Dearest Eulalia. Бетти Нилс
leaving for Holland in the morning,’ he told her, then he smiled down at her, shook her hand, and was gone.
CHAPTER TWO
JANE came to the kitchen door. ‘Gone, has he? Well, it was shepherd’s pie for supper; I doubt if he would have fancied that. I’ll get a tin of salmon in the house; if he comes again, unexpected, like, I can make fishcakes.’
Eulalia said quietly, ‘No need, Jane; he’s going back to Holland in the morning.’
‘You’ll miss him…’
‘I don’t really know him, but yes, I shall miss him.’
Which was exactly what Mr van der Leurs had hoped for.
She was pouring tea for the thirsty queue towards the end of Thursday’s afternoon clinic when she looked up and saw him. She put the teapot down with a thump and hoped that she didn’t look as pleased as she felt; he had, after all, bidden her goodbye without a backward glance…
The queue parted for him to watch and listen with interest.
‘I’ll be outside the entrance,’ he told her, smiled impartially at the queue and went on his way.
“E was ‘ere last week,’ said a voice. ‘Looking at my Jimmy—ever so nice ‘e was, too.’
‘A friend of yours, miss?’ asked another voice.
‘An acquaintance,’ said Eulalia in a voice which forbade confidences of any sort, her colour somewhat heightened. The queue dissolved, the last few patients were called, she began to clear up, and presently, the hall empty, Sue and Polly gone, she closed down for the day.
The clerk kept her talking when she took the money to the office. He was an elderly man and night duty was a lonely job and she was too kind and polite to show impatience while he talked. Perhaps Mr van der Leurs would think that she didn’t intend to meet him. She hadn’t said that she would, had she? And if it had been a casual offer made on the spur of the moment, he might not wait.
He was there, leaning against the Bentley’s bonnet, oblivious of the chilly evening. He opened the door for her as she reached him and got in beside her.
‘Could we go somewhere for a cup of coffee? I haven’t much time…’
‘You can have coffee at home—’ began Eulalia, and was cut short by his curt,
‘There’s a café in the Fulham Road; that is the quickest way.’
She said tartly, ‘If you are so pressed for time you had no need to give me a lift.’
He didn’t answer but drove through the city. The café he ushered her into was small and half empty. He sat her down at a table away from the other customers, ordered coffee and observed in a matter-of-fact voice, ‘This isn’t quite what I intended but it will have to do. I got held up.’
The coffee came and Eulalia took a sip. ‘I thought you were in Holland.’
‘I was; I came over on the fast ferry this afternoon. I must go back on the ferry from Dover in a couple of hours’ time.’
‘You mean you’re only here for an hour or two? Whatever for?’
‘I wanted to see you and as I’m going to be away for a few days…’
‘But you could have seen me at home or at the hospital.’
‘Don’t interrupt, Eulalia; there isn’t time. It is enough to say that I wanted to see you alone.’
He smiled then and sat back, quite at his ease. ‘Will you marry me, Eulalia?’
She opened her pretty mouth and closed it again and stared at him, sitting there asking her to marry him in a manner one would use to ask for the sugar.
‘No,’ said Eulalia.
He didn’t look in the least put out. ‘There are a dozen reasons why you should say no. Perhaps you will think about them while I’m away and when I see you again we can discuss them.’ He smiled at her. ‘I shall see you again, you know, and next time we can talk at our leisure. Now I’m afraid I must take you home.’
Eulalia could think of nothing to say; she tried out several sensible remarks to make in her head but didn’t utter them. She could, of course, tell him that she didn’t want to see him again but somehow she didn’t say so. Later she would think of all kinds of clever replies to make but he wouldn’t be there to hear them. And she musn’t see him again.
He drove the short distance to the Colonel’s house, got out and went with her to the door.
‘Well, goodbye,’ said Eulalia, and offered a hand.
‘Not goodbye; we say tot ziens.’ He shook her hand briefly and opened the door for her.
As he turned away she asked, ‘Where are you going?’
‘Albania.’
‘But that’s… Oh, do take care!’
He stood looking down at her for a moment, his eyes half hidden under their heavy lids. Just for a moment Eulalia had let her heart speak for itself.
Driving down to Dover and once on the other side of the Channel, taking the long road home, Mr van der Leurs allowed his thoughts to dwell on a pleasant future.
October became November and brought cold wind and rain and grey skies, none of which lightened Eulalia’s mood. Mr van der Leurs had been gone for a week and she worried about him, and although she told herself that he was old enough and large enough to take care of himself she scanned the papers and listened to the news and wished that there was some way of finding out if he was back home…
The Colonel, expressing a wish to see him again, had to be told.
‘He’ll be back. Miss him, do you, Lally?’
Arranging his bedside table just so for the night, she admitted that she did, kissed him fondly and bade him sleep well.
The Colonel, waiting for sleep, thought contentedly that he had no need to worry about Lally’s future; Aderik would take care of it. He drifted off gently and died peacefully as he slept.
Somehow or other Eulalia got through the next few days. There was a great deal to do—not least the nephew to notify. There were no other family but old friends had to be told, notices printed in The Times and Telegraph, the bank manager, his solicitor informed, arrangements for the funeral made. The nephew arrived after two days, a middle-aged kindly man who needed to be housed and fed.
There was no question of Eulalia leaving the house until she had made her own arrangements, he told her. He had a wife and four children who would be coming to England shortly but the house was large enough—he had no intention of turning her out of her home. She thanked him, liking him for his concern, and listened politely to his plans. He was an artist of some repute and was delighted to return to London; the house was large enough to house his family in comfort, and there were attics which could be turned into a studio.
His wife and children arrived in time for the funeral so that Eulalia, opening rooms again, getting ready for their arrival, had little time to grieve. After the funeral he would return to sort out his affairs but his wife and children would remain.
Tom and Pam couldn’t have been kinder to her, and the children, although circumstances had subdued them, brought the house alive. Somehow, the funeral which she had been dreading turned into a dignified and serene occasion, with the Colonel’s old friends gathered there, making themselves known to Tom and Pam, shaking Eulalia by the hand, asking about her job, telling her in their elderly voices that she was a pretty girl and wasn’t it time she married.
However, there were still the nights to get through; there was time to grieve then and wonder what the future held for her. She would have to leave the house, of course, despite Pam’s kind insistence that she could stay as long as she wanted to.