EMMY was wakened in the morning by a sturdy young girl in a coloured pinafore, bearing a tray of tea. She beamed at Emmy, drew the curtains back, giggled cheerfully and went away.
Emmy drank her tea and hopped out of bed intent on looking out of the window. She opened it and stepped cautiously onto the balcony. The tiles were icy and her toes curled under with the cold, but the air was fresh and smelled of the sea.
She took great gulping breaths and peered down to the garden below. It was more than a garden; it stretched away towards what looked like rough grass, and beyond that she could glimpse the sea. She took her fill of the view and then looked down again. Directly under the balcony the professor was standing, looking up at her, the dogs beside him.
He wished her good morning. 'And go and put some clothes on, Ermentrude, and come outside.' He laughed then.
She said haughtily, 'Good morning, Professor. I think not, thank you. I'm cold.'
'Well, of course you are with only a nightie on. Get dressed and come on down. You need the exercise.'
Emmy felt light-headed at the sight of him, standing there, laughing at her.
She said, 'All right, ten minutes,' and whisked herself back into her room, leaving the professor wondering why the sight of her in a sensible nightdress with her hair hanging untidily in a cloud around her shoulders, should so disturb him in a way which Anneliese, even in the most exquisite gown, never had. He reminded himself that Anneliese would be coming to dinner that evening, and regretted the impulse to invite Emmy to join him.
She came through the side door to meet him, wrapped in her coat, a scarf over her hair, sensible shoes on her feet. Tip and Solly made much of her, and she said, 'Oh, what a pity that Charlie isn't here, too.'
'I think that Beaker might not like that. Charlie is his darling, as much loved as Humphrey.'
They had begun to walk down the length of the garden, and at its end he opened a wicket gate and led the way over rough grass until they reached the edge of the dunes with the sea beyond. There was a strong wind blowing, whipping the waves high, turning the water to a tumultuous steel-grey.
The professor put an arm round Emmy's shoulders to steady her. 'Like it?'
'Oh, yes, it's heavenly! And so quiet-I mean, no people, no cars…'
'Just us,' said the professor.
It wasn't full daylight, but she could see the wide sand stretching away on either side of them, disappearing into the early-morning gloom.
'You could walk for miles,' said Emmy. 'How far?'
'All the way to den Helder in the north and to the Hoek in the south.'
'You must think of this when you are in London…'
'Yes. I suppose that one day I'll come to live here permanently.'
'I expect you will want to do that when you're married and have a family,' said Emmy, and felt the pain which the words were giving her. Would Anneliese stand here with him, watching the stormy sea and blown by the wind? And his children? She pictured a whole clutch of them and dismissed the thought. Anneliese would have one child-two, perhaps-but no more than that.
She felt tears well under her eyelids. Ruerd would be a splendid father and his home was large enough to accommodate a whole bunch of children, but that would never happen.
'You're crying,' said the professor. 'Why?'
'It's the wind; it makes my eyes water. The air is like sucking ice cubes from the fridge, isn't it?'
He smiled then. 'An apt description. Let us go back and have breakfast before we decorate the tree-a morning's work. We will come again-whatever the weather, it is always a splendid view.
Breakfast was a cheerful meal; her parents had slept well and the talk was wholly of Christmas and the forthcoming gaiety.
'My sisters will come later today, my brother tomorrow. Anneliese-my fiancйe-will be coming this evening to dinner.'
'We look forward to meeting her,' said Mrs Foster, politely untruthful. Maternal instinct warned her that Anneliese wasn't going to like finding them at Ruerd's house. Although from all accounts she had nothing to fear from Emmy, thought Mrs Foster sadly. A darling girl, but with no looks. A man as handsome as Ruerd would surely choose a beautiful woman for his wife.
They decorated the tree after breakfast, hanging it with glass baubles, tinsel, little china angels and a great many fairy lights. On top, of course, there was a fairy doll-given after Christmas to the youngest of his nieces, the professor told them.
'You have several nieces?' asked Mrs Foster.
'Three so far, and four nephews. I do hope you like children…'
'Indeed I do. Ruerd, we feel terrible at not having any presents to give.'
'Please don't worry about that. They have so many gifts that they lose count as to whom they are from.'
Emmy, making paper chains for the nursery, found him beside her.
