ALICIA was waiting for them, sitting before the fire with an arm around Fred’s neck and Mouser and Chouchou crowded on her small lap. She flew to meet them, scattering the cats, the big dog beside her.
‘Papa,’ she shrilled, ‘Beatrice…I have much to say. I have been good at school and so I do not have to go to bed until I have told you.’ She lifted her face for their kisses. ‘Just a little while?’ she added coaxingly.
‘Ten minutes! Come back to the fire and tell us about your day.’
Beatrice, sitting at one end of the great sofa, watched the animated little face, pouring out the day’s doings, and thought how pleasant it was sitting there with Mouser on her knee and the warm fire sending a glow over the beautiful room. Just for a moment she was lost in a dream wherein she was indeed sitting there, Gijs’s wife and Alicia’s stepmother, secure, wrapped around by love, completely content. She thrust the dream aside; she was perfectly secure as she was and who was there to wrap her around with love? Gijs hadn’t mentioned it. Liking, compatability, the pleasure of her company, Alicia’s fondness for her, all those had been mentioned, but not love. His attitude towards her was that of an affectionate friend. Her own attitude towards him, she wasn’t prepared to think about just then. In any case, she was given small chance, for Alicia’s voice demanded to know how long it would be before she came back to Holland.
A difficult question, not made any easier by Gijs, sitting in his chair looking annoyingly bland, and not saying a word to help her.
Back in her flat once more with Gijs’s cheerful goodbye still ringing in her ears and the touch of his mouth against her cheek still vivid in her mind, Beatrice made no effort to get ready for bed. She sat down, still in her coat, and thought about her evening. It had been delightful; dinner had been delicious, served by the discreet Bilder, she had a little chat with Nanny, who had looked at the poesy ring with a knowing smile although she hadn’t actually said anything. All the same, Beatrice knew that she was approved of and that was important. She and Gijs had spent the rest of the evening sitting by the fire once again, sometimes talking, sometimes silent. She imagined that if they were to marry that would be how they would spend their evenings, content with each other’s company, with no need to entertain each other.
The professor had talked about his work and she could sense that it was an important part of his life, although he was quite prepared to share it with her. If she ignored the fact that they weren’t in love, she felt reasonably certain that they would be happy together.
She went to bed at last, her mind in a fine muddle.
The following morning she was told that she would be going back to St Justin’s. The director pronounced himself entirely satisfied with her work, indeed he expressed regret that she wasn’t to stay longer. Though, as he pointed out, the scheme, to be successful, entailed making as many exchanges as possible. Her departure would be arranged for her, she need do nothing, but perhaps she would be good enough to show the young woman coming to replace her from Edinburgh exactly what she should do.
‘Hetty will be of great help, I know,’ said the director, ‘but perhaps the young lady will feel more at home if you take her under your wing for a day.’
The days were busy now; Beatrice made sure that the cleaning staff knew that someone would be coming in her place, told those whom she knew that she would be leaving and did some hasty present-buying. Alicia phoned in the evenings but there was no word from Gijs. Beatrice twisted and twiddled the ring on her finger and thought how tiresome he was. The only reason she wore it was because it would make an end, once and for all, of Tom’s persistence. She phoned her mother too, fending off that lady’s artless questions about the professor, explaining that until she got back to London she had no idea as to when she would be home. Despite all this activity she found the days long and empty…
The last day came with no word from Gijs. She told herself that she hadn’t expected to hear from him anyway. She gave a small farewell party that evening so that Hetty and her friends and one or two of the housemen could meet the girl from Edinburgh, a delightful creature with red hair and bright blue eyes and a soft Highland voice. She was very sensible too, making no heavy weather of learning her way around the institute.
When the actual moment of leaving came, Beatrice didn’t want to go. It had nothing to do with her job; it meant leaving Leiden and Gijs. She was going to miss his friendship for of course once she was back in England she would tell him that marrying him simply wouldn’t do.
She would give him back his ring, for after all it had been a loan just to make things easier with Tom, and thank him for all his kindness… Even now he might be regretting everything he had said to her.
She met the rest of the party from St Justin’s at Schiphol and since they had so much news to exchange they were at Heathrow before they realised it. Beatrice listening to Sister Watts’ colourful description of the theatre work she had done, looked out of the taxi window and thought how different London was from Leiden. She supposed that she would get used to it again. She twiddled the ring on her gloved hand and wondered if she would ever see Gijs again. She hadn’t expected to feel like this, as though she had just lost something that she couldn’t do without.
