A Girl Named Rose Part 12

She didn't see Christina's wide grin at her husband.

"Oh, lovely for you--we hadn't planned anything, had we, Duert? You'll be able to see some more of Amsterdam. We wondered if you'd like to go to Scheveningen tomorrow? It's a bit crowded but there's the pier and lots to see. Duert's given himself a day off again; at least what he calls a day off--he'll go to the hospital early and be home by ten o'clock or so and then go in again between tea and dinner. The weather forecast's good, we'll take the children and the dogs for a walk before we go and leave them with Nanny."

It sounded fun, thought Rose, besides she would be able to take her mind off Sybren.

It was as much fun as she had hoped even though the wretched man wasn't out of her head for one single second.

They had put the baby in her pram, attached little Duert to his leading reins and with the dogs for escort taken a walk through the quiet avenues around the house and by the time they had got back Duert was waiting for them. There was no hurry; they sat for a while playing with the children and gossiping before they got into the car. That was the nice part about living as the ter Brandts did; no one seemed fussed about time or being late or having to get somewhere; she supposed it was because they had a beautifully run home and devoted staff. She had a sudden memory of racing on and off duty at St. Bride's always with an eye on the clock, calculating how much one could get done in a given time on the ward, or just how long it would take to get to the station or go shopping. She sank back, relis.h.i.+ng the comfort of the car and sternly stopped her thoughts from wandering to Sybren. He would be working himself now, doing a round or perhaps operating. She jumped guiltily as Duert said over his shoulder, "I saw Sybren--he was at my hospital to see a child with brain damage. I'm to remind you that he'll be with us by eleven o'clock tomorrow."

Rose murmured something and wished she didn't blush so easily.

They went first to the harbour so that she could see the fis.h.i.+ng boats and the fishermen's wives in their voluminous black skirts and coloured shawls, their heads covered in snowy caps with the gold ornaments on either side. And having had her till of these, they drove back along the long promenade to the casino where Duert parked the car while they went on to the pier. It was delightful loitering in the sun, sitting down to drink lemonade and watch the crowds on the beach.

"Is it always as crowded as this?" asked Rose.

"No, only in July and August; We hardly ever come; sometimes in the autumn, it's so quiet then; no one about, only the fishermen. "

They lunched at Le Bon Ton, a French bistro, small but Rose guessed that it was expensive. Afterwards they got into the car again and went to Madurodam, the miniature model city halfway between Scheveningen and The Hague. Here they spent more than an hour, treading between the miniature houses and shops, watching the trains and trams travelling to and fro and they saw the barges on the ca.n.a.ls sailing slowly along, while the windmills turned, ferries fussed back and forth and in the harbour boats came and went and the planes landed and took off from the airfield.

"Pretty marvelous, isn't it?" observed Duert.

"It lights up in the evening you know."

"Why is it called Madurodam? Is there a town called that in Holland?"

"No, it's named after a lieutenant, George Maduro, who died in Dachau.

There couldn't be a better memorial, could there? " They went back to the beach then, and walked along the firm sand by the water's edge and returned finally to have tea in the pier restaurant. *A lovely day," said Rose and meant it, finding it even lovelier because in the morning she would see Sybren again.

He was very punctual but all the same she had been ready for half an hour before he arrived. She was wearing the pink dress and had taken extra care with her face and hair. She had put it up at first, and then taken all the pins out and brushed it smooth and tied it back with a pink ribbon. Soon enough she would be wearing it in a severe bun again, she reminded herself. Only one more day left after this day and then back to St. Bride's and hard work. She couldn't bear to think of it.

She had felt a little shy at meeting Sybren again but she didn't need to; he greeted her with casual friendliness, observed that he was glad to see that she wasn't going to keep him waiting, spent five minutes talking to Christina and the children, then stowed her in the car, got in beside her and drove off.

She didn't ask where they were going, she was content enough just to sit there beside him. When they reached his house she got out to find Hans waiting by the open door, his face wreathed in smiles. She wished him good day and added, "Do you remember me, Hans?"

"Certainly, Miss, a pleasure to see you again."

