A GOOD WIFE
by
BETTY NEELS


CHAPTER ONE

serena light foot awakened by the early sun of an April morning, rolled
over onto her back and contemplated the ceiling; today was her
twenty-sixth birthday.  Not that it was going to be any different from
any other day in the year; her father certainly wouldn't remember,
Matthew, her younger brother, a curate living some way away and
recently married, might possibly send her a card, and Henry, her elder
brother, a solicitor and family man, wouldn't give her a thought,
although his wife might possibly remember.  There was Gregory, of
course, with whom she had that old-fashioned thing an 'understanding'.
She got up then, wasting a few minutes hanging out of the window to
admire the view; she never tired of it--rural Dorset.  Away from the
main roads, the village was half hidden by a small wood, the hills were
close by and beyond them lay the quiet countryside.  The church clock
struck seven and she withdrew her head and set about getting dressed,
then skimmed downstairs to the kitchen to make the early- morning
tea.

The kitchen was large, with a lamentable lack of up-to-date equipment.
There was a scrubbed wooden table ringed around by sturdy chairs, an
old fashioned gas cooker flanking a deep sink and a vast dresser along
one wall.

There was a shabby rug in front of the cooker and two Windsor chairs,
in one of which there was a small tabby cat to whom Serena wished a
good morning before she put on the kettle.  The one concession to
modernity was a cumbersome fridge which, more often than not, ran
amok.

Serena left the kettle to boil and went to the front door to fetch the
post.  There was a small pile of letters in the post box, and just for
a moment she pretended that they were all for her.  They weren't, of
course: bills, several legal-looking envelopes, a catalogue or two,
and, just as she had expected, two birthday cards for herself.  And no
card from Gregory.  But she hadn't really expected one from him; he had
made it plain to her on several occasions that birthdays were
scandalously overpriced and a waste of money.

Gregory didn't believe in wasting money;

her father and brothers approved of him for that reason.

Serena wasn't sure of that, but she hoped in a vague way that when they
married she would be able to change his frugal ways.

She went back to the kitchen and made the tea, offered milk to the cat
and, as the clock struck the half hour, took a tray of tea up to her
father's room.

This was a large, gloomy apartment with heavy old-fashioned furniture,
closely curtained against the morning brightness.  She tweaked one
curtain aside as she crossed the room, the better to see the occupant
in the vast bed.

Mr.  Light foot matched the room, gloomy and the epitome of a
late-Victorian gentleman, whiskers and all.  He sat up in bed, not
speaking, and when Serena wished him good morning, he grunted a
reply.

"A good morning for some," he observed, 'but for those who suffer as I
do, daylight is merely the solace after a sleepless night.  "

Serena put the tray down and handed him his letters.  That her father's
snores shattered the peace of the house was something on which there
was no point in remarking.  She had long ago learned that the only way
in which to live with him was to allow his words to flow over her head.
She said now, "It's my birthday.  Father."

He was opening his letters.

"Oh, yes?  Why have the gas company sent me another bill?  Gross
carelessness."

"Perhaps you didn't pay the first one?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Serena.  I have always paid my bills promptly."

"But it is possible to make a mistake," said Serena, and took herself
out of the room, wondering for the thousand and first time how her
mother could have lived with such a tiresome man.  She herself very
often found life quite intolerable, living here with him, doing almost
all of the housework, cooking and shopping and looking after him.  He
had for some time now declared that he was an invalid, and he led an
invalid's life with no concern for her.

Since Dr.  Bowring had said that there was nothing wrong with him he
had refused to see him again, declaring that he knew far better what
was wrong with him than any doctor.  So he had devised his own
treatment for his illness, having declared that he was suffering from a
weak heart and congestion of the lungs.  He had over the years added
lumbago to these, which gave him every reason to take to his bed
whenever he wished to do so.

It hadn't been so bad when her mother had been alive.  They had had a
housekeeper, and between the two of them Serena and her mother had
devised a routine which had allowed them enough freedom;

there had been a certain amount of social life for them.

Serena had had her tennis parties and small dances at friends' houses,
and her mother had been able to play bridge and enjoy coffee with her
friends.  Then her mother had fallen ill and died without fuss or
complaint, only asking Serena to look after her father.  And, since
Serena had known that her mother had loved her despot of a husband, she
had promised that she would.  That had been five years ago.  Her life
since then had altered dramatically: the housekeeper had been
dismissed; Serena, her father had declared, was quite capable of
running the house with the help of a woman from the village who came
twice a week for a few hours.  What else was there for her to do?  he'd
wanted to know, when she had pointed out that the house wasn't only
large, it was devoid of any labour-saving devices.  Sitting in his
armchair by his bedroom window, wrapped in rugs, with a small table
beside him bearing all the accepted aids to invalidism, he had
dismissed her objections with a wave of the hand.

Since she had to account for every penny of the housekeeping allowance
he gave her each month she'd had no chance to improve things.  True,
there was a washing machine, old now, and given to rather frightening
eruptions and sinister clankings, and there was central heating in some
of the rooms.  But this was turned off at the end of March and not
started again until October.  Since the plumber from Yeovil came each
half-year and turned it on and off, there wasn't much she could do
about that.

Serena, recognising the brick wall she was up against, had decided
sensibly to make the best of things.  After all, Gregory Pratt, a
junior partner in the solicitors' firm in Sherbome, had hinted on
several occasions that he was considering marrying her at some future
date.  She liked him well enough, although she had once or twice found
herself stifling a yawn when he chose to entertain her with a resume of
his day's work, but she supposed that she would get used to that in
time.

When he brought her flowers, and talked vaguely about their future
together, she had to admit to herself that it would be nice to marry
and have a home and her own children.  She wasn't in love with Gregory,
but she liked him, and although like any other girl she dreamed of
being swept off her feet by some magnificent man, she thought it
unlikely that it would happen to her.

Her mother, when she'd been alive, had told her that she was ajolie
laide, but her father had always been at pains to tell her that she was
downright plain, an opinion upheld by her brothers, so that she had
come to think of herself as just that--a round face, with a small nose
and a wide mouth, dominated by large brown eyes and straight light
brown hair worn long, in a rather careless knot on top of her head.

That her mouth curved sweetly and her eyes had thick curling lashes was
something she thought little of, nor did she consider her shape,
pleasingly plump, to be much of an asset.  Since Gregory had never, as
far as she could remember, commented upon her appearance, there had
been no one to make her think otherwise.

She went back to the kitchen and boiled an egg for her breakfast, and
put her two cards on the mantelpiece.

"I am twenty-six.  Puss," she said, addressing the tabby cat, 'and
since it is my birthday I shall do no housework; I shall go for a
walk--up Barrow Hill.  "

She finished her breakfast, tidied the kitchen, put everything ready
for lunch and went to get her father's breakfast tray.

He was reading his paper and didn't look up.

"I'll have a little ham for lunch, and a few slices of thin toast.  My
poor appetite gives me concern, Serena, although I cannot hope that you
share that concern."

"Well, you had a splendid breakfast," Serena pointed out cheerfully.

"Egg, bacon, toast and marmalade, and coffee.

And, of course, if you got up and had a walk that would give you an
appetite.  "

She gave him a kindly smile; he was an old tyrant, greedy and selfish,
but her mother had asked her to look after him.

Besides, she felt sorry for him, for he was missing so much from
life.

"I'm going out for a walk," she told him.

"It's a lovely morning..."

"A walk?  And am I to be left alone in the house?"

"Well, when I go to the shops you're alone, aren't you?  The phone is
by the bed, and you can get up if you want and go downstairs for a
change."

She reached the door.

"I'll be back for coffee," she told him.

She fetched a jacket--an elderly garment she kept for gardening--found
stout shoes, put a handful of biscuits into a pocket and left the
house.  Barrow Hill looked nearer than it was, but it was still early.
She turned away from the road leading down to the village, climbed a
stile and took the footpath beside a field of winter wheat.

It was a gentle climb to start with, and she didn't hurry.

The trees and hedges were in leaf, there were lambs bleating and birds
singing and the sky was blue, a washed-out blue, dotted with small
woolly clouds.  She stopped to stare up at it; it was indeed a
beautiful morning, and she was glad that she had rebelled against the
routine of housework and cooking.  No doubt her father would be coldly
angry when she got back, but nothing he could say would spoil her
pleasure now.

The last bit of Barrow Hill was quite steep, along a path bordered by
thick undergrowth, but presently it opened out onto rough ground
covered in coarse grass and strewn with rocks, offering a splendid view
of the surrounding countryside.  It was a solitary spot, but she saw
that today she was going to have to share it with someone else.  A man
was sitting very much at ease on one of the larger rocks--the one, she
noticed crossly, which she considered her own.

He had turned round at the sound of her careful progress through the
stones and grass tufts, and now he stood up.  A very tall man, with
immensely broad shoulders, wearing casual tweeds.  As she went towards
him she saw that he was a handsome man too, but past his first youth.
Nearer forty than thirty, she reflected as she wished him good morning,
casting a look at her rock as she did so.

His "Good morning," was cheerful.

"Am I tres passing on your rock?"

She was rather taken aback.

"Well, it's not my rock, but whenever I come up here I sit on it."

He smiled, and she found herself smiling back.  He had a nice smile and
it was unexpected, for his features were forbidding in repose a
powerful nose, heavy-lidded blue eyes and a thin mouth above the
decidedly firm chin.  Not a man to treat lightly, she thought.

She sat down without fuss on the rock, and he sat on a tree stump some
yards away.  He said easily, "I didn't expect to find anyone here. 
It's quite a climb..."

"Not many people come up here for that reason, and, of course, those
living in the village mostly go to Yeovil to work each day.  In the
summer some times people come and picnic.  Not often, though, for they
can't bring a car near enough..."

"So you have it to yourself?"

She nodded.

"But I don't come as often as I would like to..."

"You work in Yeovil too?"

He asked the question so gently that she answered, "Oh, no.

I live at home.  "

He glanced at her hands, lying idly in her lap.  Small hands, roughened
by work, not the hands of a lady of leisure.  She caught his glance and
said in a matter-of-fact way, "I look after my father and run the
house."

"And you have escaped?  Just for a while?"

"Well, yes.  You see, it's my birthday..."

"Then I must wish you a very happy day."  When she didn't reply, he
added, "I expect you will be celebrating this evening?  A party?
Family?"

"No.  My brothers and their families don't live very close to us."

"Ah, well--but there is always the excitement of the postman, isn't
there?"

She agreed so bleakly that he began to talk about the country around
them; a gentle flow of conversation which soothed her, so that
presently she was able to tell him some of the local history and point
out the landmarks.

But a glance at her watch set her on her feet.

"I must go."

She smiled at him.

"I enjoyed talking to you.  I do hope you will enjoy your stay here."

He got up and wished her a pleasant goodbye, and if she had half hoped
that he would suggest going back to the village with her she was
disappointed.

It had been pleasant, she reflected, going hurriedly back along the
path.  He had seemed like an old friend, and she suspected that she had
talked too much.  But that wouldn't matter; she wasn't likely to see
him again.  He had told her casually that he was a visitor.  And now
she came to think of it he hadn't sounded quite English.  She reached
the house a little out of breath; her father had his coffee at eleven
o'clock each morning and it was five minutes to the hour.  She put the
kettle on, still in her jacket, and ground the beans, then kicked off
her shoes, smoothed her hair, laid a tray and, once more her quiet
self, went up to her father's room.

He was sitting in his great armchair by the window, reading.

He looked up as she went in.

"There you are.  Gregory telephoned.  He has a great deal of work.  He
hopes to see you at the weekend."

"Did he wish me a happy birthday?"  She put down the tray and waited
hopefully.

"No.  He is a busy man, Serena.  I think that you sometimes forget
that."  He picked up his book.

"I fancy an omelette for lunch."  He added reprovingly, "My bed is not
yet made; I shall probably need to rest after I have eaten."

Serena went back downstairs, reminding herself that she had had a few
hours of pure pleasure on Barrow Hill; it would be something to think
about.  She supposed that it was because it was her birthday that she
had been so chatty with the stranger there.  She blushed at the
thought.

"Not that it matters," she told Puss, offering the small beast sardines
from the tin she had opened.

"He doesn't know me from Adam, and I don't know him, though I think
he'd be rather a nice person to know.  He'll have forgotten all about
me..."

However, he hadn't.  He walked back to Dr.  Bow- ring's house, thinking
about her.  He had known the doctor and his wife for many years--they
had been medical students and she a nurse--creating an easy friendship
which had lasted, despite the fact that he lived and worked in Holland.
On his occasional visits to England he contrived to see them, although
this was the first time he had visited them in Somerset.  At lunch he
told them of his walk up Barrow Hill.

"And I met a girl there--rather shabby clothes, round face, brown
hair--very untidy, nice voice.  Said she looked after her father but
she'd escaped for an hour or two because it was her birthday."

"Serena Light foot," chorused his companions.

"A perfect darling," said Mrs.  Bowring.

"Her father's the horrid est old man I've ever met.  Threw George out,
didn't he, darling?"

The doctor nodded.

"He's perfectly fit, but has decided to be an invalid for the rest of
his life.  I'm not allowed in the house, but from what I can glean from
the village gossip he spends his days sitting around or lying in bed,
enjoying ill health.  When his wife died he sacked the housekeeper, and
now Serena runs the place with old Mrs.  Pike going there twice a week.
No life for a girl."

"So why doesn't she leave?  She's old enough and wise enough,
surely?"

"I've done my best to persuade her to get a job away from home--so has
the rector--but it seems that she promised her mother that she would
look after him.  It's not all gloom and doom though.  It's an open
secret in the village that Gregory Pratt intends to marry her.  He's a
partner in a law firm in Sherbome.  A prudent man, with an eye on Mr.
Light- foot's not inconsiderable financial status and the house--both
of which it is presumed he will leave to Serena.  She has two brothers,
both with incomes of their own and steady positions, but neither of
them see much of her or their father, and have let it be known that
they neither expect nor want anything when he dies."

"So is Serena by way of being an heiress?"

"It seems so.  Neither her father nor her brothers seem to have
mentioned it to her, but I have heard that Gregory is aware of it."

"So he would have told her, surely?"