They dispersed in the hospital entrance hall to go to their various rooms. They would be interviewed in due course, in the meantime they were to settle in again. Juffrouw Winkelhuisen was ready to leave; it would be merely a question of handing over keys and any information which she thought necessary.
Half an hour later, Beatrice shut the door on her and started to unpack. Everything was in apple-pie order; as soon as she had made herself a cup of tea she would go round the place and have a word with everyone.
She was interrupted by the doorbell. Surely not Tom, she thought, and if it was she didn’t want to see him, not yet anyway. She opened the door on its chain and saw nothing but a wealth of red roses.
‘Name of Crawley?’ said a reassuringly Cockney voice from behind the bouquet.
‘Yes, that’s me,’ said Beatrice, regardless of grammar. ‘Wait a sec.’ She rummaged in her purse, opened the door and exchanged the roses for a few coins. ‘Thank you.’
‘’E must luv yer,’ commented the youthful messenger, tearing down the stairs. A sentiment Beatrice echoed but with a note of doubt. They might not be from Gijs… However, they were. Two dozen red roses with a card attached. She read it smiling and then read it again, not smiling anymore. ‘Pleasant memories and best wishes for the future.’ If that wasn’t a clear indication that he considered their pleasant interlude just that and nothing else. Never mind the ring, he had done that to make things easier for her if she saw Tom and, as for all that talk about marrying, it had been nothing but an amusing little game for Alicia’s benefit. That none of this made sense in the light of past events was something she disregarded. All the same, she arranged the roses in a variety of vases and set them round the room. They made a splendid show.
It was inevitable that she would see Tom the next day on her way back from the hospital after an interview with the hospital manager. It had been an entirely satisfactory interview and she wasn’t hurrying back, mulling over the nice things the manager had had to say about her work. He was beside her, an arm possessively on hers before she realised it.
‘There you are, darling, I guessed you’d be over here sometime about now. Have you missed me? Our pleasant little evenings together? Get a few days off; we’ll go to your parents. I’m sure I can manage a couple of days; heaven knows I’ve worked hard enough. You have no idea how busy I’ve been while you’ve been living at ease.’
Beatrice had come to a halt. ‘Tom, let go of my arm. I haven’t missed you, I haven’t even thought of you and I’ve no intention of taking you home. What can I say to convince you that I don’t want to marry you?’
She remembered the ring then. ‘Well, perhaps this will convince you.’ She held up her hand with the ring and watched his look of astonishment.
‘Good lord, you sly minx, the moment my back’s turned…’
‘Don’t talk nonsense, Tom.’ She began to walk away.
‘Who is it?’ He laughed. ‘Or is it a trick to send me packing?’
‘No, no, it’s no trick. Now I’m going back to my work.’
She left him there and hurried back to work. She had been calm enough with Tom but now she found herself shivering; she wasn’t sure if it was fright or rage or exasperation at his refusal to give her up.
There was too much to do to give her time to brood over it; she had lunch in the canteen, the object of a good deal of interest, and went back to her afternoon chores. The path. labs were busier than usual; there was a good deal of coming and going and requests for tea and coffee as well as fresh supplies of pipettes, paper, slides and other oddments and a small crisis to be dealt with halfway through the afternoon when one of the computers malfunctioned and she was called upon to find someone to see to it without loss of time.
She went to her room finally, intent on an early night. She would have a shower, get into her dressinggown, make herself some supper and watch television. She had phoned her mother to tell her that she would be home at the weekend, but she had promised to phone Alicia…she would do that as soon as she had showered.
She had her hand on the receiver when she heard the doorbell. Tom. She stood still, determined to ignore it but when it pealed for the third time she went to the door, kept it on the chain and peered round the opening. It wasn’t Tom. She flung the door wide and hurled herself at the professor’s massive chest. ‘Gijs, oh, Gijs, it’s you!’ Her voice was muffled by his waistcoat.
‘What a delightful welcome.’ He put an arm around her, shut the door and stood leaning against it. Then said, ‘You thought that I was Tom.’
She nodded without looking at him.
‘He’s been bothering you?’
‘Well, just a bit.’ She gave a long sigh. ‘I showed him the ring but he thought I was making it up.’ She sniffed. ‘Thank you for the lovely roses.’
He patted the top of her head in a comforting fashion. ‘Let us go somewhere quiet and talk,’ he suggested in a voice which wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He stood her away from him and eyed her thoughtfully. ‘You look very nice like that—I like the hair. Go and put some clothes on and we’ll be on our way.’
