DURING the next few days Tabitha saw very little of Marius. Of course there were the rounds and the brief businesslike discussions about the patients’ treatments, but that was all. It wasn’t until the end of the week that he paused on his way out of the ward after a morning round to tell her that he was going to Chidlake that afternoon and had she any messages. She had said no without any hesitation, and then sought for a few suitable words to soften the baldness of her answer, but he was already on his way down the corridor. He came back that evening, just before she was due to go off duty, and feeling that she should make amends for her abruptness of the morning, she had asked:
‘Did you have a pleasant time at Chidlake?’
He had cast down the chart he was reading and given her a thoughtful stare, then said to mystify her: ‘I hope so. I shan’t know for several weeks.’
Tabitha stared back, trying to make sense of what he had said; it wasn’t until later that she was forced to the conclusion that he had gone for the express purpose of asking Lilith to marry him, and for some reason of her own, Lilith had chosen to keep him waiting for the answer. She voiced this opinion out loud to Podger, who had made a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat, blinked at her several times and then curled himself into a tight ball and gone to sleep.
‘Oh, well,’ said Tabitha, ‘I suppose I may as well do the same,’ and turned out the light to lie wide awake, and because she didn’t want to think about Marius any more that night, she turned her thoughts to the ward. Matron had paid her promised visit and left various samples of material for ward curtains. Tabitha, by concentrating fiercely upon them, and still concentrating, went at last to sleep.
It wasn’t until Friday evening while she was speeding round getting things shipshape before her day off that Marius had anything of a private nature to say to her, and that so unexpected that she stopped counting sheets to listen to him and then said:
‘There, now I’ve forgotten where I was—I’ll have to start again.’ But before she did so, she said politely: ‘Thank you very much, but I planned to drive myself over and I shall take Meg—she dearly loves a wedding, and she can go to the local inn and have lunch while I’m at the reception.’
She started on the sheets once more, counting under her breath. She had got to twelve when Marius took her hand off the pile and said firmly:
‘Leave those. If you’re offended because I didn’t ask you sooner, I’m sorry. I’m afraid I took it for granted that we would be going together. Come off your perch, Tabby, and tell me what time I should pick you and Meg up.’
He sounded very persuasive; Tabitha came off her perch, although she was still a little reluctant. ‘The wedding’s at half past twelve.’ She sounded offhand because she was not sure if he was just being polite or really wanted to take them, and as though he had read her thoughts he said bracingly: ‘You really should cultivate a good opinion of yourself, Tabitha. I should like you to come with me.’
She gave him a quick look and saw that he was wearing his kind face and smiling too and her own mouth curved. She said cheerfully:
‘It’s only about twelve miles to Bradninch—we ought to get there by a quarter past twelve. I’d planned to leave at about a quarter to because I’m not sure about parking the car.’
‘We’ll use mine, I get claustrophobia in anything smaller. I’ll pick you up.’
Tabitha smoothed the top sheet with extreme care and said without looking at him: ‘If you like to come a few minutes earlier and have coffee before we go…’
‘Half past eleven,’ he answered promptly. ‘I was hoping you would ask me—one can never be sure of wedding feasts and I might get peckish. What will you wear?’
She gave him a surprised look. ‘A—a dress,’ and then because he smiled, ‘It’s a sort of clotted cream colour—silk. I’ve bought a new hat—a pink one with a big wavy brim.’
‘Oh, lord,’ said Marius, ‘that means every time I want to say something to you I shall have to bend double and peer underneath.’
‘Yes.’ It wasn’t the word but the way she had said it which made him say blandly: ‘So that’s it—hiding your light under a bushel again, Tabby. You’ll oblige me by wearing it well back—I like to see your face.’
Tabitha was so astonished that she dropped some of the sheets. She picked them up, red in the face, and Marius, handing her his own quota of fallen linen, gave her a thoughtful look, although all he said was: ‘Well, I must be off. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.’
Tabitha answered a little breathlessly and fell to counting sheets once more, with so little success that she was doing it when the night nurse came to look for her.
