Betty Neels - A Valentine for Daisy

So Daisy spent a good part of their journey explaining how very much Boots would enjoy a holiday. ‘And think of all the things you can tell him when we get back,’ she pointed out.

‘We wouldn’t let anyone else have him, only Uncle Val,’ said Katie tearfully.

‘Well, of course not. He’s family, isn’t he? And Boots knows that he belongs to all the family as well as you two. You might send him a postcard from Holland…’

A suggestion which did much to cheer the children up.

Sir Hugh had made sure that his family need have no worries on their journey. They were met at Gatwick, the car was garaged and they were guided through the business of checking tickets, baggage and Customs and seen safely aboard the plane. The children were a little peevish by now and Daisy was relieved to see lemonade and biscuits and, for herself, coffee.

Lady Thorley was on the other side of the aisle and the first-class compartment was only half-full; Daisy drank her coffee while the twins munched and swallowed, grateful for the short respite. Afterwards there were comics to be looked at and the excitement of visiting the toilets, small enough at the best of times but needing a good deal of side-stepping and squeezing, much to the delight of the children.

By then the plane was coming in to land, something the twins weren’t quite sure if they liked or not. Daisy wasn’t sure if she liked it or not herself.

They were met by a well turned-out chauffeur at Schiphol and shepherded through Customs and into a gleaming, rather old-fashioned car and driven away. A little over an hour’s drive, the chauffeur told them, joining the stream of traffic.

The twins, one on each side of their mother, on the back seat, stared out of the windows and had little to say beyond excited ‘oh’s and ‘ah’s. Daisy, sitting beside the chauffeur, gazed her fill too; she mustn’t miss anything for she had promised to write every detail to her mother.

Presently the car left the busy streets around the airport and picked up speed along the motorway. There wasn’t much to see here—occasional patches of quiet meadows, but it seemed to her that there were a great many factories lining the road and she felt vague disappointment. Not for long, however; soon the factories dwindled and died away to be replaced by trees and charming houses, set well back from the road which in turn gave way to the outskirts of the city.

The streets were busy here and the chauffeur had to slow down, so that she had a chance to look around her. It looked delightful—old gabled houses, canals, imposing buildings, a splendid place to explore on her free days… They left the heart of the city, driving down a straight road with parks on either side and then large, solid houses, set well apart from each other, before they turned off into a side-road, wide and tree-lined. There were blocks of modern flats on either side and here and there town mansions in their own grounds. Halfway down they stopped before the wide entrance of a solid red-brick block of flats and the chauffeur got out, opened their doors and led the way across the pavement as a concierge came hurrying to meet them.

‘I do hope,’ said Lady Thorley, ‘that someone has put the kettle on; we need a cup of tea.’ She smiled at Daisy, ‘You must be tired; I know I am.’

Daisy had the twins by the hand, dancing with excitement. She thought it unlikely that she would have time to be tired until they were given their tea and put to bed, but that didn’t worry her. ‘I’d love one,’ she said cheerfully.

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