The Secret Pool

He talked to Nanny briefly, wished her good night and swept Fran downstairs.

They had drinks by the open windows in the drawing room and presently dined. Fran, who was hungry, ate with a good appetite, thinking how splendid it must be to have a super cook to serve such food and someone like Tuggs to appear at your elbow whenever you wanted something. They didn’t talk much, but their silences were restful; the doctor wasn’t a man you needed to chat to, thank heaven.

They had their coffee outside in the still warm garden, with the sky darkening and the faint scent of the roses which crowded around the lawn mingling with the coffee. She sighed and the doctor asked, ‘What are you thinking, Francesca?’

‘That it’s very romantic and what a pity it’s quite wasted on us.’

She couldn’t see his face, but his voice was casual. ‘We are perhaps beyond the age of romance.’

She snapped back before she could stop herself, ‘I’m twenty-five!’

‘On October the third you will be twenty-six. I shall be thirty-seven in December.’

‘However did you know?’ began Fran.

‘I made it my business to find out.’ His voice was so mild that she choked back several tart remarks fighting for utterance.

‘More coffee?’ she asked finally.

Their day in the Veluwe was a success: the doctor might be a tiresome man but he was a splendid father and, when he chose to be, a good host. They drove through the narrow lanes criss-crossing the Veluwe and picnicked in a charming clearing with the sunshine filtering through the trees and numerous birds. The food was delicious: tiny sausage rolls, bite-size sandwiches, chicken vol-au-vents, hard-boiled eggs, crisp rolls and orange squash to wash them down. Fran, watching Lisa, saw that she ate very little and presently, tucked in her chair, she fell asleep.

When she woke up, they drove on, circling round to avoid the main roads and getting back in time for a rather late tea. This time the doctor was called away to the telephone and returned to say that he would have to go to Utrecht that evening. Fran said at once, ‘Then if you’ll give me a lift to the city I’ll get a bus.’

‘Certainly not.’ He sat down beside Lisa and explained at some length and then said, ‘Lisa quite understands—this often happens. We’ll get Nanny and say good night and leave at once; there will be plenty of time to drive you to your cousin’s flat.’

And nothing she could say would alter his plans.

It was two days before she saw him again. Pleasant enough, pottering around with Clare, going out for a quiet drive in the evenings when Karel got home, all the same she felt a tingle of pleasure when the doctor telephoned. She had only two days left and she was beginning to think that she wouldn’t see him or Lisa again.

‘A farewell tea party,’ he explained. ‘I’ll pick you up on my way back from Zeist—about two o’clock.’

He hung up and her pleasure turned to peevishness. ‘Arrogant man!’

All the same she greeted him pleasantly when he arrived, listened to his small talk as they drove towards his home and took care not to mention the fact that in two days’ time she would be gone. He knew, anyway, she reminded herself; it was to be a farewell tea party.

Lisa was waiting for them, sitting in her chair under the mulberry tree. She wound her arms round Fran’s neck, chattering away excitedly. ‘Is it a birthday or something?’ asked Fran. ‘There’s such an air of excitement.’

Father and daughter exchanged glances. ‘You shall know in good time,’ said the doctor blandly.

They took their time over tea, talking in a muddled but satisfactory way with Fran struggling with her handful of Dutch words and the doctor patiently translating for them both. But presently Nanny arrived and Lisa went with her without a word of protest.

‘I’ll see her to say goodbye?’ she asked, turning to wave.

Dr van Rijgen didn’t answer that. He said instead, in a perfectly ordinary voice, ‘I should like you to marry me, Francesca.’

She sat up with a startled yelp and he said at once, ‘No, be good enough to hear me out. May I say at once that it is not for the usual reasons that I wish to marry you; since Lisa was able to talk she has begged me for a mama of her own. Needless to say I began a search for such a person but none of my women friends were suitable. Oh, they were kind and pleasant to Lisa but they shrank from contact with her. Besides, she didn’t like any of them. You see, she had formed her own ideas of an ideal mama—someone small and gentle and mouselike, who would laugh with her and never call her a poor little girl. When I saw you at the prize giving at the Infirmary I realised that you were exactly her ideal. I arranged these days together so that you might get to know her—needless to say, you are perfect in her eyes…’

‘The nerve, the sheer nerve!’ said Fran in a strong voice. ‘How can you dare…?’