"Oh, no.  That might give her the idea that he only wants to marry her
for her money and the house."

The Dutchman raised heavy brows.

"And does he?"

"Of course.  My dear Ivo!  He's not in love with her, I feel sure, and
I doubt very much if she is with him, but he's always very attentive if
they should go out together, which isn't often, and I think she likes
him well enough.  She's a sensible girl; she knows she hasn't much in
the way of looks, and very little chance of leaving home unless her
father dies.  Even then she has had little chance to go out into the
world and meet people."

"It's a shame," said Mrs.  Bowring, 'for she's great fun and so kind
and gentle; she must long for pretty clothes and a chance to meet
people of her own age.  You've no idea what a job it is to get her here
for drinks or dinner.  Her wretched father manages to feel ill at the
last minute, or he telephones just as we're sitting down to dinner and
demands her back home because he's dying.  "

They began to talk of other things then, and Serena wasn't spoken of
again.  Two days later Mr.  van Doe- len drove himself back to London
and shortly after, back to Holland.

It was the following Saturday when Gregory called to see Serena,
although after greeting her in a somewhat perfunctory fashion he went
upstairs to see her father.  A man who knew on which side his bread was
buttered, and intending to have jam on it too, he lost no opportunity
of keeping on good terms with Mr.  Light foot.

He spent half an hour or so discussing the stock market and listening
with every appearance of serious attention to Mr.  Light foot's pithy
remarks about the government, before going back downstairs to the
sitting room to find Serena sitting on the floor, doing the Telegraph
crossword puzzle.

He sat down in one of the old-fashioned armchairs.

"Would you not be more comfortable in a chair, Serena?"

"Do you suppose an etui is the same thing as a small workbag,
Gregory?"

He frowned.

"Really, my dear, you ask the most stupid questions."

"Well, they can't be all that stupid or they wouldn't be in a crossword
puzzle."  She sat back on her heels and looked at him.

"You forgot my birthday."

"Did I?  After all, birthdays aren't important, not once one is
adult."

Serena pencilled in a word.  Gregory was probably quite right; he so
often was--and so tolerant.  Her brothers had told her that he would be
a good and kind husband.

Sometimes, though, she wondered if she would have liked him to be a
little more exciting.  And why was it that everyone took it for granted
that she would marry him?

She said now, "I should have liked a card, and flowers--a great sheaf
of roses in Cellophane tied with ribbon--and a very large bottle of
perfume."

Gregory laughed.

"You really must grow up, Se- rena.  You must have been reading too
many novels.  You know my opinion about wasting money on meaningless
rubbish..."

She pencilled in another word.

"Why should flowers and presents be meaningless rubbish when they are
given to someone you love or want to please?  Have you ever felt that
you wanted to buy me something madly extravagant, Gregory?"

He lacked both imagination and a sense of humour, and besides, he had a
high opinion of himself.  He said seriously, "No, I can't say that I
have.  What would be the point, my dear?  If I were to give you a
diamond necklace, or undies from Harrods, when would you have the
occasion to wear them?"

"So when you buy me a present at Christmas you think first, Now, what
can I buy Serena that she can find useful and use each day?  Like that
thing you gave me for shredding things which takes all day to clean?"

He refused to get annoyed.  He gave her an indulgent smile.

"I think you must be exaggerating, Serena.  How about a cup of tea?  I
can't stay long; I'm dining with the head of my department this
evening."

So she fetched the tea, and he told her of his week's work while he
drank it and ate several slices of the cake she had baked.  Since she
had little to say, and that was sensible, he reflected that despite her
lack of looks she would be a quite suitable wife for him; he didn't
allow himself to dwell on the house and the comfortable inheritance she
would have, and which would make her even more suitable.

He went back upstairs to say goodbye to Mr.  Light- foot, and presently
came down again to give her a peck on a cheek and tell her that he
would do his utmost to come and see her the following weekend.

Serena shut the door behind him and gathered up the tea things.  She
reflected that Gregory wasn't just frugal, he was downright mean.
Washing up, impervious to her father's "voice demanding attention, she
considered Gregory.  She wasn't sure when it had first become apparent
that he was interested in her.  She had felt flattered and prepared to
like him, for her life had been dull, and, after a while, her father
had signified his approval of him.  When her brothers had met him, they
had assured her in no uncertain terms that Gregory would be a splendid
husband, and she, with the prospect of a life of her own, had allowed
herself to agree with them.

But now the years were slipping away, and Gregory, although he talked
often enough of when they would marry, had never actually asked her to
marry him.  He had a steady job, too.

Serena being Serena, honest and guileless and expecting everyone else
to be the same--except for her father, of course--had never for one
moment thought that Gregory was waiting for her father to die, at which
point he would marry her and become the owner of the house and a nice
little capital.  He had no doubt that Serena would be only too glad to
let him take over the house and invest her money for her.  He didn't
intend to be dishonest, she would have all she wanted within reason,
but it would be his hand which held the strings of her moneybags.

Of course, Serena knew nothing of this.  All the same doubts were
beginning to seep into her head.  Other thoughts seeped in, too, about
the stranger she had talked to so freely on Barrow Hill.  She had liked
him; it had seemed to her that she had known him for a long time, that
he was like an old, trusted friend.  Nonsense, of course--but, nonsense
or not, his memory stayed clearly in her head.

During the week her elder brother came.  His visits were infrequent,
although he lived in Yeovil, but, as he pointed out, he was a busy man
with little leisure.  At Christmas and on his father's birthday he
came, with his wife and two children--duty -visits no one enjoyed--and
every month or so he came briefly.  He was very like his father, and
they didn't get on well, so the visits were brief.  Serena, offering
coffee or tea, was always questioned closely as to finances, warned to
let him know if she should ever need him, but was never asked if she
was happy or content with the life she led.  And this visit was like
all the others:

brief and businesslike with no mention of herself.

Over a second cup of coffee she said, "I should like a holiday,
Henry."

"A holiday?  Whatever for?  Really, Serena, you are sometimes quite
lacking in sense.  You have a pleasant life here; you have friends in
the village and leisure.  And who is to look after Father if you were
to go away?"

"You could pay someone--or your wife Alice could come and stay.  You
said yourself that you have a splendid au pair who could look after the
children."

Henry's colour had heightened.

"Impossible.  Alice has the house to run, and quite a busy social life.
Really, Serena, I had no idea that you were so selfish."  He added,
"And the au pair is leaving."

He went away then, wishing her an austere goodbye, leaving her to go
upstairs and discover why her father was shouting for her.

A few days later her younger brother came.  Matthew was a gentler
version of his brother.  He also didn't get on well with his father,
but he was a dutiful son, tolerant of Mr.  Light foot's ill temper
while at the same time paying no more than duty visits.  He was
accompanied by his wife, a forceful young woman who was scornful of
Serena, whom she considered was hopelessly old-fashioned in her ideas. 
She came into the house declaring breezily that Serena was neglecting
the garden, and did she know there was a tile loose on the porch
roof?

These things need attention," she pointed out.

"It doesn't do to neglect a house, certainly not one as large as this
one.  I must say you're very lucky to live so splendidly."

Serena let that pass, allowing her sister-in-law's voice to flow over
her un listening head while her brother went to see his father.  It was
while they were having tea that she said, "Henry came the other day.  I
told him I wanted a holiday."

Matthew choked on his cake.

"A holiday?  Why, Serena?"

At least he sounded reasonably interested.

"This is a large house, there are six bedrooms, attics, a drawing room,
dining room, sitting room, kitchen and two bathrooms.  I am expected to
keep them all clean and polished with the help of an elderly woman from
the village who has rheumatism and can't bend.  And there's the garden.
I had a birthday a week or so ago--I'm twenty-six--and I think I'm
entitled to a holiday."

Matthew looked thoughtful, but it was his wife who spoke.

"My dear Serena, we would all like holidays, but one has one's duty.
After all, you have only yourself and your father to care for, and
uninterrupted days in which to arrange your tasks to please
yourself."

"But I don't please myself," said Serena matter-of- factly.

"I have to please Father."

Matthew said, "Well, it does seem to me to be quite reasonable... You
have spoken to Henry...?"

"Yes, he thinks it's a silly idea."

Matthew was at heart a good man, but under his brother and his wife's
thumbs.  He said, "Oh, well, in that case I don't think you should
think any more about it, Serena."

When Serena said nothing, he added, "I dare say you see a good deal of
Gregory?"  Then he said, "A steady young man.

You could do worse, Serena.  "

"Well, I dare say I could do better," said Serena flippantly.

"Only I never meet any other men."

She had a sudden memory of the man on Barrow Hill.

Gregory came at the weekend.  She hadn't expected him and, since it was
a wet, dreary day, had decided to turn out a kitchen cupboard.  Her
untidy appearance caused him to frown as he pecked her cheek.

"Must you look like a drudge on a Saturday morning?"  he wanted to
know.

"Surely that woman who comes to clean could do the work in the
kitchen?"

Serena tucked back a strand of hair behind an ear.

"She comes twice times a week for two hours.  In a house this size it
barely gives her time to do the kitchen and bathrooms and Hoover.  I
didn't expect you..."

"Obviously.  I have brought you some flowers."

He handed her daffodils wrapped in Cellophane with the air of a man
conferring a diamond necklace.

Serena thanked him nicely and fore bore from mentioning that there were
daffodils running riot in the garden.  It's the thought that counts,
she reminded herself as she took off her pinny.

"I'll make some coffee.  Father has had his."

"I'll go and see him presently."  Gregory added carefully, "Henry tells
me that you want to go on holiday."

She was filling the kettle.

"Yes.  Don't you think I deserve one?  Can you think of somewhere I
might go?  I might meet people and have fun?"

Gregory said severely, "You are being facetious, Serena.  I cannot see
why you should need to go away.  You have a lovely home here, with
every comfort, and you can please yourself as to how you organise your
days."

She turned to look at him.  He was quite serious, she decided, and if
she had expected him to back her up she was to be disappointed.

"You make it sound as though I spend my days sitting in the drawing
room doing nothing, but you must know that that isn't true."

"My dear Serena, would you be happy doing that?  You are a born
housewife and a splendid house keeper; you will make a good wife."  He
smiled at her.

"And now how about that coffee?"

He went to see her father presently, and she began to get lunch ready.
Her father had demanded devilled kidneys on toast and a glass of the
claret he kept in the dining room sideboard under lock and key.  If
Gregory intended to stay for lunch, he would have to have scrambled
eggs and soup.

Perhaps he would take her out?  Down to the pub in the village where
one could get delicious pasties.  Wishful thinking.  He came into the
kitchen, saying importantly that he needed to go to the office.

"But it's Saturday..."

He gave her a tolerant look.

"Serena, I take my job seriously; if it means a few hours' extra work
even on a Saturday, I do not begrudge it.  I will do my best to see you
next Saturday."

"Why not tomorrow?"

His hesitation was so slight that she didn't notice it.

"I

promised mother that I would go and see her sort out her affairs for
her she finds these things puzzling.  "

His mother, reflected Serena, was one of the toughest old ladies she
had ever encountered, perfectly capable of arranging her affairs to
suit herself.

But she said nothing; she was sure that Gregory was a good son.

On Sunday, with the half-hope that she might see the stranger again,
she walked up to the top of Barrow Hill, but there was no one there.
Moreover, the early-morning brightness had clouded over and it began to
rain.  She went back to roast the pheasant her father had fancied for
his lunch, and then spent the afternoon with Puss, listening to the
radio.

While she listened she thought about her future.  She couldn't alter it
for the moment, for she had given her word to her mother, but there was
no reason why she shouldn't try and learn some skill, something she
could do at home.  She was handy with her needle, but she didn't think
there was much future in that; maybe she could learn how to use a
computer--it seemed that was vital for any job.  There were courses she
could take at home, but how to get hold of a computer?

Even if she found something, where would she get the money to pay for
it?  She had to account for every penny of the housekeeping money her
father gave her each month, and when she had asked him for an allowance
so that she might buy anything she needed for herself, he had told her
to buy what she needed and have the bill sent to him.  But to buy
toothpaste and soap and expect the shopkeeper to send a bill for such a
trivial purchase really wasn't possible, so she managed to add these
items to the household bills from the village shop.

Since she hardly ever went out socially, she contrived to manage with
her small wardrobe.  She had on one occasion actually gone to Yeovil
and bought a dress and had the bill sent to her father, but it had
caused such an outcry that she had never done it since.  She had never
been sure if the heart attack he had assured her she had given him had
been genuine or not, for he had refused to have the doctor.

Instead he had lain in his bed, heaping reproaches on her head every
time she had entered the room.  By no means a meek girl, Serena had
nonetheless felt forced to believe "him.

Ten days later, on a bright May morning, Mr.  Perkins the family
solicitor called.  He was a nice old man, for when her mother had died,
and he had been summoned by Mr.  Light foot, he had come upon Serena in
the kitchen, crying her eyes out.

He had patted her on the arm and told her not to be too unhappy.

"At least your father has provided for your future," he had reassured
her.

"You need never have that worry.  I should not be telling you this, but
it may help a little."

She had thanked him and thought little of it at the time, but over the
years she had come to assume that at least her future was secure.

Now Mr.  Perkins, older and greyer, was back again, and was closeted
for a long time with her father.  When he came downstairs at length he
looked upset, refused the coffee she offered him and drove away with no
more than a brief goodbye.  He had remonstrated against Mr.  Light
foot's new will, but to no avail.

Serena's brothers had mentioned her wish to have a holiday to their
father.  They had been well meaning, but Mr.  Light foot, incensed by
what he deemed to be gross ingratitude and flightiness on the part of
Serena, had, in a fit of quite uncalled for rage, altered his will.

Mr.  Perkins came with his clerk the next day and witnessed its
signature, and on the following day Mr.  Light foot had a stroke.

CHAPTER TWO

Mr.  light foot stroke was only to be expected; a petulant man, and a
bully by nature, his intolerance had led him to believe that he was
always right and everyone else either wrong or stupid.  High blood
pressure and an unhealthy lifestyle did nothing to help this, nor did
his liking for rich food.  He lay in his bed for long periods,
imagining that he was suffering from some serious condition and being
neglected by Serena, and now the last straw, as it were, was to be laid
on the camel's back: he had ordered sweetbreads for his lunch, with a
rich sauce, asparagus, and baby new potatoes, to be followed by a
trifle.

