smiled, then frowned at her silliness in supposing that he remembered her in any other context than that of nurse.
She said goodbye to the little girl with real regret; she would herself be going on nights off in two days’ time, but Cornelis would still be there when she returned. She explained this carefully to him, and was astonished at the storm of protest it triggered off. Only by promising to write to him every day was she able to calm him down to coherency.
‘You’ll have your guardian to see you,’ she observed in conciliating tones, ‘and your other—er—uncle.’
‘He’s not my uncle, he’s my stepbrother,’ said the huffy little voice from the bed.
She looked surprised. ‘Oh, is he? I thought that he—they—were both your uncles.’
‘You’ll listen carefully if I explain?’
‘Of course.’ She willed herself to stay awake and interested, while she longed above all things to get a meal and go to bed for an hour or two before going home.
‘Well, it’s like this, you see. Cousin Julius’s mother and Karel’s mother were sisters; only Cousin Julius’s mother was almost grown up when Karel’s mother was still a little girl … and she married Julius’s father and he was Dutch. Her sister—my mother—died when Beatrix was born. My father was married before he married my mother—to Karel’s mother …,’ he broke off. ‘You do see, don’t you?’
Georgina blinked. ‘Yes, I think so. But you’ve all got the same name.’
He eyed her with youthful scorn. ‘Well, of course. My father and Cousin Julius’s father were brothers.’
She gathered woolly wits together. ‘Two brothers married two sisters. But why do you live in England if you are Dutch?’
‘We live in Holland sometimes. My father lived in England for years; his first wife was English. Cousin Julius says we’re all half and half. So are Franz and Dimphena.’
Georgina stifled a yawn. ‘So stupid of me—I feel I should know who they are.’
‘My brother and sister, of course; Franz is twelve and Dimphena is almost grown-up—she’s sixteen.’ He eyed her through the ordered tangle of cords and pulleys fastened to the Balkan frame over his bed. ‘Are you sleepy?—your eyes are closed.’
She smiled, ‘I am, I’m afraid, but thank you for explaining so clearly about your family—are they all as nice as you and Beatrix?’
‘You’ve met Cousin Julius—he’s super, absolutely wizard.’ He seemed to feel that this was sufficient answer. She thought tiredly that it would be interesting to know more about Julius, but as she wasn’t likely to see him again, there wasn’t much point in pursuing that train of thought. She got off the side of the bed, where she shouldn’t have been sitting anyway, bade him goodbye and went, very late, to the dining-room.
She got home at teatime. The fragrance of buttered crumpets filled the little house as she closed the front door behind her. She breathed it in and sighed contentedly. She had six days of freedom.
It was incredible how the days flew by. On one of them, she coaxed Jim Bale to lend her the car and took Aunt Polly for a gentle drive, suppressing a great desire to go to Debden and look for Dalmers Place. Instead, she turned the car’s nose in the direction of Elmdon, where Great-Aunt Polly had a friend. The two old ladies gossiped gently over their tea, and Georgina left them together and went for a stroll past the Tudor cottages with their carved bargeboards and elaborate plaster bands, and went into the church and peered at Tudors perpetrated for ever on its brasses. They were very large families, depicted in graduated heights and according to age, on either side of their stiffly robed parents—the sight of them reminded her of Cor and Beatrix. She had written to Cor every day, as she had said she would, and rather to her surprise had received one or two highly coloured postcards from him, each one asking her when she would be returning. She went into the village shop on her way back, bought a postcard and wrote it then and there, and posted it in her turn. She would have liked to have sent one to Beatrix too, but the Professor might think that she was trying to curry favour. She was rather silent on the way home and when Aunt Polly asked if she was sorry to be going back in two days’ time, she agreed hastily, knowing that that really wasn’t the reason. She had been thinking about Professor Eyffert—indeed, she was forced to admit to herself that she had been thinking about him a great deal—a useless waste of time, she kept telling herself, at the same time making no attempt to check her thoughts.
The following day it rained—a cold drizzle which depressed her usually cheerful spirits. She spent the morning pottering about the little house, and while her aunt took her after-lunch nap, went upstairs to put away the ironing. She had her head in the cupboard on the tiny landing, counting pillowcases, when she heard the front door knocker, and a moment later Mrs Mogg opened the door. Georgina withdrew her head long enough from the cupboard to call:
‘If that’s Mr Payne, Moggy, would you ask him to let us have some more eggs—tomorrow if he can.’
She didn’t wait for an answer, but fell to sorting the sheets, and it was quite some minutes later when Mrs Mogg called to her from the hall below.
‘Miss Georgina, will you come down? You’re wanted in the sitting-room.’
She ran down the stairs and opened the sitting-room door, went in and stopped short, saying foolishly:
‘Oh, it’s you!’ at the same time very aware of her hair hanging in a ponytail and her rather elderly slacks and sweater—the sweater was a deep orange, faded now, but still becoming; it made her eyes seem very bright and dark and emphasized the soft brown of her despised ponytail. She was positive that she looked as plain as a pikestaff, unconscious of the fact that she had never looked so pretty.
Professor Eyffert had been sitting beside her aunt’s chair, but he got up now, the low-ceilinged little room accentuating his height, so that she had her mouth open to warn him to stoop, then desisted when she saw that there were still several inches to spare.
She said primly, ‘Good afternoon, sir,’ frowned heavily and went pink when his brows rose and his mouth twitched at its corners.
‘I was afraid that you might have forgotten me,’ he remarked mildly.
‘No, of course I haven’t forgotten you. How could I when Cor quotes you at me night and morning?’ She stopped, struck by a thought. ‘They’re all right, aren’t they? Beatrix and Cor?’
‘It is about Cor that I have come,’ he said slowly, and her heart checked its crazy pace. Of course the reason for his coming hadn’t anything to do with her! ‘You must forgive me for calling like this, but I have a favour to ask of you.’
She thought she knew what it was then—that she should go back a day sooner because Cor wanted her. ‘If I can help in any way …’ she began, and was interrupted by Aunt Polly.
‘Take Professor Eyffert into the dining-room, child, so that he can discuss whatever it is with you.’
‘I should prefer to remain here if I may,’ he said decidedly. ‘You see, I imagine Miss Rodman will wish to tell you of my plans.’
‘Sit down then, both of you,’ said Great-Aunt Polly. ‘I’m all agog.’
So was Georgina. She was trying to
