Never too Late. Бетти Нилс
quietly. ‘It must be difficult for him, especially with a child. But you won’t be looking after her all the time, will you, dear? He said something about dealing with his English correspondence and giving a hand where it was needed most. How very fortunate that you have your St John Ambulance certificate.’
‘I hardly think that I’ll be expected to help out in the surgery.’ Prudence looked up from the letter she was writing to Nancy. ‘Heaven help the patients if I do!’
She had forgotten to ask about the weather in Holland, but surely Benedict would be biddable about her coming back home to collect more clothes? She packed skirts and blouses and a few woollies and a couple of pretty dresses, and planned to travel in the Jaeger suit she had just bought. Someone had told her that it rained a lot in Holland and was almost always windy, so she stowed her elderly Burberry in the boot and added a handful of headscarves.
‘Nothing for the evening, dear?’ enquired her mother.
Prudence looked doubtful. ‘Well, I didn’t think so— I mean, I’m not a guest, you know.’
‘But you’re bound to meet some people.’ Her mother meant young men, of course. ‘Why not take a couple of those pretty chiffon blouses and your black moiré skirt?’
The tickets arrived two days later—first class, she noticed, and wondered if she was supposed to pay Benedict back out of her salary. There was no note with them, just a slip from a travel agency, but then he had no reason to write.
She left home early in the morning to call first at Highgate and say goodbye to Nancy and have an early lunch with her before driving on to Harwich. It was raining, a fine drizzle which dulled the countryside to an overall mud colour, but Prudence didn’t allow that to worry her. True, she had hated saying goodbye to her mother and father and Mabel, and Podge, uncannily aware that he would no longer get the long walks she took him each day, looked so forlorn that she felt like throwing the whole thing up and staying at home. But she didn’t—after all, it wasn’t for ever.
By the time she reached Nancy’s flat the sun, rather on the watery side, had broken through the clouds, which somehow made all the difference, and Nancy made her feel even better.
‘You know, Prudence, I’d envy you if I weren’t married and perfectly happy. Just think, going to another country and working for someone as nice as Benedict! James says he’s a splendid man.’
Prudence picked over the fruit in the centre bowl and chose a peach. ‘Well, if he isn’t I can always come back home!’ she said flippantly.
She drove up to Harwich without haste; in any case the Mini just wasn’t able to get up much of a speed, and once there she went unhurriedly about the business of getting herself and the Mini on board, and that done, had dinner and went to bed. She was a level-headed girl, despite the red hair. A good night’s sleep was essential if she was to be at her best when she arrived in Appeldoorn. She woke early, had tea and toast in her cabin and had another look at the map. The trip didn’t look too difficult and once she had reached that town all she had to do was to look out for the palace, Het Loo, take the left-hand turn at the crossroads and turn left again up a tree-lined avenue bordering the royal park. She dressed and went up on deck and found it raining again and Holland’s coastline, flat and grey as the sky, only a few miles distant.
She had expected it to be flat, of course, but a few more trees would have improved the skyline. She looked about her with interest as the ferry crept slowly into the quayside and then, obedient to the polite voice requesting drivers to rejoin their cars, went down to the car deck.
Customs and Passport control were slow but friendly and she found herself on the road, looking for the signpost to Rotterdam. Motorway for almost the whole trip, Benedict had told her, and rather dull, but by far the quickest way to travel.
He was probably right, decided Prudence, sandwiched between giant transports and very fast Mercedes, but there wasn’t much pleasure in it, and it was a good thing that there wasn’t much scenery, for she didn’t dare take her eyes off the road for more than a few seconds at a time. What with driving on the wrong side of the road and getting used to dark blue signposts and traffic lights twice as high as those at home… But presently, with Rotterdam safely negotiated, she relaxed. The motorway stretched before her and according to her map she would bypass almost every other town en route. The grey skies were getting lighter and presently a thin sunshine filtered through the clouds, turning the fields into a brilliant green and bringing to life the farms and villages. Prudence looked about her and decided that the country was charming in a peaceful, old-fashioned way. Once off the main roads, there might be a great deal to see. Beyond Gouda she remembered that she was hungry and pulled in at the next café, where she had coffee and a cheese roll. Probably there would be lunch when she arrived at Benedict’s house.
Mindful of her instructions, she left the motorway just outside Arnhem and took the road north to Appeldoorn, and the country was delightful. She slowed down so that she could take a good look at the woods and heath on either side of the road, and when she saw a picturesque restaurant standing back from the road, stopped for more coffee. This was where she would come on her free days, she determined; there were countless narrow sandy lanes leading away into the woods, just asking to be explored. She lingered longer than she had intended and was relieved to find that she was almost at the end of her journey.
She hadn’t been particularly worried about finding Benedict’s house; she wasn’t the worrying kind and since the palace, Het Loo, was on the outskirts of the town, all she had to do was keep her eyes open. The palace stood well back from the road, linked to it by long tree-lined avenues and vast areas of grass, and once past this, she could see where she had to go; another avenue, also tree-lined, with the park on one side and on the other rather grand ornately built houses, each standing in large well kept grounds. The third one up from the road, Benedict had told her, and since its wrought iron gate was open she drove up the short sanded drive and stopped before the massive porch. Just for a moment she had a pang of sheer fright, squashed it firmly and got out, rang the ponderous bell beside the door and waited composedly.
A small round man answered the bell so quickly that she suspected that he might have been on the lookout for her. He was any age between fifty and seventy, quite bald and immensely dignified, but his smile was warm.
‘Miss Trent, you will come in, please, and welcome. Dr van Vinke is in his study awaiting you.’
Thank God he speaks English, thought Prudence and followed him briskly down a long wide hall to a door at the end. Her companion, a few steps ahead of her, had almost reached it when it was opened and Benedict came out.
His hullo was friendly and casual—just as though, thought Prudence rather peevishly, I’d popped in from next door. ‘No problems?’ he asked, and didn’t wait for her to answer. ‘You’d like coffee while your bags are taken upstairs. Ork will see to them and put the car away.’ He nodded to the round man, who murmured something and trotted off, while Benedict led the way back across the hall to double doors set in the panelled walls, opened them and invited her inside.
It was an impressive room, furnished with comfortable chairs and sofas. Some quite beautiful cabinets stood along its walls, a satinwood rent table between its two long windows and a very lovely Persian carpet on its polished wood floor. The velvet curtains were elaborately draped and echoed the muted colours of the carpet and the various chairs and sofas.
‘Come and sit down,’ invited Benedict. ‘You had a good journey?’
‘Splendid, thank you, though it needn’t have rained quite so much.’ She smiled at him; it was nice to see him again, he was a calm man and somehow soothing, and for some reason she was feeling ruffled. ‘It’s nice to be here, I only hope I’ll be able to make myself useful.’
‘No doubt of it. Here’s the coffee and this is Sitska, my housekeeper and Ork’s wife. Ork speaks English more or less, but she doesn’t—that won’t be a problem for long, you’ll soon pick up a few useful words. Sibella will be home presently—she goes to morning school and sometimes she goes to a friend’s house to play until lunchtime.’ And in answer