Serena pointed out in her usual sensible manner that the sweetbreads
would be just as tasty without the sauce, and wouldn't an egg custard
be better than trifle?

"And I shall have to go to the village--the butcher may not have
sweetbreads.  What else would you like?"

Mr.  Light foot sat up in bed, casting the newspaper from him.

"I've told you what I wish to eat.  Are you so stupid that you cannot
understand me?"

"Don't get excited.  Father," said Serena.

"Mrs.  Pike will be here presently, and I'll go to the village.  She
will bring your coffee..."

While she was in the village he refused the coffee, and then, when Mrs.
Pike was working in the kitchen, he went downstairs and unlocked the
cupboard where he kept the whisky.

Serena, back home, bade Mrs.  Pike goodbye and set about getting her
father's lunch.  She did it reluctantly, for she considered that he ate
the wrong food and was wasting his life in bed, or sitting in his chair
doing nothing.

"A good walk in the fresh air," said Serena, unwrapping the
sweetbreads, 'and meeting friends, playing golf or something.  " Only
fresh air was contrary to Mr.  Light foot's ideas of healthy living and
he had no friends now.

At exactly one o'clock she bore the tray up to his room.  He was
sitting up in bed, propped up on his pillows reading the Financial
Times, but he cast the paper down as she went in.

"Well, bring the tray here, Serena.  How very slow you are.

Probably because you don't have enough to do.  I must consider
dismissing Mrs.  Pike.  There isn't enough work for two strong women to
do in this house.  "

Serena set the tray on his knees.  She said, in the colourless voice
she used when she needed to show self-restraint, "Mrs.  Pike is sixty
and has rheumatism;

she can't kneel or bend--you can hardly call her strong.

Even if I'm strong, I have only one pair of hands.  If you send her
away it would mean that either I do no housework and look after you and
cook, or do the housework and feed you sandwiches.  "

He wasn't listening, but poking at the food on his plate with a fork.

"These aren't lamb's sweetbreads.  I particularly told you that they
are the only ones I am able to digest."

"The butcher only had these..."

Mr.  Light foot raised his voice to a roar.

"You thoughtless girl.  You are quite uncaring of my comfort and
health," He picked up the plate and threw it across the room, and a
second later had his stroke.

"Father," said Serena urgently, and when he lay silently against his
pillows she sped to the bed.  Her father was a nasty colour and he was
breathing noisily, his eyes closed.

She took his pulse, settled his head more comfortably on a pillow and
reached for the phone by the bed.

Dr.  Bowring, on the point of carving the half-leg of lamb his wife had
set before him, put down the carving knife as the phone rang.

He addressed his wife and their guest in a vexed voice.

"This always happens just as we are about to have a meal.  Sorry about
this, Ivo."

He went to answer the phone, and was back again within a minute.

"Serena Light foot.  Her father has collapsed.  He isn't my patient. He
showed me the door a couple of years ago;

doesn't believe in doctors, treats himself and has turned into a
professional invalid.  But I'll have to go.  " He glanced at Ivo van
Doelen.

"Like to come with me, Ivo?  She's alone, and if he's fallen I'll need
help."

Serena, shocked though she was, didn't lose her head.  She ran
downstairs and opened the front door, and then went back to her father.
She had little idea as to what to do for him, so she sat on the side of
the bed and took one of his flaccid hands in hers and told him in a
quiet voice that he wasn't to worry, that the doctor was coming, that
he would be better presently; she had read somewhere or other that
quite often someone who had had a stroke was able to hear, even if they
were unable to speak.  The two men came quietly into the room and saw
her sitting there.  They saw the mess of asparagus, potatoes and
sweetbreads too, scattered on the floor.  Dr.  Bowring said quietly,
"Hello, Serena.  You don't mind that I have brought a friend--a medical
man,

too--with me?  I wasn't sure if there would be any lifting to do.  "

She nodded, and looked in a bewildered fashion at his companion.  It
was the man who had been on Barrow Hill.  She got up from the bed to
make way for the two men.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

She told him in a quiet voice, and added, "You see, he was angry
because they weren't the sweetbreads he had told me to get.  The
butcher didn't have them."  She sighed.

"I annoyed him, and now he's really ill..."

"No, Serena, it has nothing to do with you.  Your father, while I was
allowed to attend to him, had a very high blood pressure; neglect of
that condition made a stroke inevitable.  You have no reason to
reproach yourself.  Perhaps you would like to make yourself a cup of
tea; we shan't be long."

So she went down to the kitchen, made a pot of tea and sat at the
kitchen table drinking it, for there was nothing else for her to do
until Dr.  Bowring came downstairs.

When he did he sat down at the table opposite her.

"You don't mind Mr.  van Doelen being here?"

She glanced at the big man, who was leaning against the dresser.

"No, no, of course not..."

"Your father has had a severe stroke.  He is too ill for him to be
moved to hospital, I'm afraid.  In fact, my dear, I believe that he
will not recover.  I'll get the community nurse to come as soon as
possible.  If necessary she will stay the night.  Presumably your
brothers will come as soon as possible and see to things?"

"I'll telephone them.  Thank you for coming, Dr.  Bowring."

"I'll come in the morning, or sooner if you need me.  If by any chance
I'm on another case, will you allow Mr.  van Doelen to come in my
place?"

She glanced at the big man, standing so quietly, saying nothing and yet
somehow making her feel safe.

"No, of course I don't mind."

"Then if I may use your phone to get Nurse Sims up here.

Until she comes I'm sure Dr.  van Doelen will stay with you.  "

"Oh, but I'll be all right."  She knew that it was a silly thing to say
as soon as she had uttered the words, so she added, "Thank you, that
would be very kind."

Dr.  Bowring went presently, and Mr.  van Doelen, with a reassuring
murmur, went upstairs to her father's room.

Presently Nurse Sims came, and he bade Serena a quiet goodbye after
talking to Nurse Sims.

Serena had phoned her brothers; they would come as soon as possible,
they had both told her.  She sensed that they found her father's
illness an inconvenience, but then illness never took convenience into
account, did it?  She set about getting a room ready for Nurse Sims,
and getting the tea.  She had gone upstairs to see her father, but he
was still unconscious and she could see that he was very ill.  Nurse
Sims had drawn a comfortable chair up to the bed and was knitting
placidly.

"There's nothing for me to do.  It's just a question of waiting.  Are
your brothers coming?"

"As soon as possible, they said.  Is there anything I can do?"

"No, Serena.  Go and have a cup of tea.  I'll have mine here, if you
don't mind..."

Henry arrived first, and went at once to see his father, then accepted
the cup of tea Serena offered him before going away to see Dr. 
Bowring. He was closely followed by Matthew, who stayed with his father
for some time and then came down to sit with Serena, not saying much
until Henry returned.

Neither of them would be able to stay.  Henry explained pompously that
he had important work to do, and Matthew had his parochial duties.  She
was to telephone them immediately if their father's condition worsened.
She would be companioned throughout the night by the nurse, and in the
morning they would review the situation.

"It is impossible for Alice to come," Henry pointed out.

"She has the children and the house to run."  And Matthew regretted
that his wife Norah had the Mother's Union and various other parish
duties to fulfill.

Serena bade them goodbye and went into the kitchen to see about supper.
She wasn't upset; she hadn't expected either of them to offer any real
help.  They had left her to manage as best she could for years, and
there was no reason to expect them to do otherwise now.

She got supper, relieved Nurse Sims while she ate hers, and then got
ready for bed and went and sat with her father while Nurse Sims took a
nap.  Since there was nothing to be done for the moment, presently she
went to her own bed.

She was in the kitchen making tea at six o'clock the next morning when
Nurse Sims asked her to phone the doctor.

It was Mr.  Van Doelen who came quietly into the kitchen.

"Dr.  Bowring is out on a baby case.  Shall I go up?"

Serena gave him a tired "Hello."  She was both tired and very worried,
her hair hanging down her back in a brown cloud, her face pale.  She
was wrapped in an elderly dressing gown and she had shivered a little
in the early-morning air as he had opened the door.  She led the way
upstairs and stood quietly while he and Nurse Sims bent over her
father.

Presently he straightened up.

He said gently, "Would you like to stay with your father?  It won't be
very long, I'm afraid."  When she nodded, he drew up a chair for her.

"I'll sit over here, if I may?"

He moved to the other end of the room.

"I'm sure Nurse Sims would like a little rest?"

Mr.  Light foot died without regaining consciousness; Serena, sitting
there holding his hand, bade him a silent farewell.

He had never liked her, and she, although she had looked after him
carefully, had long ago lost any affection she had had for him.  All
the same, she was sad.  Mr.  van Doelen eased her gently out of her
chair.

"If you would fetch Nurse Sims?  And perhaps telephone your brothers?

And I'm sure we could all do with a cup of tea.  "

He stayed until her brothers came, dealt with Henry's officious
requests and questions, and then bade her a quiet goodbye.

"Dr.  Bowring will be along presently," he told her, 'and I'm sure your
brothers will see to everything.  "

She saw him go with regret.

The next few days didn't seem quite real.  Henry spent a good deal of
time at the house, sorting out his father's papers, leaving her lists
of things which had to be done.

"You'll need to be kept busy," he told her, and indeed she was busy,
for the writing of notes to her father's few friends, preparing for
their arrival and the meal they would expect after the funeral fell to
her lot, on top of the usual housekeeping and the extra meals Henry
expected while he was there.  Not that she minded; she was in a kind of
limbo.  Her dull life had come to an end but the future was as yet
unknown.

At least, not quite unknown.  Gregory had come to see her when he had
heard the news and, while he didn't actually propose, he had let her
see that he considered their future together was a foregone conclusion.
And he had been kind, treating her rather as though she were an
invalid, telling her that she had always been a dutiful daughter and
now she would have her reward.  She hadn't been listening, otherwise
she might have wondered what he was talking about.

Not many people came to the funeral, and when the last of them had gone
old Mr.  Perkins led the way into the drawing room.  Henry and Matthew
and their wives made themselves comfortable with the air of people
expecting nothing but good news.  Serena, who didn't expect anything,
sat in the little armchair her mother had always used.

Mr.  Perkins cleaned his spectacles, cleared his throat and began to
read.  Mr.  Light foot had left modest sums to his sons, and from the
affronted look with which this was received it was apparent that,
despite the fact that they had expected nothing, they were
disappointed.

"The house and its contents," went on Mr.  Perkins in a dry-as-dust
voice, 'are bequeathed to a charity to be used as a home for those in
need.  " He coughed.

"To Serena, a sum of five hundred pounds has been left, and here I
quote:

"She is a strong and capable young woman, who is quite able to make her
own way in the world without the aid of my money" , i must add that I
did my best to persuade your father to reconsider this will, but he was
adamant.  "

He went presently, after assuring them that he was at their service
should he be needed, and taking Se rena aside to tell her that he would
see that she had a cheque as soon as possible.

"And if I can help in any way..."

She thanked him, kissing his elderly cheek.

"I'll be all right," she assured him.

"I don't need to move out at once, do I?"

"No, no.  It will be several weeks before the necessary paperwork can
be done."

"Oh, good.  Time for me to make plans."  She smiled at him so
cheerfully that he went away easier in his mind.

Serena went back to the drawing room.  Her brothers were discussing
their inheritance, weighing the pros and cons of investments, while
their wives interrupted with suggestions that the money would be better
spent on refurbishing their homes and ward robes.  They broke off their
discussions when she joined them, and Henry said gravely that of course
the money would be put to good use.

"I have heavy commitments," he pointed out, 'and the children to
educate.  " That they were at state schools and not costing him a penny
was neither here nor there.  Serena could see that he was anxious to
impress upon her that she couldn't expect any financial help from
him.

It was Matthew who asked her what she intended to do.

"For I am surprised at Father leaving you so ill provided for.

Perhaps we could?

His wife interrupted smoothly, "Serena is bound to find a good job
easily; such a practical and sensible girl, and only herself to worry
about.  I must admit that I--we are very relieved to have inherited
something.  It will be just enough to have central heating put in--the
house is so damp..."

"I thought the Church Council, or whatever it is, paid for things like
that," said Serena.

Her sister-in-law went red.

"We might have to wait for months--years, even--while they decide to
have it done."  She added sharply, "Matthew's income is very small."

Serena reflected that Matthew had a private income from a legacy both
brothers had received from an old aunt years ago.  Neither of them
needed to worry about money, but there was no point in reminding them
of that!  She offered coffee and sandwiches and presently bade them
goodbye.  They would keep in touch, they told her as they drove away.

She cleared away the cups and saucers and plates, fed Puss and sat down
to have a think about her future.  She was a practical girl, and for
the moment she put aside her own vague plans.  They were to be allowed
to take personal property and gifts before the house was handed over,
and the house would need to be left in good order.  She would need to
get the cases and trunks down from the attic so that their possessions
could be packed.  There were bills to be paid too, and people to
notify. Only when that was done could she decide what she would do.

At the back of her mind, of course, was the reluctant thought that
Gregory might want to marry her.  It was an easy solution for her
future but, tempting though it was to have the rest of her life settled
without effort on her part, she was doubtful.  It was, of course, the
sensible thing to do, but under her practical manner there was the
hope, romantic and deeply buried, that one day she would meet a man who
would love her as dearly as she would him.  And that man wasn 't
Gregory.

She went to bed presently, with Puss for company, and since it had been
a busy and rather sad day, she went immediately to sleep.

Gregory had been at the funeral, but he hadn't come to the house
afterwards, pleading an appointment he had been unable to cancel.  He
would come, he had assured her, on the following evening.

"We have a great deal to talk about," he had told her, smiling and
looking at her with what she'd decided was a proprietary look.

