hospital when she left the doctor’s house. Certainly she wasn’t expected to stay home for any length of time. All the same, she would have to go home for a day or so to repack her things.
‘We may be away,’ her mother had written. ‘There is an important lecture tour in Wales. Your cousin will be here, of course.’ She had added, as though she had remembered that Araminta was her daughter, whom she loved, ‘I am glad you have enjoyed your stay in Holland.’
Neither her mother or her father would be interested in her life there, nor would her cousin, and there would scarcely be time for her to look up her friends. There would be no one to whom she could describe the days she had spent in the doctor’s house. Just for a moment she gave way to self-pity, and then reminded herself that she had a worthwhile future before her despite the doctor’s doubts.
For the last few days before they left she saw almost nothing of the doctor. The boys, excited at the prospect of going back to England, kept her busy, and they spent the last one or two afternoons walking the, by now, well known streets, pausing at the bridges to stare down into the canals, admiring the boatloads of flowers and, as a treat, eating mountainous ices in one of the cafés.
They were to leave early in the morning, and amidst the bustle of departure Araminta had little time to feel sad at leaving. She bade Jet and Bas goodbye, shook hands with Nel and the daily cleaner, bent to hug Humphrey, saw the boys settled on the back seat and got in beside the doctor.
It was only as he drove away that she allowed herself to remember that she wouldn’t be coming again. In just a few weeks she had come to love the doctor’s house, and Utrecht, its pleasant streets and small hidden corners where time since the Middle Ages had stood still. I shall miss it, she thought and then, I shall miss the doctor, too. Once she had left his house she wasn’t likely to see him again. There was no chance of their lives converging; he would become part of this whole interlude. An important part.
I do wonder, thought Araminta, how one can fall in love with someone who doesn’t care a row of pins for one, for that’s what I have done. And what a good thing that I shall be leaving soon and never have to see him again.
The thought brought tears to her eyes and the doctor, glancing sideways at her downcast profile, said kindly, ‘You are sorry to be leaving Holland, Miss Pomfrey? Fortunately it is not far from England and you will be able to pay it another visit at some time.’
Oh, no, I won’t, thought Araminta, but murmured in agreement.
Their journey was uneventful. They arrived back at his London home to be welcomed by Briskett, with tea waiting. It was as though they had never been away.
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