Читать книгу Rags To Riches: Her Duty To Please: Nanny by Chance / The Nanny Who Saved Christmas / Behind the Castello Doors - Шантель Шоу, Бетти Нилс - Страница 10

THE day was every bit as bad as Araminta had expected it to be. Paul woke up peevish, hot and sorry for himself, and it took a good deal of coaxing to get him washed and into clean pyjamas, his temperature taken and a cold drink swallowed. Bas had produced some coloured straws, which eased the drinking problem, but the mumps had taken hold for the moment and her heart ached for the small swollen face.

Nevertheless, she got through the day, reading to the invalid until she was hoarse, playing games with Peter and then taking him for a walk with Humphrey while Nel sat with Paul. They returned, much refreshed, armed with drawing books, crayons, a jigsaw puzzle and a couple of comics, had their tea with Humphrey in the sitting room and then went to spend the rest of the afternoon with Paul. He still felt ill, but his headache was better, he said, although it still hurt him to swallow.

‘You’ll feel better tomorrow,’ Araminta assured him. ‘Not quite well, but better, and when your uncle comes home I expect he’ll know what to do to take away the pain in your throat.’

The doctor came home just after six o’clock, coming into the boys’ room quietly, his civil good evening to Araminta drowned in the boisterous greeting from Peter and the hoarse voice of Paul. Humphrey, who had been lying on his bed, lumbered up to add his welcome and the doctor stooped to pat him.

Before the doctor could voice any disapproval of dogs on beds, Araminta said firmly, ‘I said that Humphrey could get on the bed. He’s company for Paul and comforting, too, so if you want to scold anyone, please scold me.’

He looked at her with raised eyebrows and a little smile which held no warmth. ‘I was not aware that I had given my opinion on the matter, Miss Pomfrey. I see no reason to scold anyone, either you or Humphrey.’

And, having disposed of the matter, he proceeded to ask her how the day had gone. He sat on the bed while she told him, examining Paul’s face and neck, taking his temperature, listening to his small bony chest, looking down his throat.

‘You’re better,’ he declared cheerfully. ‘You’re going to feel horrible for a few days, and you’ll have to stay in bed for a while, but I’ve no doubt that Miss Pomfrey will keep you amused.’

‘Does Miss Pomfrey—well, you mean Mintie, of course—amuse you too, Uncle?’ This from Peter.

The doctor glanced across at Araminta. ‘Oh, decidedly,’ he said, and smiled at her, a warm smile this time, inviting her to share the joke.

It was impossible to resist that smile. She agreed cheerfully and listened to Peter, like all small boys, enlarging upon the idea with gruff chuckles from his twin.

The doctor got up presently. ‘Ice cream and yoghurt for supper,’ he suggested. ‘Miss Pomfrey, if you would come down to my study, I will give you something to ease that sore throat. Peter, I leave you in charge for a few minutes.’

In the study, with Humphrey standing between them, he said, ‘You have had a long day. I’m afraid the next few days will be equally long. Paul is picking up nicely, and the swelling should go down in another five or six days. He must stay in bed for another day or so, then he could be allowed to get up, wrapped up warmly and kept in the room. Peter seems all right…’

‘Yes, and so good with his brother.’

‘I shall be at home this evening. I’ll keep an eye on the boys while you have dinner, and then if you would be with them for half an hour or so, I’ll take over. You could do with an early night…’

She said, before she could stop her tongue, ‘Do I look so awful?’

He surveyed her coolly. ‘Let us say you do not look at your best, Miss Pomfrey.’

He took no notice of her glare but went to his case. ‘Crush one of these and stir it into Paul’s ice cream. Get him to drink as much as possible.’ He added, ‘You will, of course, be experienced in the treatment of childish ailments?’

‘Yes,’ said Araminta. The horrible man. What did he expect when she’d been kept busy the whole day with the boys? Not look her best, indeed!

She went to the door and he opened it for her and then made matters worse by observing, ‘Never mind, Miss Pomfrey, as soon as the mumps have been routed, you shall have all the time you want for beauty treatment and shopping.’

She spun round to face him, looking up into his bland face. ‘Why bother? And how dare you mock me? You are an exceedingly tiresome man, but I don’t suppose anyone has dared to tell you so!’

He stared down at her, not speaking.