There was a fruit cake to go with the coffee. Marius, elegant in a grey suit of impeccable cut, sat on the kitchen table munching a large slice while Tabitha went upstairs to put on her hat, but when she came down he balanced the cake on his saucer and stood up the better to inspect her. She stood self-consciously in front of him, hoping that the hat would meet with his approval, for she had spent a long time trying it on at different angles, and then, mindful of what he had said, perched it well back, defiantly framing the face she had intended to shade.
He nodded approval. ‘Very nice—pink suits you, Tabby, and that’s a very pretty dress too. You look elegant—does she not, Meg?’ he appealed to the older woman, who said vigorously: ‘Miss Tabby always looks smart,’ and even though Tabitha wasn’t sure if what they said was true at least she felt warmed by their praise.
They arrived in good time at the church, which was a good thing, for most of the village seemed bent on being at the wedding. Fortunately for them an earnest young man in the porch, struggling to sort the guests into His and Hers, recognized them. He had been a frequent visitor to the ward when Jimmy had been a patient there, and although he blinked a little at the unexpected sight of Tabitha without her cap and strings and apron, he ushered them into a seat in the body of the church where they had an excellent view of the bridegroom, very neat in his navy blue suit with its trouser leg cut neatly up its seam to accommodate his leg plaster. He turned round and saw them and waved discreetly and made the thumbs up sign which Tabitha privately thought rather unsuitable to the occasion. She was sitting between Meg and Marius and as the bride came down the aisle she was forced to peer round him in order to see her. It was like looking round a tree trunk.
The reception was in the Town Hall at the top of the hill, and when they had escorted Meg to the hotel and dealt with the question of her lunch, they parked the Bentley amongst the crowd of cars already there and went upstairs to the big room on the first floor where they greeted the happy couple and then passed on to be immediately engulfed in hospitality. Sandwiches, sausages on sticks, little rolls dangerously oozing mustard and cress and large ones filled even more dangerously with chopped egg were offered them from all sides; they found themselves, with their filled plates in one hand and glasses of sweet Spanish wine in the other, in a group of Jimmy’s friends, all of whom had been to the hospital to visit him at one time or another. Then they had been a little overawed by their surroundings, but now the boot was on the other foot—they set themselves to entertain their guests, and naturally being friends of Jimmy’s they were also Rugger enthusiasts; Tabitha found herself taking part in an animated talk concerning something she knew very little about and it was small comfort to observe that Marius was enjoying himself enormously. But with the advent of the bride and groom and two of the bridesmaids who came to join the group she was able to escape to a corner with Jimmy’s new wife and spend a short but pleasant period discussing the wedding gown, the bridesmaids’ dresses and the trousseau before the bride was whisked away to change.
‘How nice a wedding is,’ observed Tabitha as they drove away an hour or more later. ‘I mean a wedding where everyone really likes the bride and groom and not the kind where the women go just to be spiteful about each other’s hats.’
Meg and Marius agreed and then lapsed into silence while Tabitha, for Meg’s benefit, described exactly what the bride wore—she went on to detail the bridesmaids’ dresses too as well as the bride’s mother’s and several more of the most striking outfits there, pausing in midsentence to point out to Marius that he had taken the wrong fork at Silverton, where they joined the main road, but Marius said with calm: ‘The wrong fork for home, you mean? There’s a nice tea place along here somewhere—the Fisherman’s Cot—I thought we might sit a while. I still have to hear what the bridegroom’s mother wore.’
Tabitha went a bright pink. ‘Oh—have I been boring you?’ She looked contrite. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I’m vastly entertained, though how you contrive to remember who was wearing what is beyond me.’
He turned the car off the road as he spoke and parked by a picturesque thatched house with a small river running through its pretty garden. They had tea sitting at one of the open windows with the scent of the flowers vying with the delicious aroma of fresh baked scones.
‘I’m hungry,’ said Tabitha simply, eyeing the big dishes of jam and cream which accompanied the scones, and Meg who was pouring the tea, said:
‘Probably you are, Miss Tabby. However good the food is at a wedding reception you can never get enough of it. I,’ she added, ‘had an excellent lunch.’ She beamed at them both and asked Marius: ‘Well, Mr van Beek, what do you think of our nice country village weddings?’
He split a scone with masterly precision. ‘Delightful, Meg—I intend to have a village wedding myself.’
There was silence, broken by Meg who asked hastily: ‘Are they the same in Holland?’
