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.
BRISKETT handed the doctor his post, informed him that there were a number of phone calls which needed to be dealt with at once, took the boys’ jackets and invited Araminta to go with him so that he might show her to her room.
‘The boys’ are in their usual room. They’d better come with you, miss; the doctor won’t want to be bothered for a bit. Had a good time, have you? Hope the boss took time off to show you round a bit.’
‘Well, yes, we went to Friesland.’
He turned to smile at her, his cheerful rat face split in a wide smile. ‘Nice to have him back again, miss. Here’s your room. Make yourself at home.’
It would be difficult not to feel at home in such a delightful room, thought Araminta, with its satinwood bed, tall chest and dressing table. The curtains and bedspread were white and pale yellow chintz, and someone had put a vase of freesias by the bed. The window overlooked the long narrow garden, with a high brick wall and trees screening it from its neighbours.
She would have liked to linger there, but the boys would need to be seen to. They had been good on the journey, but now they were tired and excited. Tea and an early bedtime were indicated, unless the doctor had other plans. She went to their room, tidied them up and took them downstairs.
The study, where she had first been interviewed by the doctor, had its door open. The doctor was at his desk, sitting back in his chair, on the phone, and speaking in Dutch. Araminta’s sharp ears heard that. He looked up as they went past.
‘Go into the sitting room. Briskett will have tea waiting. I’ll join you presently.’
So the boys led her across the hall into quite a small room, very cosy, where Briskett was putting the finishing touches to the tea table.
‘I’ve laid a table,’ he told her. ‘I don’t hold with little nippers balancing plates on their knees. Just you sit down, miss, and I’ll give the boss a call.’
The doctor joined them presently, ate a splendid tea and then excused himself with the plea of work. ‘I have to go out,’ he told the boys, ‘and I don’t think I’ll be back before you go to bed, but I’m not doing anything tomorrow morning; we will go to the park and feed the ducks.’ He glanced at Araminta. ‘I’m sure Miss Pomfrey will be glad of an hour or two to get your clothes unpacked.’ He added casually, ‘I expect you would like to let your parents know you are back in England; do ring them if you wish.’
She thanked him. ‘And, if you don’t mind, I’ll go and unpack the boys’ night things. I thought an early bedtime…’
‘Very wise. I’m sure Briskett will have something extra special for their supper.’
‘Perhaps I could have my supper at the same time with them?’
‘You would prefer that? Then by all means do so. I’ll let Briskett know. You’ll bathe them and have them ready for bed first? Shall I tell him seven o’clock?’
‘That would do very well, thank you.’ She hesitated. ‘Are you going out immediately? If you are, then I’ll wait and unpack later.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘Half an hour or so, but I need to change first.’
‘If I can have ten minutes?’
‘Of course.’
She unpacked the overnight bag, put everything ready in the boys’ bathroom and whisked herself back downstairs with a minute to spare. The doctor bade the boys goodnight, nodded to her and went away. She was in the boy’s room, which overlooked the street, when she heard him in the hall and went to look out of the window. He was getting into his car, wearing black tie, looking remarkably handsome.
‘I wonder when he gets any work done,’ reflected Araminta. ‘Talk about a social whirl.’ She knew that wasn’t fair, he worked long hours and he was good at it, but it relieved her feelings. She hoped lovingly that he wouldn’t stay out too late; he needed his sleep like anyone else…
She sighed; she had managed all day not to think too much about him and it had been made easier by his distant manner towards her, but loving him was something she couldn’t alter, even though it was hopeless. No one died of a broken heart; they went on living like everyone else and made a success of their lives. Something which she was going to do. But first she must learn to forget him, once she had left his house. Until then, surely it wouldn’t do any harm if she thought about him occasionally?
The boys came tumbling in then, and she allowed stern common sense to take over.
Life in London would be very different from that of Utrecht. For one thing there would be no school in the mornings.
Their parents would be returning in a few days now, and the boys were excited and full of high spirits; she filled the mornings with simple lessons and the afternoons with brisk walks, returning in time for tea and games before bedtime. The doctor was seldom at home; as Briskett put it, ‘Up early and home late. No time for anything but his work. Good thing he’s got a bit of social life of an evening. You know what they say, miss, “All work and no play”…’
But the doctor still found time to spend an hour with the boys each