‘Oh, dear, I shouldn’t have said that,’ said Araminta. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your feelings, although I don’t see why I should be, for you have no regard for mine. Anyway,’ she added defiantly, ‘it’s a free world and I can say what I like.’

‘Indeed you can, Miss Pomfrey. Feel free to express your feelings whenever you have the need.’

He held the door wide and she flounced through. Back with the boys once more, she wondered if he would give her the sack. He was entitled to do so; she had been more than a little outspoken. On the other hand, he would have to get someone to replace her pretty smartly, someone willing to cope with two small boys and the mumps…

Apparently he had no such intention. Paul was soon readied for the night and Peter was prancing round in his pyjamas, demanding that he should have his supper with his brother.

‘Well, I don’t see why not,’ said Araminta. ‘Put on your dressing gown, there’s a good boy, and I’ll see what Bas says…’

‘And what should Bas say?’ asked the doctor, coming in in his usual quiet fashion.

‘That he won’t mind helping me bring supper up here for Peter as well as Paul.’

‘By all means. Ask him to do so, Miss Pomfrey, and then have your dinner—a little early, but I dare say you will enjoy a long evening to yourself.’

There was nothing to say to that, so she went in search of Bas.

Peter said. ‘You must say Mintie, Uncle. Why do you always call her Miss Pomfrey?’

‘I have a shocking memory. How about a game of Spillikins after supper?’

Araminta still felt annoyed, and apprehensive as well, but that didn’t prevent her from enjoying her meal. Jet sent in garlic mushrooms, chicken à la king with braised celery, and then a chocolate mousse. It would be a pity to miss these delights, reflected Araminta, relishing the last of the mousse. She must keep a curb on her tongue in future.

She went back to sit with the boys and the doctor went away to eat his dinner, urged to be quick so that there would be time for one more game of Spillikins before their bedtime.

‘It’s already past your bedtime,’ said Araminta.

‘Just for once shall we bend the rules?’ said the doctor as he went out of the room.

He was back within half an hour, and another half an hour saw the end of their game. He got up from Paul’s bed.

‘I’ll be back in five minutes,’ he told them, ‘and you’ll both be asleep.’

When he came back he said, ‘Thank you, Miss Pomfrey, goodnight.’

She had already tucked the boys in, so she wished him a quiet goodnight and left him there.

A faint grizzling sound wakened her around midnight. Peter had woken up with a headache and a sore throat…

She went down to breakfast in the morning feeling rather the worse for wear. The doctor glanced up briefly from his post, wished her good morning and resumed his reading. Araminta sat down, poured her coffee, and, since he had nothing further to say, observed, ‘Peter has the mumps.’

The doctor took off his spectacles, the better to look at her.

‘To be expected. I’ll go and have a look at him. He had a bad night?’

‘Yes,’ said Araminta, and stopped herself just in time from adding, And so did I.

‘And so did you,’ said the doctor, reading her peevish face like an open book. He passed her the basket of rolls and offered butter. ‘You’ll feel better when you’ve had your breakfast.’

Araminta buttered a roll savagely. She might have known better than to have expected any sympathy. She thought of several nasty remarks to make, but he was watching her from his end of the table and for once she decided that prudence might be the best thing.

She bit into her roll with her splendid teeth, choked on a crumb and had to be thumped on the back while she whooped and spluttered. Rather red in the face, she resumed her breakfast and the doctor his seat.

He said mildly, ‘You don’t appear to be your usual calm self, Miss Pomfrey. Perhaps I should get extra help while the boys are sick.’

‘Quite unnecessary,’ said Araminta. ‘With both of them in bed there will be very little to do.’

She was aware that she was being optimistic; there would be a great deal to do. By the end of the day she would probably be at her wits’ end, cross-eyed and sore-throated from reading aloud, headachey from jigsaw puzzles and worn out by coaxing two small fractious boys to swallow food and drink which they didn’t want…

‘Just as you wish,’ observed the doctor, and gathered up his letters. ‘I’ll go and have a look at Peter. Did Paul sleep?’

‘For most of the night.’

He nodded and left her to finish her breakfast, and presently, when he had seen Paul, he returned to tell her that Peter was likely to be peevish and out of sorts. ‘I’ll give you something before I leave to relieve his sore throat. Paul is getting on nicely. Bas will know how to get hold of me if you are worried. Don’t hesitate if you are. I’ll be home around six.’

