She replied now to his civil remark about the weather and buttered a roll. She really must remember her place; she wasn’t in Hambledon now, the daughter of highly respected parents, famous for their obscure Celtic learning…
The doctor took off his spectacles and looked at her. There was no sign of pique or hurt feelings, he was relieved to observe. He said pleasantly, ‘I shall be taking the boys to Leiden for the day tomorrow. I’m sure you will be glad to have a day to yourself in which to explore. I have a ground map of Utrecht somewhere; I’ll let you have it. There is a great deal to see and there are some good shops.’
When she thanked him, he added, ‘If you should wish to stay out in the evening, Bas will let you have a key.’
She thanked him again and wondered if that was a polite hint not to return to the house until bedtime.
‘What about the boys? Putting them to bed…?’
He said casually, ‘Oh, Jet will see to that,’ then added, ‘I shall be away for most of Sunday, but I’m sure you can cope.’
‘Yes, of course. I’m sure the boys will think up something exciting to do.’
The days were falling into a pattern, she reflected: school in the morning, long walks in the afternoon, shopping expeditions for postcards, books or another puzzle, and an hour to herself in the evening when the boys were with their uncle.
She no longer expected the doctor to dine with her in the evening.
All the same, for pride’s sake, she got into the blue crêpe and ate her dinner that evening with every appearance of enjoyment. She was living in the lap of comfort, she reminded herself, going back to the drawing room to sit and read the English papers Bas had thoughtfully provided for her until she could go to bed once the long case clock in the hall chimed ten o’clock.
She took a long time getting ready for bed, refusing to admit how lonely she was. Later she heard quiet footsteps in the hall and a door close. The doctor was home.
The doctor and the boys left soon after breakfast on Saturday. Araminta, standing in the hall to bid them goodbye, was hugged fiercely by Peter and Paul.
‘You will be here when we get back?’ asked Peter.
‘Couldn’t you come with us now?’ Paul added urgently, and turned to his uncle, waiting patiently to usher them into the car. ‘You’d like her to come, wouldn’t you, Uncle?’
‘Miss Pomfrey—’ at a look from Peter he changed it. ‘Mintie is only here for a few weeks and she wants to see as much of Utrecht as possible. This is the first chance she’s had to go exploring and shopping. Women like to look at shops, you know.’
‘I’ll have a good look round,’ promised Araminta, ‘and when we go out tomorrow perhaps you can show me some of the places I won’t have seen.’
She bent to kiss them and waited at the door as they got into the car, with Humphrey stretched out between them. She didn’t look at the doctor.
Bas shut the door as soon as the car had gone. ‘You will be in to lunch, miss?’ he wanted to know. ‘At any time to suit you.’
‘Thank you, Bas, but I think I’ll get something while I’m out; there’s such a lot to see. Are you sure Jet can manage with the boys at bedtime?’
‘Oh, yes, miss. The doctor has arranged that he will be out this evening…’ He paused and looked awkward.
‘So she won’t need to cook dinner—just something for the boys.’
He looked relieved. ‘I was given to understand that you would be out this evening, miss. I am to give you a key, although I will, of course, remain up until you are back.’
‘How kind of you, Bas. I’ll take a key, of course, but I expect I shall be back by ten o’clock. When I come in I’ll leave the key on the hall table, shall I? Then you’ll know that I’m in the house.’
‘Thank you, miss. You will have coffee before you go out?’
‘Please, Bas, if it’s not too much trouble.’
She left the house a little later and began a conscientious exploration of the city. The boys would want to know what she had seen and where she had been… She had been to the Domkerk with them, now she went to the Dom Tower and then through the cloister passage to the University Chapter Hall. The Central Museum was next on her list—costumes, jewellery, some paintings and beautiful furniture. By now it was well after noon, so she looked for a small café and lingered over a kaas broodje. She would have liked more but she had no idea when she would be paid and she hadn’t a great deal of money.
The day, which had begun with sunshine and gentle wind, had become overcast, and the wind was no longer gentle. She was glad of her jacket over the jersey two-piece as she made her way to the shopping centre. The shops were fine, filled with beautiful things: clothes, of course, and shoes, but as well as these splendid furniture, porcelain, silver and glass… There were bookshops, too, and she spent a long time wandering round them, wishing she could buy some of their contents. It surprised her to find so many English books on sale, and to find a shop selling Burberrys and Harris Tweed. It would be no hardship to live here, she reflected, and took herself off to find the hofjes and patrician houses, to stand and admire their age-old beauty.
She found another small coffee shop where she had tea and a cake while she pondered what to do with her evening. She thought she might go back around nine o’clock. By then the boys would be in bed and asleep, and if the doctor was out, Bas and Jet would be in kitchen. A cinema seemed the answer. It would mean that she couldn’t afford a meal, but she could buy a sandwich and a cup of coffee before she went back to the house.
There were several cinemas; she chose one in a square in the centre of the city, paid out most of her remaining guldens and sat through an American film. Since she was a little tired by now, she dozed off and woke to see that it was over and that the advertisements were on. After that the lights went up and everyone went out into the street.
It was almost dark now, but it was still barely eight o’clock. She went into a crowded café and had a cup of coffee, then decided that she had better save what guldens she had left. There was a small tin of biscuits by her bed; she could eat those. She couldn’t sit for ever over one cup of coffee, though, so she went into the street and started her walk back to the house.
She was crossing the square when she saw the little stall at one corner. Pommes Frites was painted across its wooden front.
‘Chips,’ said Araminta, her mouth watering. ‘But why do they have to say so in French when we’re in Holland?’ She went over to the corner and in exchange for two gulden was handed a little paper cornet filled with crisp golden chips. She bit into one; it was warm and crunchy and delicious…
Dr van der Breugh, on his way to dine with old friends, halting at traffic lights, glanced around him. Being a Saturday evening there were plenty of people about; the cafés and restaurants were doing a good trade and the various stalls had plenty of customers.
He saw Araminta as the light changed, and he had to drive on, but instead of going straight ahead, as he should have done, he turned back towards the square and stopped the car a few feet from her.
She hadn’t seen him; he watched her bite into a chip with the eager delight of a child and then choke on it when she looked up and saw him. He was astonished at his feelings of outrage at the sight of her. Outrage at his own behaviour. He should have taken her with them, or at least made some arrangement for her day. He got out of his car, his calm face showing nothing of his feelings.
As for Araminta, if the ground had obligingly opened and allowed her to fall into it, she would have been happy; as it was, she would have to do the best she could. She swallowed the last fragment of chip and said politely, ‘Good evening, doctor.