The furniture was right, too: old chests, heavily carved, and massive armchairs capable of seating giants. Sarah followed Nel across the hall to the big double doors at one side, and was urged inside.
The room was just as vast as the hall, except there was no chandelier, only wall sconces and reading-lamps shaded in a delicate peach silk, and the furniture was a nice mixture of comfortable sofas and armchairs together with imposing display cabinets. The floor was carpeted and there was a fire burning under the hooded chimney-piece, so despite its grandeur it looked lived-in, almost homely.
Mevrouw Nauta got out of her chair by the fire as Nel stood aside and Sarah walked on alone.
‘Miss Fletcher,’ Mevrouw Nauta surged towards her and took her hand. ‘I—we are delighted to see you and we are so grateful to you for giving up your holidays in order to help us.’ She paused to say something to Nel, who went away. ‘I’m sure you would like a cup of coffee… We lunch at half-past twelve, so there is just time for you to see your room and have a little chat. You must find all this very confusing, but I have these strong feelings and I always act upon them. I simply felt sure that you were exactly right for my husband’s mother. She was brought back from hospital just an hour ago, and is resting quietly. You shall meet her presently—’ She broke off as Nel came back with a young girl carrying a tray of coffee. ‘Sit down, Miss Fletcher—must we call you that? Do you mind if we use your Christian name?’
‘Sarah,’ said Sarah. Mevrouw Nauta gave her the feeling that she was sitting in a strong wind—not unpleasant, but a bit overwhelming. She wondered fleetingly if the woman’s son felt the same way, although if he had grown up with her he would be used to it. The door opened and a tall, elderly man came in, undoubtedly the Professor’s father. He was white-haired and very slightly stooping, but had the same nose and blue eyes. Sarah, introduced, bade him a serene, ‘How do you do?’ and listened while he made her welcome. His voice was so like his son’s that if she shut her eyes it could have been the Professor speaking…
‘No sinecure,’ he was saying. ‘I hope Radolf made that clear. My mother is a fiery old lady even in these, the last days of her life. But I—and my son—have great faith in my wife’s intuition; I feel sure that you will cope admirably. We are most grateful.’
She drank her coffee from paper-thin china, and presently was borne away by Nel. ‘If you would like to unpack,’ suggested Mevrouw Nauta junior, ‘and return here, we will have lunch together before I take you to Mevrouw Nauta’s room.’ She hesitated. ‘I think probably Radolf did not mention free time and so on? I thought not. I must warn you that, if Mevrouw Nauta takes a fancy to you, it will be necessary for you to take any time to yourself while she is resting—she sleeps a good deal but she is difficult to sedate, and day and night are much the same to her.’
Sarah followed Nel up the grand staircase, reflecting that, however difficult the old lady was, it was only for a fortnight, and with the extra money from her fees she would take herself off for a walking holiday weekend in the Cotswolds later in the year. And really, when she saw the room Nel ushered her into, she decided that she had no reason to quibble however difficult the old lady was. It was large and high-ceilinged, with two long windows and a door between them opening on to a balcony. The carpet underfoot was deep and soft, and the furnishings were in a restful mushroom-pink with pink patterned curtains and bedspread. The bed and dressing-table were in the style of Sheraton, and there was a dear little writing-desk between the windows and a small armchair drawn up to a reading-table. She had a brief vision of her bedsit in London—the contrast was cruel, and there was no point in making it. She peeped into the adjoining bathroom, which was peach-pink and white, its fluffy towels, bowls of soap and bottles of lotions calling forth a sigh of pleasure from her, and then she started to unpack. It didn’t take long; she tidied herself and went down the staircase, feeling nervous. Hans was in the hall, and he ushered her into the drawing-room again. The Nautas gave her a drink, and engaged her in gentle talk until they crossed the hall to the dining-room, where she sat between them at a large, round mahogany table, eating the delicious food before her and keeping up her end of the conversation. After they had had their coffee she was led back upstairs, but this time they turned away from the gallery which overlooked the hall and went down a wide corridor. At a door halfway along it, Mevrouw Nauta paused. ‘I should have told you—it may be necessary for you to stay up late or get up in the night, so we have turned a small dressing-room next to my mother-in-law’s room into a bedroom for you, so that if you think it necessary you can sleep there and be at hand. We hope that there will be no need of that; we do not expect you to stay with her for twenty-four hours at a time, but as she grows weaker…’
‘I understand, Mevrouw Nauta—I won’t leave her if she wants my company.’
The room they entered was at the back of the house overlooking the garden, which sloped away in a vast sweep of lawn to a belt of trees. It was a very large room and the small four-poster bed against one wall was almost dwarfed by its size, although it in its turn was dwarfing the tiny figure lying in it. The Professor’s grandmother was a very small lady, and frail. All the same, the eyes she turned on her visitors were still a vivid blue and her voice, a mere thread of sound, sounded decidedly ill-tempered.
Sarah didn’t understand what she said, but then she switched to English, fluent but heavily accented. ‘So you’re the girl my son has decided I must have breathing down my neck. Well, my girl, I can’t say I’m glad to see you, for I’m not. Come over here so that I can look at you.’
This is far worse than anything I had imagined, reflected Sarah, obligingly going to stand in a patch of sunlight. She stood still, looking a good deal calmer than she felt, and looked back at the cross face.
‘Well, why did you come?’ demanded the old lady.
‘Because I was asked to.’
‘You’re being paid? Too much, I’ll be bound.’
‘Of course I’m being paid, Mevrouw; as to whether it’s too much, I cannot say because I don’t know.’
‘Hmm—got a tongue in your head, too.’ The blue eyes turned upon Mevrouw Nauta junior. ‘Adele, go away while I talk to this girl.’
Mevrouw Nauta said something in a soothing tone and went away, and the old lady said briskly in her worn-out voice, ‘Get a chair and come and sit by me. What’s your name?’
‘Sarah.’ She sat obediently, and waited patiently while her companion closed her eyes and appeared to snooze for a few minutes.
‘I’m dying, do you know that?’
‘I have been told that you are very ill,’ said Sarah cautiously.
‘Have you met my grandson?’
‘Yes. I work in the hospital where he is a consultant.’
‘Like him?’
‘I don’t know him. I’m a clerk—’
‘No looks to speak of,’ muttered the old lady. ‘Nice eyes, doesn’t cringe, thank heaven. Give me a drink, Sarah.’ The water revived her. ‘Radolf isn’t married.’ She gave a naughty cackle of laughter. ‘Setting your cap at him?’
Sarah laughed. ‘Good gracious, no. He doesn’t like me overmuch, you know, and I only work at the clinic where he’s the consultant. I think perhaps you don’t quite understand—we don’t move in the same circles.’
‘No looks, but not dim either,’ said Mevrouw Nauta senior. ‘I like to be read to. Late at night when everyone else is asleep.’
