SOPHIE sat at the table after Rijk had gone, feeding Matt pieces of toast while she thought. It had been wrong of her to eavesdrop, she knew that, but if she hadn’t she wouldn’t have known, would she? She wasn’t sure what she did know, but it seemed likely that Rijk was still seeing someone—a woman—whom he had known and perhaps loved or been in love with before he met her and decided that she would fill the empty space he had allocated for a suitable wife. ‘The heartless brute,’ said Sophie in a stony little voice and, since she loved him with all her heart, not meaning a word of it.
She had told Rijk that she would stay indoors, but Matt had to go out; she put on the woolly cap and the loden cloak, stuck her feet into wellies, and took him for a brisk run in the grounds. The sky was still grey and the wind bitter, but the snow had stopped. When she got back to the house Rauke told her that tomorrow everyone would be skating.
Tiele came after lunch, bringing with her another young woman, a friend with whom she had been lunching and who had professed a keen desire to meet Rijk’s bride. She was older than Tiele, tall and fair and with cold blue eyes, quite beautifully dressed. Sophie didn’t like her and knew that she wasn’t liked either, but on the surface at least they appeared good friends, and Tiele—kind, warm-hearted Tiele—noticed nothing, and there was plenty to talk about—the children, the family dinner party, only two days away now, and finally Elisabeth Willenstra’s engagement.
‘I shall have a big wedding,’ she told Sophie, ‘for we have so many friends, Wim and I. You and Rijk must come, of course—it will be in two months’ time. Such a pity that I shall be away for your party, but we’re sure to meet again—Rijk has so many friends.’ She gave Sophie a sharp glance. ‘I expect you have met Irena—Irena van Moeren—by now? One of his oldest friends.’
Sophie busied herself with the teapot. ‘We haven’t met yet; there has hardly been time. We had an invitation—’
‘I’m sure Rijk will have found time.’
There was so much spite in Elisabeth’s voice that Tiele looked up. ‘If he has, it must have been by chance,’ she said, ‘and I’m sure Sophie knows about her, anyway, don’t you, Sophie?’
‘Oh, yes, of course,’ said Sophie. It was surprising how easily the lie tripped off her tongue. It was in a good cause, she decided, for Elisabeth looked disappointed.
Alone again, she allowed herself half an hour’s worry about the tiresome Irena. Elisabeth had been trying to needle her; all the same, this Irena van Moeren was someone to reckon with. Sophie decided that she would feel much better if she met the woman…
Rijk was late home, which was a good thing, for Sophie was in a bad temper and ripe for a quarrel.
The same bad temper prevented her from going to Leeuwarden to look for a dress for the family party. She would wear the pink she had bought in London. What did it matter what she wore? she reflected pettishly, wallowing in a gloomy self-pity; no one would notice. And of course by no one she meant Rijk.
She had tried hard to forget Elisabeth Willenstra’s sly remarks. All the same, she hadn’t been very successful; Irena van Moeren was beginning to loom very large on her horizon, and she wished with all her heart that she didn’t need to go to the family gathering.
There was to be a family dinner first before the guests arrived, and Rijk had come home early and spent half a hour with her in the drawing-room before they’d parted to dress, and now she was on the point of going downstairs.
The pink dress had lifted her spirits; it was pretty without being too girlish and flattered her splendid person. She had done her hair in its usual complicated coil, hooked in the diamond earrings, and fastened the pearl necklace; now she took a last look at her reflection in the pier-glass in her room and, catching up the mohair wrap to keep her warm on their journey, she went downstairs.
Rijk was in the drawing-room, standing by the open French window while Matt pranced around in the snow. Sophie, coming quietly into the room, thought that he was the handsomest man she had ever set eyes on; certainly a dinner-jacket, superbly cut, set off his massive proportions to the very best advantage.
He turned round at the soft sound of her skirt’s rustle and studied her at his leisure. ‘You look beautiful,’ he said quietly.
She thanked him just as quietly; she had very little conceit, but she knew that she was looking her best. If only her best would match up to Irena van Moeren…
Matt came bounding in to stand obediently and have his great paws wiped clean before going to his basket, and Rijk said, ‘If you are ready, I think we had better be on our way.’