'After lunch we'll go over the house, if you would like that, but, in the meantime, will you bring those upstairs and we'll hang them before the children get here?'
The nursery was at the back of the house behind a baize door. There was a night nursery, too, and a bedroom for nanny, a small kitchenette and a splendidly equipped bathroom.
'The children sleep here, but they go where they like in the house. Children should be with their parents as much as possible, don't you agree?'
'Well, of course. Otherwise they're not a family, are they?' She stood there, handing him the chains as he fastened them in festoons between the walls. 'Did you sleep here, too?'
'Oh, yes. Until I was eight years old. On our eighth birthdays we were given our own bedrooms.'
He hung the chains, and turned to stare at her. 'You like my home, Ermentrude?'
'Yes, indeed I do. I think you must be very happy here.'
She walked to the door, uneasy under his look. 'At what time do your sisters arrive?'
His voice was reassuringly casual again. 'Very shortly after lunch. It will be chaos for the rest of the afternoon, I expect. Several friends will be coming to dinner.'
She paused as they reached the stairs. 'You have been so kind to us, Professor, but that doesn't mean you have to include us in your family gatherings.' She saw his quick frown. 'I've put that badly, but you know quite well what I mean, don't you? Mother and Father and I would be quite happy if you would like us to dine alone. I mean, you weren' t expecting us…'
She had made him angry. She started down the staircase and wished that she had held her tongue, but she had had to say it. Perhaps if she hadn't fallen in love with him she wouldn't have felt the urge to make it clear to him that they were on sufferance, even if it was a kindly sufferance.
He put out a hand and stopped her, turned her round to face him, and when he spoke it was in a rigidly controlled voice which masked his anger.
'Never say such a thing to me again, Ermentrude. You and your parents are my guests, and welcome in my house. Be good enough to remember that.'
She stood quietly under his hand. 'All right, I won't,' she told him. 'Don't be so annoyed, there's no need.'
He smiled then. 'Should I beg your pardon? Did I startle you?'
'Oh, no. I think I've always known that you conceal your feelings.' She met his look and went pink. 'Now it's me who should say sorry. Goodness me, I wouldn't have dared talk to you like that at St Luke's. It must be because we're here.'
He studied her face, nodded and went on down the stairs, his hand still on her arm.
Lunch was a cheerful meal. The professor and Mr Foster seemed to have a great deal in common; neither was at a loss for a subject although they were careful to include Mrs Foster and Emmy.
Shortly afterwards the first of the guests arrived. The house seemed suddenly to be full of children, racing around, shouting and laughing, hugging the dogs, hanging onto their uncle, absorbing Emmy and her parents into their lives as though they had always been there.
There were only four of them but it seemed more-three boys and a girl, the eldest six years and the youngest two. A rather fierce Scottish nanny came with them, but she took one look at Emmy's unassuming person and allowed her to be taken over by her charges. So Emmy was coaxed to go to the nursery with the children and their mother, a tall young woman with the professor's good looks. She had shaken Emmy by the hand, and liked her.
'Joke,' she said with a smile. 'It sounds like part of an egg but it's spelt like a joke. I do hope you like children. Mine run wild at Christmas, and Ruerd spoils them. My sister Alemke will be here shortly; she's got a boy and two girls, and a baby on the way.' She grinned at Emmy. 'Are we all a bit overpowering?'
'No, no. I like children. Only, you see, the professor is so-well, remote at the hospital. It's hard to think of him with a family.'
'I know just what you mean.' Joke made a face. 'He loves children, but I don't think Anneliese, his fiancйe, likes them very much. I sound critical, don't I? Well, I am. Why he has to marry someone like her I'll never know. Suitable, I suppose.'
She took Emmy's arm. 'I'm so glad you're here. Only I hope the children aren't going to plague you.'
'I shan't mind a bit. How old are your sister's children?'
'The boy is five, and the girls-twins-almost three. Let's go down and have tea.'
Her sister had arrived when they got down to the drawing room and there were more children, who, undeterred by language problems, took possession of Emmy.
Alemke was very like her sister, only younger. 'Isn't this fun?' she said in English as good as Emmy's own. 'I love a crowd. Our husbands will come later, and I suppose Aunt Beatrix will be here and Uncle Cor and Grandmother ter Mennolt. She's a bit fierce, but don't mind her. There'll be Ruerd's friends, too; it should be great fun. And Anneliese, of course.'