The day seemed endless, but away from the doctor’s inimical eye Araminta was her practical, unflappable self, full of sympathy for the two small boys. Naturally they were cross, given to bursts of crying, and unwilling to swallow drinks and the ice cream she offered. Still, towards teatime she could see that Paul was feeling better, and although Peter’s temperature was still too high, he was less peevish.

She hardly left them; Nel relieved her when she had a meal, and offered to sit with them while she went out for a while, but Araminta, with Bas translating, assured her that she was fine and that when the doctor came home she would have an hour or two off.

She was reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe when he walked into the room. He sat down on Paul’s bed and didn’t speak for a moment.

‘I see Paul’s feeling better; what about Peter?’

He could at least have wished her good evening or even said hello.

‘He’s feeling off colour, and he’s been very good—they both have—and they’ve taken their drinks like Trojans. Jet is making them jelly for supper.’

‘Splendid. Go and have a stroll round the garden, Miss Pomfrey, and then have dinner.’

‘I’m perfectly…’ she began.

‘Yes, I know you are, but kindly do as I say.’ He said something in Dutch to the boys, and they managed to giggle despite the mumps.

Araminta went. First to her room to get a cardigan, and to take a dispirited look at her reflection. There seemed no point in doing more than brushing her hair into tidiness and powdering her nose; she went downstairs and passed Humphrey on his way up to join his master. She would have liked his company as she wandered to and fro in the garden.

It was growing chilly and she was glad of the cardigan and even more glad when Bas came to tell her that dinner would be ready in five minutes.

It was a delicious meal, but she didn’t linger over it. The doctor would need his dinner, too, and probably he had plans for his evening. It was Bas who insisted that she went to the drawing room to have her coffee.

Sitting by the cheerful fire presently, with the tray on a table beside her, she felt at peace with everyone…

She was pouring her second cup when she heard Bas admit someone. A minute later the door was thrust open and Christina Lutyns pushed past him and came into the room.

Araminta put the coffeepot down carefully. Her polite ‘Good evening, Mevrouw,’ went unanswered, though.

‘Why are you sitting here in the drawing room? Where is Dr van der Breugh? Why aren’t you looking after the children?’

Araminta didn’t need to answer, for the doctor had come into the room. His ‘Dag, Christina,’ was uttered quietly, and he smiled a little. ‘Miss Pomfrey is taking a well-earned hour or so from her duties. The reason she is not with the children is because she has been with them almost constantly since the early hours of today. They both have the mumps.’

Christina gave a small shriek. She lapsed into Dutch. ‘Don’t come near me; I might get them too. And that girl sitting there, she shouldn’t be here; she should stay with the boys. I shall go away at once.’ She contrived to look tearful. ‘And I was looking forward to our evening together. How long will they be ill?’

‘Oh, quite a while yet,’ said the doctor cheerfully. ‘But both Miss Pomfrey and I have had mumps as children, so we aren’t likely to get them again.’

‘I shall go,’ said Christina. ‘When there is no more infection you will tell me and we will enjoy ourselves together.’

She went then, ignoring Araminta, escorted to the door by the doctor who showed her out, taking care, at her urgent request, not to get too near to her.

When he went back into the drawing room Araminta had drunk her coffee and was on her feet. She said politely, ‘I enjoyed my dinner, thank you. I’ll see to the boys now.’

He nodded in an absent-minded manner. ‘Yes, yes, by all means. I’ll be back later on.’

‘There is no need—’ began Araminta, then she caught his eye and ended lamely, ‘Very well, doctor,’ and went meekly upstairs.

She had the boys ready for bed when he came back upstairs, bade her a civil goodnight, waited while she tucked the boys up and hugged them and then held the door open for her. As she went past him, he told her that he would be away from home for the next two days.

‘Unavoidable, I’m afraid, but I have asked a colleague of mine to call in each day. The boys have met him on previous visits and they like him. Don’t hesitate to call upon him if you need advice.’

Getting ready for bed, Araminta supposed that she should be glad that the doctor would be away from home. They didn’t get on and he was indifferent to her, although she had to admit that he was thoughtful for her comfort, while at the same time indifferent to her as a person.