‘I was just going to ring Alicia.’
‘I’ll do that.’ He gave her a gentle pat. ‘Off you go—no need to dress up.’
She put on the first thing that came to hand and bundled her hair up in a knot in the nape of her neck, a flick of powder and a trace of lipstick and she was ready. She came from behind the curtain and saw that Gijs was by the telephone talking to Alicia. As she crossed the room he said, ‘Here she is now, liefje. Sleep well.’
He handed Beatrice the phone and wandered away to look out of the windows at the chimney-pots beyond. When she put it down he said, ‘You’re tired; we don’t need to talk unless you want to. Just a quiet hour or two…’
There was nothing she wanted more. She asked, ‘What about you? Have you been here all day?’
‘I flew over from Groningen a couple of hours ago.’ He turned his head to smile at her and she saw then that he was tired, lines she hadn’t noticed before etched in his face.
‘You’re far more tired than I—Gijs, shall I make an omelette or scrambled eggs or something and you can have a quiet hour or two? Have you a lecture to give tomorrow?’
‘No—I’ll have to go back to Leiden in the morning.’ He smiled gently. ‘I wanted to be sure that you were safely here.’
She stood staring at him, knowing all of a sudden that, never mind the muddle her thoughts were in, of one thing she was sure. She had fallen in love with him, more—she loved him, she wanted to sit him in a chair and fetch his slippers and pour his whisky and sit at his knee and listen to his voice. That he would very much dislike being waited on didn’t matter. She went quite pale with the strength of her feelings and then blushed at his lifted eyebrows. ‘A penny for them?’ he invited.
She shook her head. ‘Just—nothing.’ She watched his face. ‘Well, it was something—something I thought.’
He smiled again. ‘Shall we go?’
He drove west through the city and at first Beatrice didn’t take much notice of where they were going. Presently, though, she noticed that they had left the busy heart of the city. ‘Aren’t we near St James’s Park?’ she wanted to know.
‘On your left; Green Park’s ahead of us.’ He turned the car into a quiet tree-lined street which in turn opened into a small square. The houses here were handsome with stone steps leading to the elegant front doors and more steps leading down to basements. The professor stopped before one of them and opened his door.
‘Is this a restaurant?’ asked Beatrice as she got out.
‘I have a flat here—I come to London so often I need to have a pied-à-terre. Toogood will have a meal ready for us.’
Who was Toogood? she wondered as they crossed the narrow pavement and went into the foyer with a porter sitting by the desk. He wished them good evening and the professor said, ‘No need for the lift, thank you, Soames,’ and urged her up the thickly carpeted staircase to the floor above. There were several doors in the wide corridor; one of them was opened by a youngish man who wished them good evening in a cheerful voice and expressed his pleasure at seeing his master again, returned Beatrice’s greeting with suitable dignity, took her coat and opened a door in the small hall.
‘Supper in half an hour, sir?’ he wanted to know. ‘And would Miss Crawley care to step along to the cloakroom?’
There was no point in doing so, she decided; she had dressed in a hurry and she had no doubt that her hair was a mess and her make-up sketchy, an opinion echoed by the professor, who touched her hair lightly and said, ‘I don’t know why you don’t let it hang down your back.’
‘That would do very nicely if I were eighteen; you know very well that I’m twenty-eight.’
He laughed, ‘Come and sit down. Toogood will tell us when he is ready.’
‘Does he look after the flat for you?’
‘Yes, he lives here all the time so that when I come over, sometimes unexpectedly, I have somewhere to come to. I brought Alicia here last year and they got on splendidly. He took her to the zoo and Madame Tussaud’s while I was working. He’s a splendid cook and looks after the place very well. Someone comes in to help him several times a week.’
He got up to offer her a drink, put the glass down on the little pie-crust table by her chair and went back to his own armchair.
‘You are wearing the poesy ring. You showed it to Tom?’
‘Yes, oh, yes, I did, he called me a sly minx…’
‘Dear, oh, dear. You are, I think, just a little afraid of him.’
‘Not afraid of him, but I am afraid of the unpleasantness—of having to meet him.’
His next remark took her completely by surprise. ‘Have you decided to marry me, Beatrice?’
He would expect her to say what she thought, not nibble round his question with a lot of vague answers, but she would have to be careful not to let him see what her true feelings were.
