When Margriet arrived home her mother was in the sitting room, her chair drawn up by the fire, her sewing lying idle on her lap. She looked round when Margriet entered the room and greeted her cheerfully, but Margriet was not deceived; she thought her mother had been crying.
‘What’s wrong, Mama? It’s not Mr Ramsey again, is it?’ She couldn’t rid herself of the thought that he might try to find a way to worm his way back into their lives.
‘No, no.’ Her mother gave a weak smile. ‘Mr Webster assures me that we won’t see him again, except perhaps in court.’ She hesitated. ‘But it seems to me that Ramsey has in effect shown me what a foolish woman I have been.’ She wiped her nose delicately on a lace handkerchief as Margriet sat down in the chair opposite her. ‘I didn’t realize how lucky I was to have had your father, so patient and kind as he was with me, and to have you too, my lovely daughter.’
‘What has brought this on now, Mama?’ Margriet asked softly. ‘Something has upset you.’
Rosamund nodded. ‘I was sitting here alone and I suddenly thought that if I didn’t act now that was how I would be for the rest of my life: alone.’
‘You’ll always have me,’ Margriet assured her, but her mother shook her head.
‘You have a right to your own life, not one that is for ever tied to mine.’ She saw that Margriet was about to say something and hurried on. ‘Whatever path you choose, you won’t waste your life as I have done. So,’ she took a breath, ‘I put on my coat and hat and ventured out.’
‘On your own?’
‘Yes.’ Rosamund lifted her head. ‘Quite alone. I thought that if you could do it, and Mrs Sanderson often goes out by herself – I’ve seen her from the window – then why shouldn’t I?’
‘Bravo, Mama,’ Margriet said softly.
‘And it was a revelation, such freedom! I actually wouldn’t have cared if Lydia Percival should have seen me without a maid accompanying me. But I didn’t see anyone I knew, which was rather disappointing.’ She sighed. ‘However, I came to Market Place and saw your – your …’ she hesitated, ‘friends from the streets and thought how energetic and busy they were, and – and clean. Then I saw Mrs Sanderson and her daughter, and Florence too, who was very surprised to see me, and I wondered …’ Again she hesitated. ‘I wondered, if Mrs Sanderson hasn’t done so already, perhaps we, that is if you and she agree, could form a committee to help other young people?’
Margriet was astonished. Mrs Sanderson had in fact broached the subject with her already, but she was already committed to other projects and would need more help if she were to take on another. ‘What a wonderful thought, Mama.’ Impulsively she got up and kissed her mother’s cheek. ‘But why did that make you cry?’
‘Because I saw you speaking to the young Dutchman, Mr Jansen,’ her mother said wistfully. ‘And I saw how he looked at you, and knew that sooner or later your life would be changing, if not with him, then with someone like him.’
Margriet sat up straight in her chair. She couldn’t believe that after all the trouble her mother had had with Mr Ramsey she could say such a thing. It was true she found Hans very personable, but she hoped that it would be possible for a grown woman to have a gentleman friend without marriage coming into it.
‘Do not even think of it, Mama,’ she said. ‘I am not considering marriage. Papa left me this house so that you and I could be safe and comfortable, and although we won’t have much money until I come of age, we’ll manage. So why would I consider marrying anyone knowing that a husband can claim everything I own?’
‘But Margriet, your papa—’
‘Wanted us to be secure and if he hadn’t planned for that then Mr Ramsey would have taken everything we owned.’ Margriet hadn’t realized that she had raised her voice, nor that she was so angry that English law condoned such an unjust state of affairs. ‘And,’ she went on, ‘although Hans Jansen is very pleasant and I would very much like him for a friend, and, by the way, I have invited him for supper tonight, I will not be considering marriage with him or with anyone else, ever!’
They had a very agreeable evening, for Cook had excelled herself on being told that a young Dutch gentleman was coming for supper. ‘I’ll give him English lamb,’ she told Mrs Simmonds. ‘I won’t try anything Dutch tonight, but maybe if he comes again, then I might.’
‘You could try those little pancakes for a dessert,’ the housekeeper said. ‘Those might impress him.’
Cook pressed a floury hand to her forehead. ‘Are we trying to impress him? Surely Miss Margriet is too young to consider a suitor?’
Mrs Simmonds pursed her mouth. ‘Well, this is ’second time he’s been. He called when Miss Margriet was away visiting her gran in Amsterdam. Besides, you know what folk such as ’mistress are like – they make plans well in advance.’
Upstairs, Rosamund was very conscious of the need not to appear to be making plans but to treat Hans as she might any visitor. She asked him about his work with the Vandergroene Company and expressed surprise and pleasure when he said that he was coming to work in the Hull office.
‘I won’t be here permanently,’ he explained, glancing at Margriet, ‘but it is very good experience for me and will also improve my English.’ He too knew that he had to tread cautiously, and when Rosamund went on to ask about his mother and sister he answered as briefly as he could, careful not to reveal that he knew far more than he could possibly tell her.
And then, to Margriet’s astonishment, her mother asked if he had ever met Margriet’s grandmother, who also lived in Amsterdam. He said that he had, having introduced himself when he joined the company. ‘I was told that she took an active interest in her son’s business, and as we live within a short distance of her I thought it polite to do so.’
‘Good,’ Rosamund said. ‘It’s nice to know that Margriet has contact with her Dutch relatives, and friends too. So very important, is it not?’
Margriet was astounded. Her mother had been averse to any contact between Margriet and her oma for years. It was almost as if she had been jealous of her. Now she was positively encouraging the bond, so when Margriet said goodnight to Hans and asked him to come again, she meant it. She wanted him to be her friend, and she thought from the way he pressed her hand that that was what he wanted too.
She didn’t go to sleep straight away that night, but lay wide awake, thinking of the day and how successful it had been. The shoppers in the market, on seeing the young people in the Dutch costumes, had stopped to talk to them and then bought flowers. Betty, Mabel and Julia had flitted about between the stalls – and so had Anneliese. Anneliese had obstructed Hans as he walked towards her.
‘I tried to push him away,’ a voice whispered in her ear.
Margriet shook her head and covered her ears. ‘I must stop this,’ she muttered. ‘I’m too old for childish games.’
‘I am not a game,’ Anneliese said. ‘We don’t need him. I’m your friend, not him. Tell him to go away.’
‘No.’ Margriet spoke aloud. ‘I won’t.’
‘Please! Let’s go to my house. You like it there. You can come and see my garden again.’
Margriet shuffled down under the sheets and blankets and covered her ears. ‘No. Go away. You’re not real.’
But Anneliese’s soft voice persisted. ‘But of course I am. Margriet, please come with me,’ and as Margriet drifted to sleep she knew that she would; she would once again be drawn into Anneliese’s world.