‘Not that I mind,’ said Araminta, talking to herself, lying half-sleep in the bath. She said it again to convince herself.

Paul was much better in the morning and Peter, although still sorry for himself, was amenable to swallowing his breakfast. The doctor had left very early, Bas told her, but Dr van Vleet would be calling at about ten o’clock to see the boys.

They were sitting up in their beds, well enough now to talk while Araminta tidied the room, when the doctor came.

He was young, thickset and of middle height with a rugged face which just missed being handsome, but he had bright blue eyes and a wide smile. He shook hands with her, said something to the boys which made them laugh and added in English, ‘Van Vleet—I expect Marcus told you that I would look in.’

‘Yes, he did. They’re both much better. Peter’s still got a slight temperature, but the swellings have gone down since yesterday.’

‘I’ll take a look…’

Which he did, sitting on their beds while he examined them in turn, talking all the time, making them laugh.

‘They’re fine. I should think they might get up tomorrow. Though they must stay in a warm room…’

‘There’s a nursery close by. They could spend the day there.’

‘Don’t let them get tired.’ He smiled nicely at her. ‘Marcus told me that you were very experienced with small children, so I don’t have to bother you with a great many instructions.’

He closed his bag just as Bas came in. ‘Coffee is in the drawing room, Miss Pomfrey, Doctor…Nel will come and stay with the boys while you drink it.’

And when Araminta hesitated, he added, ‘Dr van der Breugh instructed me.’

So they went downstairs together and spent a short time over their coffee. Too short, thought Araminta, bidding him goodbye. She liked Dr van Vleet and he seemed to like her. It had been delightful to talk to someone who didn’t treat her with indifference, who actually appeared to like talking to her. She was glad that he would be coming again in the morning.

The boys were so much better the next day that there was really no need for Dr van Vleet to call, but he came, looked down their throats, peered into their ears, examined the receding mumps and pronounced himself satisfied.

‘Marcus will be back tonight,’ he told her. ‘I’ll phone him in the morning, but will you tell him that the boys are both fine.’

They had coffee together again, and when he got up he asked, ‘Do you get time off? I’d like to show you something of Utrecht while you’re here.’

Araminta beamed at him. ‘I’d like that. I get time off, of course, but it has to fit in with Dr van der Breugh.’

He took out his pocket book and wrote in it. ‘Here’s my phone number. When you are free, will you phone me? Perhaps we could arrange something.’

‘Thank you, I’ll let you know.’

She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling at the prospect of a day out with someone with whom she felt so completely at ease.

The pleasant feeling that she had met someone who liked her—enough to ask her out for a whole day—made the day suddenly become perfect, her chores no trouble at all, the boys little angels…

The glow of her pleasure was still in her face when the doctor came home. He had come silently into the house as he so often did, to be welcomed by Humphrey. Bas hurried to greet him, offered tea or coffee, and took his overnight bag. The doctor went into his study, put away his bag, tossed his jacket on a chair and went upstairs two at a time, to pause in the open doorway of the nursery where the two boys and Araminta were crouched on the floor before a cheerful fire playing Happy Families.

They looked round as he went in and the boys rushed to greet him. Araminta got to her feet and he stared at her for a long moment. He had thought about her while he had been away, unwillingly, aware that she disturbed him in some way, and he had returned home determined to relegate her to where she belonged—the vague background, which he didn’t allow to interfere with his work.

But the face she turned to him wasn’t easily dismissed; she looked happy. He was so accustomed to her quiet face and self-effacing manner that he was taken aback. Surely that look wasn’t for him? He dismissed the idea as absurd and knew it to be so as he watched the glow fade and her features assume their usual calm.

He wished her good evening, listened while she gave him a report on the boy’s progress, expressed himself satisfied and, when Bas came to tell him that he had taken his coffee to the drawing room, bore the two boys downstairs with him.

‘Fetch them in an hour, if you will, Miss Pomfrey. When they are in bed we can discuss their progress.’

Left alone, she tidied up the room, got everything ready for bedtime and sat down by the fire. Why was a fire so comforting? she wondered. The house was already warm but there were handsome fireplaces in the rooms in which fires were lighted if a room was in use. She had got used to living in comfort and she wondered now how she would like hospital life.