She hadn't minded that, for yesterday she had been feeling in need of
cherishing.  Now, in the cold light of early morning, common sense took
over.  Gregory might not be the man of her dreams, but if he loved her
she might in time learn to love him, too.  She liked him, was even a
little fond of him, but she had the wit to know that that was because
she hadn't had the opportunity to meet other men.  She spent the day
busily, dragging down cases and a trunk from the attics, clearing out
her father's bedroom, and, after a sandwich and coffee, sitting down to
write letters to those who had written and sent flowers.  She had tea
then, and changed into a sweater and skirt, did her hair and face and
put a tray ready with coffee.  She lighted a small fire in the sitting
room, for the evening was chilly, and sat down to wait for Gregory.

He was late.  His car wouldn't start, he explained, adding that he
would soon be able to get a new one.  He smiled as he said it, but
Serena, pouring the coffee, didn't see that.

They talked for a little while about the funeral,

until he put down his cup, saying, "Well, Serena, there's no reason why
we shouldn't get married as soon as we can arrange it.  I'll move in
here, of course.  I've always liked this house.  We can modernise it a
little--perhaps another bathroom, have the central heating updated,
have the rooms redecorated."  He smiled at her.

"We must use your money to its best advantage, and you can rely on me
getting the best advice as to investing your capital..."

Serena had been pouring herself another cup of coffee.  She put the pot
down carefully.

"But this house isn't mine."  She sounded quite matter-of-fact about
it.

"Father has left it to charity."

Gregory said sharply, "But he has left you a legacy?  He was
comfortably off, you know."

"Five hundred pounds," said Serena, still very matter-of-fact.

"The rest goes with the house."

"But this is preposterous.  You must contest the will.  What about your
brothers?"  Gregory wasn't only surprised, he was angry.

"And how are you supposed to live?  Something must be done about it at
once."

"I don't see why," said Serena in a reasonable voice.

"If this is what Father wanted, why change it?  Henry and Matthew are
quite happy about it."  She paused.

"And if you're going to marry me, I don't need to worry, do I?"

Gregory went red.

"You must see that this alters all my plans, Serena.  I'm an ambitious
man and I need a secure background, a good living standard, a suitable
house..."

"What you mean is that you need to marry a well- to-do girl.

Not me.  "

Gregory looked relieved.

"What a sensible girl you are, Serena.  You understand me..."

Serena stood up.

"Oh, I do, Gregory, and nothing would make me marry you if you were the
last man living.  Now, will you go away?  I don't want to see you
again, and now I come to think about it, I wouldn't like to be married
to you.  Run along and find that rich girl!"

Gregory started towards her.

"Let us part..."  he began.

"Oh, do go along," said Serena.

After he had gone she went to the kitchen to get her supper--scrambled
eggs on toast--and, since she felt that this was something of an
occasion, she took the keys of the sideboard and chose a bottle of
claret.

She ate at the kitchen table, with Puss at her feet enjoying a treat
from a tin of sardines.  And she drank two glasses of claret.  She
supposed that she would have been feeling unhappy and worried, but she
was pleased to discover that all she felt was relief.  She had five
hundred pounds and the world before her in which to find the man of her
dreams.  She tossed back the last of the claret in her glass.

There was no need to look for him.  She had already found him, although
she wasn't sure if a brief acquaintance with Dr.  van Doelen was
sufficient to clinch the matter.  She thought not.  Indeed, it was
unlikely that their paths would cross in the future.  She would do
better to get herself a job and hope to meet a man as like him as
possible.

Nicely buoyed up, she by the claret and Puss by an excess of sardines,
they went upstairs to bed and slept dreamlessly.

Henry came in the morning, telling her importantly that he had taken a
few hours off in order to look round the house and claim anything to
which he was entitled.  Which turned out to be quite a lot: the table
silver, a claret jug and three spirit bottles in a metal frame, and the
best part of a Spoke tea service which had belonged to their mother,
that Matthew would have no use for nor would Serena, Henry pointed
out.

"But I have no doubt that Matthew will be glad to have the dinner
service.  Father bought it from Self- ridges, I believe, so anything
which may break can be replaced.

There's the new coffee percolator, too;

I'll leave that for him.  Where is the Wedgwood biscuit barrel, Serena?
"

"In the cupboard in the dining room.  Henry.  Shouldn't you wait and
see what Matthew wants-and what I might want?"

"My dear girl, Matthew will want useful things which he can use in his
home.  Remember that he is, after all, living in a very small house,
and has no social life worth mentioning."

"But he will have when he gets a parish of his own..."

Henry ignored that.

"And you you won't want to be lumbered with a number of useless
things."

"I don't know why you say that.  Henry.  You have no idea what I am
going to do or where I'm going.  You don't want to know, do you?  Do
you know that Gregory has jilted me?  Or perhaps I should say he jilted
my five hundred pounds."  She added bleakly, "I thought he wanted to
marry me, but all he wanted was this house and the money he thought
Father would be sure to leave me."

Henry looked uncomfortable.

"You must under stand, Serena, that Gregory has his way to make in the
world."

"And what about me?"

"You're quite able to find a good job and do very well.  You might even
marry."

Serena picked up a fairing from the side-table in the drawing room,
where Henry was inspecting the contents of a china cabinet.  The
fairing was small, a man and woman holding hands, crudely done, yet
charming. The kind of thing Henry and Matthew would find worthless. 
She would keep it for herself,

a reminder of her home in happier days when her mother had been
alive.

Henry bore away what he considered to be his; he had written a list of
various other things, too.  Serena hoped that Matthew wouldn't wait too
long before making his own choice.

Henry was obviously going to exert his rights as elder son.

Matthew came the next day, bringing his wife with him.  The dinner
service was packed up, as was an early-morning tea set which hadn't
been used since their mother died.  To these were added two bedspreads,
a quantity of bed linen the cushions from the drawing room and, at the
last moment, the rather ugly clock on the mantelpiece.

"We shall probably be back," said Matthew's wife as they left.

"My turn," said Serena to Puss, and went slowly from room to room.  She
would take only small things that would go in her case or the trunk:
her mother's workbox, family photographs, two china figurines to keep
the fairing company, a little water colour of the house her mother had
painted.  She tried to be sensible and think of things which would be
of use to her in the future.  The silver-framed travelling clock which
had stood on the table by her father's bed, writing paper and pens, the
cat basket from the attic--for of course Puss would go with her.

But where would she go?  Mr.  Perkins had told her that she would be
able to stay at the house for two or three weeks.  Tomorrow, she
decided, she would go to Yeovil and go to as many employment agencies
as possible.

Without much success, as it turned out.  She had no qualifications, and
she couldn't type, the computer was a mystery to her, and the
salesladies asked for had to be experienced.  She was told, kindly
enough, to leave her phone number, and that if anything suitable turned
up she would be notified.

But nothing turned up.  The charity, anxious to take possession, were
kind enough to let her stay for an extra week, and at the end of that
week, still with no job in sight, Serena, Puss, her trunk and a large
case, moved unwillingly into Henry's house.

Just as unwillingly she was welcomed there.  There was room enough for
her, for Henry lived in a large house on the outskirts of the town,
but, while he wasn't slow to confide his generosity towards his sister
to his colleagues, his wife made no bones in letting Serena see that
she was a necessary evil.  It was bad enough having her, her
sister-in-law pointed out in the privacy of their bedroom, but to have
to give house room to a cat as well.  As for Serena, she redoubled her
efforts to find some sort of job.  Housekeepers were in demand, and
that was something she could do, but she wasn't going to part with
Puss, and no one, it seemed, was prepared to accept a cat, especially
when the applicant had no references from previous employers.

Between fruitless visits to Yeovil, she was given no chance to be idle.
Her sister-in-law, a social climber by nature, quickly saw her
opportunity to widen her social life, since Serena was so conveniently
on hand to do the shopping and prepare meals.  And when the children
came home from school there was no reason, since she had nothing better
to do, why she shouldn't give them their tea and keep an eye on them
while they did their homework.

Serena, gritting her splendid teeth, accepted the role of unpaid
domestic, and put up with the childish rudeness of her nephew and niece
and her brother's pompous charity.  His wife's ill-concealed contempt
was harder to bear, but since she was out a good deal Serena was almost
able to ignore it.

She had been living with her brother for more than a week when one
morning, as she was washing the breakfast dishes, alone in the house,
there was a ring on the doorbell.  She didn't stop to dry her hands; it
was possibly the postman--probably with the answer to two more jobs she
had applied for.  Perhaps her luck had changed at last.  It wasn't the
postman.  It was Dr.  Bowring on the doorstep.

"I had to come to Yeovil," he told her smilingly.

"I thought I'd just see how you were getting on."  He glanced at her
wet hands and pinny.

"Is Mrs.  Light- foot at home?"

"No, just me.  Do come in.  How nice to see you.  If you don't mind
coming into the kitchen, I'm sure no one will mind if I make coffee."

He looked at her enquiringly.

"No job yet?"

"Well, no.  You see, I must have Puss with me, and so far no one will
have her..."

He followed her into the kitchen.

"What kind of job?"

"Housekeeper or companion.  I can't do anything else."  She spoke
lightly, but he noted her rather pale face and the shadows under her
eyes.

He said bluntly, "You're not happy here?"

She put the instant coffee into two mugs.

"Well, it's not really convenient for Henry to have me here, and they
don't like Puss."  She smiled.

"But something will turn up."

He stayed for a little while, vaguely troubled about her, deciding
silently that he would keep an eye open for a job which would suit her.
It was obvious that she was unhappy, although she had made light of
it.

He told his wife about her when he got back home.

"All we can do is keep our eyes open for a job for her," said Mrs.
Bowring, 'and we shall have to go carefully; Serena is proud in the
best sense, and she would hate to be pitied.  "

Mr.  van Doelen had spent a busy day at one of the London hospitals; he
was an orthopaedic surgeon of some repute and had come to assist at a
complicated operation on a boy's shattered legs.  It had been
successful, and he was free to return to Holland that evening, but,
leaving the hospital early that lovely summer evening, he decided
against driving up to Harwich and instead picked up the car phone and
dialled Dr.  Bowring.

Of course he was to come and spend the night-as many nights as he could
spare.

"We'll wait dinner for you," said Mrs.  Bowring.

"It's only four o'clock;

you'll be with us in a couple of hours.  "

Once free of the London suburbs, the traffic thinned and he sent the
Bentley powering ahead.  The countryside was bathed in sunshine, green
and pleasant and exactly what he needed after hours in an operating
theatre.  And he need not return until the evening ferry on the
following day; he had expected to be away for two days, but the
operation had gone better than they had expected.

It would be good to see his friends again.  He wondered idly how that
girl whose father had died was getting on.  She was probably married by
now, to the man Mrs.  Bowring didn't like.  Mr.  van Doelen had thought
about her frequently, due, he considered, to the unusual circumstances
of their meeting.  He must remember to ask about her.  He was warmly
welcomed, and Mrs.  Bowring went away to put the flowers he had brought
into a vase while he and the doctor sat over a drink.  They always
found plenty to talk about and dinner was a leisurely meal.  It wasn't
until the men had washed up and they were all sitting in the drawing
room that Mr.  van Doelen asked about Serena.

"You remember her?"  asked Mrs.  Bowring.  Such a dear girl;

how that brother of hers could treat her so shabbily is beyond me.  "

"Did she not intend to marry?  You mentioned that..."

George Bowring explained.

"Her father left the house and almost all his money to a charity.
Serena had a few weeks of leave before they took over-it's to be a home
for the elderly and impoverished.  He left the two sons quite adequate
legacies, so I'm told, and five hundred pounds to Serena.  With the
observation that she was young enough and strong enough to look after
herself.

"And if that wasn't bad enough, Gregory Pratt, who had let it be known
that he intended to marry her, changed his mind as soon as he
discovered that she hadn't inherited the house and the money.  She's
been trying to find work, but she refuses to abandon her cat and it's
hard to find employment with no references and no skills except that of
a housewife.

She's living with Henry, her elder brother, at Yeovil.

I went to see her and I must say that I'm not at all happy about her.
She said very little but I fancy she's having to work hard for her
keep.  Her sister-in-law doesn't like her overmuch, and of course Henry
is a pompous ass.  "

Mr.  van Doelen said slowly, "It just so happens that I know of someone
who is anxious to find a companion-go've mess for her daughter.  It's
the mother of the boy whom I operated on today.  She plans to stay in
London until the boy is fit to go home--six weeks or so.  Her husband
travels a good deal on business, and there is a daughter, thirteen or
fourteen, living at home--Penn, near Beaconsfield, is it not?  She goes
to school there.  There's a housekeeper and daily help, but it seems
the girl is difficult to control and jealous of her brother.  Would you
give.  Miss Light- foot a reference if they are interested?  Would you
like me to talk to Mrs.  Webster about it and see what she says?  And
would Miss Light foot be prepared to take on the job?"

"I'm sure she would, provided that she can have her cat..."

"They are extremely anxious to get someone.  I should imagine that Miss
Light foot could take any animal with her provided that she was
suitable.  Anyway, I'll see Mrs.  Webster about the boy tomorrow and
let you know.  It's a temporary post, but it would give her time to
find her feet."

He went back to London early the next day and, tme to his promise, told
Mrs.  Webster about Serena.

"I have met her," he said.

"She seems a very sensible and level-headed young lady.  Her one
stipulation is that she may have her cat with her."

Mrs.  Webster was profuse in her thanks.

"I'll drive down tomorrow and see her.  She can come at once?"

"I believe so."

Before he left London he phoned George Bowring and then wrote a
letter--Miss Light foot needed to be told, and George might not have
the time.

CHAPTER THREE

henry, looking up briefly as Serena put a plate of bacon and eggs
before him, said, "You'll see to the children's breakfast, will you,
Serena?  Alice will be down later."  He sorted through the post by his
plate.

"There is a letter for you.  Let us hope that it is an offer of
work."

"Let's hope it is," agreed Serena pleasantly.  She put the letter in
her pocket and presently, boiling eggs for the children's breakfast,
she had a look at it.  The writing on the envelope was a firm and
almost illegible scrawl, but there wasn't time to read the letter.  It
wasn't until Henry had gone and the children had been seen off to
school that she sat down at the table, surrounded by breakfast debris,
and opened the envelope.

The letter was short and businesslike; she read it through and then
read it again.  Mr.  van Doelen clearly had no time for the niceties of
correspondence, but the facts were clear enough, and the one fact that
Mrs.  Webster would be coming to see her that very morning with a view
to engaging her as a companion for her daughter stood out like a
flaming beacon.

