are most welcome, Miss Pomfrey. I hear from Marcus that you are a valued member of his household.’
‘Thank you. Well, yes, just for a few weeks.’ She smiled up into his elderly face and liked him.
He stared back at her and then nodded his head. She wondered what he was thinking, and then forgot about it as his wife reminded them that coffee was waiting for them in the drawing room. Araminta, offered a seat by her hostess, saw that the doctor had the two boys with him and his uncle and relaxed.
‘Of course, Marcus did not tell you our name? He is such a clever man, with that nose of his always in his books, and yet he forgets the simplest things. I am his mother’s sister—of course, you know that his parents are dead, some years ago now—our name is Nos-Wieringa. My husband was born and brought up in this house and we seldom leave it. But we love to see the family when they come to Holland. You have met the boys’ mother?’
Araminta said that, yes, she had.
‘And you, my dear? Do you have any brothers and sisters and parents?’
‘Parents. No brothers or sisters. I wish I had.’
‘A family is important. Marcus is the eldest, of course, and he has two younger brothers and Lucy. Of course you know she lives in England now that she is married, and the two boys are both doctors; one is in Canada and the other in New Zealand. They should be back shortly—some kind of exchange posts.’
Mevrouw Nos-Wieringa paused for breath and Araminta reflected that she had learned more about the doctor in five minutes than in the weeks she had been working for him.
Coffee drunk, the men took the boys down to the home farm, a little distance from the house. There were some very young calves there, explained the doctor, and one of the big shire horses had had a foal.
‘And I will show you the house,’ said Mevrouw Nos-Wieringa. ‘It is very old but we do not wish to alter it. We have central heating and plumbing and electricity, of course, but they are all concealed as far as possible. You like old houses?’
‘Yes, I do. My parents live in quite a small house,’ said Araminta, anxious not to sail under false pretences. ‘It is quite old, early nineteenth-century, but this house is far older than that, isn’t it?’
‘Part of it is thirteenth-century, the rest seventeenth-century. An ancestor made a great deal of money in the Dutch East Indies and rebuilt the older part.’
The rooms were large and lofty, with vast oak beams and white walls upon which hung a great many paintings.
‘Ancestors?’ asked Araminta.
‘Yes, mine as well as my husband’s. All very alike, aren’t they? You must have noticed that Marcus has the family nose. Strangely enough, few of the women had it. His mother was rather a plain little thing—the van der Breughs tend to marry plain women. They’re a very old family, of course, and his grandfather still lives in the family home. You haven’t been there?’
Araminta said that, no, she hadn’t, and almost added that it was most unlikely that she ever would. Seeking a change of subject, she admired a large oak pillow cupboard. She mustn’t allow her interest in the doctor to swamp common sense.
They lunched presently, sitting at a large oak table on rather uncomfortable chairs; it was a cheerful meal, since the children were allowed to join in the conversation. As they rose from the table Mevrouw Nos-Wieringa said, ‘Now, off you go, Marcus, and take Mintie—I may call you Mintie?—with you. We will enjoy having the boys to ourselves for a while, but be back by six o’clock for the evening meal.’
Araminta, taken by surprise, looked at the doctor. He was smiling.
‘Ah, yes, it slipped my memory. The boys and I decided that I should take you to Leeuwarden and give you a glimpse of it…’
When she opened her mouth to argue, he said, ‘No, don’t say you don’t want to come; the boys will be disappointed. It was their idea that you should have a treat on your free day.’
The boys chorused agreement. ‘We knew you’d like to go with Uncle Marcus. He’ll show you the weigh house and the town hall, and there’s a little café by the park where you could have tea.’
In the face of their eager pleasure there was nothing she could say.
‘It sounds marvellous,’ she told them. ‘And what dears you are to have thought of giving me a treat.’
In the car presently, driving along the narrow fields towards Leeuwarden, she said stiffly, ‘This is kind of you, but it’s disrupting your day. You must wish to spend time with your aunt and uncle.’
He glanced at her rather cross face. ‘No, no, Miss Pomfrey, I shall enjoy showing you round. Besides, I can come here as often as I wish, but you are not likely to come to Friesland—Holland—again, are you? What free time you get from hospital you will want to spend at your own home.’
She agreed, at the same time surprised to discover that the prospect of hospital was no longer filling her with happy anticipation. She should never have taken this job, she reflected. It had unsettled her—a foreign country, living in comfort, having to see the doctor each day. She rethought that—he might unsettle her, but she had to admit that he had made life interesting…
She asked suddenly, and then could have bitten out her tongue, ‘Do you mean to marry Mevrouw Lutyns?’ Before he could reply she added, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t think why I asked that. It was just—just an idle thought.’
He appeared unsurprised. ‘Do you think that I should?’ He added pleasantly, ‘Feel free to speak your mind, Miss Pomfrey. I value your opinion.’
This astonished her. ‘Do you? Do you really? Is it because I’m a stranger—a kind of outside observer? Though I don’t suppose you would take any notice of what I say.’
‘Very likely not.’
‘Well, since you ask… Mevrouw Lutyns is very beautiful, and she wears lovely clothes—you know, they don’t look expensive but they are, and they fit. Clothes off the peg have to be taken up or let out or hitched up, and that isn’t the same…’
They were on the outskirts of Leeuwarden, and she watched the prosperous houses on either side of the street. ‘This looks a nice place.’
‘It is. Answer my question, Miss Pomfrey.’
‘Well…’ Why must she always begin with ‘well’? she wondered. Her mother would say it was because she was a poor conversationalist. ‘I think that perhaps you wouldn’t be happy together. I imagine that she has lots of friends and likes going out and dancing and meeting people, and you always have your nose in a book or are going off to some hospital or other.’ She added suddenly, ‘I’m sure I don’t know why you asked me this; it’s none of my business.’ She thought for a moment. ‘You would make a handsome pair.’
The doctor turned a laugh into a cough. ‘I must say that your opinion is refreshing.’
‘Yes, but it isn’t going to make any difference.’
He didn’t answer but drove on into the inner city and parked the car by the weigh house. ‘I should have