The sisters exchanged looks. 'We don't like her, though we try very hard to do so,' said Joke.
'She's very beautiful,' said Emmy, anxious to be fair.
'You've met her?'
'She came to St Luke's when I was working there, to see the professor.'
'Do you always call Ruerd "professor"?' asked Joke.
'Well, yes. He's-he's…Well, it's difficult to explain, but the hospital-He's a senior consultant and I was on the telephone exchange.'
Alemke took her arm. 'Come over here and sit with us while we have tea, and tell us about the hospital-wasn't there a bomb or something? Ruerd mentioned it vaguely. Anneliese was over there, wasn't she?'
Emmy accepted a delicate china cup of tea and a tiny biscuit.
'Yes, it must have been very difficult for the professor because, of course, he was busier than usual.'
Joke and Alemke exchanged a quick look. Here was the answer to their prayers. This small girl with the plain face and the beautiful eyes was exactly what they had in mind for their brother. They had seen with satisfaction that, beyond a few civil remarks, he had avoided Emmy and she had gone out of her way to stay at the other end of the room. A good sign, but it was unfortunate that Ruerd had given his promise to Anneliese. Who would be coming that evening, no doubt looking more beautiful than ever.
The children, excited but sleepy, were led away after tea to be bathed and given supper and be put to bed, and everyone else went away to dress for the evening. Emmy had seen with pleasure that her parents were enjoying themselves and were perfectly at ease in their grand surroundings. She reminded herself that before her father had been made redundant he and her mother had had a pleasant social life. It was only when they had gone to London and he had been out of work that they had had to change their ways.
Emmy took a long time dressing. The result looked very much as usual to her anxious eyes as she studied her person in the pier-glass. The brown dress was best described as useful, its colour mouse-like, guaranteed to turn the wearer into a nonentity, its modest style such that it could be worn year after year without even being noticed.
Emmy had bought it at a sale, searching for a dress to wear to the annual hospital ball at St Luke's two years previously, knowing that it would have to last for a number of years even if its outings were scanty. It hardly added to her looks, although it couldn't disguise her pretty figure.
She went slowly down the staircase, hoping that no one would notice her.
The professor noticed-and knew then why Emmy hadn't wanted to join his other guests. He crossed the hall to meet her at the foot of the staircase, and took her hand with a smile and a nod at her person. He said in exactly the right tone of casual approval, 'Very nice, Ermentrude. Come and meet the rest of my guests.'
His brothers-in-law were there now, but he took her first to an old lady sitting by the console table.
'Aunt Beatrix, this is Ermentrude Foster who is staying here over Christmas with her parents-you have already met them.'
The old lady looked her up and down and held out a hand. 'Ah, yes. You have an unusual name. Perhaps you are an unusual girl?'
Emmy shook the old hand. 'No, no. I'm very ordinary.'
Aunt Beatrix patted the stool at her feet. 'Sit down and tell me what you do.' She shot a glance at Emmy. 'You do do something?'
'Well, yes.' Emmy told her of the job at St. Luke's. 'But, now Father has a post in Dorset, I can live there and find something to do while I train.'
'What for?'
'I want to embroider-really complicated embroidery, you know? Tapestry work and smocking on babies' dresses and drawn thread work. And when I know enough I'd like to open a small shop.'
'Not get married?'
'I expect if someone asked me, and I loved him, I'd like to get married,' said Emmy.
The professor had wandered back. 'Come and meet Rik and Hugo and the others.' He put a hand on her shoulder and led her from one to the other, and then paused by Anneliese, who was superb in red chiffon, delicately made-up, her hair an artless mass of loose curls.
'Remember Ermentrude?' asked the professor cheerfully.
'Of course I do.' Anneliese studied the brown dress slowly and smiled a nasty little smile. 'What a rush for you, coming here at a moment's notice. Ruerd told me all about it, of course. You must feel very grateful to him. Such a bore for you, having no time to buy some decent clothes. Still, I suppose you're only here for a couple of days.'
'Yes, I expect we are,' said Emmy in a carefully controlled voice. Just then the professor was called away. Anneliese turned round and spoke to a tall, stout woman chatting nearby. 'Mother, come and meet this girl Ruerd is helping yet again.'