Tabitha didn’t give him the chance to answer; she felt numb with shock, but she had to speak. ‘She might not like it,’ she managed.
Marius eyed her across the table; he looked as though he was enjoying a private joke although he wasn’t even smiling. He said silkily:
‘I am aware that it is usual for the bride to choose; it just so happens that I already know her inclination.’ He turned away from her and addressed Meg, just as though Tabitha had never interrupted him. He described a Dutch wedding with a wealth of detail and a good deal of humour and presently, without her realizing it, drew Tabitha back into the conversation.
It was well after six when they arrived back at the flat and as Marius opened the door and handed her back the key, Tabitha asked a little uncertainly: ‘Would you like to come in? I daresay we shall be making some coffee…’
He cut her short in the nicest possible way. ‘That would have been delightful, but I’ve an engagement in an hour.’
Tabitha longed to ask where and with whom; instead she said: ‘Then we must thank you now for taking us—we enjoyed it, didn’t we, Meg?’
‘That I did, Mr van Beek, and thank you. Now I’ll go and see to Podger.’
Meg shut the door behind her leaving Tabitha, feeling awkward, outside on the step. She put out a hand and said: ‘Well, goodbye and thank you again, Marius.’
He took the hand and didn’t let it go. She could feel its cool firmness engulfing her own, sending a tingling shock up her arm. He said slowly: ‘You never ask questions, Tabby. Perhaps you are afraid of the answers.’
She gave him a steady look. ‘Yes, I daresay—anyway it’s not my business, is it—what you do, I mean.’
His hand tightened a little. ‘I’m not secretive, Tabby, though I believe you think I am. When I marry I shall share every moment of my life with my wife, whether we’re together or not.’
Tabitha looked at him thoughtfully, wondering what Lilith would have to say to that, for presumably he would expect his wife to feel the same way. ‘Yes, I imagine you would,’ she said soberly. ‘Married people shouldn’t have secrets.’
He gave her back her hand. ‘I’m glad we agree about that.’ He smiled briefly. ‘I’ll see you on Monday.’
He got into the Bentley and drove away and she went indoors and upstairs to take off the pink hat. It was a considerable time later that she remembered that he had said nothing at all about their journey, now only seven days away.
As it turned out, the week wasn’t very busy, for the beds as they emptied were kept that way; the hard core of patients who were left and the emergencies would go to the surgical annexe. But Tabitha was kept busy with the domestic side of the ward, for beds had to be taken down and stored away and everything that could be moved out of the way of the workmen, had to be moved. It was tiring work and a little boring too, although Mr Raynard and Mr Bow kept her busy between them, for Mr Raynard was now promoted to gutter crutches and Mr Bow had a walking iron fixed and although he had crutches too, he had a great objection to using them. She wondered from time to time just how they would manage in the boat. They apparently had no such qualms, nor had Marius.
It wasn’t until the week was half over that he sought her out. She was in the linen room again, attacking the piles of pillows which had to be stacked on the shelves. It was a warm day and the pillows were filled with feathers—there was a good deal of fluff in her hair and she had become hot and untidy and her nose shone. She pushed her cap further back on her head as Marius opened the door and gave him an unwelcoming look, although her heart leapt to see him.
He sounded cheerful. ‘Can you stop what you’re doing for a moment, or shall I talk while you fuss round with those pillows?’
‘If I had known,’ began Tabitha forcefully, ‘just what an upheaval having the ward painted was going to be, I should have done everything in my power to have stopped it. I’m fed up with these wretched things.’ She sat herself down on a pile of blankets, folded her hands in her aproned lap and said: ‘I’m ready.’
Marius settled himself amongst the pillows and began. ‘I did tell you we were travelling on Sunday?’ and she replied patiently: ‘Oh, yes—I know the day. I don’t know at what time, or how, or how much luggage I may bring or whether I should provide my own sandwiches…’
‘Oh, lord, Tabby, forgive me. I quite intended to tell you—when was it? last week some time—and it went right out of my mind.’
He had gone to Chidlake, that was why it had gone out of his mind. She gave him a fleeting look and said nicely: ‘It’s quite all right—there’s still a couple of days if there’s anything I don’t know about.’
