Roses Have Thorns

‘There are many lakes,’ said Hans. ‘These are very small, and beyond Sneek they are large and lead one to the other.’

They were nearing another village, its red roofs surrounding the church and ringed around by trees. ‘Baardwerd,’ said Hans. ‘We have arrived.’

He drove through the tiny place and turned in through open gates and along a short drive. The house at the end of it was painted white, its many windows shuttered, and a double stairway led to its front door. Its roof was steep, with a clock over the wrought-iron balcony above the door. Sarah hadn’t known what to expect; she had imagined several likely houses: red brick villas, a comfortable country house like her own home had been, even a narrow town house with a gabled roof. None of them as grand as this. She got out of the car, her heart beating rather too quickly from nerves.

CHAPTER TWO

WITH HANS CLOSE behind her, Sarah mounted the steps and found the door open and a tall, bony middle-aged woman standing there. The woman said something in Dutch and offered a hand, and Sarah took it gratefully as Hans said, ‘This is my wife, Nel. She is housekeeper and speaks no English, but you will understand each other.’

Nel and Sarah smiled at each other hopefully as Hans opened the inner door of the lobby and ushered her into the hall. It was large and square with panelled walls and a very large chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. The black and white marble floor was exactly what anyone, having seen the pictures of Dutch interiors so often painted by the Dutch Old Masters, would have expected. 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.’ She stared at Sarah. ‘Did they tell you that? That I like company during the small hours? Not that you’ll have to put up with that for long. If I don’t like you, I shall say so.’

‘Very sensible,’ agreed Sarah pleasantly. ‘Would you like me to read to you now?’

‘Yes. Jane Eyre, over there on that table by the window. My daughter-in-law has been reading it to me, and it’s almost finished. I’ll have Pride and Prejudice next, not that there will be time to read it to the end.’

Sarah had fetched the book and opened it at the marker.

‘Do you know how old I am?’

‘Yes, Mevrouw Nauta, ninety.’

‘The Nautas live long lives, but of course we none of us can go on forever.’

‘I don’t suppose that would be very pleasant,’ agreed Sarah, and she began to read. She had a pleasant, very clear voice, and she read steadily until she glanced up and saw that the old lady was asleep. She put the marker back in the book and walked over to the window and looked out. The garden was quite beautiful and it was very quiet—after the noise and bustle of London it was bliss. But she doubted if she would have much opportunity to enjoy it. It seemed to her that she was expected to spend her days and nights with the old lady, with only the briefest of respites when it was convenient. But this gloomy outlook was quite wrong. Just before four o’clock, while the old lady still slept, Mevrouw Nauta came back.

‘There has been little time to talk,’ she observed. ‘You must be thinking that we intended leaving you here for the rest of the day. I always have my tea up here, so you will be free for an hour at least. Then, if you will come back until just before eight o’clock, while you have dinner my mother-in-law’s maid will make her ready for the night—that takes about an hour. It is then that I must ask you to take over until Mevrouw Nauta goes to sleep; she likes to be read to, and she loves to talk although it exhausts her. If she falls asleep around midnight, then she will not wake before six o’clock or later, but if she has a bad night then I am afraid I must ask you to sleep in the dressing-room…’ She looked rather anxiously at Sarah. ‘I think that Radolf didn’t make all this quite clear to you? I thought not. During the day someone will relieve you for an hour or two so that you may feel free to do as you like. There is a pool in the garden if you like to swim and books in the library, and the village is close by. Of course, if her condition worsens, you may have to stay with her for longer periods. We shall do our best to make it up to you later. Now, do go and have your tea—you will find it in the drawing-room—and then take a stroll round the garden. There will still be time for you to change for the evening before you come back here.’

Thank heaven for the dove-grey, thought Sarah, agreeing pleasantly to everything her companion had said.

She had her tea with the master of the house, who put himself out to be pleasant. ‘You know Radolf?’ he asked her.

‘No,’ said Sarah, ‘not really. I see him from time to time, that’s all. I think he might not recognise me away from my desk at the hospital.’

Her host looked vaguely surprised and began to talk about the weather, a safe subject, and presently he offered to show her round the garden. It was much larger than she had thought; if she could spend an hour each day wandering in it she would be quite happy. She admired the flower-beds and, had she but known it, delighted her companion by showing a knowledge of the shrubs and trees around them.

‘You have a garden?’

‘No, I live in the East End of London, but my home is—was—in the country and we had rather a nice garden there; not as large as this one, but very pretty.’

She went to her room, showered and changed into the grey dress, and then went back to the old lady. She was as cross as two sticks, and Mevrouw Nauta junior looked harassed and lost no time in making off, leaving Sarah to pacify her elderly companion as best she could.

‘Shall I read to you?’ she asked hastily. ‘Or shall we talk?’

‘We will talk, young woman—at least, I shall talk and you will listen.’