Mevrouw van Moule ignored the hand Emmy put out. She had cold eyes and a mean mouth, and Emmy thought, In twenty years' time Anneliese will look like that.
'I dare say you find all this rather awkward, do you not? You worked in a hospital, I understand.'
'Yes,' said Emmy pleasantly. 'An honest day's work, like the professor. He does an honest day's work, too.' She smiled sweetly at Anneliese. 'What kind of work do you do, Anneliese?'
'Anneliese is far too delicate and sensitive to work,' declared her mother. 'In any case she has no need to do so. She will marry Professor ter Mennolt very shortly.'
'Yes, I did know.' Emmy smiled at them both. It was a difficult thing to do; she wanted to slap them, and shake Anneliese until her teeth rattled in her head. 'So nice to see you again,' she told Anneliese, and crossed the room to join her mother and father, who were talking to an elderly couple, cousins of the professor.
The professor's two sisters, watching her from the other end of the room, saw her pink cheeks and lifted chin and wondered what Anneliese had said to her. When the professor joined them for a moment, Joke said, 'Ruerd, why did you leave Emmy with Anneliese and her mother? They've upset her. You know how nasty Anneliese can be.' She caught her brother's eye. 'All right, I shouldn't have said that. But her mother's there, too…'
She wandered away and presently fetched up beside Emmy.
'You crossed swords,' she said into Emmy's ear. 'Were they absolutely awful?'
'Yes.'
'I hope you gave them as good as you got,' said Joke.
'Well, no. I wanted to very badly, but I couldn't, could I? I'm a guest here, aren't I? And I couldn't answer back.'
'Why not?'
'Anneliese is going to marry Ruerd. He-he must love her, and it would hurt him if she were upset.'
Joke tucked her hand in her arm. 'Emmy, dear, would you mind if Ruerd was upset?'
'Yes, of course. He's-he's kind and patient and very generous, and he deserves to be happy.' Emmy looked at Joke, unaware of the feelings showing so plainly in her face.
'Yes, he does,' said Joke gravely. 'Come and meet some more of the family. We're endless, aren't we? Have you met my grandmother?'
Twenty people sat down to dinner presently. The table had been extended and more chairs arranged round it, but there was still plenty of room. Emmy, sitting between one of the brothers-in-law and a jovial man-an old friend of the family-could see her parents on the other side of the table, obviously enjoying themselves.
The professor sat at the head of the table, of course, with Anneliese beside him and his grandmother on his other hand. Emmy looked away and concentrated on something else. There was plenty to concentrate upon. The table for a start, with the lace table mats, sparkling glass and polished silver. There was an epergne at its centre, filled with holly, Christmas roses and trailing ivy, and candles in silver candelabra.
Dinner lived up to the splendour of the table: sorrel soup, mustard-grilled sole, raised game pie with braised celery, brussel sprouts with chestnuts, spinach purйe and creamed potatoes, and to follow a selection of desserts.
Emmy, finding it difficult to choose between a mouth-watering trifle and a milanaise soufflй, remembered the bread and jam they had once eaten and blushed. She blushed again when the professor caught her eye and smiled. Perhaps he had remembered, too, although how he had thought of anything else but his beautiful Anneliese sitting beside him…
Emmy, savouring the trifle, saw that Anneliese was toying with a water ice. No wonder she was so slim. Not slim, thought Emmy-bony. And, however gorgeous her dress was, it didn't disguise Anneliese's lack of bosom. Listening politely to the old friend of the family talking about his garden, Emmy was thankfully aware that her own bosom left nothing to be desired. A pity about the brown dress, of course, but, since the professor had barely glanced at her, it hardly mattered-a potato sack would have done just as well.
Dinner over, the party repaired to the drawing room and Emmy went to sit by her mother.
Mrs Foster was enjoying herself. 'This is delightful, Emmy. When I think that we might still be at the lodge, surrounded by someone else's furniture…I do wish we had brought a present for Ruerd.'
'Well, there wasn't time, Mother. Perhaps we can send him something when we get back home. Has he said how long we're staying here?'
'No, but he told your father that he has to return to England on Boxing Day, so I expect we shall go back with him then.' Mrs Foster added, 'I don't like his fiancйe; she'll not make him a good wife.'
They were joined by other guests then, and the rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough. Around midnight Anneliese and her mother went home. She went from one group to the other, laughing and talking, her hand on the professor's sleeve, barely pausing to wish Emmy and her mother goodnight.