‘Yes, I should like to marry you, Gijs, only it’s rather awkward now, isn’t it? It looks as though I’m doing it just to escape from Tom.’
‘Let me put your mind at rest, Beatrice, I don’t think anything of the kind. I hope you will marry me because you like me and because you like Alicia. I believe that we can be very happy together and I suggest that we marry as soon as possible. Time enough to get to know each other better once we are married.’
She was glad that he did not pretend to more than liking, but had he not said when he met her that he had no patience with meaningless talk? And liking was a very good basis for loving.
She looked up as he spoke. ‘May I bring Alicia with me at the weekend and visit your parents?’
‘Yes, of course—I’ll let them know first about us.’
‘You will wish to marry here from your home?’
‘Yes, please, only isn’t it rather awkward for you?’
‘Not in the least. We can perhaps, see the rector at the weekend? I’ll see about a licence.’
‘The banns take three weeks…’
‘Banns? Ah, yes, but I’ll get a special licence. In that way we can marry as soon as you can be ready.’
She felt like someone on rollerskates who couldn’t stop. ‘I have to give in my notice here.’
‘I’ll see about that tomorrow.’ He got up out of his chair and went and pulled her to her feet. ‘You do believe that we shall be happy together?’
She stared up into his calm face. ‘Yes, I do.’ She smiled at him, thinking that she was going to be unhappy too, knowing that he didn’t love her although perhaps in time he would come to. In the meantime she was going to be the kind of wife he wanted and learn to love little Alicia.
Toogood coughed discreetly at the door. ‘If you’re ready, sir…’
The dining-room wasn’t large but it was elegant, with panelled walls and a circular table and a lovely Georgian sideboard. They ate smoked salmon, fricassee of chicken with asparagus and a soufflé, light as air.
They drank champagne and the professor called Toogood in to drink a glass with them. ‘Well, now,’ he observed, shedding his dignity for a moment, ‘I did think there was something in the wind. I’m sure I wish you both very happy.’ He shook their hands and then added, ‘I’ll serve coffee in the drawing-room, sir.’
It was a beautiful room, due to the lovely pieces with which it was furnished. It crossed her mind that Gijs must have plenty of money but she didn’t dwell on the thought. She came from a comfortable home herself and it had been impressed upon her from an early age that money was nice to have but wasn’t necessary for happiness. She loved Gijs so much that if he had told her that he was penniless it wouldn’t have mattered at all.
They had their coffee by the fire and a fierce-looking cat with a torn ear came and sat between them.
‘He doesn’t suit this room,’ said Beatrice. ‘He’s a bit battle-scared, isn’t he?’
‘Willoughby—he’s Toogood’s pet and constant companion; he keeps me company when I’m here.’
She bent to stroke the cat’s head. ‘Did he just join the household?’
‘In a way, yes. I fished him out of a water butt.’
‘Oh, the poor creature, he must be devoted to you.’
‘I don’t know about that. I think his devotion is given to Toogood, who feeds him.’
The phone by his chair rang and he picked up the receiver and since he spoke Dutch she guessed that it was Alicia. Presently Gijs handed her the phone. ‘I have told her that we are to be married but she wants to hear you say so as well.’
Beatrice listened to the childish voice, squeaky with excitement, a jumble of bridesmaid’s dresses, her bridal bouquet and when she was going to see Beatrice.
Beatrice about to answer this glanced at Gijs, saw the finger on his lip and said that she wasn’t sure but it would be quite soon and presently handed the phone back.
‘You don’t want her to know?’ she asked.
‘Occasionally I am called away unexpectedly—I don’t want to disappoint her. Shall you phone your mother?’
Beatrice heard her mother’s quick breath. ‘Darling—what splendid news, and what a lovely surprise.’
‘Gijs would like to come with me for the weekend and bring Alicia with him…’
‘Of course, we’ll love to have them. Is he there? Could I speak to him? Where are you?’
‘He’s here—at his flat…’
She handed Gijs the phone and he put an arm around her. There was nothing loverlike about it, just a friendly gesture, but it felt nice all the same. She listened to his quiet voice and presently when he rang off she asked, ‘You said we might be married as soon as I could be ready. Do you have to go away or have you a great deal of work piling up?’
‘Neither. At least no more work than usual and I have several consultations lined up, but all of them in Europe. But do you not agree with me that since we have agreed to marry we might do so without delay? We are both mature people, are we not? I doubt if you will need months of shopping and fussing around with bridesmaids and bridal plans.’