At ten o'clock, too.  Serena looked at the clock; it was just after
nine.

She got up, shut the door on the breakfast chaos, and went to her room,
where she changed into a cot ton dress, its blue rather faded but still
a likely garment for a companion to wear.  She powdered her nose,
applied lipstick and brushed her hair into a neat coil, dusted off her
sandals and went downstairs to put on the coffee pot and set a tray
with cups and saucers.  There had been no sound from Alice; hope fully
she would sleep for another hour or two, though the doorbell might wake
her.

Serena went into the hall and stood patiently by the door until, a few
minutes before ten o'clock, a car stopped in front of the house.

Serena had the door open as Mrs.  Webster reached it.  She was a tall,
handsome woman, with a discontented face, expertly made up.  She was
well dressed, and looked as though she was used to having her own way.
She paused on the porch.

"Miss Light foot?  I'm Mrs.  Webster.  You have been told that I would
be coming to see you?"

"Yes, I had a letter.  Please come in."

Mrs.  Webster sat down in the drawing room and looked around her.

"I understand that you live with your brother?  You have no ties? There
would be no delay were I to engage you?"

"None at all, Mrs.  Webster.  Would you like coffee?"

"Thank you.  I left London quite early and I must return as soon as
possible.  Do you know that my son is in hospital?"

"Yes.  Mr.  van Doelen has given me the brief facts.  I'll fetch the
coffee before we talk, shall I?"

Mrs.  Webster wasted no time.  She drank her coffee quickly while she
explained what she wanted.

"Heather is a wilful child, given to moods.  My house keeper is quite
unable to cope with her, and I can't have her with me in London in any
case, she mustn't miss school.  I shall want you to take complete
charge of her until my son is able to come home.  Six weeks or so, they
say.  My husband is away a great deal and I shall stay at a hotel so
that I can visit Timothy each day.

You won't have a great deal of free time, but I don't expect you to do
any housework or cooking.  Can you drive?  Yes?

There is a small car for you to use if you wish.  I want you to come
immediately tomorrow, if possible.  I'll send a car for you and you can
go straight to Penn from here.  You will be paid weekly.  "

She mentioned a sum which sent Serena's spirit's soaring.

"I'm offering you the post on trust; I have tele phoned a Dr.  Bowring,
who vouches for you, and, of course, Mr.  van Doelen's recommendation
is really sufficient..."

But he hardly knows me, thought Serena, agreeing pleasantly to be ready
to go to Penn on the following morning.  She had no idea what the job
would be like, but anything would be better than the grudging
hospitality Henry and Alice were offering.  Besides, she would be paid,
and she could save every penny.  Mrs.  Webster, having got what she
wanted, was disposed to be gracious.

"I'm told that you have a cat.  I have no objection to you having it at
Penn.  I understand that you wouldn't consider going any where without
it."  She prepared to leave.

"I shall probably see you from time to time."

She got into her car and drove away, and Serena carried the coffee tray
into the kitchen, where Puss sat uneasily in her basket.  She spent her
days there, aware that she was as unwelcome as Serena.

"Our luck's changed," Serena told her.

"We're off tomorrow morning.  I expect you'll be able to go where you
like in the house and garden.  Puss.  It won't be for long, but if they
like us, we'll be able to stay..."

She went upstairs to the box room, got her trunk and case and carried
them into her bedroom.  She hadn't unpacked everything in the trunk,
and now she put it on the bed and lifted the lid.  She was opening the
suitcase when Alice came in, still in her dressing gown and half
awake.

"What are you doing?"  she demanded.

"Go and make me a cup of tea; I can't possibly get up until I've had
something.  I should have thought you would have come to see how I
was..."

"Henry told me not to disturb you.  And I'm packing--I'm going to a job
tomorrow morning.  I'm being fetched at nine o'clock."

"A job?  Where?  Does Henry know, and why wasn't I told?"

"Henry doesn't know, and I only knew myself this morning, after he'd
gone."

"But who is to take your place?  How can I manage on my own?

You can't go, Serena.  " She added angrily, " How ungrateful can you
be? Living here without it costing you a penny, treated like one of the
family.  "

"Well, I am one of the.  family," Serena reminded her.

"But I can't say that I've been treated as such.  I haven't much liked
being a poor relation.  I should have thought that you would have been
glad to see the back of me."

"I suppose I shall have to make my own tea."  Alice went away, banging
the door behind her; Serena heard her squawk of rage when she opened
the dining room door and saw the breakfast table.

She went downstairs presently and found Alice in the kitchen, sitting
at the table.  She had a pot a tea in front of her and a plate of
toast.

"You'll have to clear the dining room and kitchen," she told Serena.

"When you're dressed we'll do it together," said Serena briskly, and
she fetched a mug and poured herself some tea and sat down opposite her
sister-inlaw.

"You're glad I'm going, Alice," she observed quietly.

"I've not been welcome here; you've made that very obvious."

"I'll be glad to see the back of you and that cat of yours.

If I had my way you'd be out of the door as soon as you've packed your
things.  "

Serena sighed.  She had tried hard to like Alice and be grateful to
Henry.  She took her mug to the sink.

"I'll clean the vegetables," she said.

"By the time you've dressed I'll be ready to help you with the dining
room."

They worked silently together, and when the last plate was washed Alice
threw the tea cloth down by the sink.

"I'm going out to lunch.  Give the children their tea when they come
in."

Serena finished her packing, made a cheese sandwich for her lunch and
washed her hair, and all the time she wondered why Mr.  van Doelen had
been the means of finding her a job, and how he had known she was in
need of work.  And that reminded her that she must let Dr.  Bowring
know that she was leaving.

He might not be home, but Mrs.  Bowring would tell him.  He was home,
on the point of leaving for his surgery.  When she told him he said
worriedly, "Oh, Lord, Ivo phoned me and asked me to tell you about this
job--I clean forgot.  I'm so sorry, Serena."

"It doesn't matter.  He wrote to me and Mrs.  Webster came to see me.
I'm going in the morning.  I'm very grateful to him, though how he knew
that I wanted a job is beyond me."

Dr.  Bowring said, "I believe that I mentioned it last time I saw him.
I must go, Serena.  Write and let us know how things are... and good
luck!"

Which was more than Henry wished her when he got home that evening.

"I am amazed," he said, at his most pompous.

"After all we-have done for you--the ingratitude..."

Serena said matter-of-factly, "Don't be silly, Henry.  You know as well
as I do that you're glad to see the back of me.

I know it means you'll have to pay for another au pair, but you can
afford that, can't you?  "

"I don't know what Matthew will have to say to this," began Henry.

"Why, he'll be just as relieved as you are.  Only he'll be pleased that
I've got a job and can start living my own life."

She was fetched in the morning by an elderly man in a cloth cap,
driving an equally elderly car.  He had a rugged, cheerful face, and
explained that he was Mr.  Webster's gardener and handyman as he stowed
her luggage in the boot.  There was no one to see her go.  Henry had
bidden her an unforgiving goodbye when he'd left for work, the children
were uncaring whether she was there or not and Alice was still in bed.
Henry had made much of the fact that Alice was feeling very poorly and
could scarcely lift her head off the pillow.

Serena got into the car beside the elderly man and didn't look back as
he drove away.

His name, he told her, was Bob, and he'd been with the Websters for a
number of years.

"Live in a cottage near the house with me wife.  She cooks and house
keeps and that... there's a girl comes in each day to give an 'and."

"It must be quite a big house," said Serena, anxious to find out all
she could before she got there.

"Middlin' big.  Nice big garden.  That your cat in the basket?"

"Yes.  Mrs.  Webster said that I might have her with me.  I hope your
wife won't object?"

"Lor', no.  Likes animals.  Miss Heather'll be pleased.  Always wanted
a dog or cat, but Mrs.  Webster don't approve of them in the 'ouse."

Serena said uneasily, "But Puss isn't used to living out of doors.
Mrs.

Webster had no objection when I asked her.  "

He gave a chuckle.

"Don't you worry, miss.  She were that anxious to find someone to stay
with Miss Heather she'd 'ave put up with a herd of elephants.  See,
it's like this.  Master Timothy's the apple of 'is mum's eye--'is dad's
too, for that matter--and Miss Heather, well, she's difficult.

"Ad her nose put out of joint when the boy was born and no one has
bothered to put it straight."

"Poor child.  Thank you for telling me; it will be a great help."  She
longed to ask more questions about the Websters, but it seemed prudent
not to do so.  Instead she asked him to tell her something about
Penn.

The house was on the edge of the village, a white- walled gentleman's
residence of some size, with green-shuttered windows and a wrought-iron
balcony, surrounded by a large and beautifully kept garden.

"What gorgeous flowers, and such a lovely lawn," said Serena, which
pleased Bob.

"Mrs.  Webster, she doesn't care much for gardens;

let's me 'ave a free 'and.  "

"Oh--and Mr.  Webster?  Doesn't he like gardens either?"

They were standing by the car before the door, looking around them.

"E's hardly ever home.  Come on in, miss;

Maisie'll 'ave coffee ready.  "

Maisie was small and stout and placid.  She welcomed Serena warmly and
led the way to the kitchen.

"If you don't mind having coffee with us, miss?  Your room's ready, and
I thought you might like to use the little sitting room--there's a door
to the garden for your cat.  When Mrs.  Webster's away we shut up the
drawing room and the dining room."

She pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and Serena sat down.  The
room was large and very well equipped; no expense had been spared and
everything gleamed and shone.  The coffee was delicious and hot and
there were slices of home-made cake to go with it.  The three of them
sat comfortably talking until Maisie said, "You'll want to see your
room, miss.  Bob's taken your things up, and you'll have plenty of time
to settle in before Heather comes back from school.

She's been eating with us, but now you're here she can have her meals
with you in the sitting room.  "

"Oh, but won't that give you a lot of extra work?"

"To tell you the truth, miss, me and Bob will like to be on our own."

She led Serena, with Puss in her basket, up the staircase and along a
corridor at the back of the house.  The room was small, but nicely
furnished, and there was a small balcony overlooking the garden.

"There's no reason why you shouldn't have your little cat up here,
miss, there being a balcony."

Serena thanked her and Maisie went away, saying that they would be
downstairs when she was ready to come down.

The small sitting room which Serena and Heather were to use was plainly
furnished and obviously not often used.  A few flowers, thought Serena,
and a cushion or two, a few books lying about and Puss sitting there
and it would look cosier.

She was glad to see that the garden was enclosed by a high wall so that
Puss could safely roam.  Lunch would be at one o'clock, and until then
she was free to explore the house and the garden.  The house could come
later, she decided, and went into the garden with a cautious Puss.  It
was beautifully kept, with trim lawns and weed less flowerbeds, and
away from the house there was a small summer house beside a pool filled
with goldfish.  A very nice garden, she considered, but it didn't look
as though anyone enjoyed it much; it was all too perfect.  She found a
swimming pool too, tucked away behind a high hedge.  Called to have her
lunch presently, she persuaded Maisie to let her share it with them in
the kitchen.

"Because I know nothing about Heather--Mrs.  Webster was anxious to get
back to her son and there was really no time.  Is her school far from
here?  And does she have tea when she gets home?  And when does she go
to bed?  And her friends?  Do they come here sometimes?"  She smiled.

"An awful lot of questions, I'm afraid."

"Well, she's thirteen, and independent-like," said Maisie.

"Likes her own way, too.  Never has her friends here, spends a lot of
time just mooning around.  Got a telly of her own, and a radio..."

"She's lonely?"

"Yes, miss.  Always has been.  Wanted a dog or a cat, but Mrs.  Webster
didn't want the bother."

Serena was in the garden with Puss when Heather came home from school.
She watched the girl coming towards her, a thin child, with untidy hair
and a pale face which one day would be pretty but which scowled now.

"Hello," said Serena, ignoring the scowl.

"Shall we sit here for a bit, or do you want tea straight away?"

Heather stood in front of her, staring.

"I'll have my tea when I like."

"Right, but don't shout, Heather, or you'll frighten Puss."

And Puss, as if on cue, poked a furry head round a nearby bush.

"You've got a cat.  Mother let you have a cat here?  She said I
couldn't have one; it would be a nuisance."  The scowl had gone.

"Well, perhaps when she finds out how good Puss is you might be allowed
to have a cat of your own."

Serena had sat down on the grass again, and Puss came to sit beside
her.

"May I stroke her?"

"Of course, she loves to be cuddled and loved."

"Mother actually said that she could be in the house?"

"Yes, but I think we won't allow her in the drawing room or dining
room.  Just the sitting room we are to use and my bedroom."

"And my bedroom... ?"

"Once she has got to know you, yes, I don't see why not."

Heather said slowly, "I dare say you're quite nice..."

"I hope so!  Now, shall we go and have tea?  And perhaps you'll tell me
how you spend your days."  Serena picked up Puss and started towards
the house, and after a moment Heather followed her.

She said airily, "Oh, I have to go to school, of course, and you
wouldn't be interested in what I do when I'm free--I've friends...
tennis and swimming... and I've a bike."

"Well, yes, of course you have friends..."

"You wouldn't want to do any of the things we do," said Heather
rudely.

"Oh, I don't know.  I play tennis and I swim, and I've ridden a bike
for years and years.  I drive a car, too."

She smiled at the girl.

"Though I haven't got one of my own."

"There's a Mini in the garage; Bob and Maisie use it.

Perhaps you could borrow it.  Not that I'd want to come with you.  "

"No, no, of course not you'd be bored stiff," Se- rena said
pleasantly.

She was just as pleasant during tea, ignoring Heather's deliberate bad
manners, suggesting that she might like to give Puss a saucer of
milk.

"Home work?"  she asked presently, and was told that home work was
something to be ignored as much as possible.

"Oh, a pity.  I was going to suggest that when you had done it you
might like to give Puss her supper and take her for a little walk in
the garden she likes someone with her."

Heather eyed her.

"When Timothy is away at school and Mother and Father are away, Mother
hires someone to come and stay here I've hated them all, but probably
you won't be too ghastly."