In a few weeks now they would be returning to England. She thought of that with regret now that she had met Dr van Vleet. She wondered if she should ask for a day off—she was certainly entitled to one—but Dr van der Breugh hadn’t looked very friendly—indeed, the look he had given her had made her vaguely uncomfortable…

She fetched the boys presently, and once they were finally in their beds went to her room to change for the evening. The skirt and one of the blouses, she decided. There seemed little point in dressing up each evening, for the doctor was almost never home. But she felt that if Bas took the trouble to set the table with such care, and Jet cooked such delicious dinners for her, the least she could do was to live up to that. She heard the doctor come upstairs and go into the boys’ room, and presently, making sure that they were on the verge of sleep, and with a few minutes so spare before Bas came to tell her dinner was ready, she went downstairs.

There was no sign of the doctor, but she hadn’t expected to see him. He would probably tell her at breakfast of any plans for the boys. Bas, crossing the hall, opened the drawing room door for her and she went in.

The doctor was sitting in his chair, with Humphrey at his feet. He got up as she went in, offered her a chair, offered sherry and when he sat down again, observed, ‘I think we may regard Peter and Paul as being almost back to normal. I think we should keep them from school for another few days, but I see no reason why they shouldn’t have a short brisk walk tomorrow if the weather is fine. Children have astonishing powers of recovery.’

Araminta agreed pleasantly and sipped her sherry. She hoped he wasn’t going to keep her for too long; she was hungry and it was already past the dinner hour.

‘You must have a day to yourself,’ said the doctor. ‘I’m booked up for the next two days, but after that I will be at home, if you care to avail yourself of a day. And this time I promise to make sure that you enjoy yourself. You may have the Jaguar and a driver, and if you will let me know where you would like to go, I will arrange a suitable tour for you.’

Araminta took another sip of sherry. So she was to be given a treat, was she? Parcelled up and put in a car and driven around like a poor old relative who deserved a nice day out.

She tossed back the rest of the sherry and sat up straight. ‘How kind,’ she said in a voice brittle with indignation, ‘but there is no need of your thoughtful offer. I have other plans.’

The doctor asked carelessly, ‘Such as?’ and when she gave him a chilly look he said, ‘I do stand, as it were, in loco parentis.’

‘I am twenty-three years old, doctor,’ said Araminta in a voice which should have chilled him to the bone.

He appeared untouched. ‘You don’t look it. Had I not known, I would have guessed nineteen, twenty at the most.’ He smiled, and she knew that she would have to tell him.

‘Dr van Vleet has asked me to spend the day with him.’

She had gone rather red, so that she frowned as she spoke.

‘Ah, a most satisfactory arrangement. And it absolves me from the need to concern myself over you. Telephone him and make any arrangements you like; I am sure you will enjoy yourself with him.’ He put down his glass. ‘Shall we go in to dinner?’

‘Oh, are you going to be here?’ Araminta paused; she had put that rather badly. ‘What I meant was, you’re dining at home this evening?’

The doctor said gravely, ‘That is my intention, Miss Pomfrey.’ She didn’t see his smile, for she was looking at her feet and wondering if she should apologise.

He, aware of that, maintained a steady flow of small talk throughout the meal so that by the time they had finished she felt quite her normal calm self again.

Getting ready for bed later, she even decided that the doctor could, if he chose, be a pleasant companion.

The next few days went well. The boys, making the most of their last free days before going back to school, took her about the city, spending their pocket money, feeding the ducks in the park, taking her to the Oudegracht to look at the ancient stone—a legendary edifice which, they told her, with suitable embellishments, had to do with the devil.

She saw little of the doctor, just briefly at breakfast, with occasional glimpses as he came and went during the day, but never in the evenings. Somehow he made time to be with his nephews before their bedtime, when she was politely told that she might do whatever she wished for a couple of hours, but they didn’t dine together again.

Not that Araminta minded. She had phoned Dr van Vleet and, after gaining the doctor’s indifferent consent, had agreed to spend the day with him on the following Saturday.

She worried as to what she should wear. It was too chilly for the two-piece; it would have to be a blouse and skirt and the jacket. A pity, she reflected crossly, that she never had the time to go shopping. In the meantime she would have to make do with whatever her meagre wardrobe could produce. She had money, the doctor was punctilious about that, so the very first morning she had an hour or two to herself she would go shopping.