‘I think I told you that I would do anything for Lisa to keep her happy until she dies. I meant it. She has six months at the outside and you have fifty—sixty years ahead of you. Do you grudge a few months of happiness to her? Of course, it will be a marriage in name only and when the time comes,’ his voice was suddenly harsh, ‘the marriage can be annulled without fuss and you will be free to resume your career. I shall see that it doesn’t suffer on our account.’

Fran gazed at him, speechless. She was more than surprised; she was flabbergasted. Presently, since the silence had become lengthy, she said, ‘It’s ridiculous, and even if I were to consider it, I’d need time to decide.’

‘There is nothing ridiculous about it if you ignore your own feelings on the matter, and there is no time. Lisa is waiting for us to go to the nursery.’

‘And supposing I refuse?’

He didn’t answer that. ‘You intend to refuse?’ There was no reproach in his calm voice, but she knew that, in six months’ time, when Lisa’s short life had ended, she would never cease to reproach herself.

‘No strings?’ she asked.

‘None. I give you my word.’

‘Very well,’ said Fran, ‘but I’m doing it for Lisa.’

‘I hardly imagined that you would do it for me. Shall we go and tell her?’

Lisa was in her dressing-gown, ready for bed, eating something nourishing from a bowl. The face she turned towards them as they went over to her was so full of eager hope that Fran reflected that even if she had refused she would have changed her mind at the sight of it. She felt her hand taken in a firm, reassuring grasp. ‘Well, lieveling, here is your mama.’

She was aware of Nanny’s delighted face as Lisa flung her arms round her neck and hugged her, talking non-stop.

When she paused for breath the doctor said, ‘Lisa wants to know when and where. I think the best thing is for me to drive you back and you can discuss it with your aunts. And for reasons which I have already mentioned the wedding will have to be here.’ He smiled a little. ‘And you must wear a bride’s dress and a veil.’

Fran looked at him over Lisa’s small head. ‘Anything to make her happy.’

He said gravely, ‘At least we can agree upon that.’

CHAPTER THREE

THEY stayed with Lisa for some time; she was excited and happy, talking nineteen to the dozen, full of plans for a future which would never be hers, but presently she became drowsy and the doctor carried her to bed where she fell instantly asleep.

Downstairs in the drawing room, over drinks and with the dogs at their feet, Dr van Rijgen observed, ‘Thank you, Francesca, you have made Lisa happy. Now as to plans for the future… For a start, you must call me Litrik and, with Lisa, we must present at the least a friendly front. I suggest that I drive you home and we can tell your aunts together. You realise why the wedding must be here, of course? Lisa expects a full-blown affair, I’m afraid, and you are free to invite anyone you wish to attend. Are your aunts likely to disapprove?’

‘Disapprove. Well, I don’t know. You see they have made up their minds that I shan’t marry, but I think that if we just told them at once they wouldn’t be able to do much about it. I don’t want them to know the real reason…’

‘God forbid. How soon can you be free to marry me? It will take about three weeks for the formalities here.’

‘I can be ready by then. It might help if you wrote to Miss Hawkins…’

‘I’ll go and see her. Do you want Dr Beecham to give you away? The service isn’t the same as your Church of England, but I dare say you’ll feel better if it’s on familiar lines.’

It was rather like discussing the future treatment for a patient and just as impersonal and efficient.

‘That would be nice.’ She swallowed the rest of her sherry and wished that it would warm her cold insides.

‘I will arrange your return here and for any family or friends whom you would like at our wedding.’ He got up and refilled her glass.

‘I must reassure you that you will be free to return to England after Lisa’s death.’ His voice was bleak. ‘The annulment may take a little time but it can be dealt with here; you will have no need to be bothered with it.’