'I'll be back tomorrow,' she told them. 'Ruerd has excellent servants but they need supervision. So fortunate that Ruerd offered you a roof over your heads for Christmas. Of course, it was the least anyone could do.'
She gave them a brittle smile and left them.
'I don't like her,' said Mrs Foster softly.
'She's beautiful,' said Emmy. 'She will be a most suitable wife for Ruerd.'
Alemke joined them then and they chattered together, presently joined by several other guests, until people began to drift home. All this while the professor had contrived to be at the other end of the room, going from one group to the other, pausing briefly to say something to Mrs Foster, hoping that Emmy was enjoying herself. The perfect host.
The next day was Christmas Eve, and Anneliese arrived for lunch wrapped in cashmere and a quilted silk jacket. At least she came alone this time, playing her part as the future mistress of Ruerd's house with a charm which set Emmy's teeth on edge.
Somehow she managed to make Emmy feel that she was receiving charity, even while she smiled and talked and ordered Cokker about as though she were already his mistress. He was called away to the phone, and she took the opportunity to alter the arrangements for lunch, reprimand Cokker for some trivial fault and point out to Emmy in a sugary voice that there would be guests for lunch and had she nothing more suitable to wear?
'No, I haven't,' said Emmy coldly. 'And if you don't wish to sit down to the table with me, please say so. I'm sure the professor won't mind if I and my mother and father have something on a tray in another room.' She added, 'I'll go and find him and tell him so…'
Anneliese said urgently, 'No, no, I didn't mean…It was only a suggestion. I'm sure you look quite nice, and everyone knows-'
'What does everyone know?' asked the professor from the door.
He looked from one to the other of them, and Emmy said in a wooden voice, 'Oh, you must ask Anneliese that,' and went past him out of the room.
The professor said quietly, 'The Fosters are my guests, Anneliese. I hope that you remember that-and that you are in my house!'
She leaned up to kiss his cheek. 'Dear Ruerd, of course I remember. But Emmy isn't happy, you know; this isn't her kind of life. She told me just now that she and her parents would be much happier having lunch by themselves. I told her that she looked quite nice-she's so sensitive about her clothes-and that everyone knew they had no time to pack sufficient clothes.'
She shrugged her shoulders. 'I've done my best, Ruerd.' She flashed him a smile. 'I'm going to talk to your sisters; I've hardly had time to speak to them.'
The professor stood for a moment after she had left him, deep in thought. Then he wandered off, away from the drawing room where everyone was having a drink before lunch, opening and closing doors quietly until he found Emmy in the garden room, standing by the great stone sink, doing nothing.
He closed the door behind him and stood leaning against it. 'You know, Emmy, it doesn't really matter in the least what clothes you are wearing. Anneliese tells me that you feel inadequately dressed and are shy of joining my guests. I do know that clothes matter to a woman, but the woman wearing them matters much more.
'Everyone likes you, Emmy, and you know me well enough by now to know that I don't say anything I don't mean. Indeed, they like you so much that Joke wants you to stay a few weeks and help her with the children while Nanny goes on holiday. Would you consider that? I shall be in England, Rik has to go to Switzerland for ten days on business, and she would love to have your company and help.'
Emmy had had her back to him, but she turned round now. 'I wouldn't believe a word of that if it was someone else, but you wouldn't lie to me, would you?'
'No, Emmy.'
'Joke would really like me to stay and help with the children? I'd like that very much. But what about Mother and Father?'
'I'll take them back when I go in two days' time. Probably by then the problem of the furniture will have been settled.' He smiled. 'They will have everything as they want it by the time you get back.'
'I'll stay if Joke would like that,' said Emmy.
'She'll be delighted. Now come and eat your lunch-we will talk to your mother and father presently.'
She sat next to him at lunch, with Rik on her other side and Hugo across the table, and between them they had her laughing and talking, all thoughts of her clothes forgotten. That afternoon she went for a walk with Joke and Alemke and the children, down to the village and back again, walking fast in a cold wind and under a grey sky.
'There'll be snow later,' said Joke. 'Will you come to church tomorrow, Emmy? The family goes, and anyone else who'd like to. We have midday lunch and a gigantic feast in the evening. The children stay up for it and it's bedlam.'
