down, something at which she was adept. By the time their uncle came back they were sitting quietly beside her, listening to her telling them a story.
He paused in the doorway. ‘I think it might be a good idea if you sat in the back with the boys in the car, Miss Pomfrey…’
‘Mintie,’ said Peter. ‘Uncle Marcus, she’s Mintie.’
‘Mintie,’ said the doctor gravely. ‘If Miss Pomfrey does not object?’
‘Not a bit,’ said Araminta cheerfully.
They left shortly after that, crossing London in the comparative calm of a Sunday evening, onto the A12, through Brentford, Chelmsford, Colchester and finally to Harwich. Long before they had reached the port the two boys were asleep, curled up against Araminta. She sat, rather warm and cramped, with an arm around each of them, watching the doctor driving. He was a good driver.
She reflected that he would be an interesting man to know. It was a pity that the opportunity to do that was improbable. She wondered why he wasn’t married and allowed her imagination to roam. A widower? A love affair which had gone wrong and left him with a broken heart and dedicated to his work? Engaged? The last was the most likely. She had a sudden urge to find out.
They were amongst the last to go on board, and the doctor with one small sleeping boy and a porter with the other led the way to their cabins.
Araminta was to share a cabin with the boys; it was roomy and comfortable and well furnished, with a shower room, and once her overnight bag and the boys’ luggage had been brought to her she lost no time in undressing them and popping them into their narrow beds. They roused a little, but once tucked up slept again. She unpacked her night things and wondered what she should do. Would the doctor mind if she rang for a pot of tea and a sandwich? It was almost midnight and she was hungry.
A tap on the door sent her to open it and find him outside.
‘A stewardess will keep an eye on the boys. Come and have a meal; it will give me the opportunity to outline your day’s work.’
She was only too glad to agree to that; she went with him to the restaurant and made a splendid supper while she listened to him quietly describing the days ahead.
‘I live in Utrecht. The house is in the centre of the city, but there are several parks close by and I have arranged for the boys to attend school in the mornings. You will be free then, but I must ask you to be with them during the rest of the day. You will know best how to keep them happy and entertained.
‘I have a housekeeper and a houseman who will do all they can to make life easy for you and them. When I am free I will have the boys with me. I am sure that you will want to do some sightseeing. I expect my sister has told you her wishes concerning their clothes and daily routine. I must warn you that they are as naughty as the average small boy…they are also devoted to each other.’
Araminta speared a morsel of grilled sole. ‘I’ll do the best I can to keep them happy and content, Dr van der Breugh. And I shall come to you if I have any problems. You will be away during the day? Working? Will I know where you are?’
‘Yes, I will always leave a phone number for you or a message with Bas. He speaks English of a sort, and is very efficient.’ He smiled at her kindly. ‘I’m sure everything will be most satisfactory, Miss Pomfrey. And now I expect you would like to go to your bed. You will be called in good time in the morning. We will see how the boys are then. If they’re too excited to eat breakfast we will stop on the way and have something, but there should be time for a meal before we go ashore. You can manage them and have them up and ready?’
Araminta assured him that she could. Several years in the convalescent home had made her quite sure about that. She thanked him for her dinner, wished him goodnight, and was surprised when he went back to her cabin with her and saw her into it.
Nice manners, thought Araminta, getting undressed as fast as she could, having a quick shower and jumping into her bed after a last look at the boys—deeply asleep.
The boys woke when the stewardess brought morning tea. They drank the milk in the milk jug and ate all the biscuits. Talking non-stop, they washed and cleaned their teeth and dressed after a fashion. Araminta was tying shoelaces and inspecting fingernails when there was a knock on the door and the doctor came in.
‘If anyone is hungry there’s plenty of time for breakfast,’ he observed. He looked at Araminta. ‘You all slept well?’
‘Like logs,’ she told him, ‘and we’re quite ready, with everything packed.’
‘Splendid. Come along, then.’ He sounded briskly cheerful and she wondered if he found this disruption in his ordered life irksome. If he did, he didn’t allow it to show. Breakfast was a cheerful meal, eaten without waste of time since they were nearing the Hoek of Holland and the boys wanted to see the ferry dock.
Disembarking took time, but finally they were away from the customs shed, threading their way through the town.
‘We’ll go straight home,’ said the doctor. He had the two boys with him again and spoke to Araminta over his shoulder. ‘Less than an hour’s drive.’ He picked up the car phone and spoke into it. ‘I’ve told them we are on our way.’
There was a great deal of traffic as they neared Rotterdam, where they drove through the long tunnel under the Maas. Once through it, the traffic was even heavier. But presently, as they reached the outskirts of the city and were once more on the motorway, it thinned, and Araminta was able to look about her.
The country was flat, and she had expected that, but it was charming all the same, with farms well away from the highway, small copses of trees already turning to autumn tints, green meadows separated by narrow canals, and cows and horses roaming freely. The motorway bypassed the villages and towns, but she caught tantalising glimpses of them from time to time and promised herself that if she should get any free time, she would explore away from the main roads.
As though he had read her thoughts, the doctor said over his shoulder, ‘This is dull, isn’t it? But it’s the quickest way home. Before you go back we must try and show you some of rural Holland. I think you might like it.’
She murmured her thanks. ‘It’s a very good road,’ she said politely, anxious not to sound disparaging.
‘All the motorways are good. Away from them it’s a different matter. But you will see for yourself.’
Presently he turned off into a narrow country road between water meadows. ‘We’re going to drive along the River Vecht. It is the long way round to Utrecht, but well worth it. It will give you a taste of rural Holland.’
He drove north, away from Utrecht, and then turned into another country road running beside a river lined with lovely old houses set in well-kept grounds.
‘The East Indies merchants built their houses here—there’s rather a splendid castle you’ll see presently on your right. There are a number in Utrecht province—most of them privately owned. You must find time to visit one of those open to the public before you go back to England.’
Apparently satisfied that he had given her enough to go on with, he began a lively conversation with the boys, leaving her to study her surroundings. They were certainly charming, but she had the feeling that he had offered the information in much the same manner as a dutiful and well mannered host would offer a drink to an unexpected and tiresome guest.