Serena agreed placidly.  Heather was an ill- behaved girl, but probably
it wasn't her fault.  It seemed to Serena that she was lonely, and only
aggressive because she felt that no one loved her.  Se rena thought
that there might be stormy days ahead,

but they would be no worse than the years of living with her father and
the week or two with Henry.

Mrs.  Webster telephoned quite late that evening, after Heather had
gone to bed.  She had rung, she told Serena, to make sure that she had
arrived safely, and rang off without asking after Heather.

Serena decided that she didn't like her.

An opinion, if she did but know it, which Mr.  van Doelen shared with
her.  He had given Mrs.  Webster reassuring news of Timothy and was
pointing out that there was no need for her to spend the day at the
hospital.

"I am sure you will want to go home and see how things are there.  You
can phone to the hospital each day if you wish..."

"Certainly not, Mr.  van Doelen.  I intend to stay in London, close to
Timothy, until he is fit enough to be taken home.

There's nothing for me to worry about at Penn.  That girl you
recommended is there to keep an eye on Heather.  She seems to be
capable, and reasonably well educated.  Of course, one never knows with
these young women, but I had to take a chance.  Timothy is more
important than anything else at the moment.  As long as she doesn't go
off with the silver!  "

She laughed at her joke, but Mr.  van Doelen didn't so much as smile.

He said coldly, "Miss Light foot is hardly likely to do that, Mrs.
Webster, but of course you have only met her briefly, I believe."

"You know her well?"

Mr.  van Doelen said coolly, "I know her family and her friends, as
well as Miss Light foot.  I would not have recommended her to you if I
had any doubts about her, Mrs.  Webster.  You will not find anyone more
suitable."

Mrs.  Webster didn't say any more.  Mr.  van Doelen looked just as
usual, with his calm, rather austere good looks, but somehow she sensed
that he was angry.

He was indeed angry.  He had wanted to help Se- rena, but he suspected
that he had merely helped her out of the frying pan into the fire!

He had been unable to forget her--something which he had found
disturbing.  His work filled most of his life, though he supposed that
one day he would marry; perhaps a woman from his circle of friends. 
But he had felt no urgency to do so--until he had looked around and
seen Serena coming towards him on Barrow Hill.

He had fallen in and out of love like any normal man, light-hearted
affairs which had come and gone and been forgotten, but he had taken
one look at Serena and known that he had met his true love at last.  He
had no doubt in his mind that he would make her his wife, but since, at
the moment, there wasn't even the remotest possibility of that, he was
content to wait.  Opportunities to see her again seemed unlikely, but
when she left Mrs.  Webster's employ he would make sure that he was
there.  He bade Mrs.  Webster goodbye with a still austere politeness,
and pressed the buzzer on his desk for his nurse to send in the next
patient.  He hoped that Se- rena would find life better now that she
was away from her brother.  He must find a way to go and see her. 
Serena was finding life considerably better; Heather wasn't an easy
child, and she objected to everything suggested to her--from the
changing of a grubby frock to a clean one, the brushing of her hair,
the cleaning of her fingernails, to getting up in the morning, getting
to school on time and eating her meals.  All the same, she had an
Achilles' heel:

Puss.  She showed an unexpectedly tender regard for the little cat and
gradually, after the first week or so, she began to show friendliness
towards Serena.

She was cautious about it, though, and Serena did nothing to spoil
things.  She spent all Heather's free time with her, for she never
evinced a wish to ask her friends from school to come to the house. 
Bit by bit she began to respond to Serena's matter-of-fact manner--a
game of tennis, swimming in the pool together, visits to Penn to spend
her pocket money.

And Serena was able to give Mrs.  Webster an honest report when that
lady telephoned.  Not that Mrs.  Webster was particularly interested in
Heather.  She supposed, she had said in her rather loud, aggressive
voice, that the girl was behaving herself, and Serena was to be firm
with her.  As to Serena herself, Mrs.  Webster made no enquiries as to
her comfort, or if she had settled down, and there was no mention of
any free time.  Serena didn't mind.  She had enough leisure, for beyond
seeing to her own and Heather's rooms, helping to clear the dishes and
arranging the flowers she was free for several hours while the child
was at school.  She spent some of them going into Penn to shop for
Maisie and, when Bob was amenable, helping him in the garden.  But when
Heather was home there was no leisure; there was homework to be dealt
with--no easy matter since the child avoided doing it whenever she had
the chance--and the long evenings had to be filled with tennis or clock
golf, and sometimes just sitting in the garden, talking.

The mornings were the worst, though, for Heather lay in bed until the
last minute and then refused breakfast, mislaid her schoolbooks and
thought up a dozen reasons why she should not go to school that day.
Serena wasn't easily beaten.

When Mrs.  Webster rang one day Serena listened while she was told
every detail of Timothy's progress, and when his mother said, "You have
nothing to report, I dare say," she uttered the speech she had
rehearsed so carefully.

"Heather is behaving splendidly, Mrs.  Webster.  I'm sure that she
misses you all, but she never grumbles.  Of course, she is lonely
without her family, and I wondered if you would allow her to have
something to love.  She is very fond of my cat, and loves to look after
her.  Would you allow her to have a cat of her own?  She would delight
in looking after it and feeding it, and it would give her a sense of
responsibility."

"A cat?  I have never allowed her to have a pet..."

"She is old enough to look after it herself."

"Well, I suppose she can have a cat if she wants one--she's such a
difficult child, not like Timothy.  But if it becomes a nuisance it
will have to go."  Mrs.  Webster added sharply, "I shall hold you
responsible, Miss Light foot."

That evening Heather was particularly tiresome, dawdling over her tea,
declaring that she couldn't do her homework since she had the wrong
books with her, and then going into the garden to look for
strawberries--something she knew she shouldn't do until Bob said that
they were ready.

Serena, fetching her indoors for her supper, fore- bore from scolding
her, but as they ate their supper she said, "I talked to your mother on
the phone this morning.  It's a pity you're so cross because I had some
news for you."

Heather said rudely, "All about Timothy, I suppose--spoilt brat.  You
can keep your news to yourself."

"Well, I could, but I won't.  I asked your mother if you might have a
cat of your own, and she said that you could..."

"A cat!  I can have a cat?  I don't believe you..."

Serena said calmly, "I thought we might go on Saturday to the Cat
Shelter in Penn and you could choose one."

"You mean that?"  Heather got up and flew round the table and flung her
arms around Serena.

"My own cat?  And he can live in the house with me?!"

"Well, I told your mother that you would train him so well that by the
time she came home she would hardly know that he was in the house."

"You did?  You'll help me?  Timothy won't be coming home yet, will he?
Did mother say?"

"No, but I was told six weeks when I came here, so there is still
plenty of time."

They went to choose a cat on Saturday, and came back with a small thin
tabby found abandoned on a bypass.  About a year old, they thought, and
timid.  Heather put her into the cat basket Serena had bought and
carried her home.

"I shall call her Tabitha," she told Serena.

And, to Serena's great surprise.  Heather kissed her awkwardly on a
cheek.

It was astonishing what Tabitha's arrival to join the household
did--Heather changed from a rebellious and ill-mannered child almost
overnight.  True, she still had bouts of sulky disobedience and sudden
flashes of bad temper, but even they grew less.  She had discovered
that there was something she could love and who would love her in
return. And Tabitha did just that.  She was a gentle little creature,
quickly learning what she might and might not do, accompanying Heather
to bed and waiting for her when she got back from school; moreover, she
was on excellent terms with Puss.  "

Watching Heather play with the little creature in the garden, Serena
hoped that Mrs.  Webster would realise that her daughter needed as much
attention and affection as she gave her son.

She would miss Heather, reflected Serena.  She had grown fond of the
child, despite their initial difficulties.  And very soon now she would
no longer be needed.  Mrs.  Webster had hinted that Timothy's progress
was so good that he would be allowed home soon.

Serena counted her wages and thought about the' future.

Armed with a reference from Mrs.  Webster, she had a better chance of
getting another job.  There were dozens of advertisements in the Lady
magazine for similar work.  But there was the question of where she
would go while she found something.  It might have to be Henry again,
for if she stayed in Penn her money would be swallowed up in no time,
however cheaply she lived.  She might find more opportunities in
London. She worried about it a good deal, which was a pity, since
kindly Fate had decided to stick her oar in.  Mr.  van Doelen, over in
London on a brief visit to bring into practice his deep knowledge of
broken bones, had spent the morning mending, with delicate fingers, a
very small boy's shattered body, the result of falling out of a
third-floor window.  By some miracle there was no head damage, and his
painstaking surgery was likely to be successful.  But it had been hard
work, and he was tired by the time he was ready to leave the hospital,
only to find Mrs.  Webster, lying in wait for him as he reached the
entrance beside her.

"I heard you were over here.  I hope you aren't going again without
seeing Timothy, Mr.  van Doelen?"

"My intention is to see him in the morning, Mrs.  Webster.

Shall we say ten o'clock?  "

"Very well.  Mr.  Gould, who's been looking after him, thinks he's well
enough to go home..."

"Splendid.  We'll discuss that tomorrow, shall we?  Now if you'll
forgive me..."

He went out to his car, reflecting that if Timothy were to go home
Serena would leave.  He was back at the hospital early the next morning
the small boy was doing well in Intensive Care.  Mr.  van Doelen stayed
there for some time, then made his way to his office in the orthopaedic
block.  Mrs.  Webster was already there.

He bade her a civil good morning, suggested that she stayed where she
was while he and Mr.  Gould examined Timothy, and went to see the boy.
There was no reason why he shouldn't go home; the boy was in plaster
and learning to use crutches.

Mr.  van Doelen gave it as his opinion that he could leave hospital
within the next few days.

Mrs.  Webster said sharply, "I shall make arrangements immediately.  Of
course he must have a nurse I know of a good agency she can go to Penn
with us.  There will be no need for the girl who's looking after
Heather to stay.  She can leave at once.  I'll phone her today and she
can pack her things..."

Mr.  van Doelen said smoothly, "If I might suggest that you allow her
to stay until the nurse is installed?  Some help may be required
getting the boy settled in.  If you arrange for Timothy to go home in
two days' time, I will still be here.  I will drive over and make sure
that everything is as it should be."

Behind his quiet voice there was the ring of authority, and Mrs.
Webster found herself agreeing.

Serena knew that the six weeks of her job were running out, but she
hadn't expected Mrs.  Webster's phone call.  She was to be ready to
leave in two days' time, and would she fetch Maisie to the phone so
that she might give her instructions?

"You will help the nurse when she comes with us," said Mrs.  Webster.

"No doubt she will need another pair of hands to make Timothy
comfortable, and then you can go."

"I'll fetch Maisie," said Serena, and, that done, went into the garden
where the two cats were lying together asleep.  It had all been rather
sudden; she had counted on a week's notice, during which time she might
possibly have gone to London, found cheap lodgings and looked for a
job--any job.  There was nothing for it now but to ask Henry if she
might go back there until she found work.  And that wasn't the worst.
She had to tell Heather.  The child had grown fond of Serena in a
guarded way, and she was certainly happier.  Besides, she had one or
two friends now, encouraged by Serena to come to tea and see the
cats.

She broke the news as they had their tea, and Heather burst into a
storm of tears.

"It'll be beastly," she sobbed.

"Can't you stay?"

"Well, no," said Serena, 'but there's a nurse coming with your brother,
and I dare say she'll be very nice and like Tabitha, and you have your
friends from school.  I'll have a word with her when she gets here, and
if you make her your friend, you'll find everything will be all right.
"

"Where will you go?"

"Oh, I have a brother.  I shall stay with him for a while.

But if you like I'll write to you.  Will you write to me?  "

"Yes, and perhaps you could come and see me and Tabitha?"

"I'd like that.  You'll have to take extra care of her;

she will miss Puss?

Serena was packed and ready to leave, and prayed that the nurse would
be a nice girl.  She heaved a sigh of relief when she saw her, for she
was young and jolly with a kind face and a ready laugh.  But she was
competent too, urging Mrs.  Webster to go into the drawing room and
have coffee while they got Timothy to his room.

"He'll be up and about in no time," she told Serena.

"My name is Maggie--what's yours?  Can I come to your room while I give
you a resume?"

"It's your room now," said Serena, leading the way, and explaining
about Heather and Tabitha.

"She's a nice child, but no one has bothered with her.

If you could stand between her and her mother?  She has this little cat
now, and she sees more of her friends at school.

I've let them come to tea.  "

"I'll keep an eye on her.  When do you leave?"

"Now."

But when they went back to Timothy's room it was just in time to see
Mrs.  Webster and Mr.  van Doelen come in.  Maggie became all at once
very professional, and Serena slipped away and found Heather in the
hall.

"They let me come home; I wanted to say goodbye to you.

Where's Tabitha?  "

"In the kitchen, and the nurse is awfully nice--her name's Maggie; she
will be your friend..."

Mrs.  Webster and Mr.  van Doelen came into the hall then, and Mrs.
Webster said, "Ready to leave, Miss Light foot?  Heather, you have come
to see Timothy, of course.  You may go to his room; Nurse is there."

"You'll write?"  Heather flung her arms round Serena.

"Yes, I promise.  Remember what I told you."

Mrs.  Webster shook hands with Mr.  van Doelen and then stared at him
as he picked up Serena's case and Puss's basket.

He said coolly, "Are you ready, Serena?"  And then, "I'm giving Miss
Light foot a lift.  Mr.  Gould will be in touch if you have any
worries, Mrs.  Webster."

He took Serena's arm and led her out to the car.  He popped her into
it, put her case in the boot, Puss on the back seat, and got in beside
her.

Serena found her voice.

"This isn't ... you're very kind... if you would stop at the
station..."

"Hush," said Mr.  van Doelen in a soothing voice.

"Where had you intended to go?"

"Well, it was all rather sudden, so I'm going back to Henry while I
find another job."  She added urgently, "There's the station."

"So it is.  Unless you're anxious to go back and live with your brother
we'll go up to town.  I have one or two things to see to, but I'll see
you this evening and we'-11 have a talk."

Serena said, "What about?  Really, there is nothing for us to talk
about.  I'm grateful for the lift, but I'll be quite all right if you'd
just drop me off at--well, some part of London where I can get a
room."