There was tea round the fire when they got back, with Anneliese acting as hostess, although, when Joke and Alemke joined the others, she said with a titter, 'Oh, dear, I shouldn't be doing this-Joke, do forgive me. I am so used to being here that sometimes I feel that I am already married.'
Several people gave her a surprised look, but no one said anything until Alemke started to talk about their walk.
The professor wasn't there and neither, Emmy saw, were her mother and father. She wondered if Anneliese knew that she had been asked to stay on after Christmas and decided that she didn't-for Anneliese was being gracious, talking to her in her rather loud voice, saying how glad she would be to be back in her own house, and did she know what kind of job she hoped to get?
Emmy ate Christmas cake and said placidly that she had no idea. Her heart ached with love for Ruerd but nothing of that showed in her serene face, nicely flushed by her walk.
She didn't have to suffer Anneliese's condescending conversation for long; she was called over to a group reminiscing about earlier Christmases, and presently Aunt Beatrix joined them, with Cokker close behind, bringing fresh tea. Everyone clustered around her, and Anneliese said bossily, 'I'll ring for sandwiches; Cokker should have brought them.'
Aunt Beatrix paused in her talk to say loudly, 'You'll do nothing of the kind. If I want sandwiches, Cokker will bring them. I dare say you mean well,' went on Aunt Beatrix tartly, 'but please remember that I am a member of the family and familiar with the household.' She added sharply, 'Why aren't you with Ruerd? You see little enough of each other.'
'He's doing something-he said he would have his tea in the study.' Anneliese added self-righteously, 'I never interfere with his work, mevrouw.'
Aunt Beatrix gave a well-bred snort. She said something in Dutch which, of course, Emmy didn't understand and which made Anneliese look uncomfortable.
Cokker returned then, set a covered dish before Aunt Beatrix, removed the lid to reveal hot buttered toast and then slid behind Emmy's chair. 'If you will come with me, miss, your mother requires you.'
Emmy got up. 'There's nothing wrong?' she asked him quietly, and he shook his head and smiled. 'You will excuse me, mevrouw,' said Emmy quietly. 'My mother is asking for me.'
She went unhurriedly from the room, following Cokker into the hall as Aunt Beatrix, reverting to her own tongue, said, 'There goes a girl with pretty manners. I approve of her.'
A remark tantamount, in the eyes of her family, to receiving a medal.
Cokker led the way across the hall and opened the study door, ushered Emmy into the room and closed the door gently behind her. The professor was there, sitting at his desk, and her mother and father were sitting comfortably in the two leather chairs on either side of the small fireplace, in which a brisk fire burned.
There was a tea tray beside her mother's chair and the professor, who had stood up as Emmy went in, asked, 'You have had your tea, Ermentrude? Would you like another cup, perhaps?'
Emmy sat down composedly, her insides in a turmoil. I must learn to control my feelings, she reflected, and said briskly, 'Cokker said that Mother wanted to see me.'
'Well, yes, dear-we all do. Ruerd was telling us that his sister would like you to stay for a while and help with her children. We think it's a splendid idea but, of course, you must do what you like. Though, as Ruerd says, you really need a holiday and a change of scene, and we can get the lodge put to rights before you come back home.'
Emmy could hear the relief in her mother's voice. The prospect of getting the lodge in order while cherishing her daughter-who, according to the professor, needed a quiet and comfortable life for a few weeks-was daunting. The lodge would be cold and damp, and there were tea-chests of things to be unpacked, not to mention getting meals and household chores. Having a semi-invalid around the place would be no help at all. Much as she loved her child, Mrs Foster could be forgiven for welcoming the solving of an awkward problem.
Wasn't too much concern being expressed about her health? wondered Emmy. After all, it had only been a bang on the head, and she felt perfectly all right.
'I'll be glad to stay for a little while and help Joke with the children,' she said composedly.
'Splendid,' said the professor. 'Ermentrude will be in good hands, Mrs Foster. Cokker and Tiele will look after my sister and the children and Ermentrude. Alemke will go home directly after Christmas, and so will Aunt Beatrix and the cousins. It will be nice for Cokker to have someone in the house. Joke will be here for a couple of weeks, I believe, and I'll see that Ermentrude will have a comfortable journey home.'
He's talking just as though I wasn't here, reflected Emmy. For two pins I'd say…He smiled at her then and she found herself smiling back, quite forgetting his high-handedness.