He didn’t speak, but sat looking at her for such a long time that she ventured: ‘Is anything the matter?’
He shook his head. ‘On the contrary.’ He smiled slowly, his eyes twinkling, making her heart jump pleasantly; a delightful sensation, but it would never do to encourage it. She asked with a composure she didn’t feel: ‘What time?’
‘Ah, yes—will ten o’clock suit you? You’ll be travelling with Knotty and me—Muriel Raynard will drive their car. Any luggage within reason. How much have you got?’
‘One case and a shoulder bag for odds and ends.’
He looked surprised. ‘There’s room for more than that if you’d like to take another case.’ She shook her head and he went on: ‘We’ll eat on the way and cross by Hovercraft to Calais—it’s the best way with our two invalids. We should be in Veere by early evening, allowing for stops on the way as and when necessary.’ He smiled again. ‘You will of course be my guest.’
Tabitha said thank you rather stiffly and then became rigid as he continued: ‘I think it is only fair to pay you a fee for the period you will be with us; after all, your time won’t be your own for a good deal of that period and you may have already planned a holiday which you have had to give up on our account.’
Tabitha gave him a haughty look. ‘I shan’t come,’ she said instantly, her bosom swelling with indignation. ‘I just shan’t come if you pay me!’ She spoke with such vehemence that Marius’s rather sleepy eyes opened wide and then narrowed again under lifted brows.
‘Why ever not?’ His voice was silky.
Tabitha wondered how she could ever explain. How could she tell him that she was doing it because she loved him very much and it was a chance of being with him, even if only one of a party. And how could she explain the humiliation of being paid like the mother’s help her stepmother had supposed her to be? Perhaps that was how he thought of her. She sat looking at her hands tidily folded in her lap still, and said nothing.
Marius repeated: ‘Well?’ his voice mildly impatient.
She looked up briefly and shrugged her shoulders. She couldn’t tell him and she wasn’t going to embark on a lot of lies. She repeated: ‘I shan’t go,’ and as an afterthought, ‘There’s a good agency in the city—there’s sure to be someone…’
‘Oh, Tabby,’ his voice was kind and quiet too. ‘Something’s hurt you and I’m not sure—’ he stopped and frowned, his grey eyes suddenly alert. ‘Someone has put an idea into your head. No, don’t deny it, it’s written all over your face. Another idée fixe.’ He leaned forward and put a large, wellshaped hand over hers. ‘Tabby, we’re friends, aren’t we? Do you suppose I would trade on our friendship in order to get something for nothing?’ He cupped his other hand around hers, so that they were both held fast in a firm grip. ‘You don’t suppose I’m doing Raynard’s work for nothing, do you?’
‘Well, yes—actually I do,’ said Tabitha, and he gave a great shout of laughter.
‘Tabby, you’re as bad as my young nieces!’
Tabitha looked at him with round eyes. ‘Are you an uncle?’ she asked, much struck.
‘Yes, of course—how can I avoid it with a brother and sister, both married?’
‘How many? Nephews and nieces, I mean.’
‘Seven, though the youngest is too small to appreciate me yet.’
‘Why am I as bad as your nieces?’
‘Because you speak your mind with the directness of a child on occasion, and at other times, when it suits you, you are so obscure I can’t even pretend to understand you.’
Tabitha digested this in silence; perhaps it was a good thing, he was far too quick at guessing her thoughts as it was. She kept quiet, conscious of his hands on hers.
‘Having disposed of that red herring,’ he said blandly, ‘let us settle this vexed question of fees. I won’t say another word about them, Tabby, as long as you come—you may make any conditions you like, for you must see that we can’t do without you.’
And I wish that were true, thought Tabitha. She asked bleakly: ‘Why?’
His voice was still bland, but now it was persuasive too. ‘My dear Tabby, surely you can see that for yourself. You manage them both perfectly—they’re at the stage when they need constant restraint for fear they undo all our hard work; Knotty is convinced that crutches are an affront to his dignity and Bill Raynard has only to get his hands on a gouge and chisel to go hobbling up to theatre and get started on the next case. I know they’ll be under our eyes in Veere, but I fancy we shall still have our work cut out.’ He squeezed her hands and it was as though he squeezed her heart. ‘Please, Tabby,’ his voice wasn’t bland any more, just friendly.