"I know the very place," said Mr.  van Doelen briskly.

CHAPTER FOUR

mr van doe len had spoken in very decisive tones.  Serena, still
gathering her wits together, gave up asking questions for the moment.
Possibly Mr.  van Doe- len knew of some respectable person who let
lodgings, and there was no denying the fact that she might have a much
better chance of finding work with London on her doorstep than if she
had gone to Henry.  She began calculating the cost of bed and
breakfast--and would it be quicker if she went to an agency?

But that meant paying a fee.  Mr.  van Doelen glanced at her frowning
profile and left her in peace to worry until they were threading their
way through the outskirts of London.

"I'm taking you to my old nanny," he told her.

"She lives in a small house in Chelsea."  He didn't say that he lived
there, too.  In fact, it was his house; a mews cottage, his
pied-a-terre when he was in London.

"Oh, she won't mind?  She does bed and breakfast?"

"Oh, yes," said Mr.  van Doelen, omitting to mention that he was the
one who had the bed and breakfast.  He was aware that he was risking
Serena's trust, but there had been no time to think of anything else.

He had swept aside the idea of her returning to her brother's house
and, although she was a sensible girl, she would have found it
difficult to find anywhere to live at a moment's notice.  Besides, she
obviously had very little money.  It was a calculated risk, but one he
was prepared to take.

When he stopped the car in a narrow lane behind a terrace of houses,
Serena looked carefully around.  It wasn't at all the kind of street
she had expected.  He opened her door and invited her to get out, and
she stood for a moment, not speaking; the houses were small, but
elegant, with bay trees at their doors and pristine paintwork.

"Come along," said Mr.  van Doelen in a no non sense voice, 'and meet
Nanny.  "

He unlocked the door of the nearby cottage and urged her into its tiny
hall.

"Oh, is this a mews cottage?"  asked Serena doubt fully.  It was
certainly small enough, but it had all the elegance of a smart
townhouse.

Before Mr.  van Doelen could answer her a door opened and an elderly
woman came to meet them.  She was tall and thin, with a very straight
back, a sharp nose in a narrow face and dark eyes.  Her hair was almost
white, worn in an old-fashioned bun, and when she smiled her whole face
lit up.

"Nanny," said Mr.  van Doelen, "I've brought a young lady to stay for a
day or two.  Serena Light foot.

Serena, this is Miss Glover.  "

Serena offered a hand, aware that she was being inspected, and waited
for someone to say something.  This didn't look like a bed and
breakfast place; it was far too elegant.  She turned an enquiring look
on Mr.  van Doelen, who ignored it, merely inviting her to take off her
jacket.

"And I'm sure you'll be glad of a cup of coffee.  I'll fetch your case
and Puss."

Serena looked at Miss Glover; she appeared quite unsurprised by his
remark.  Serena said, "I don't understand

"No, no, of course you don't.  Now go with Nanny like a good girl we
will talk presently."

He went back to the car and Serena followed Miss Glover into the living
room, which was low- ceilinged, with windows at both ends and a
fireplace opposite the door.  It was furnished cosily, with easy chairs
and a vast sofa, a scattering of small tables, a drum table under one
window and a bow-fronted cabinet holding porcelain and silver against a
wall.

"Just you sit down," said Nanny, in a surprisingly gentle voice.

"A nice cup of coffee's just what you need, and a biscuit or two.  Ivo
will be back in a minute you'll be needing to talk, no doubt."

"Indeed we need to talk," said Serena crisply.

"I trust he will explain."

Nanny said gently, "You may depend on that.  A man to listen to is Mr.
Ivo."

He came into the room a moment later with Puss in her basket.  And
Puss, that most placid of little animals, went at once and climbed into
Serena's lap.

"You must explain," said Serena.

"It's quite simple."  He had gone to sit in a chair opposite her.

"Mrs.  Webster told me that you were to leave as soon as Timothy went
home, and as I had arranged to see him to his arrival there it seemed
sense to offer you a lift.  You didn't wish to go to your brother, and
you had had no time to make any arrangements, had you?  This seems to
be the solution.  You can't go traipsing around London looking for a
room or a job at a moment's notice.  Nanny will be glad of your company
for a few days while you find your feet."

"Is this house yours?"

"Yes.  I need somewhere to live when I'm in England, and Nanny needs a
home.  It suits us both.  But if you don't wish to stay here I'll drive
you to wherever you want to go.

Friends, perhaps?  "

"I haven't any friends in London.  I'll be glad to stay just for the
night, if Miss Glover won't mind.  I'm sure I can find somewhere and
start looking for a job tomorrow."

He agreed so casually that she felt, for no reason at all, vaguely put
out.

Nanny came with the coffee then, observing comfortably that it would be
a pleasure to have someone to stay for a while, and presently Mr.  van
Doelen got up to go.  He kissed Nanny's elderly cheek, remarking that
he would see her shortly, a wish which he didn't repeat to Serena,
merely hoping that she would find a job to her liking without too much
trouble and offering her hospitality for as long as necessary.

The house seemed empty when he had gone, and Nanny said, "He works too
hard.  Here, there and everywhere from one year's end to the other.
He'll be back in Leiden operating in the morning, as cool as a cucumber
and nothing but a few hours' sleep on the ferry."

"He's going back to Holland this evening?"

Serena tried to sound casually interested.  He might have told her, she
thought, but there again there was no reason why he should.  He had
done her a good turn; he would have done the same for anyone--all the
same, she felt hurt.  She would leave in the morning, having no wish to
be beholden to him.  Indeed, she wished strongly that she had never
accepted his offer to stay with Nanny.  Upon reflection, she conceded
that, since she hadn't known of his plans until they were actually at
the door, she hadn't had the opportunity to do so.  Her thoughts were
interrupted by Nanny's voice.

"What kind of work are you looking for, child?"

Serena improvised wildly.

"Oh, I've always wanted to work in a shop--you see, I've lived for
years with just my father, in a small village, and met very few people.
It would be so nice to be among people."

"And your little cat?"

"I think she'll settle down quite happily as long as she is with me."

"Mr.  Ivo will want you to stay here until you've found somewhere to
live.  Have you any money, my dear?  London is expensive."

"My father left me some money, and I have saved my wages while I was at
Mrs.  Webster's house.  I have more than enough."

Miss Glover nodded.

"Good.  You don't mind me asking?  But I believe you're new to
London."

"Well, yes.  I don't plan to stay here, but it is probably the best
place to find work.  I mean, there's more choice, isn't there?"

"Very likely.  Now I'm going to take you to your room and then get our
lunch.  You have no idea how pleasant it is to have company, Serena."

After lunch Miss Glover allowed Serena to help with the washing up, and
then led the way back to the sitting room.

"Have you known Mr.  Ivo long?"  she asked.

Serena shook her head.

"I really don't know him at all."  She went on to explain how they had
met, gently egged on by Miss Glover.  Presently that lady said, "I have
some photo albums you might like to see..."

Mr.  van Doelen as a baby in his pram with Nanny, sitting on his first
pony, riding his first bike, in school uniform.  Serena turned the
pages of his faithfully recorded youth and reached for more formal
photos of him in his cap and gown, receiving some award or other from
some dignitary, and then several photos cut from newspapers, in some of
which he was with pretty girls.

Nanny took the book from her.

"I've a book of cuttings from the papers, too.  Famous, he is, but he's
never been one to blow his own trumpet."

"You must be proud of him," said Serena.

"That I am.  Now I'm going to make a pot of tea.  If you're going
job-hunting tomorrow I'd better find that bus timetable for you; you'll
need it.  But don't go doing too much; you're to stay here until you've
found something to your liking.  There's plenty of big department
stores not too far away; you'd best try your luck with them first."

Serena, in bed later, tried to sort out her plans.

Everything had happened so quickly that she needed a good think.  It
was a pity that her sensible thoughts should be disrupted by the image
of Mr.  van Doelen, very clear in her mind.  She wondered what he would
do when he got to Holland.

Did he go home to a wife and children?  Where was his home?  And when
would he return to England?

"I should like to see him again," she told Puss, curled up on her feet,
'and thank him properly.  "

She set off with high hopes in the morning, armed with a list of shops
which might offer employment and the bus timetable, but as the day
progressed she realised that finding work wasn't easy.  And until she
had a job she couldn't look for a room.

Miss Glover, over the nourishing meal she provided that evening,
assured her that she would find something before long.

"And until you do, you are more than welcome to stay here, my dear.
Now, tomorrow, why don't you go further afield?"  She mentioned several
big stores in the less fashionable shopping streets.

So Serena set off again in the morning, once more optimistic.  And once
more she was to be disappointed.  She told herself not to worry;
something would turn up; there must be work in such a vast city for the
inexperienced.  This time, armed with a newspaper's 'jobs vacant' page,
she began on the restaurants.  It seemed that others had had the same
idea.  Either the jobs had been filled or she was asked what experience
she had had.  She stopped for coffee and a sandwich, then began the
long walk back to the businesses of Oxford Street, and it was on her
way that her luck changed.

The supermarket was vast, brightly lighted and crowded, and in one of
its windows there was a placard.  Shelf-fillers were wanted, it seemed;
early- morning and evening work, enquire within.

Serena enquired.  The manager looked up as she went into his office.

"Shelf-filler?  Strong, are you?  Willing to work late in the evening
as well as early mornings.  Any experience?"

Serena said, no, she didn't.

"But I'm strong, and I don't mind working early and late."  She added,
"I've references..."

He glanced through Dr.  Bowring's letter and Mrs.  Webster's brief note
with raised eyebrows.

"This isn't quite your cup of tea," he said.

"No, but I need work, any kind of work."

"OK.  Start day after tomorrow.  Live close by?"

"No.  I shall look for a room."

"Better try Mrs.  Keane, number ten Smith Street, round the corner from
here.  Several of our girls are there.  Clean and as cheap as you'll
get round here.  You'll be paid weekly."

He mentioned her wages--hardly generous, but she supposed fair
enough.

She thanked him and went in search of Mrs.  Keane.

The house was one in a row of redbrick villas, shabby, but the curtains
were clean.  Serena rang the bell and was admitted by a harassed woman
who said at once, "I don't buy anything at the door..."

"The manager of the supermarket told me to come here and ask if you had
a room to let?"

"Oh, he did, did he?  As a matter of fact, I have.  Upstairs back
bedroom, or there's the basement.  A bit dark, but there's a door into
the garden."

"If I might see it?"

Serena was led down the basement steps and through the door below
street level.  The room was dark, and smelled vaguely damp, but there
was a door into the neglected garden at the back of the house.  There
was a small out-of-date gas fire, two gas rings on a shelf in a corner,
and a sink beside it.

The furniture was sparse--a divan bed against one wall, a couple of
elderly chairs, a table under the window and a curtained-off corner,
presumably for clothes.  It was hardly ideal, but the rent, when she
asked, was affordable and it would do until she found something
better.

"You can use the bathroom on the first floor," said Mrs.  Keane.

"Twenty-five pence and don't stay longer than twenty minutes."  She
eyed Serena.

"On your own, are you?"

"Yes.  But I have a cat..."

Mrs.  Keane shrugged.

"S'all right, so long as it doesn't come into the house."

Serena paid a week's rent and began her journey back to Mr.  van
Doelen's house.  Neither her job nor her room were ideal, but at least
she would be independent.  She could start looking for a better job and
find another place to live.  A truthful girl, she found it hard to bend
the truth to Nanny.  She had got a job, she told her, in a large
store.

"Not serving at one of those tills?"  asked Nanny sternly.

"No, no.  It has nothing to do with the customers," said Serena, which
was true enough.

"And the man ager kindly told me of someone living quite close by who
lets rooms.  I've a nice room opening onto the garden."

"Hot water, I hope, and heating, and proper cooking facilities?"

"Oh, yes," said Serena, 'all that.  " That was true, too, for there was
hot water if she boiled a kettle, and two gas rings.

"And when are you starting this job?"  asked Nanny sharply.

"The day after tomorrow.  I thought I'd go tomorrow to Mrs.  Keane's to
settle in and be ready to start work the next morning.  Miss Glover,
you have been so kind to me and Puss, and I'm very grateful.  I hope
one day I shall be able to repay you for your kindness."

Miss Glover said something which sounded like 'pish' or 'tush'.  "I'm
sorry you are going, child.  I'm sure Mr.  Ivo will want to know that
you are settled in a good job with a future.  You must write to me."

Serena said that she would.  And she meant it.  Only she wouldn't give
her address.

She was going to miss the comfort of the little house, unobtrusively
filled with understated luxury.  She was going to miss Miss Glover,
too, and most of all she was going to miss the chance of seeing Mr. 
van Doelen again.

She packed her bag once more and set off in the taxi Nanny had insisted
that Mr.  van Doelen had said she was to have, with Puss and her meagre
wardrobe once more packed.

Now, at the last minute, she had fearful doubts;

supposing she was sacked before she had had the time to save some
money?  Supposing Mrs.  Keane gave her notice and she had nowhere to
go? It would have been so easy to have stayed in the delightful little
house with Nanny.

"You're a faint-hearted fool," Serena muttered.

"This is a chance to be independent."

The room looked depressing, but that was because the windows hadn't
been opened for some time, she told herself.  The door into the garden
hadn't been opened for a long time either;

there was a key in the rusty lock, and she turned it and went into the
garden with Puss under one arm.

It was covered in weeds, but she was relieved to see that there were no
broken bottles or empty tins lying around, and the fences were high. 
At least Puss could roam if she so wished.

There was a cupboard in the room housing a broom and a bucket.  The
place needed a good clean, Serena decided.

Besides, if she had something to do she wouldn't have time to think
about anything else.  She put Puss back in her basket, locked the door
and went shopping.

She came back presently, laden with scouring powder and furniture
polish, soap, dishcloths, tea- towels and bath towels, a kettle and a
saucepan and cutlery.  Even bought from the local household store they
had made a hole in her money, and there was still food.  She went out
again, this time to the supermarket, and laid out more money prudently
on groceries, and then went back to make a pot of tea in her new teapot
and eat bread and cheese for her lunch while Puss toyed with a snack.