He was perfectly at ease as they drove to Leeuwarden, telling her about his day’s work, asking her what she had been doing, promising that since he was free on the following day he would take her on to the lake and give her her first skating lesson. She answered suitably in a voice so unlike her open manner that he asked her if she was nervous.
‘You don’t need to be,’ he assured her. ‘The family may be overpowering but they love you and, as for the guests, I’ll be there to hold your hand.’
She said, ‘You have so many friends, haven’t you? I shan’t remember any names, and will they all speak English?’
‘Oh, yes. Although I expect Grandmother will make a point of addressing you in Dutch—she can be very contrary—although I have it from Mother that she approves of you, largely because you look as a woman should look.’
‘You mean my clothes?’
‘No, Sophie, your person. Your curves are generous and in the right places; she considers that a woman should look like one, not like a beanpole.’ He glanced sideways at her in the dimness of the car. ‘And I do agree with her, I certainly do.’
Her face flamed and she was glad that he couldn’t see that. Her ‘Thank you’ was uttered in a prim voice which made him smile.
The whole family were waiting for them as they entered the drawing-room, and she was glad that she had worn the pink dress; she felt comfortable in it and it matched the other dresses there in elegance. Rijk had taken her hand, going from one person to another after they had greeted his parents, reminding her of names. Aunts and uncles, cousins and the older nieces and nephews, there seemed to be no end to them, but presently, after they had drunk their champagne and spoken to everyone, she found herself at the dinner-table, sitting on the right of her father-in-law, and thankfully Loewert was on her other side. Rijk was at the other end of the table, sitting beside his mother, and the meal was conducted in a formal manner since it was, as her host assured her, a most important occasion in the family.
Dinner was lengthy and delicious and, between father and son, Sophie began to enjoy herself. By the time they rose and made their way back to the drawing-room she felt quite at ease, and when Rijk joined her and slipped an arm round her waist she smiled up at him, momentarily forgetful of her worries, only to have them all crowding back into her head as the guests began to arrive and her foreboding was realised.
Irena van Moeren was one of the first to arrive and she was indeed the woman Sophie had seen with Rijk; moreover, she was a strikingly handsome one, not young any more, but beautifully turned out in a black gown of utter simplicity.
That she knew everyone there was obvious and when she reached Rijk and Sophie she lifted her face for his kiss in a way which made it plain that she had done it many times before. She kissed Sophie too, and held her hand, telling her how delighted she was to meet her. ‘We must become friends,’ she said, and sounded as though she really meant it.
If Rijk was in love with her, reflected Sophie, agreeing with false enthusiasm, then she couldn’t blame him; Irena was charming and obviously kind and warm-hearted. If Sophie hadn’t hated her so thoroughly, she would have liked her. There was no sign of her husband and she must either be married or a widow, for she wore a ring. Perhaps, thought Sophie, allowing her thoughts to wander, Rijk had been unable to marry her when her husband was alive, and, now that he was dead, he was married himself.
She became aware that Irena was saying something to her. ‘Rijk has asked me to spend an afternoon with you both, skating on the lake.’
‘I don’t skate,’ said Sophie bleakly. She would have to stand and watch the two of them executing complicated figures together…
‘You’ll learn in no time, Rijk on one side of you and me on the other.’
Rijk hadn’t spoken; she summoned up an enthusiasm she didn’t feel and said heartily, ‘Oh, that sounds wonderful. Do come.’ She glanced at Rijk, ‘I’m not sure when you’re free, but if you could bring Irena for lunch one day soon?’
He didn’t remind her that he had already told her that he was free on the following day. ‘Tomorrow? I’ll fetch you, Irena; we’ll have an early lunch so that we can get the best of the afternoon.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Sophie added, ‘and stay for dinner; I shall look forward to it.’
They were joined by several other guests then and it wasn’t until the end of the evening that Sophie spoke to Irena again. She had come over to say goodbye and Sophie said gaily, ‘Don’t forget tomorrow—I do look forward to it.’
They were the last to leave; the family had stayed for a little while after the last of the guests had gone, mulling over the evening and then going home, until only Rijk’s brothers and parents were left.
‘It was a perfectly lovely evening,’ declared Sophie, kissing and being kissed. ‘Thank you very much. I—I feel one of the family now and I hope you will let me be that.’
