week wore on, and there had been no mention of her free day. Perhaps he thought she wouldn’t want one. It was on Friday evening, when she went to collect the boys at bedtime that he asked her to stay for a moment.
‘I don’t know if you had any plans of your own, Miss Pomfrey, but on Sunday I’m taking the boys up to Friesland to visit their aunt and uncle. I should say their great-aunt and great-uncle. They live near Leeuwarden, in the lake district, and I think we might make time to take you on a quick tour of the capital. The boys and I would be delighted to have you with us, and my aunt and uncle will welcome you.’ His smile was kind. ‘You may, of course, wish to be well rid of us!’
It was a thoughtful kindness she hadn’t expected. ‘I wouldn’t be in the way?’
‘No. No, on the contrary. I promise you the boys won’t bother you, and if you feel like exploring on your own you have only to say so. It would give you the opportunity of seeing a little more of Holland before we go back to England.’
‘Then I’d like to come. Thank you for asking me. Is it a long drive?’
‘Just over a hundred miles. We shall need to leave soon after eight o’clock; that will give us an hour or so at Huis Breugh and then after lunch we can spend an hour in Leeuwarden before going back for tea. The boys can have their supper when we get back and go straight to bed.’
Even if she hadn’t wanted to go, she would never have been able to resist the boys’ eager little faces. She agreed that it all sounded great fun and presently urged them upstairs to baths and bed. When she went down later it was to find the doctor had gone out. She hadn’t expected anything else, but all the same she was disappointed.
Which is silly of me, said Araminta to herself, for he must be scared that I’ll weep all over him again. He must have hated it, and want to forget it as quickly as possible.
In this she was mistaken. The doctor had admitted to himself that he had found nothing disagreeable in Araminta’s outburst of crying. True, she had made his jacket damp, and she had cried like a child, uncaring of sniffs and snivels, but he hadn’t forgotten any moment of it. Indeed, he had a vivid memory of the entire episode.
He reminded himself that she would leave his household in a short while now, and doubtless in a short time he would have forgotten all about her. In the meantime, however, there was no reason why he shouldn’t try and make up for her unhappy little episode with van Vleet.
He reminded himself that he had always kept her at arm’s length and would continue to do so. On no account must she be allowed to disrupt his life. His work was his life; he had a wide circle of friends and some day he would marry. The thought of Christina flashed through his mind and he frowned—she would be ideal, of course, for she would allow him to work without trying to alter his life.
He picked up his pen and began making notes for the lecture he was to give that evening.
Araminta, getting up early on Sunday morning, was relieved to see that it was a clear day with a pale blue sky and mild sunshine. She would wear the new dress and jacket and take her short coat with her. That important problem solved, she got the boys dressed and, on going down to breakfast, found the doctor already there.
‘It’s a splendid day,’ he assured them. ‘I’ve been out with Humphrey. The wind is chilly.’ He glanced at Araminta. ‘Bring a coat with you, Miss Pomfrey.’
‘Yes, I will. The boys have their thick jerseys on, but I’ll put their jackets in the car. Is Humphrey coming with us?’
‘Yes, he’ll sit at the back with the boys.’
The boys needed no urging to eat their breakfast, and a few minutes after eight o’clock they were all in the car, with Bas at the door waving them away.
The doctor took the motorway to Amsterdam and then north to Purmerend and Hoorn and so on to the Afsluitdijk.
‘A pity we have no time to stop and look at some of the towns we are passing,’ he observed to Araminta. ‘Perhaps some other time…’
There wasn’t likely to be another time, she reflected, and thrust the thought aside; she was going to enjoy the day and forget everything else. She had told herself sensibly that she must forget about Piet van Vleet. She hadn’t been in love with him, but she had been hurt, and was taken by surprise and she was still getting over that. But today’s outing was an unexpected treat and she was going to enjoy every minute of it.
Once off the dijk the doctor took the road to Leeuwarden and, just past Franeker, took a narrow country road leading south of the city. It ran through farm land: wide fields intersected by narrow canals, grazed by cows and horses. There were prosperous-looking farmhouses and an occasional village.
‘It’s not at all like the country round Utrecht.’
‘No. One has the feeling of wide open spaces here, which in a country as small as Holland seems a solecism. You like it?’
‘Yes, very much.’
He drove on without speaking, and when the road curved through a small copse and emerged on the further side, she could see a lake.
It stretched into the distance, bordered by trees and shrubs. There was a canal running beside it and a narrow waterway leading to a smaller lake. There were sailing boats of every description on it and, here and there, men fishing from its banks, sitting like statues.
The boys were excited now, begging her to look at first one thing, then another. ‘Isn’t it great?’ they wanted to know. ‘And it gets better and better. Aren’t you glad you came, Mintie?’
She assured them that she was, quite truthfully.
There were houses here and there on the lake’s bank, each with its own small jetty, most of them with boats moored there. She didn’t like to ask if they were almost there, but she did hope that it might be one of these houses, sitting four-square and solid among the sheltering trees around it.
The doctor turned the car into a narrow brick lane beside a narrow inlet, slowed to go through an open gateway and stopped before a white-walled house with a gabled roof. It had a small square tower to one side and tall chimneys, and it was surrounded by a formal garden. The windows were small, with painted shutters. It was an old house, lovingly maintained, and she could hardly wait to see what it was like inside.
The entrance was at the foot of the tower and led into a small lobby which, in turn, opened into a long wide hall. As they went in two people came to meet them. They were elderly, the man tall and spare, with white hair and still handsome, and the woman with him short and rather stout, with hair which had once been fair and was now silver. In her youth she might have been pretty, and she had beautiful eyes, large and blue with finely marked eyebrows. She was dressed in a tweed skirt and a cashmere twinset in a blue to match her eyes. When she spoke her voice was rather high and very clear.
‘Marcus—you’re here. I told Bep we would answer the door; she’s getting deaf, poor dear.’ She stood on tiptoe to receive Marcus’s kiss on her cheek and then bent to hug the boys.
‘And this is Miss Pomfrey,’ said the doctor, and the little lady beamed and clasped Araminta’s hand.
‘You see I speak English, because I am sure you have no time to speak our language, and it is good practice for me.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘We are so glad to meet you, Miss Pomfrey, now you must