‘Well—of course I want to come, it was only…’
He didn’t let her finish. ‘Good girl! I think that, despite our two patients, we shall have a very good holiday. The weather promises fine; we can sail every day if we wish and there’s plenty of room for us all in the house. Hans is a splendid cook, he’ll enjoy himself.’
‘Hans?’
He let go of her hands and got to his feet. ‘Hans is to me what Meg is to you—he’s been my friend since I was a very small boy; he taught me to sail and drive a car. He taught me to skate too, and a great many other things besides, and when my parents died and I went to live in the house in Veere he was there, and he’s been there ever since. You’ll like him.’
‘I can’t speak Dutch.’
‘Hans speaks a peculiar English which you will have no difficulty in understanding. I must go, I’ve several things to do. I’ll be on the ward in the morning—our last operating day, is it not?’
He smiled at her briefly and had gone so quickly that her own goodbye was still on her lips as the door shut behind him.
Tabitha was awake early on Sunday morning. She got up, made tea for Meg and herself and went into the sliver of garden behind the flat. The dawn mist had rolled away, leaving a blue sky which looked as though it had been freshly painted. The sun was already warm, even for a July morning, the gay little border of flowers Tabitha had so assiduously cultivated appeared to be embroidered along the edges of the grass plot upon which she stood, although Podger knew better; for he wandered amongst them sniffing delicately. But when she went back indoors he went with her and sat on the end of her bed while she dressed and then accompanied her to the kitchen to share the breakfast Meg had got ready.
Tabitha had decided on a French navy dress, banded with white, in which to travel, it was cool and uncrushable and plainly cut; she matched it with flat-heeled sandals and a bright scarf of coral patterned with blue and white, just in case her hair became unmanageable, and when Marius arrived she was glad that she had taken pains with her appearance, for he said at once: ‘You look stunning, Tabby, and exactly right.’ It was only a pity that he himself wasn’t stunned but went on to suggest that he might get Mr Bow out of the car and bring him in to have a cup of Meg’s coffee.
Old Knotty, he explained, was very anxious to meet Meg and see his friend Podger again. So Mr Bow was helped into the sitting room and sat in a Windsor chair by the window because it was high enough for him to get up again without too much heaving and pulling, and Meg came in with the coffee while Tabitha fetched Podger and they all sat for half an hour talking pleasantly, just as if they weren’t going anywhere at all. Tabitha felt quite relieved when Marius suggested they should go.
‘Well, I suppose we had better make a start,’ he said. ‘We’re meeting the others at Funtingdon for lunch.’
‘Where’s that?’ asked Tabitha.
‘A mile or so this side of Chichester. We have to turn off the main road to reach it.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I suggested half past twelve—we’ve plenty of time.’
‘How far is it?’ Tabitha liked to know things and it was already half past ten.
‘A hundred miles or so—we can put on a bit of speed after lunch. I’ve booked on the five o’clock Hovercraft from Dover. It’s roughly another hundred miles once we’re on the other side, allowing for stops and the ferry at Breskens. We should be home in good time to enjoy supper, but there’s no hurry; if Knotty gets tired or the Raynards feel it’s too much of a trip, we can rack up for the night wherever we happen to be.’
It was evident that he had the whole journey planned; Tabitha, being handed into the front seat of the Bentley, decided not to bother about it any more; there was no need. She looked in her handbag to make sure that she had her passport and then leaned through the window to give Meg a parting kiss while Mr Bow took a dignified farewell of Podger, who showed a tendency to join the party. Marius finally laid him in Meg’s arms, where he lay with his eyes shut, until they drove away.
They arrived at Funtingdon before the others, parked the car and set about the slow business of getting Knotty inside to the table Marius had reserved, but they had barely sat down when the Raynards’ big Rover drew up beside the Bentley and Marius went out to help Bill Raynard. When they were all sitting round the table Marius suggested drinks while they ordered food. They ate lobster Thermidor and fresh fruit salad with lashings of cream and drank a light white wine and that sparingly because of the drivers, and presently, after coffee, Tabitha and Muriel Raynard went away to do their hair and faces again. Sitting before the mirror in the comfortable powder room, Tabitha felt a small glow of content. It had been fun coming up from the flat; Marius had been an excellent companion and so had Mr Bow, who from the comfort of the back seat had had quite a lot to say for himself. Besides which, when the Raynards had arrived, they had seemed really glad to see her. She heaved a sigh and powdered her nose with care.