Mevrouw van Taak ter Wijsma embraced her with warmth. ‘You dear child, you have been one of us since the moment we saw you. I look forward to a delightful future with my new daughter. You are so exactly right for Rijk.’
Sophie smiled; of course she was right for Rijk, but did he think so too? Was she to be second best in his life? He would be good to her and care for her as his wife, but would he always be eating his heart out for Irena?
If he were, he showed no signs of it as they drove back home. It was a clear night with a bright moon, turning the snow-clad countryside to a fairytale beauty; he talked about their evening and the various people who had been there, apparently not noticing her silence. Only when they got home did he remark that it had been an exciting evening for her and that she must be tired. ‘Go to bed, my dear,’ he told her, ‘and get some sleep. You have no need to get up for breakfast—I’ll fetch Irena about midday and I’m sure that Tyske will cope with lunch.’
A remark which brought her out of her silence. ‘It was a lovely evening and I am a little tired, but I don’t want to stay in bed in the morning. Since you aren’t going to the hospital in the morning perhaps we might have breakfast a little later, though?’
‘Of course; tell Rauke before you go to bed. Would you like coffee or tea now?’
She shook her head, wished him goodnight, had a word with Rauke, and went to her room. She undressed slowly and got into bed and lay awake long after the house was quiet. The thought of the hours she must spend in Irena’s company made her feel quite sick. She slept at last, to dream that Irena had come to the house, accompanied by piles of luggage, and that she herself was transported, in the way of dreams, on to an icy waste and told to skate back to England. It took her all of half an hour, using all her common sense, to face the grey light of early morning.
She got up thankfully and dressed carefully, wishing that she had gone to Leeuwarden as Rijk had suggested and bought some new clothes. She got into corduroy trousers and a heavy sweater and was rewarded by Rijk’s genial, ‘Ah, all ready to skate, I see.’ He had given her face, pinched by worry and lack of sleep, a quick look. ‘It should be excellent on the lake; there’s not much wind. I’ve been down to have a look and there’s plenty of hard, smooth ice, just right for you.’ He added kindly, ‘Of course, if you don’t feel like it, you have no need to skate today—there will be ice for some time, I should think.’
She took a reviving sip of coffee. The idea of allowing him and Irena to spend half the day on the lake was sufficient to make her doubly keen to skate; jealousy was a great incentive, she had just discovered, although she despised herself for giving way to it. She said airily, ‘Oh, but I’m longing to learn—I must be the only person living in Friesland who can’t skate.’
He laughed then and began to talk about other things and presently went away to his study to emerge in time to take Matt for a walk before he went to fetch Irena.
Sophie, making sure that lunch was going to be ready by the time they returned, wondered how she was going to get through the day.
Standing at the window, she watched the car stop before the house and Irena and Rijk get out. Irena was laughing, obviously happy, and looking eye-catching in a scarlet anorak and stretch leggings, a scarf, tied with careless elegance, over her blonde hair.
Sophie went into the hall to meet them, the very picture of a smiling and delighted hostess, hurrying her guest away to take off her jacket and tidy herself, keeping up a flow of chat in a manner so unlike her that Rijk, getting drinks for them all, turned away to hide a smile, at the same time puzzled as to her manner…
With Matt in delighted attendance, they went down to the lake in the early afternoon and Rijk fastened skates on to Sophie’s boots. They were broad and, she was assured, just right for a learner. He and Irena put on a quite different skate, specially used in Freisland and very fast.
Once on the ice Sophie did her best, held firmly on either side, sliding and slipping, until Rijk said, ‘You’re doing splendidly; lean forward a little and don’t think about your feet. Irena is going to let go of you in a moment, but you won’t fall; I have you safe.’
She didn’t fall; the sight of Irena, skimming away with casual grace, inspired her to keep on her feet and presently she said, ‘I believe I could go alone; may I try?’
She struck out bravely, letting out small screams of delight as she went forward. ‘Look, look,’ she called to Rijk. ‘I’m skating; I can—’
The next moment she was tottering, waving her arms wildly in an effort to keep her balance as Rijk put a bracing arm around her and stood her upright again.
‘That was splendid,’ he observed, but Sophie, floundering around trying to regain her balance, could see Irena gliding gracefully back with an effortless ease which did nothing to improve Sophie’s self-confidence.