The hall was cool and dim and this time she was ushered into a room on the other side of it, smaller than the rather grand one she remembered from her first visit. But it was beautiful, nonetheless, with panelledwalls hung with paintings, comfortable chairs and little tables scatteredaround and a deep window at one end with a window seat piled with cus.h.i.+ons.Curled up among them was a black and white cat who took no notice of them atall, nor twitched a whisker when the door behind them was thrust wide and abouvier came prancing in. Rose had glimpsed one once or twice on herprevious visits to Holland but she had never been as close as this. Helooked a bit fearsome with his small yellow eyes and great head but she putout a clenched fist for his inspection and bade him a polite h.e.l.lo.

He went to his master first, wagging his stumpy tail and beaming all over his ferocious face and then at a word from Sybren gently nosed Rose's hand and offered his head for a pat.

"William," said Sybren, 'and don't ask me why. I've had him since he was avery small puppy and he'll not harm a hair of your head. " He turned to lookat her.

"He knows you belong here, you see."

She had nothing to say to that; he went on, "He would make mincemeat of anyone I didn't approve of, though. You like him?"

"Oh, yes, very much. What does he do all day while you're at the hospital?"

"We go for a walk each morning before breakfast and again in the evening.I'm not always away from home, you know. When I'm free we go to the woods orto the beach and he loves riding in the car. During the day Hans takes himout."

He strolled over to a sofa table behind a brocade sofa.

"What will you drink. Rose?"

And when she hesitated: Will you try a long drink? Sherry and tonic withice? Just right for this weather. "

She found that she wasn't shy with him any more; they had slipped into aneasy relations.h.i.+p which permitted of companionable silence as well as talkand presently they crossed the hall again to the dining-room, at the back ofthe house, a panelled room and furnished very beautifully with a mahoganyoval table and chairs and a serving table against one wall. There was amagnificent stoelklok on one wall and a vast mirror in a carved frame overthe wide hearth. They sat at one end of the table and ate without haste,pausing to talk a great deal.

There were potted shrimps, lamb cutlets with potato straws and mouthwatering salad and by way of afters orange ice cream with Courvoisier, all these helped along very nicely with a muscadet and rounded off with coffee served in paper-thin china cups and poured from a ma.s.sive silver coffeepot.

Rose accepted it all, as she would accept a lovely dream, querying nothing, knowing at the same time that dreams have a way of ending and that she would wake up presently. But she refused to think of that, just for a little while she was truly happy.

After lunch he took her round the house, so much bigger than it appeared from the street with a vast complex of kitchens and pantries and cellars below ground where she met Hans' wife Jultsje, a big woman with bright blue eyes and a wide smile, and a round dumpling of a girl who grinned and blushed. Hanna was from Friesland just as Jultsje was, being that lady's niece.

"There is also a gardener, but he's quite old and comes and goes when he likes," explained Sybren leading the way up the narrow staircase which opened into the back of the hall.

Upstairs there were any number of rooms, some large and beautifully furnished with modem bathrooms cunningly hidden away and some small and cosy, tucked away down narrow pa.s.sages or up short narrow stairs.

It took some time to see everything and when they got back to the big room she remembered so well, the afternoon was almost over.

"We'll have a stroll in the garden, shall we?" asked Sybren and took her out to the long narrow lawn behind the house with William at his heels. They strolled round the garden afterwards and half way down its well ordered length he stopped to say, "I like your dress. Rose. You should always wear pink." He bent and kissed her cheek lightly and then walked on again, his hand under her arm.

"After dinner we'll go for a stroll along the grachten. " I And after that he talked about commonplace things; Amsterdam and his home and how the city had changed over the last few years and the differences between Dutch and English law, and Rose sitting beside him on a little rustic seat built round the mulberry tree at the very end of the garden listened to every word.

They went back into the house presently, into the vast drawing-room where Hans had set tea on a drum-table by the window. Rose was pouring their tea when Sybren came and took his cup from her and set it on the table.

He said quite angrily, "Dammit, there's something I want to say to you--something--I must explain before you go back to England. The trouble with you is that I thought that I knew what you were thinking; now I've got to know you better I'm not sure any more. I'm not even sure if you like me. "

She looked at him then and smiled a little and said steadily, "Oh, yes, I like you, I didn't mean to though."

"Good. Rose, what would you say if I were to tell you that I want to get married?" He paused.

"Do you know me well enough, I wonder?"