Beatrice felt rage bubbling up inside her. She moved away from his arm and said coldly, ‘Even the most mature of brides likes to plan her wedding.’
She was seized and held close. ‘Oh, my dear girl, I put that very badly, didn’t I?’ His voice was full of remorse. ‘You are young and beautiful and if you wish to take six months preparing for our wedding then you shall do exactly as you wish and I will wait until you are ready.’
Her rage subsided. Being called young and beautiful had something to do with that; besides, she had no wish for a grand wedding. She said soberly, ‘If you wouldn’t mind waiting for two or three weeks. We can have a quiet wedding at Little Estling and Alicia can be a bridesmaid. Our friends can come to the church—I expect you have family—will they want to come?’
‘Oh, yes. My mother and father, and I have a married sister and some close friends. I think that we need not invite my aunts and uncles, cousins and nieces and nephews—they’re legion. We’ll meet them all when we go back to Holland.’
A daunting thought, but she would feel better about it once she was married. ‘Then we’ll go and see Mr Perkins at the weekend?’
‘By all means let us do that; once that is settled you can give me a date and I can arrange my work to fit in with it.’
She said diffidently, ‘You won’t want to stay in England after we’re married?’
‘Only if you would like that.’
She supposed sadly that a honeymoon hardly fitted into their sensible planning. ‘No, not at all. I was thinking about Alicia…’
‘She can go back with us; she mustn’t miss too much school—she will spend a week or two with my mother and father once the holidays start.’
Beatrice agreed pleasantly, reminding herself that since he wasn’t in love with her he would have no desire to have her to himself.
He drove her back to St Justin’s presently, saw her to her own door, kissed her cheek and bade her goodnight and went away. If he had had any desire to linger he gave no sign of it.
She wandered round the room, sniffing at the roses. He would be gone again in the morning but he and Alicia would come for her on Saturday. She wondered if she should do something about giving her notice in; he hadn’t said any more about that and she had forgotten to ask. She decided to do nothing about it as she got ready for bed which was just as well because the next morning she was sent for by the hospital manager and told that she might leave in a week’s time. ‘Such exceptional circumstances,’ said the manager with a knowing look, ‘and the professor being such an important man. Fortunately there is another exchange planned—all that is necessary is for me to bring it forward and while your replacement is here we can select your successor.’
Beatrice expressed suitable gratitude, professed herself quite ready to show whoever was coming what her job entailed and then went back to her work. Gijs, she thought lovingly, certainly knew how to get things done.
They came for her on Saturday morning, the professor unhurried and calm, Alicia bubbling over with excitement. She insisted on exploring the room, pronounced it much too small to live in and wanted to know why Beatrice didn’t go and live with her papa.
‘Well, I will when we are married,’ said Beatrice matter-of-factly. ‘I’m still working here, you know.’
It was a watery kind of morning but there was more than a hint of spring in the air now as they drove to Little Estling. Beatrice listened to Alicia chattering to her father and allowed her thoughts to dwell on what she would wear at her wedding.
Her mother and father welcomed them warmly, made much of Alicia, and fell at once to discussing the wedding over their coffee.
‘Will you marry here, darling?’ asked her mother. ‘A summer wedding?’
Beatrice cast a look at the professor, deep in some discussion with her father.
‘We rather thought in about three weeks’ time—here, of course. A quiet wedding…’
‘Well, of course, love, if that’s what you want. Your friends will be disappointed and so will the family.’
The two men were listening now and Gijs said smoothly, ‘Perhaps we can arrange things to please everyone. It is for Beatrice to decide, of course, but if we had just close family at the church, could there be a reception for your friends afterwards?’
Mrs Crawley brightened. ‘That’s a good idea. The church is small anyway.’
‘If we married fairly early in the morning and had a buffet here?’ suggested Beatrice. She frowned. ‘But that would be too early for Gijs and Alicia to get here.’
‘We’ll put up with Derek’s people,’ he told them. ‘Everyone else can stay in Aylesbury.’
Alicia had been listening, sitting on a low stool with Horace stretched out beside her. ‘I am to wear a pink frock,’ she told the company at large.
‘Ah, yes, of course, you will be a bridesmaid, my dear,’ observed Mrs Crawley. ‘Tell me, what sort of dress is it to be?’