‘Sophie—but how splendid, you were skating alone. Never mind that you lost your balance; in a few days you will be good. Rijk, I will stay with Sophie while you take a turn around the lake.’
Of course Rijk had every right to go off on his own, but did he need to go so willingly, with nothing but a nod and a smile for her? She watched him race away, his hands clasped behind his back, moving effortlessly.
‘He’s very good,’ said Irena. ‘He has taken part in our Elfstedentocht several times, and twice he has won. It is a great test for a skater, for they must skate on the canals and waterways between eleven towns in Friesland.’
‘I suppose he was taught when he was a little boy.’
‘Yes, we all skate almost as soon as we can walk; we all learned together, but he was always the best of us.’ She put a firm arm under Sophie’s elbow. ‘Now let us continue… Strike out with your right foot, so. Good, now do it with your left foot, and again, faster… You know about Rijk and us…?’
She spoke very quietly and when Sophie shot her a glance she looked sad.
‘Yes,’ said Sophie; she looked to where Rijk was tearing back across the ice.
‘Good, then we do not need to speak of it; it is for me very sad.’ She became brisk once more. ‘Now if you will go alone, and if you fall I shall pick you up.’
If only she could go somewhere quiet and have a good cry, thought Sophie despairingly, but she was quite unable to deal with her wretched skates, and anyway, what would be the use? How much easier it would be if she could hate Irena, even dislike her a little, but she liked her; she could quite see why Rijk loved her. She plunged forward, not caring if she fell and broke a leg or an arm, and to her great surprise she kept on her feet for several yards until she was neatly fielded by Rijk, back again.
‘You’re an excellent pupil,’ she was told, ‘but that’s enough for today; let us go home and have tea.’
‘Wouldn’t you and Irena like to skate together? I don’t mind a bit; if you would take off my skates I’ll go on ahead and make sure tea is ready.’
He gave her a quick look, his eyes thoughtful. ‘We’ve had enough, haven’t we, Irena? We’ll have tea and then I’ll take you back.’
‘I thought Irena was staying for dinner?’ Anyone would think, reflected Sophie, that I am enjoying this conversation.
‘I did tell Rijk; I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you too—’ Irena looked quite crestfallen ‘—but I have an appointment this evening and it is important that I should be there. Forgive me, Sophie.’
‘Well, of course; you must come another time. We’ll have tea round the fire…’
Which they did, with Matt crouching beside his master, accepting any morsel which might come his way, and the talk was all of skating and how well Sophie had done, and presently Irena said that she really must go.
Sophie, the hospitable hostess even though it was killing her, murmured regret and the wish that they might meet again soon, and waved them away from the porch, Matt beside her, puzzled as to why he wasn’t going too. Sophie was puzzled as well; after all, Rijk was only driving into Leeuwarden and back again.
The pair of them went back to the fireside, Matt to snooze and she to sit and worry. It had been a horrendous day; she had been hopelessly outclassed on the ice and Irena’s calm acceptance of the situation had left her uncertain and unhappy. She was deeply hurt too that Rijk hadn’t talked to her about it. After all, it could happen to anyone, and she was fair enough to realise that to have been in love, perhaps for years, with each other with no hope of marrying and then to find the way clear, only for Rijk to have married someone else in the meantime, must be a terrible thing to happen. Was Irena’s husband dead, she wondered, or were they divorced? When Rijk came home she would ask him; after all, they were the best of friends and should be able to discuss the problem without rancour.
She gave a great sigh and Matt opened his eyes and grunted worriedly. ‘I think my heart is broken,’ said Sophie. ‘It would be so simple if only I didn’t love him.’
Matt got up and laid his great head on her lap and presently, when she went upstairs to change her dress, even went with her. He wasn’t allowed in the bedrooms, but she sensed that he was disobeying out of kindness. She put on one of her prettiest dresses, took pains with her face and hair, and went downstairs to wait for Rijk.
Only he didn’t come. It wanted only a few minutes to dinner when the phone rang.
‘Sophie.’ Rijk’s voice sounded urgently in her ear. ‘I shall be delayed. Don’t wait dinner and don’t wait up.’
‘Yes,’ said Sophie and hung up. It had been an inadequate answer; she might have said, ‘I quite understand,’ or even, ‘Very well.’