‘Happy?’ asked Mrs Raynard. ‘I’m looking forward to this holiday, aren’t you? Even with a couple of stiff legs in the party it should be great fun.’ She turned to smile at Tabitha. ‘And do call me Muriel, and I know Bill wants you to call him Bill.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly—I mean, he’s a senior surgeon…’
‘He calls you Tabby,’ observed Muriel reasonably.
‘Yes, I know. But so does everyone—even the patients behind my back.’
Muriel gave her a shrewd look. ‘What about Marius—you don’t call him Mr van Beek, do you? Though I suppose you do on the ward, or do you say sir?’
Tabitha smiled. ‘Well, yes—actually, I do.’
‘Then you can do the same with Bill, can’t you? We’re out of hospital now. I suppose the men will talk bones some of the time, but we can always go away and leave them to it. I wonder if there are any good dress shops in Veere?’
They walked back, still talking, to the table and found that Marius had got his companions into the cars again and was leaning over the Bentley’s bonnet, studying a map. ‘If we’ve kept you waiting we’re sorry,’ said Tabitha quickly for both of them, and hopped into the car as he opened the door.
‘Don’t you know by now that I’m a patient man?’ he wanted to know as he got in beside her and started the engine.
They arrived in Dover with time to spare even though they had stopped for tea in Hawkhurst, and Tabitha had been impressed at the way in which Marius, without once lifting his voice or appearing in the least impatient, had contrived to get his party attended to in the shortest possible space of time; he had merely smiled charmingly, inviting co-operation from whoever it was attending to his wants. He was, she reflected, rather like that on the ward; she herself had run willingly at his bidding without being aware of it. It was the same on the Hovercraft; sitting beside him as they drove out of Calais, she decided it was either a gift or a lifelong habit of expecting those around him to do as he wished. A little of both, perhaps.
The late afternoon was very warm. Mr Bow was snoring gently behind them and Tabitha, looking through the back window of the Bentley, could see the Rover on their tail and Mr Raynard asleep beside his wife. She said, thinking aloud: ‘I daresay they’ll both be all the better for a quiet day tomorrow.’
‘Now you know why we were so insistent that you should come,’ said Marius blandly. ‘I agree with you wholeheartedly and I shall leave it to you to see that they do.’
‘Has your house a garden? They could lie in chairs…’
‘There’s a small garden. It’s walled—we’d have them climbing over it the moment we left them alone! They came to sail, remember, and sail they will, even if they’re half dead.’ He turned a laughing face to hers. ‘The water is just across the street from the house. If you could persuade them to sit near the boat clubhouse—it’s only a stone’s throw away from the house—we could get on with making ready to sail and you’d be near enough to see what they were up to.’
It sounded wonderful. Tabitha said so, her pretty voice high with excitement. ‘How far can we sail?’ she wanted to know.
‘All over the Veerse Meer. We’ll take food with us and spend the whole day—there are any number of places where we can tie up.’ He gave her a smiling look, his grey eyes twinkling down at her so that her happiness threatened to choke her. ‘Glad you came?’ he asked.
She nodded and smiled at him and then looked away quickly for fear she should let him see just how happy she was, but he didn’t look at her again, for there was, for the moment, no speed limit and he gave his attention to getting as much out of the big car as he could, only slowing down from time to time when the Rover fell too far behind.
They passed through Dunkirk and on to Ostend where the road became a vilely surfaced one of cobblestones so that Marius slowed down to avoid shaking Mr Bow too much, but once they were through the town and had left the trams and shops and hotels and the little gay villas behind, he put his foot down once more as they drove on to Knokke and Breskens, pausing only briefly at the Customs at Sluis.
‘Now we’re in Holland,’ said Marius as they left the Customs post behind them and drove on up the straight road to the bustling little town, where he dropped to a crawl to enable Muriel to keep just behind him, for although the town was small it was full of people and cars and stalls and shops doing a roaring trade.