The sun was shining when Dr van Vleet came for her; the doctor had already breakfasted, spent a brief time in his study and was in the garden with the boys, but they all came to see her off, the boys noisily begging her to come back soon. ‘As long as you’re here in the morning when we wake up,’ said Peter.

Dr van Vleet drove a Fiat and she quickly discovered that he liked driving fast. ‘Where are we going?’ she wanted to know.

‘To Arnhem first. We go through the Veluwe—that’s pretty wooded country—and at Arnhem there’s an open-air village museum you might like to see. You’ve seen nothing of Holland yet?”

‘Well, no, though I’ve explored Utrecht pretty thoroughly. With the boys.’

‘Nice little chaps, aren’t they?’ He gave her a smiling glance. ‘My name’s Piet, by the way. And what is it the boys call you?’

‘Mintie. Short for Araminta.’

‘Then I shall call you Mintie.’

He was right, the Veluwe was beautiful: its trees glowing with autumn colours, the secluded villas half hidden from the road. They stopped for coffee and, after touring the village at Arnhem, had lunch there.

After lunch he drove to Nijmegen and on to Culemborg, and then north to Amersfoort and on to Soestdijk so that she could see the royal palace.

They had tea in Soest and then drove back to Appeldoorn to look at the palace there. Piet finally took the Utrecht road, and she said, ‘You’ve given me a lovely day. I can’t begin to thank you; I’ve loved every minute of it…’

‘It’s not over yet. I hope you’ll have dinner with me. There’s rather a nice hotel near Utrecht—Auberge de Hoefslag. Very pretty surroundings, woods all round and excellent food.’

‘It sounds lovely, but I’m not dressed…’ began Araminta.

‘You look all right to me.’

And she need not have worried; the restaurant was spread over two rooms, one modern, the other delightfully old-fashioned, and in both there was a fair sprinkling of obvious tourists.

The food was delicious and they didn’t hurry over it. By the time they had driven the ten kilometres to Utrecht it was almost eleven o’clock.

Piet got out of the car with her and went with her to the door, waiting while she rang the bell, rather worried as it was later than she had intended. Bas opened the door, beamed a greeting at her and ushered her inside. He wished Dr van Vleet a civil goodnight and shut the door, and just for a moment Araminta stood in the hall, remembering her happy day and smiling because before they had said goodnight he had asked her to go out with him again.

‘A happy day, miss?’ asked Bas. ‘You would like coffee or tea?’

‘A lovely day, Bas.’ Her eyes shone just thinking about it. ‘I don’t want anything, thank you. I do hope I haven’t kept you up?’

‘No, miss. Goodnight.’

She crossed the hall to the staircase. The doctor’s study door was half open and she could see him at his desk. He didn’t look up, and after a moment’s pause she went on up the stairs. He must have heard her come in but he had given no sign. She wouldn’t admit it, but her lovely day was a little spoilt by that.

At breakfast he asked her if she had enjoyed her day out, and, quite carried away by the pleasure, she assured him that she had and embarked on a brief description of where they had been, only to realise very quickly that he wasn’t in the least interested. So she stopped in mid-sentence, applied herself to attending to the boys’ wants and her own breakfast, and when he got up from the table with a muttered excuse took no notice.

He turned back at the door to say, ‘I see no reason why the boys shouldn’t attend church this morning. Kindly have them ready in good time, Miss Pomfrey. And, of course, yourself.’

So they went to church, the boys delighted to be with their uncle, she at her most staid. The sermon seemed longer than ever, but she didn’t mind, she was planning her new clothes. Piet had said he would take her to Amsterdam, a city worthy of a new outfit.

The doctor, sitting so that he could watch her face, wondered why he had considered her so plain—something, someone had brought her to life. He frowned; he must remember to warn her…

There was a general upsurge of the congregation and presently they were walking home again.

They had just finished lunch and were full of ideas as to how they might spend their afternoon when Christina Lutyns was ushered in.

She kissed the doctor on both cheeks, nodded to the boys and ignored Araminta, breaking into a torrent of Dutch.

The doctor had got up as she entered, and stood smiling as she talked. When she paused he said something to make her smile, and then said in English, ‘I shall be out for the rest of the day, Miss Pomfrey.’ When the boys protested, he promised that when he came home he would be sure to wish them goodnight. ‘Although you may be asleep,’ he warned them.