She dined alone with Rauke serving her and taking away the almost uneaten plates of food with a worried air. She saw the look and said hastily, ‘I’m not hungry, Rauke; it must be all that skating. If the professor isn’t back by eleven o’clock will you lock up, please, and leave the door for him and something in the kitchen? He may be cold and hungry. He didn’t say when he would be home, but it sounded urgent.’
She added that last bit to make it sound convincing, even though in her mind’s eye she could see Rijk and Irena spending the evening together. With a mythical headache as an excuse, she went to bed early.
She didn’t sleep; it was almost two o’clock when she heard Rijk’s quiet tread on the stairs. Only then did she fall into a troubled sleep.
He was already at the table when she went down to breakfast in the morning.
‘Don’t get up,’ she told him sharply. ‘I dare say you’re tired after your short night.’ Then, because she was beside herself with lack of sleep and unhappiness and worry, she allowed her tongue to say things she had never meant to utter.
‘I’m only surprised that you bothered to come home, but of course you weren’t to know that I know all about it.’
She stopped then, otherwise she might have burst into tears, and poured herself a cup of coffee with a shaking hand. After a heartening sip, she added, ‘You might have told me.’
The professor sat back in his chair, watching her. He was bone-weary, after operating for hours, but his voice was placid enough as he asked, ‘And why should I not come home, Sophie? I live here.’
Sophie mauled the slice of toast on her plate. ‘Bah.’ Her voice shook. ‘I’ve just told you, I know about you and Irena…’
The professor didn’t move. ‘And?’ he asked in an encouraging voice.
‘Well, are we supposed to go on like this for the rest of our lives? Elisabeth Willenstra said—’
‘Ah—Elisabeth.’ His voice was quiet, but his blue eyes were hard.
‘Well, that you and Irena were old friends… She didn’t say anything in so many words, but I can take a hint. Besides—’ she gulped back tears and went on steadily ‘—that evening I came back by bus—I had gone to the hospital to go home with you. It was as I was waiting to cross the street opposite the entrance that I saw you both coming out together. She looked so happy and you were smiling at her and holding her arm and…yesterday Irena asked if I knew about you… Those were her words—“You know about Rijk and us?”—and of course I said yes.’ She could hear her voice getting louder and shrill, but she couldn’t stop now. ‘And you stayed out almost all night and she was coming to dinner but then she said she had to go back and you went with her.’
The professor still hadn’t moved. ‘You believe that I would do this to you?’
Something in his calm voice made her mumble, ‘You can’t help falling in love, can you? I mean, when you do it matters more than anything else, doesn’t it?’
‘Indeed it does. I see no point in continuing this conversation at the moment. I shall be late home; don’t wait up.’
He was at the door when she asked in a small voice, ‘Are you very angry, Rijk?’
He turned to look at her. He wasn’t just tired, he was white with anger, his eyes blazing.
‘Dangerously so, Sophie,’ he said and went away, closing the door softly behind him.
She wished with all her heart that she had held her tongue.
She took Matt for a walk presently, in the cold stillness of the icy morning, and she was able to think clearly. She would have to apologise, of course, and ask to be forgiven, although it was she who should be doing the forgiving, and she would insist on a sensible discussion. They had always been good friends, able to talk easily and communicate with each other. It was a great pity that she had fallen in love with him; it was a complication she hadn’t envisaged.
She went back home and made a pretence of eating the lunch Rauke had ready for her and then wandered around the house, unable to settle to anything. She was in the small sitting-room, looking unseeingly out of the window, when Rauke announced Irena.
Sophie pinned a smile on her face and turned to welcome her guest. Rijk would have seen her, of course, and she had come to explain…
Irena came in with an outstretched hand. ‘Sophie, I am on my way back to Leeuwarden and I thought I would come and see you. You don’t mind?’
Sophie took the hand. ‘Of course not. I expect you’ve seen Rijk?’
Irena looked puzzled. ‘Rijk?’ She frowned. ‘No.’ She looked suddenly anxious. ‘He has telephoned here? He would like to speak to me urgently?’ She had gone quite white. ‘Jerre—he is not so well… I must telephone… He was improving; what can have happened?’
She sounded distraught and Sophie said, ‘Who is Jerre?’
‘My husband—you knew? You said that you did. He had a brain tumour and Rijk saved his life, but we told no one because Jerre is director of a big business concern and if it were known that he was so very ill it would have caused much panic and shareholders would have lost money…but I must telephone.’