‘But it’s Sunday,’ said Tabitha, astonished, ‘and almost seven o’clock.’
‘It’s also the first town over the border,’ Marius explained. ‘The Belgians come over to shop because it’s cheaper, and the shops open on Sunday and stay open until late to catch as many customers as possible. So everyone is pleased.’
‘I see the windmill’s still standing,’ said Mr Bow from the back seat.
Marius glanced briefly over his shoulder and smiled. ‘Yes—but it’s been turned into a restaurant. Do you find the town altered much, Knotty?’
‘A great deal, but then it’s many years since I was last here. It will be interesting to see how rusty my Dutch has become.’
‘You shall try it out on Hans.’
Tabitha twisted round in her seat the better to address Mr Bow. ‘Is it hard to learn—Dutch? I’ve always imagined it was, because people talk about double Dutch.’
They both laughed and Mr Bow said in his pedantic way: ‘Yes, it is hard, my dear young lady; not only is it spoken in the back of the throat, but the verbs are kept until the end of a sentence, which makes for incredible misunderstandings when first learning the language.’
‘All the same,’ she said robustly, ‘I’d like to have a try, though I suppose everyone speaks English.’
‘No, they don’t,’ Marius remarked. ‘Veere isn’t a tourist centre for foreigners—the Dutch go there for the sailing, but it’s too quiet for more than a fleeting visitor’s tour. We get boats from England, of course, as well as France and Belgium, and although a number of people speak English or at least make themselves understood, there are any number who don’t—you should be able to put in quite a lot of practice.’
‘By all means,’ chimed in Mr Bow. ‘You never know how useful the knowledge might be to you in future years.’
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 satisfied 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.’
His words reminded her. ‘You wanted to talk to me,’ she said again. ‘Was it about them?’
He smiled down at her and flung an arm around her shoulders. ‘What a girl you are!’ he commented, although he didn’t say what kind of a girl. ‘Yes, it was. Could you persuade Knotty to have breakfast in bed, do you think? He’s getting on, and although he’s as strong as a horse for his age, he’s going to be too active. And Bill?’
Tabitha thought. ‘Well, I think I can persuade them both. That’ll give me time to get their chairs ready before they come down; if they see them there they’re less likely to want to do something else.’
‘Perceptive girl!’ His voice sounded amused. ‘That’s my idea too.’ He looked at his watch. ‘It’s almost time for breakfast and I told Anneke not to take up their morning tea until eight, which gives you plenty of time to work on them.’
Which she did, to such good effect that it was midmorning by the time the two well-rested gentlemen, amenable as to any suggestion made as to their comfort, were helped across the street to where their chairs had been arranged within hailing distance of the yacht. On board, Tabitha and Muriel, under Marius’s casual direction, made ready for their first trip, a delightful task which took the rest of the morning with an interval for iced lemonade which an obliging waiter from the Struyskelder, just across the street, brought them. He stood a little while talking to Marius, and Mr Bow tried out some of his Dutch on him and was elated to find that it wasn’t so rusty after all.
That afternoon they went for a short sail, just to get their hand in, as Marius put it, and Tabitha was surprised and amused to see of what little consequence a leg in plaster could be when its wearer was enjoying himself. They took their tea with them and she and Muriel boiled the kettle in the galley and took the tea tray up on deck. They didn’t turn back until the sun was beginning to drop in the still blue sky, and as they neared the harbour Tabitha thought there had never been anything as beautiful as the little town, its gabled roofs and fairytale spire silhouetted against the early evening light. As they passed the walls of the Campveerse Toren, she looked up and saw that the restaurant was candlelit ready for its diners. Marius caught her glance and said mildly:
‘Romantic, isn’t it? Couples come from all over Holland to be married here and have their reception at the hotel for that very reason.’
A remark which Tabitha found difficult to answer except with a polite: ‘Oh, really?’
The next three days passed with the speed of complete happiness. They sailed and talked, picnicked and swam and just lay in the sun, and in the evenings they ate Hans’s beautifully cooked dinners and talked again. It was amazing what a lot they all had to say to each other, and although Tabitha wasn’t much alone with Marius she knew that their friendship had deepened even in those few days. She comforted herself with the thought that he liked her as a friend and tried to be thankful as Meg had told her she should.