Betty Neels - The Secret Pool

Fran started to collect the coffee cups. ‘Nothing like that, love, we don’t even like each other. He has a small daughter who is very ill; I think he has decided that it might amuse her to have a visitor. We got on rather well together, so I suppose that’s why he’s asked me to go out with them tomorrow.’

‘His wife?’ breathed Clare, all agog.

‘He is a widower.’

‘And you don’t like each other?’

‘Not really. He’s devoted to Lisa, though, and she liked me. I like her, too. You won’t mind if I’m away tomorrow?’

Her cousin grinned. ‘You have fun while you’ve got the chance.’

The weather was being kind; Fran awakened to a blue sky and warm sunshine. She was ready and waiting when Dr van Rijgen and Lisa arrived. She got in beside Lisa’s specially padded seat in the back of the car and listened, only half understanding, to the child’s happy chatter.

It was a successful day, she had to admit to herself as she got ready for bed that evening. They had gone to Noordwijk aan Zee, parked the car and carried Lisa and her folded chair down to the water’s edge where the sand was smooth and firm. They had walked miles, with the shore stretching ahead of them for more miles, and then stopped off for crusty rolls and hard-boiled eggs. They had talked and laughed a lot and little Lisa had been happy, her pale face quite rosy; and as for the doctor, Fran found herself almost liking him. It was a pity, she reflected, jumping into bed, that he would be at the hospital at Utrecht for all of the following day; it was even more of a pity that he hadn’t so much as hinted at seeing her again. ‘Not that I care in the least,’ she told herself. ‘When Lisa isn’t there he is a very unpleasant man.’ Upon which somewhat arbitrary thought she went to sleep.

She spent the next morning quietly with Clare and Karel, and took herself for a walk in the afternoon. Another week, and her holiday would be over. She hadn’t mentioned Dr van Rijgen in her letters to the aunts and upon reflection she decided not to say anything about him. She thought a great deal about little Lisa, too; a darling child and happy; she had quite believed the doctor when he had said that he would do anything to keep her so. She went back to the flat, volunteered to cook the supper while Clare worried away at some knitting and went to bed early, declaring that she was tired.

Karel had gone to work and she was giving Clare the treat of breakfast in bed when the doctor telephoned. He would be at the hospital all the morning, he informed her in a cool voice, but he hoped that she would be kind enough to spend the afternoon with Lisa. ‘I’ll call for you about half past one,’ he told her and rang off before she could say a word.

‘Such arrogance,’ said Fran crossly. ‘Anyone would think I was here just for his convenience.’

All the same, she was ready, composed and a little cool in her manner when he arrived. A waste of effort on her part for he didn’t seem to notice her stand-offish manner. To her polite enquiries as to his morning, he had little to say, but launched into casual questions. When was she returning home? What did she think of Holland? Did she find the language difficult to understand? And then, harshly, did she feel at her ease with Lisa?

Fran turned to look at him in astonishment. ‘At ease? Why ever shouldn’t I? She’s a darling child and the greatest fun to be with. I like children.’ She sounded so indignant that he said instantly, ‘I’m sorry, I put that badly.’ He turned the car into the drive. ‘A picnic tea, don’t you think? It’s such a lovely day.’ And, as she got out of the car, ‘It would be nice, if you are free tomorrow, if you will come with us to the Veluwe—it’s charming, rather like your New Forest, and Lisa sees fairies behind every tree. We’ll fetch you about half past ten?’

‘I haven’t said I’ll come,’ observed Fran frostily, half in and half out of the car.

‘Lisa wants you.’

And that’s the kind of left-handed compliment a girl likes having, thought Fran, marching ahead of him up the steps, her ordinary nose in the air.

But she forgot all that when Lisa joined them; in no time at all, she was laughing as happily as the little girl, struggling with the Dutch Lisa insisted upon her trying out. They had tea on the lawn again and when Nanny came to fetch Lisa to bed, Fran went, too, invited by both Nanny and the child.

Being got ready for bed was a protracted business dealt with by Nanny with enviable competence. But it was fun, too. Fran fetched and carried and had a satisfactory conversation with Nanny even though they both spoke their own language for the most part. They sat on each side of Lisa while she ate her supper and then at last was carried to her small bed in the charming nursery. Here Fran kissed her good night and went back to the day nursery, because it was Nanny’s right to tuck her little charge up in bed and give her a final hug. She had just joined Fran when the doctor came in, said something to Nanny and went through to the night nursery where there was presently a good deal of giggling and murmuring before he came back.

He talked to Nanny briefly, wished her good night and swept Fran downstairs.

They had drinks by the open windows in the drawing room and presently dined. Fran, who was hungry, ate with a good appetite, thinking how splendid it must be to have a super cook to serve such food and someone like Tuggs to appear at your elbow whenever you wanted something. They didn’t talk much, but their silences were restful; the doctor wasn’t a man you needed to chat to, thank heaven.

They had their coffee outside in the still warm garden, with the sky darkening and the faint scent of the roses which crowded around the lawn mingling with the coffee. She sighed and the doctor asked, ‘What are you thinking, Francesca?’

‘That it’s very romantic and what a pity it’s quite wasted on us.’

She couldn’t see his face, but his voice was casual. ‘We are perhaps beyond the age of romance.’

She snapped back before she could stop herself, ‘I’m twenty-five!’

‘On October the third you will be twenty-six. I shall be thirty-seven in December.’

‘However did you know?’ began Fran.

‘I made it my business to find out.’ His voice was so mild that she choked back several tart remarks fighting for utterance.

‘More coffee?’ she asked finally.

Their day in the Veluwe was a success: the doctor might be a tiresome man but he was a splendid father and, when he chose to be, a good host. They drove through the narrow lanes criss-crossing the Veluwe and picnicked in a charming clearing with the sunshine filtering through the trees and numerous birds. The food was delicious: tiny sausage rolls, bite-size sandwiches, chicken vol-au-vents, hard-boiled eggs, crisp rolls and orange squash to wash them down. Fran, watching Lisa, saw that she ate very little and presently, tucked in her chair, she fell asleep.

When she woke up, they drove on, circling round to avoid the main roads and getting back in time for a rather late tea. This time the doctor was called away to the telephone and returned to say that he would have to go to Utrecht that evening. Fran said at once, ‘Then if you’ll give me a lift to the city I’ll get a bus.’

‘Certainly not.’ He sat down beside Lisa and explained at some length and then said, ‘Lisa quite understands—this often happens. We’ll get Nanny and say good night and leave at once; there will be plenty of time to drive you to your cousin’s flat.’

And nothing she could say would alter his plans.

It was two days before she saw him again. Pleasant enough, pottering around with Clare, going out for a quiet drive in the evenings when Karel got home, all the same she felt a tingle of pleasure when the doctor telephoned. She had only two days left and she was beginning to think that she wouldn’t see him or Lisa again.