collected the diet sheets, the insulin and the doctor’s letter and went downstairs. Dr ter Brons Huizinga came to the door as she reached the last stair. “In here, Prudence—you don’t mind if I call you Prudence?”
He didn’t wait for her to answer but started reading the letter, having first invited her to sit down. The room was rather pleasant, although she found the furniture rather heavy. But it was beautifully cared for, and the ornaments and silver scattered around were museum pieces. She glanced up and found the doctor’s eyes upon her. He smiled suddenly, and just for a moment she liked him, but the smile went as quickly as it had come, and he turned away to a chair opposite hers.
“There couldn’t be a worse diabetic than Aunt Beatrix,” he observed in his faintly accented English. “Keeping her to a diet won’t be too bad, but once she’s stabilised and off injections, the chances of her remembering to take her pills are slight. However, we’ll do our best.”
He got out his pen and spread the diet sheet on his knee and began to write it out in Dutch. Prudence sat and looked at him; he really was very good-looking, and far too sure of himself, almost arrogant. She wondered where he lived, and as he put his pen away she asked, “Do you live here, too?”
“No. Now, the insulin…”
Prudence blushed at the snub, although she supposed she had deserved it. She listened to his instructions, received back the diet sheet and his own written instructions as well as the doctor’s letter and the insulin, and got up to go.
“Presumably you’re on the telephone if I should need you?”
“Indeed I am.” He opened the door and then shut it again before she could reach it. “Tell me, did you expect there to be a nurse here to look after Aunt Emma?”
She raised her eyes to his. “Well, yes, I did—I mean, Aunt Beatrix asked me to come along, too because she was a little uncertain about the diabetes.”
“The naughty old thing,” he observed softly. “I’ll get a nurse from Leeuwarden; she can be here by this evening.”
“No, please don’t do that, Doctor. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself all day, and there’ll be very little to do for your aunt.”
“Coals of fire, Prudence?”
“Pooh,” said Prudence roundly, “such rubbish! Perhaps you’ll be good enough to tell me what you want done.” She went on loftily, “I’ve been in charge of a twenty-bedded ward for some years, so I’m quite capable of looking after both your aunts.”
“I have no doubt of it. I’ll stay to lunch, and afterwards we can decide what’s best for the pair of them.”
He opened the door and she went past him into the hall, not knowing where to go next. “In here,” he said, and opened another door. “Time for a drink before we lunch.”
“I should like to go to my room.”
He glanced at his watch. “I’ll get someone to take you up; come back here and I’ll have some sherry poured for you.” He added carelessly, “Don’t be too long.”
A remark calculated to convince Prudence that it would take her at least fifteen minutes to see to her face and do her hair to her liking. And who did he think he was, giving orders in his aunt’s house? She followed a cheerful young girl up the staircase and down a corridor at the end of which was the pleasant room she was shown into, with windows overlooking the grounds at the back of the house. Her clothes were already unpacked, she noticed, and there were towels and soap arranged in the adjoining bathroom. She sat down before the dressing-table mirror and peered at her reflection. Her face needed very little done to it; she dabbed on some powder, applied lipstick and took down her hair and did it up again, not because it needed it, but because the doctor had told her not to be long. Really, she admonished her reflection, it wouldn’t do at all; she would have to see quite a lot of him at least for the next few days, and she must at least pretend to like him. Which reminded her that it would be a step in the right direction if she didn’t keep him waiting too long.
If he had noticed that Prudence had been at least twice as long as he had expected, he gave no sign, and presently Aunt Beatrix joined them and they crossed the hall to the dining-room, a forbidding apartment with a massive sideboard weighed down with quantities of silver and a table large enough to seat a dozen people. The meal was simple but elegantly served, and her companions carried on a conversation about nothing much, taking care to include her in it. They must be longing to lapse into their own tongue, she reflected, but neither of them gave a hint of wanting to do so, and when they had had their coffee the doctor invited her into a small room leading off the dining-room and asked her to sit down.
The next half-hour was spent in a résumé of Mevrouw ter Brons Huizinga’s state of health, with a polite request for Prudence to keep an eye on her and call him if she was worried, and a somewhat detailed discussion about Aunt Beatrix. At the end of it he thanked her with cool politeness, begged her to say immediately if she found her responsibilities too heavy for her, observed that he would be in on the following day and wished her goodbye.
Prudence sat where she was for a little while, contemplating the next week or so. It was obvious to her that this was to be no ordinary visit; Aunt Beatrix, much as she loved her, had behaved quite ruthlessly, no doubt pleased with herself for having found someone to look after both herself and her sister. On the other hand, in all fairness, she was going to live in the lap of luxury, and possibly when she had found her feet there would be the chance to do some sightseeing. She allowed her thoughts to dwell on the delicious cheese soufflé which had been served at lunch, and decided that the pros more than outweighed the cons.
Both ladies snoozed in the afternoons; Prudence took herself into the gardens and explored. They were too formal for her liking, but since it was a warm afternoon she found them pleasant enough, and presently found a nice sheltered corner in the sun and curled up on the grass and went off to sleep.
“Sleeping Beauty?” asked a gently mocking voice which brought her wide awake, just for the moment quite scattered in her wits so that she blinked up at the doctor leaning over her.
“Oh, it’s you again!” she declared crossly. “I might have known!”
“Not Sleeping Beauty,” he observed blandly, “just a cross girl. I came in on my way back from hospital to tell you that I shall be in Amsterdam tomorrow and probably for the next few days as well. I’ve left a telephone number on the hall table; my partner will come at once if you need anyone. He speaks English.” He turned on his heel. “Your hair’s coming down,” he told her, and walked away towards the house.
She watched him go; never in her whole life had she met a man she disliked so much!
She went back to the house presently, but only when she had heard a car driving away. Aunt Beatrix was in the drawing-room, the tea-tray in front of her. “Go and tidy yourself, my dear, and we’ll have tea together. My sister is still sleeping. Haso has been here again—I expect you saw him.”
Prudence said that yes, she had, and she would only be two ticks tidying herself for tea, and sped away to her room. She got back to the drawing-room just in time to remove a large chocolate cake from Aunt Beatrix’s vicinity.
“You’re on a diet,” she reminded her. “You must keep fit so that you can help Mevrouw ter Brons Huizinga…”
“You’re quite right, dear. I think you might address
