that they had to hurry over it rather. Lucy, getting into her raincoat and changing her light shoes for her sensible ones, paused only long enough to dab powder on her unpretentious nose, snatch up her shoulder bag, and run back into the hall where he was waiting. They had to wait for Mies, who wasn’t the hurrying sort so that he became a little impatient and Lucy hoped that he wouldn’t try and make up time driving through the city, but perhaps he was careful in Amsterdam.
He wasn’t; he drove like a demented Jehu, spilling out Dutch oaths through clenched teeth and taking hair’s-breadth risks between trams and buses, but as Mies sat without turning a hair, Lucy concluded that she must do the same. She had never been so pleased to see anything as their destination when he finally scraped to a halt in a narrow street, lined with grey warehouses and old-fashioned blocks of flats. The clinic was old-fashioned enough too on the outside, but once through its door and down the long narrow passage it was transformed into something very modern indeed; a waiting room on the left; a brightly painted apartment with plenty of chairs, coffee machine, papers and magazines on several well-placed tables and a cheerful elderly woman sitting behind a desk in one corner, introduced by the doctor as Mevrouw Valker. And back in the passage again, the end door revealed another wide passage with several doors leading from it; consulting rooms, treatment rooms, an X-ray department, cloakrooms and a small changing room for the staff.
‘Very nice,’ declared Lucy, poking her inquisitive nose round every door. ‘Do you specialise or is it general?’
‘I suppose one might say general, although we deal largely with Reynaud’s disease and thromboangiitis obliterans—inflammation of the blood vessels—a distressing condition, probably you have never encountered it, Lucy.’
She said, quite truthfully that no, she hadn’t, and forbore to mention that she had slept through a masterly lecture upon it, and because she still found the memory of it disquieting, changed the subject quickly. The first patients began to arrive presently and she and Mies retired to an empty consulting room, so that Mies could explain exactly how the clinic was run. ‘Of course, Papa receives an honorarium, but it is not very much, you understand, and there are many doctors who come here also to give advice and help him too and they receive nothing at all, for they do not wish it—the experience is great.’ She added in a burst of honesty: ‘Papa is very clever, but not as clever as some of the doctors and surgeons who come here to see the patients.’
‘Do they pay?’ Lucy wanted to know.
‘There are those who do; those who cannot are treated free. It—how do you say?—evens up.’
Lucy was peering in the well equipped cupboards. ‘You don’t work here?’
‘No—it is not a very nice part of the city and Papa does not like me to walk here alone. When we wish to go we shall telephone for a taxi.’
Lucy, who had traipsed some pretty grotty streets round St Norbert’s, suggested that as there would be two of them they would be safe enough, but Mies wasn’t going to agree, she could see that, so she contented herself with asking if there was any more to see.
‘I think that you have seen all,’ said Mies, and turned round as her father put his head round the door. ‘Tell Mevrouw Valker to keep the boy van Berends back—she can send the patient after him.’ He spoke in English, for he was far too polite to speak Dutch in front of Lucy, and Mies said at once: ‘Certainly, Papa. I’ll go now.’
The two girls went into the passage together and Mies disappeared into the waiting room, leaving Lucy to dawdle towards the entrance for lack of anything better to do. She was almost at the door when it opened.
‘Well, well, the parson’s daughter!’ exclaimed Mr der Linssen as he shut it behind him.
‘Well, you’ve no reason to make it sound as though I were exhibit A at an old-tyme exhibition,’ snapped Lucy, her temper fired by the faint mockery with which he was regarding her.
He gave a shout of laughter. ‘And you haven’t lost that tongue of yours either,’ he commented. ‘Always ready with an answer, aren’t you?’
He took off his car coat and hung it any old how on a peg on the wall. ‘How did you get here?’
Very much on her dignity she told him. ‘And how did you get here?’ she asked in a chilly little voice.
He frowned her down. ‘I hardly think…’ he began, and then broke off to exclaim: ‘Mies—more beautiful than ever! Why haven’t I seen you lately?’
Mies had come out of the waiting room and now, with every appearance of delight, had skipped down the passage to fling herself at him. ‘Fraam, how nice to see you! You are always so busy…and here is my good friend Lucy Prendergast.’
He bent and kissed her lovely face. ‘Yes, we’ve met in England.’ He turned round and kissed Lucy too in an absent-minded manner. ‘I’ve just one check to make. Wait and I’ll give you a lift back.’
He had gone while Lucy was still getting her breath back.
Mies took her arm and led her back to the room they had been in. ‘Now that is splendid, that you know Fraam. Is he not handsome? And he is also rich and not yet married, even though he has all the girls to choose from.’ She giggled. ‘I think that I shall marry him; I am a little in love with him, you know, although he is old, and he is devoted to me. Would we not make a nice pair?’
Lucy eyed her friend. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact, you would, and you’re a doctor’s daughter, too, you know what to expect if you marry him.’
‘That is true, but you must understand that he is not a house doctor, he is consultant surgeon with many hospitals and travels to other countries. He has a practice of course in the best part of Amsterdam, but he works in many of the clinics also. He has a large house, too.’
‘It sounds just right,’ observed Lucy. ‘You wouldn’t want to marry a poor man, would you?’
Mies looked horrified. ‘Oh, no, I could not. And you, Lucy? You would also wish to marry a man with money?’
She was saved from answering by the entrance of a young man. He was tall and thin and studious-looking, with fair hair, steady blue eyes and a ready smile. He spoke to Mies in Dutch and she answered him in what Lucy considered to be a very off-hand way before switching to English.
‘This is Willem de Vries, Lucy—he is a doctor also and works at the Grotehof Ziekenhuis. He comes here to work with Papa.’ She added carelessly: ‘I have known him for ever.’
Willem looked shy and Lucy made haste to say how glad she was to meet him and added a few rather inane remarks because the atmosphere seemed a little strained. ‘Did you go to school together?’ she asked chattily, and just as he was on the point of replying, Mies said quickly: ‘Yes, we did. Willem, should you not be working?’
He nodded and then asked hesitantly: ‘We’ll see each other soon?’ and had to be content with her brief, ‘I expect so. You can take us to a bioscoop one evening if you want to.’
After he had gone there was a short silence while Lucy tried to think of something casual to say, but it was Mies who spoke first. ‘Willem is a dull person. I have known him all my life, and besides, he does not kiss and laugh like Fraam.’
‘I thought he looked rather a dear. How old is he?’
‘Twenty-six. Fraam is going to
