Betty Neels - Paradise for Two

It was Dr ter Brons Huizinga who answered her in a normal voice.

“A splendid idea, Pretty—and while you are getting it perhaps you, Prudence, would go and get a fruit drink for my aunt.”

There was a beautiful dawn breaking as she went down to the kitchen; she fetched the drink, gave it to a remarkably subdued patient and then accepted a cup of tea from the tray Pretty had fetched.

“I’m going back home,” observed the doctor. “I want two-hourly testing, and for the time being around thirty grams of carbohydrate four-hourly. I’ll be back after morning surgery, but please phone if you’re worried.”

Prudence looked at him with cold dislike, but said with deceptive meekness, “Very well, Doctor. Presumably you’ll arrange for someone to take over while I dress, eat breakfast and cast an eye over your other aunt?”

He said cordially, “Most certainly, since you feel you can’t cope.”

She said tartly, “Don’t be so unreasonable—of course I can cope, and you know it, but I doubt if you intend to take your surgery dressed as you are and with a bristly chin, too. So why should I spend the morning in a dressing-gown until you choose to do something about it?”

“It’s a charming garment; for my part, you have no need to dress.”

Her dark eyes flashed with temper; she said with chilling civility, “I suppose you can’t help being rude!”

He looked as if he was going to laugh, but all he said was, “If you could dress yourself and eat breakfast in half an hour, I’ll stay—but not a moment longer.”

Prudence sniffed, “How kind!” She cast a glance at Aunt Beatrix, lying with her eyes shut, looking more or less normal again, and whisked herself away.

Pretty, encountered on her way to her room, promised breakfast in ten minutes, and Prudence, with years of practice at dressing at speed in hospital, showered, donned a cotton top and a wide, flower-patterned skirt, tied her hair with a ribbon, and, since the ten minutes was up, left her face unmade-up before going down to the kitchen where the faithful Pretty was waiting with coffee and toast.

“Mevrouw’s cook may be out of the top drawer, but she hasn’t an idea how to cook a decent breakfast. All this bread and bits and pieces to put on it—give me bacon and eggs and a mushroom or two…”

Prudence, her teeth buried in her first slice of toast, agreed indistinctly. “When in Rome, do as Rome does,” she added, and helped herself to a slice of cheese.

“Madam will be all right now?” asked Pretty anxiously.

“I believe so—we caught her in time. I do hope she won’t do it again.”

She munched steadily for a few minutes, swallowed her coffee and got up. “I’ll take a quick peep at Aunt Emma. Will someone see to her breakfast?”

“Don’t you worry, miss, there’s help enough in this place. Has the doctor gone yet?”

“No, but he will the moment I get back to Aunt Beatrix.”

“Such a nice young man!” Pretty allowed her stern features to relax into a sentimental smile.

Prudence didn’t think this remark worth answering. She thanked her companion for her breakfast and flew upstairs, two minutes in hand.

Aunt Emma was still snoring peacefully; she skimmed along the corridor and went into Aunt Beatrix’s room.

“Ah, there you are.” Dr ter Brons Huizinga glanced at his watch, an observation which did nothing to improve her opinion of him, uttered as it was in a tone of pained patience.

“Half an hour exactly,” she pointed out. “If you’d give me your instructions…?”

He did so, watched by his patient, lying back on her pillows now, with the drip taken down, looking almost normal again. “Perhaps you would be good enough to fetch the notes I left by my aunt’s bed when I last visited her?”

He watched her with a slightly sardonic expression while she bit back the desire to tell him he could fetch them for himself on his way downstairs. With a slightly heightened colour, she went out of the room and Aunt Beatrix remarked from her bed, “You don’t like each other?” She sounded so disappointed.

Haso was strolling about the room, his hands in his pockets. “My dear Aunt—given the fact that we’ve both been out of our beds since about one o’clock this morning, and are in consequence a trifle edgy, I hardly think your observation applies.”

“Well, I do hope not. She’s a sweet girl, and so sensible.” She studied his face. “She’s extremely pretty, Haso.”

“Indeed she is. Also not very biddable and a little too sharp in the tongue. Probably due, as I’ve already said, to having to get out of her bed so very early in the morning.”

“I’m very sorry…but the chocolates were most tempting.”

He smiled very kindly at her. “I’m sure they were, only don’t be tempted again. Be a good soul and keep to your diet, and in no time at all you’ll be able to have all sorts of little extras. They make special chocolate for diabetics, you know.”

Mrs Wesley brightened. “Oh, do they? Good. How is your Aunt Emma, my dear?”

“Doing very nicely. I’ll go and see her now.” He kissed his aunt’s cheek, nodded casually to Prudence, who had just returned, took his notes from her and went away, whistling cheerfully.

The day passed uneventfully; it was amazing how quickly Mrs Wesley recovered. By teatime she was sitting in her sister’s room, exchanging somewhat exaggerated accounts of their illnesses. The doctor had been back again, pronounced himself satisfied as to their conditions, and gone again after a brief talk with Prudence. Very professional and standoffish he was, too, she thought, watching his vast back disappearing down the staircase.

She wondered where he lived, but she hadn’t liked to ask anyone, and certainly not him; she could imagine how he would look down his arrogant nose at her and tell her, in the most polite way possible, to mind her own business.

Mrs Wesley appeared to have learnt her lesson, and her sister was making steady progress; Prudence felt free to spend a little time on her own, exploring. The lake she had glimpsed on her arrival was close by; she found her way to it without much difficulty, circled it, poking her pretty nose into a boathouse on its near shore and then on the following afternoon wandering down to the village, where she bought postcards and stamps at the one shop; easily done by pointing to whatever she wanted and offering a handful of coins she had borrowed from her aunt. It had been foolish of her not to have thought of getting some Dutch money before she had left England; traveller’s cheques were of no use at all.

The doctor called briefly on the following days. It was at the end of one of these visits that he surprised Prudence very much by suggesting that she might like to go to Leeuwarden. “My aunts are well enough to leave to Pretty and Aunt Emma’s maid for a few hours; you must wish to see a little of the country while you’re here.”

She said baldly, “I want to go to a bank and change my cheques. I had no idea that Aunt Emma lived so far away from a town…”

“Not far at all,” he corrected her. “I’m going to Leeuwarden after lunch tomorrow. I’ll give you a lift.”

“How kind. How do I get back?”

“I’ll show you where to wait until I pick you up.” He was refusing to be nettled by her faintly cross voice.

She thanked him with cool politeness, and since he just stood there, looking at her and saying nothing, she felt compelled to make some sort of conversation.

“The lake is charming,” she commented, “and I walked to the village—are there other villages close by?” She gave him an innocently questioning look in the hope that he might say where he lived.

His laconic “several” was annoyingly unhelpful.