the yacht club. They strolled towards it and as they went she asked: ‘Which one is yours?’
He walked on for a few paces and stopped by a roomy yacht moored to the bank. ‘This one,’ he
said. It was very smart as to paintwork and carried plenty of sail and there was a diesel engine as well. It looked large enough to take all of them with room to spare. She asked:
‘How many berths?’
‘Six—there’s plenty of space aboard and she’s a dream to handle. Come aboard.’ He stepped on to the deck and stretched out a hand to help her down beside him.
Tabitha was full of questions. ‘Is she Dutch?’
‘Yes—van Essen designed her. Come below.’
She looked at everything, still asking questions and listening carefully to his answers. ‘It’s rather different from a dinghy,’ she observed finally as they went back on deck. ‘I hope I shall be useful crewing.’
‘You will,’ he said cheerfully. ‘She’s the easiest thing in the world to handle.’ He caught her by the hand and helped her back on to the duckboards. ‘Come to the end of the harbour and get a view of the lake.’
She admired the houses as they went the few hundred yards. ‘And what’s this tower?’ she wanted to know.
‘The oldest inn in Holland,’ he explained, ‘although it’s now an hotel and restaurant. William of Orange held his wedding feast here—you can see a copy of the bill if you’ve a mind. We’ll go there for dinner one evening—it’s quaint inside and the food’s good.’
He led her under the archway beside the hotel and leant against the brick wall overlooking the water. The lake spread before them, disappearing into the early morning haze of a warmth to come. Tabitha could see the further shore quite clearly as well as a great many small islands.
Marius waved an arm in their general direction. ‘We can go out into the Oosterschelde from here, but if we only want to potter there are a hundred places along the shore where we can tie up and swim and lie in the sun. We’ll take Hans with us, I think, he’ll be useful getting our two invalids ashore.’