He was standing in front of her, for once in his self-a.s.sured life at a loss for words, staring down at her plain face so very composed. Her composure was like a fence between them although he had no idea that he had only to give it the slightest push to get rid of it. He began, "Rose.. :' She held her breath, not sure what was going to happen next, aware that her insides were turning over and over wondering what he was going to say.

Only he didn't say it; the telephone rang.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

mr werdmer ter sane said something in his own language. He spoke softly and Rose couldn't understand him, which was just as well because he was swearing quite ferociously. He went to the phone and listened without comment and she watched his face change back to the blandness she didn't much care for. When he spoke it was to utter only a few words before he put the phone down. He looked at her across the room and she wondered how a face could change so swiftly from warmth to an impersonal politeness; just as though she had arrived unexpectedly and he had felt he had to ask her to stay to tea. "Don't go--have your tea; I shouldn't be long ... I'll let you know."

Something at the hospital, she supposed, something serious too, otherwise why should he have changed from the delightful companion who had shared her day to this polite distant man. She said quietly: "Very well, Sybren," and watched him go from the room. He put his head round the door a moment later.

"It's only fair to tell you that that was Mies."

She felt as though she had been turned to stone. What was fair about it? And what was she supposed to make of his remark? And why in heaven's name had he made it? She sat there while the tea cooled in her cup. Hans came in presently, took a look at the untouched sandwiches and cakes and took away the teapot and the teacups and came back with fresh tea.

"Mijnheer wouldn't like it if you do not eat and drink. Miss," he cautioned her. So she drank some tea and ate a couple of sandwiches and watched the beautiful little carriage clock on the mantelpiece.

Almost an hour went by before the phone rang again, and this time Hans was in the room to answer it before she could get out of her chair.

"For you. Miss," he told her and went softly from the room.

"That is Rose Comely?" asked a voice; a high little tinkling voice, and Rose knew who it was at once. She said, "Yes, you wanted me?"

"I have a message. Sybren will not be back at his house. He sends his regrets and you are to ask Hans to see you back to The Hague."

"Why is he not coming back here?" asked Rose.

Mies laughed.

"That is something you will know, but not just this evening. We celebrate-you understand?"

Rose had no chance to ask any more questions; Mies rang off.

She went and sat down for a few minutes, trying to understand. Why couldn't Sybren have spoken to her himself? And was that what he had been on the point of telling her when Mies had phoned him? There was no point in guessing, she thought wearily, and went in search of Hans, who listened politely to her rather muddled request, a.s.sured her that he would get out the second car from the garage and drive her back himself.

"For that is what Mijnheer would wish," he told her.

"You will not stay for dinner. Miss?"

To dine alone in the splendour of Sybren's dining-room would have been farcical. She refused politely and waited until he went to fetch the car. A Rover, beautifully polished. She got in beside Hans and maintained a conversation of sorts for the entire journey although afterwards she had no idea what she had said.

The ter Brandts were sitting together having drinks before dinner when she arrived. Hans, with a tact which she thanked him for from the bottom of her heart, had rung the bell and gone inside, presumably to explain, for a moment later Christina came out to the car, poked her head through the window and said cheerfully.

"Called out, was he? It happens all the time. Rose. You're just in time for a drink before dinner."

She was swept into the house, and Hans, suitably thanked, went off to the kitchen for coffee before going back to Amsterdam.

"You'll tell Mister Werdmer ter Sane that I quite understood, won't you?" Rose begged him.

"You won't forget."

She had her drink and ate her dinner, looking, if she had but known, as though the world had come to an end, as indeed it had for her. But neither Christina or Duert said anything, but embarked on a lengthy discussion as to whether they should spend Christmas in London or at home, which meant that she could sit between them and murmur from time to time without actually taking part in the conversation. Presently Christina said easily: "You must be dog tired, Rose. Don't stand on ceremony with us, if you'd like an early night."

So she went to bed, but not to sleep; she thought about Sybren until her head ached. But not as much as her heart.