Dinner that evening was festive. Emmy wished that she had a dress to do justice to the occasion, but the brown velvet had to pass muster once again. Anneliese, in the splendour of gold tissue and chiffon, gave her a slight smile as she entered the drawing room-much more eloquent than words.
Despite that, Emmy enjoyed herself. Tonight it was mushrooms in garlic, roast pheasant and red cabbage and a mouth-watering selection of desserts. And a delicious red wine which Emmy found very uplifting to the spirits.
Anneliese's father came to drive her home later, and Emmy felt everyone relax. It was an hour or two later before the party broke up, everyone going to their beds, in a very convivial mood. She had hardly spoken to the professor, and his goodnight was friendly and casual.
'A delightful evening,' said Mrs Foster, bidding Emmy goodnight at her bedroom door. 'Ruerd is a delightful man and a splendid host. Although I cannot see how he could possibly be in love with Anneliese. A nasty, conceited woman, if you ask me.'
'She's beautiful,' said Emmy, and kissed her mother goodnight.
Christmas Day proved to be everything it should be. After breakfast everyone, children included, loaded themselves into cars and drove to the village church, where Emmy was delighted to hear carols just as she would have expected to hear in England-only they were sung in Dutch, of course. The tunes were the same; she sang the English words and the professor, standing beside her, smiled to himself.
Lunch was a buffet, with the children on their best behaviour because once lunch was over they would all go into the hall and the presents would be handed out from under the tree, now splendidly lighted. Everyone was there-Cokker and Tiele and the housemaids and the gardener-but no Anneliese.
'She'll come this evening,' whispered Joke. She added waspishly, 'When the children are all in bed and there is no danger of sticky fingers.'
Handing out the presents took a long time; there was a great deal of unwrapping of parcels and exclamations of delight at their contents, and the children went from one to the other, showing off their gifts. There was a present for Mrs Foster, too-an evening handbag of great elegance-and for Mr Foster a box of cigars. For Emmy there was a blue cashmere scarf, the colour of a pale winter sky. It was soft and fine, and she stroked it gently. Every time she wore it, she promised herself, she would remember the professor.
Tea was noisy and cheerful but, very soon afterwards, the children-now tired and cross-were swept away to their beds. Nanny came to fetch them, looking harassed, and Emmy asked Joke if she might go with her. 'Just to help a bit,' she said diffidently.
'Oh, would you like to?' Joke beamed at her. 'Alemke has a headache, but I'll be up presently to say goodnight. You'd truly like to? I mean, don't feel that you must.'
Emmy smiled. 'I'd like to.'
She slipped away and spent the next hour under Nanny's stern eye, getting damp from splashed bathwater and warm from coaxing small, wriggling bodies into nightclothes. They were all settled at last and, with a nod of thanks from Nanny, Emmy went back downstairs. Everyone was dressing for dinner, she realised as she reached the hall.
Not quite everyone; she found the professor beside her.
She turned to go back upstairs again. 'I ought to be changing,' she said quickly. 'Thank you for my scarf. I've never had anything cashmere before.'
He didn't say anything, but wrapped his great arms round her and kissed her.
She was so taken by surprise that she didn't do anything for a moment. She had no breath anyway. The kiss hadn't been a social peck; it had lingered far too long. And besides, she had the odd feeling that something was alight inside her, giving her the pleasant feeling that she could float in the air if she wished. If that was what a kiss did to one, she thought hazily, then one must avoid being kissed again.
She disentangled herself. 'You shouldn't…' she began. 'What I mean is, you mustn't kiss me. Anneliese wouldn't like it…'
He was staring down at her, an odd look on his face. 'But you did, Ermentrude?'
She nodded. 'It's not fair to her,' she said, and then, unable to help herself, asked, 'Why did you do it?'
He smiled. 'My dear Ermentrude, look up above our heads. Mistletoe-see? A mistletoe kiss, permissible even between the truest strangers. And really we aren't much more than that, are we?'
He gave her an avuncular pat on the shoulder. 'Run along and dress or you will be late for drinks.'
Emmy didn't say anything; her throat was crowded with tears and she could feel the hot colour creeping into her face. She flew up the staircase without a sound. Somewhere to hide, she thought unhappily. He was laughing at me.
But the professor wasn't laughing.