A pleasant topic which kept them occupied until lunch and after that meal Beatrice and Gijs walked down to the village and talked to Mr Perkins, who agreed happily with everything they suggested, advised the professor how to set about getting a special licence and embarked on a short homily concerning the duties of man and wife and got quite carried away and ended with the observation that he had felt romance in the air when he had seen them together at Lady Dowley’s party. Beatrice blushed but the professor congratulated him gravely upon his perception, observing that he had had similar feelings.
On their way back Beatrice said tartly, ‘You need not have agreed with the rector, you know…’
‘What about?’ The professor’s voice was bland.
‘Well, you know, all that about romance.’ She turned to frown at him. ‘It was very tiresome of you!’
‘I stand rebuked,’ he told her, still bland. ‘Remind me if at any time in the future I should get a romantic notion into my head. There should be no need of romance between friends.’ When she fell silent he added, ‘You approve of the arrangements? I’ll put a notice in the Telegraph and gather my family together—not many; twenty or so, I dare say. How about you?’
‘The same, more or less. Mother can invite as many as she likes to the reception—if they all come no one is going to feel left out.’
‘A splendid idea. Now, this question of Alicia’s frock? Could you get it settled before we go back to Holland. Write it all down and I’ll get someone to make it. Nanny will know what to do.’
‘That would be a great help—you’ll let her choose the colour, won’t you?’
‘My dear girl, I wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise. What about you?’
‘Me? Well, I don’t really know…’
‘Wear white and a bridal veil,’ said the professor surprisingly. ‘Just this once, indulge me in my romantic fancies.’
‘I don’t think our wedding will be quite as quiet as we had planned.’ She spoke matter-of-factly but her heart had given a happy lurch at his words. For something to say she asked, ‘Your sister—she’s married? Did she have a big wedding?’
‘Indeed she did, six bridesmaids, the choir, ushers, flowers everywhere and two hundred guests. She was living at home with my parents and the place was in an uproar for months beforehand.’
‘Well, you won’t be here so any uproar need not bother you. We can just meet at the church.’
He stopped a few yards from the house and turned her round and kissed her swiftly. ‘Something to which I will look forward,’ he told her.
Mrs Crawley, peering cautiously out of the window, smiled happily. They would suit each other very well although she wasn’t sure if Beatrice knew that yet. Outwardly they were behaving like any other engaged couple but there was something…
Whatever it was wasn’t apparent in Beatrice’s manner during the weekend; she was her usual cheerful sensible self and on Sunday as they left the church she had been surrounded by well-wishers all anxious to meet the groom. Even Lady Dowley’s two-edged remark that Beatrice was at last going to settle down, and high time too—this with a sweetly spiteful smile at the professor—failed to dislodge her smile.
Walking back to her home with her parents following with Alicia, Gijs said placidly, ‘I like your friends, Beatrice, but must that abominable woman come to our wedding?’
She laughed. ‘Lady Dowley? She’s a thorn in everyone’s flesh. I don’t know why we put up with her; I dare say it’s because she gives lavish parties.’
‘Ah, yes, she made some sickeningly sentimental remark about us meeting under her roof.’
‘Well, she’ll have to be asked to the reception but there will be lots of people there so you can avoid her.’
They left that evening after an afternoon largely taken up with earnest discussions about Alicia’s dress. Her own outfit Beatrice hadn’t mentioned nor did she intend to. Gijs knew what it would be because he had asked her to wear white and a veil, and she had given her mother a broad enough hint to satisfy that lady’s maternal curiousity.
Alone in her flat after an enthusiastic farewell from Alicia and a coolly friendly one from Gijs, Beatrice made a pot of tea and sat down with pen and paper; the wedding was three weeks away and there was more than enough to keep her busy until then. Gijs had said that he would come over to England although he wasn’t sure when that would be and she still had a week to work at the hospital. She went to bed at length, her more prosaic plans quite swamped with the more interesting prospect of the shopping she needed to do.
Her exchange replacement came two days later and she set her own plans on one side for the moment while she concentrated on her—a nice girl and anxious to please. She heard nothing from Gijs but she hadn’t expected to. He wasn’t a man to waste time on unnecessary letters; it wasn’t as though he were a man in love and anxious to remind her of it. It was her last day at the department when she met Tom crossing the forecourt. He stopped and caught hold of her arm. ‘Well, well, you have done well for yourself,’ he told her nastily. ‘You’re no better than I, my dear. Feathered your nest very nicely, haven’t you? The man’s filthy rich, or didn’t you know?’
She took his hand off her arm. ‘Goodbye, Tom. I hope everything turns out well for you.’ She went on her way and tried to forget what he had said—and didn’t succeed.