‘It’s all right, Irena, I’m sure your husband is all right. It’s just that I thought that you might have seen Rijk. It’s just that I didn’t know about your husband.’
Irena was no fool. ‘Oh, my poor dear, you thought Rijk and I… He is Jerre’s best friend; we all grew up together. Why should you think that of us?’
‘Someone called Elisabeth…’
‘That woman… She pretends to be everyone’s friend, but she is spiteful; she likes to make trouble. Nothing of what she said to you is true; you must believe me.’
‘I do, only I’ve quarrelled with Rijk, and, you see, I’m in love with him and he doesn’t know that. I can’t explain…’
‘No, no,’ said Irena soothingly, ‘a waste of time. Get your coat and hat and come to Leeuwarden with me. He will be at the hospital; you must find him there and explain to him. He is angry, yes? He has a nasty temper, but he controls it. Tell him you love him.’
Sophie shook her head. ‘I can’t do that; if I do I shall have to leave him…’
‘You must do what you think is best, but I do beg you, get your coat.’
Irena dropped her off outside the hospital, kissed her warmly, and waited in the car until she saw Sophie through the doors.
The porter was in his little box. Seeing Sophie, he shook his head. ‘The professor is not here, mevrouw.’ His English was surprisingly good. ‘He is gone.’
‘But his car is outside.’
‘He holds his clinic five minutes away from here; he walks.’
‘Will you tell me where the clinic is?’
The directions were complicated and she wasn’t sure if she had them right, but she had wasted enough time already. She thanked him and he said, ‘The clinic lasts until five o’clock; you should hurry, mevrouw.’
She hurried, trying to remember his directions, but after five minutes’ walking she knew that she had gone wrong; the street she was in was narrow, lined with old houses and run-down shops, and it didn’t appear to have a name. A matronly woman was coming towards her and Sophie stopped her, gathered together the best of her Dutch, and asked the way. Precious moments were lost while she repeated everything under the woman’s beady eyes.
‘Engelse?’ she wanted to know, and, when Sophie nodded, broke into a flood of talk, not a word of which Sophie understood. She was wasting time. When the woman paused for breath, Sophie thanked her politely and hurried on. There was a crossroads ahead, not a main street, but it might lead somewhere where she could ask again. She was in a quite nasty temper by now; she was lost and unhappy and she was never going to find Rijk, and that was more important than anything else in the world. She shot round a corner head first into a broad expanse of cashmere overcoat.
‘What a delightful surprise,’ said Rijk, wrapping both arms around her.
‘So there you are,’ said Sophie in a very cross voice. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’ And she burst into tears.
Rijk stood patiently, rock-solid, while she sniffed and wept and muttered into his huge shoulder. Presently he took a very large white handkerchief from a pocket, still holding her close with his other arm, and mopped her face gently.
‘Have a good blow and stop crying and tell me why you were looking for me.’
‘I didn’t mean a word of it,’ said Sophie wildly. ‘I’ve been mean and jealous and silly and I’m so ashamed and I can’t skate and you only want us to be friends—’ she gave a great sniff ‘—but I can’t because I’ve fallen in love with you and I’ll have to go away; I really can’t go on like this.’
‘My darling wife, I have been waiting patiently to hear you say that.’ He smiled in the darkness. ‘Ever since the moment I first saw you standing on the pavement outside St Agnes’s and fell in love with you.’
‘Then why didn’t you say so?’
‘My dear love, you weren’t even sure if you liked me.’
She thought this over. ‘But you do love me? You were so angry this morning that I didn’t know what to do, but Irena came to see me and told me about Jerre and I came to say that I was sorry.’
‘What a delightfully brave wife I have. Have you any idea where you are?’
‘No, the porter told me where to go, but I couldn’t understand him.’
He gave a rumble of laughter. ‘However, you found me.’ He bent his head and kissed her soundly. ‘I shall always take care of you, my darling love.’
He did kiss her again, and an old man, shuffling past, shouted something and laughed.
‘What did he say?’ asked Sophie.
Rijk said gravely, ‘Translated into polite English, he begged me to kiss and hug you.’
Sophie lifted her face to his. ‘Well, hadn’t you better take his advice?’
* * * * *