They had been asleep for hours when he came home. He went to their room and bent to kiss them and tuck the bedclothes in, and Araminta, who had had a difficult time getting them to go to sleep, hoped that he would have a good excuse in the morning.

Whatever it was, it satisfied the boys, but not her, for he spoke Dutch.

That evening he asked her when she would like her free day. Piet had suggested Thursday, but she felt uncertain of having it. If the doctor had work to do he wouldn’t change that to accommodate her. But it seemed that Thursday was possible. ‘Going out with van Vleet again?’ asked the doctor casually.

‘Yes, to Amsterdam.’ She added, in a voice which dared him to disagree with her, ‘I hear it is a delightful city. I am looking forward to seeing it.’

‘Miss Pomfrey, there is something I should warn you about…’

‘Is there? Could it wait, Doctor? The boys will be late for school if I don’t take them now.’

‘Just as you like, Miss Pomfrey.’ And somehow she contrived not to be alone with him for the rest of the day; she felt sure he was going to tell her that they would be returning to England sooner than he had expected, and she didn’t want to hear that. Not now that she had met Piet.

Rather recklessly she went shopping during the morning hours while the boys were in school. Clothes, good clothes, she discovered, were expensive, but she couldn’t resist buying a dress and loose jacket in a fine wool. It was in pale amber, an impractical colour and probably she wouldn’t have much chance to wear it, but it gave her mousy hair an added glint and it was a perfect fit. She bought shoes, too, and a handbag and a pretty scarf.

Thursday came and, much admired by the boys, she went downstairs to meet Piet. He was in the hall talking to the doctor and turned to watch her as she came towards them. His hello was friendly. ‘How smart you look—I like the colour; it suits you.’

‘We told her that she looks beautiful,’ said Peter.

‘She does, doesn’t she, Uncle?’ Paul added.

The doctor, appealed to, observed that indeed Miss Pomfrey looked charming. But his eyes when he glanced at her were cold.

Amsterdam was everything that she had hoped for, and Piet took her from one museum to the other, for a trip on the canals, a visit to the Rijksmusee and there they had a quick look at the shops. They had coffee and had a snack lunch and, later, tea. And in the evening, as the lights came on, they strolled along the grachten, looking at the old houses and the half-hidden antique shops.

He took her to the Hotel de L’Europe for dinner, and it was while they drank their coffee that he told her that he was to marry in the New Year.

‘Anna is in Canada, visiting her grandparents,’ he told her. ‘I miss her very much, but soon she will be home again. You would like each other. She is like you, I think, rather quiet—I think you say in English, a home bird? She is a splendid cook and she is fond of children. We shall be very happy.’

He beamed at her across the table and she smiled back while the half-formed daydreams tumbled down into her new shoes. She had been a fool, but, thank heaven, he had no idea…

‘Tell me about her,’ said Araminta. Which he did at some length, so that it was late by the time they reached the doctor’s house.

‘We must go out together again,’ said Piet eagerly.

‘Well, I’m not sure about that. I believe we’re going back to England very shortly. Shall I let you know?’ She offered a hand. ‘It’s been a lovely day, and thank you so very much for giving me dinner. If we don’t see each other again, I hope that you and your Anna will be very happy.’

‘Oh, we shall,’ he assured her.

‘Don’t get out of the car,’ said Araminta. ‘There’s Bas at the door.’

It was quiet in the hall, and dimly lit. Bas wished her goodnight and went away, and she stood there feeling very alone. She had only herself to thank, of course. Had she really imagined that someone as uninteresting as herself could attract a man? He had asked her out of kindness—she hoped he hadn’t pitied her…

She was aware that the study door was open and the doctor was standing there watching her. She made for the stairs, muttering goodnight, but he put out an arm and stopped her.

‘You look as though you are about to burst into tears. You’ll feel better if you talk about it.’

‘I haven’t anything to talk about…’

He put a vast arm round her shoulders. ‘Oh, yes, you have. I did try to warn you, but you wouldn’t allow me to.’

He sounded quite different: kind, gentle and understanding.

‘I’ve been such a fool,’ began Araminta as she laid her head against his shoulder and allowed herself the luxury of a good cry.