Mr. Werdmer ter Sane wasn't thinking about her; he was bent over the operating table very carefully removing a blood clot from the brain of a small boy who had fallen out of a fifth-floor window from a block of flats in one of the poorer parts of Amsterdam. That the child was alive was partly due to Mies van Toule who had been taking a short cut through the city in her car and had been forced to stop by a distraught woman who demanded that she should go to the nearest telephone and get help. Her inclination had been to drive on but then she remembered that her dearest friend had told her that Sybren had been seen driving that morning with a girl beside him. She had guessed, quite rightly, that it had been Rose, probably she was at his house now; she had noticed the difference in Sybren's manner of late and this was a chance to get even. She had phoned his house, knowing that he would go at once to the hospital and when he had seen her at the hospital and asked her to phone Rose and explain, she had played the perfect helpful friend and promised to do so. It had all worked out very nicely; she had driven a wedge very neatly between Sybren and Rose. And being clever as well as pretty, she drove herself out of Amsterdam to stay with friends without telling anyone where she was going, thus avoiding possible awkward questions from Sybren.

He wasn't free to phone his home until well after midnight and Hans told him then that he had driven Rose back to The Hague and then delivered her message. Mr. Werdmer ter Sane had grunted some reply, told Hans to go to bed and then gone back to the intensive care unit; the child was by no means out of danger.

He got home at four o'clock in the morning; the child, despite all his efforts, had died. He drank the coffee in the flask left out for him by the faithful Hans, showered and changed his clothes and went to his study; sleep was out of the question, he found himself wis.h.i.+ng that Rose was there, sitting quietly listening while he went over his night. Sitting there too tired to sleep, he knew that she was all that he wanted. Which was strange, he mused, smiling to himself, he had had no inkling that he would grow to love her when they had first met. Later, when he had finished his morning round at the hospital he would go to The Hague and tell her so. He yawned hugely and closed his eyes and Hans found him there a few hours later, sitting in his great chair asleep.

He was delayed at the hospital. Too late to go to his home for lunch, he ate a sandwich and drank his coffee at the hospital and then got into his car. He was tired now but to see Rose was more important than sleep.

Rose had packed that morning and now she was on the lawn beyond the house with the baby asleep in her pram, little Duert curled up on a rug under the trees and Nanny dozing in a chair close by. Christina had gone to the hairdresser and Duert was at the hospital and they would all forgather for tea presently. She had cried her eyes out during the night and now there were no tears left. Tomorrow she would go back to England and Sybren must and would be forgotten. It wouldn't have been so bad, she thought for the hundredth time, if he had told her that he was going to marry Mies; after all she had guessed that for herself, but it had hurt, his bald message without explaining, and Mies. Rose ground her splendid teeth at the thought of the girl. She had heard the triumph in the girl's voice over the phone. Rose rolled over on to her front; well, good luck to them both.

She didn't hear Mr. Werdmer ter Sane's silent approach, and since her three companions were by now all fast asleep, they didn't hear him either.

He had stretched himself out beside her while she was still catching her breath. He said quietly, "I'm sorry our day had to end like that.

She said stonily, "Please don't apologise. Mies explained. Although I can't think why you couldn't have done that for yourself." Her voice had risen slightly despite her best efforts to keep it nonchalant.

"I was unable to phone you myself." She glanced at him and he at her.

"I didn't get home until morning."

Rose sat up straight, her imagination running wild.

"I don't suppose you did." She gave a snort.

"Celebrating...1 cannot for the life of me think why you asked me out yesterday; it was quite unnecessary, you know. I couldn't care less if I never see you again, not that I shall so that won't matter." She gave a great heaving breath, got to her feet and raced away into the house and up to her room, where she walked up and down pausing to look out of the window at Sybren, lying where she had left him on the gra.s.s. He looked as though he was asleep and in fact he was.

Of course she had to go down again when Christina came home. She had pulled herself together very nicely and she need not have worried about Sybren; his manner towards her was pleasantly casual, just sufficiently interested in her return to England but evincing no curiosity as to what she intended doing when she got there. Only once, when she happened to catch his eyes inadvertently, did she see the anger in it.

I'm the one to be angry, she thought, listening with a serene face to Christina's plans for Christmas. Christmas seemed a long way off; and where would she be? Rose wondered. On night- duty, more than likely.

Mr. Werdmer ter Sane got up to leave. He had refused an invitation to stay to dinner, pleading a previous engagement, but without drawing attention to herself, there was no way in which Rose could refuse his request to accompany him to his car.

She walked beside him, giving the strong impression that she was ready to turn tail and run at any moment and he had nothing to say until they reached the car.

"Where did you think I went yesterday evening?" he wanted to know in a casual voice.

Rose had herself nicely in hand.

"You told me--at least you told me that Mies had telephoned... You said it was only fair to tell me."