By the late afternoon Serena had swept and scrubbed and polished so
that the room had lost its shabby air, and with her few photos and
small ornaments arranged round it, and a cheap vase of flowers on the
table, it looked much more like a home.  Pleased with her efforts,
Serena found her way up the steps and into the house, and thence to the
bathroom for her twenty-five pence worth of hot water.

But first she scrubbed the bath, trying not to think of the luxurious
bathroom she had used in Mr.  van Doe- len's house.

The first few days of work in the supermarket were a nightmare.  Serena
had plenty of good sense, but the work was mind-numbing; endless
unpacking of tins and packets and jars, setting them in rows on the
shelves, trying to remember what went where.  And it all had to be done
at speed.  The mornings weren't so bad, but the evening shift!

There were just a few of them in the vast empty place, something she
disliked, and she dreaded walking back to her room.  She wasn't a
nervous girl, but at night the streets took on a sinister gloom, and
there were always groups of youths with nothing better to do, roaming
around.  But beggars can't be choosers, she reminded herself, and her
pay packet at the end of the first week was more than welcome.

After another week or two, after she had bought a few cushions, a
colourful tablecloth and new curtains, the room took on a more cheerful
look.  Besides, she had food in the cupboard by the sink now, and Puss
didn't have to go short.  I have much to be thankful for, Serena told
herself.

After the first few weeks, she wrote to Miss Glover.  She gave no
address, and described her job and her room in glowing terms, not
exactly fibbing but embellishing the truth.  It was a letter which
should set Nanny's mind at rest, she decided, popping it into the
nearest letterbox.  She had the unbidden thought that it would set Mr.
van Doelen's mind at rest, too, only she was afraid that he hadn't
given her a second thought.

In this she was mistaken.  He had returned to London for a brief visit
some weeks after she had left, and before Nanny had received her
letter.  He had listened to Nanny's rather worried account of Serena's
departure, and although he had told her not to worry, that Serena was a
young woman quite able to take care of herself, he was himself
worried.

He had to admit that he had thought about her a good deal.

Until he had met her his work had been the predominant thing in his
life.  He would marry, he had told himself, in due course, if and when
he met a woman he could love.  But the years had passed and there had
been no sign of her--until Serena.  And now she had disappeared.  He
had been a fool to think that she would stay with Nanny, that it would
take her some time to find work.  He went back to Holland to his
clinics and operating and patients, and it was another three weeks
before he returned to his little house and Nanny.  She handed the
letter to him this time, and he read it carefully and then studied the
postmark.

"Not a very pleasant part of London," he observed.

"But at least we know roughly where she is."  He frowned down at
Serena's polite missive.

"She may have posted it quite near where she is living or working.  If
I could find out the exact area--the post office should be able to
help."

"I should never have let her go," said Nanny.

"Don't blame yourself, Nanny.  You could not have stopped her, whatever
you said; she is a grown woman, and a sensible one.  She must have
known what she wanted to do."

"But you'll find her?"

He smiled at her.

"I shall do my best.  Nanny.  I can spare a few days; I haven't a great
deal to do at the hospital this time."

It took time and patience to discover someone at the post office
headquarters who could help him.

That particular area of London wasn't large.  He rummaged around in his
study and found a street map of London, and carefully ringed the
district.  The following day, his clinic over, he drove through the
city to the busy crowded streets and rows of small shops, so near the
elegant shopping centres and quiet streets of town houses and yet so
different in lifestyle.  He wasn't sure what he was looking for.
Probably, he thought ruefully, he would have to visit every shop in
order to find Serena.  There were few clues in her letter, but she had
told Nanny that she was working in a large store.

Mr.  van Doelen began his patient search along the main shopping
street, crowded by late shoppers and people going home after a long
day.  It took time;

enquiries meant waiting while someone went to find someone else who
might know, ending up with the manager with a list of employees.  Each
time he drew a blank.  It was after nine o'clock by now.  He was tired
and hungry, and even the smaller shops were shut.  Tomorrow, he
promised himself, and turned down a side street so that he could
reverse the car.

He would have overlooked the supermarket, since it was off the main
street, but it was brightly lighted still.  He got out of the car and
tried one of the big glass doors.  They were locked, so he went round
the side of the building, along a narrow alley, at the end of which
there were a couple of men loading trolleys from a small van.  The door
was open, and Mr.  van Doelen, bidding them a cheerful good evening,
went through it.

It was a very large building, with wide aisles between the towering
shelves of food.  There were people in the aisles, replacing
out-of-date groceries with fresh tins and packets, and halfway down the
third aisle he saw Serena.  She was on her knees, the better to arrange
the lowest rung of tinned peas, and she was unaware of his approach,
her mind on her work--she still wasn't as quick as the others.

He stood for a moment watching her, knowing that now that he had found
her again he had no intention of losing her.

When he was close to her he said, "Hello, Serena."

She turned her head and he saw the instant delight on her face, so
rapidly wiped away that he thought he had imagined it.

She got to her feet.

"Mr.  van Doelen--how ever did you get here?  And should you be here? I
mean, we are closed."

"I walked in and no one stopped me.  Why did you run away, Serena?"

She flushed.

"I didn't run away.  I told you that I would find work...," "But you
didn't say where.  Did you forget to put the address on your letter to
Nanny?"

"No, I didn't forget," she said seriously.

"How did you know that I was here?"

"A process of elimination.  When do you finish work, Serena?"

She glanced at her watch.

"In half an hour."

He nodded.  Til be back.  "

Serena, loading apricots onto a top shelf, tried to keep her mind on
her work.  There were a great many tins, and they had to be in position
before the place shut down for the night.

She couldn't deny that she was overjoyed to see Mr.  van Doelen, but
she must make it quite clear to him that meeting him again would make
no difference to her life.

The last tin was in place just as the lights were lowered and everyone
got ready to leave.  Serena took off her nylon apron, went to the
cloakroom for her jacket and made for the entrance opening onto the
alley.  To get away before Mr.  van Doelen came looking for her seemed
important to Serena, although he might have changed his mind and
already gone home.

He was waiting for her by the door.

"Ah, I was afraid that you might have escaped me," he said briskly.

"I've seen the manager--a most sympathetic man.  Considering the
circumstances, you can leave as of now..."

Serena gaped at him.

"I can what?  But this is my job.  No one said that I was going to be
sacked.  What have I done?  Why didn't someone tell me?"

They were out in the alley now, with everyone streaming past on their
way home.

Mr.  van Doelen took her arm.

"You live nearby?  Shall we go there and I'll explain."

"No," said Serena.

"We won't go anywhere.  I don't know why you're here, Mr.  van Doelen,
but just go away.  I'm going home."

"Yes, a good idea.  We can talk there."

"What about?"

He didn't answer, only took her arm and shoved her tidily into the
car.

"Where do we go?"  he said mildly, and she, her wits gathering wool,
gave him the address.

He didn't say anything as she led the way down the steps and unlocked
her door.  He stretched an arm and switched on the light, and when they
were inside, he shut the door behind him.  When he still didn't speak,
she said, "I'm very comfortable here, and Puss has the garden..."

Puss came to meet them, pausing only a moment to rub herself against
Serena's legs before making for Mr.  van Doelen with every appearance
of pleasure.  Serena turned to look at him.

"I don't know what you want to say, but if you'd say it and go--I don't
want to seem inhospitable, but I go to work at half past seven in the
morning."

"Not any more, Serena."  He pulled out a chair.

"Shall we sit down?  I want to talk to you."

She sat down, and he drew up the other chair and sat down too, looking
perfectly at home in the shabby room, stroking Puss, who had climbed
without loss of time onto his knee.

"I had the devil of a job finding you," said Mr.  van Doelen mildly,
and reflected that he was about to embark on a future full of
uncertainty. Somehow he would find ways and means to make Serena his
wife--indeed, he already had a very good idea how to set about
that--but would his love be sufficient for both of them?  She was no
young girl with a head full of romantic nonsense.  He wasn't sure that
she even liked him. Perhaps he should adopt a friendly businesslike
approach.  "First of all, will you give me an honest answer?  Are you
happy here, and does the job satisfy you?"

"It's a start, and I have to start somewhere."

"You haven't answered my question,."

"Well, it isn't quite what I had hoped for."  She saw that he was still
waiting.

"No, I'm not happy, but I shan't stay here for ever, you know.  There
are other jobs."

"You are wondering why I have been searching for you.  We don't know
each other, do we, Serena?  And yet I feel that we could be friends,
enjoy each other's company.  I have for some time now considered taking
a wife, someone who feels, as I do, that companionship and genuine
liking for each other are of more importance than the romantic aspect.
I have fallen in and out of love several times, but never once have I
wished to marry.  But a wife is necessary for a man in my profession.
Someone to deal with the social side of life, entertain my guests,
accompany me on necessary trips abroad.

Above all, someone who will allow me to get on with my work and not
make too many calls upon my time.  In fact, a business arrangement. 
"

He had spoken quietly, his eyes on her face.

"I

believe that we might deal very comfortably together.  I need a wife
and you need a future.  Will you marry me, Serena?  "

She said slowly, "Supposing I fell in love with someone?

Suppose you fell in love with another woman?  You may not have met her
yet.  "

"I am thirty-seven, Serena.  I have had ample time in which to meet a
girl I wished to marry--the risk is slight.  And you?"

The?  Well, I've haven't met many men.  You can't count Gregory, can
you? I mean, he wasn't marrying me for love.  "

She sighed.

"I'm not sure that I believe in love."

"But you do believe in liking, in friendship, in sharing your life with
someone who shares your interests and enjoys your company?"

She said slowly, "Yes, I do believe in that.  And I do like you.  I
don't know anything about you, but I liked you when we first met.
Sometimes one meets someone and one feels at home with them at
once-like old friends..."

"Indeed, and that is how I feel with you, Serena.

Comfortable.  "

He smiled at her then, and she smiled back, feeling, for the first time
in weeks, secure.

"Will you come back to my house and Nanny now?"  he asked.

"I've just paid the rent--in advance, you know..."

"I'll go to see the landlady while you pack your things."

He got up and put Puss down gently.

Serena said, "Am I doing the right thing?  Allowing you to arrange
everything.  I wish I had someone to advise me."

"Try me," said Mr.  van Doelen.

"Start packing, there's a dear girl.  I have to return to Holland
tomorrow, and we must discuss plans."  At her questioning look, he
added, "Our wedding."

"I haven't said..."  began Serena, but he had already gone.

She started to pack at once, and Puss got into her basket and waited
patiently.  She had been moved around quite a lot lately, and this
basement room had been worse than the house at Yeovil.  Her whiskers
twitched at the memory of the dainty morsels Nanny had provided in her
warm, comfortable kitchen.

She hoped that she would be going back there.

Serena, her suitcase open half-filled on the divan, had stopped her
packing and gone to stand by the window overlooking the dismal little
garden.  It must have been the surprise at seeing Mr.  van Doelen again
which had caused her to lose her wits.  Of course she wouldn't marry
him.  Of all the preposterous ideas.  She would go to the supermarket
in the morning and ask for her job back and explain to Mrs.  Keane that
it had all been a mistake.  Mr.  van Doelen had come back.  He saw the
half- packed case and said cheerfully, "Having second thoughts?"

"Second thoughts?"  said Serena peevishly.

"How can I possibly think?  I don't know whether I'm coming or
going."

He crossed the room and began to pack the small pile of clothes into
the case.

"You're coming with me and we're going to be married."  He added in a
soothing voice, "A business arrangement between friends."

He folded a dress carefully.

"Is there anything else to go in this case?"

She collected up the few photographs, one or two small figurines she
had brought from home and her dressing gown, hanging behind the
curtained-off corner of the room.  She was -suddenly tired; she would
go with Mr.  van Doelen, and after a night's sleep she would be herself
again, refuse his proposal in a few well-measured words, and go in
search of another job.  She put the last odds and ends into her case
and got her jacket, closed Puss's basket and then told him gently that
she was ready to go.

"But please understand that this is just for tonight."

"No, no, dear girl.  Let us be quite clear about it.  I have asked you
to marry me, and if you have any sense in your head you will accept me.
I promise you I shan't think that you're marrying me for my money.  I
have offered you a bargain.  If you will keep your side of it, I shall
keep mine.  I really do need a wife, and you are so exactly what I had
in mind.  Now come along.  I don't know about you, but I need my
supper."

He gave her a friendly smile.

"If you take Puss, I'll bring the luggage."

CHAPTER FIVE

mr van doe len didn't utter a word as he drove back to Chelsea.  Only
as they went into the little house he called cheerfully, "Here we are.
Nanny, and we're all three famished."

Miss Glover came to meet them.

"Supper in ten minutes, and something tasty for Puss."

She smiled at Serena and said, "Your room's ready, love.

Just you run up and tidy yourself while Ivo brings in your things.  "

Serena, speechless, not knowing what to say, did as she was told.  When
she went downstairs again, Nanny called from the kitchen.

"I'm here, Serena."

The kitchen was cosy, immaculate, and if there were any labour-saving
devices in it they were successfully hidden behind the rows of copper
saucepans, the small Aga, the old-fashioned wood dresser and the
Windsor chairs round the table, covered by a white cloth and set for
three persons.

Mr.  van Doelen was there, leaning against the dresser, eating a hunk
of bread, and Puss was already before the Aga, her small nose buried in
a saucer of food.  He put the bread down and poured Serena a drink--a
dry sherry.

"Just to whet your appetite," he told her cheerfully, and came and sat
down opposite her.  They had coq au vin and the talk was cheerful, just
as though Serena hadn't left.  If the talk was mainly between Mr.  van
Doelen and Nanny they didn't remark about it, including Serena in their
conversation and not seeming to notice her brief, shy replies.

The coq au vin was followed by Queen of Puddings, and when that had
been eaten Mr.  van Doelen said, "Off to bed with you, Serena; you're
asleep on your feet.  I'll be here in the morning."

She summoned her sleepy wits.

"We must talk... I'm not sure--you took me by surprise."

He said gravely, "You will be better able to do that after a good
night's sleep, Serena."

He got up and opened the door for her.  She wished them goodnight, and
with Puss eagerly anticipating a comfortable bed upon which to sleep
she went upstairs, to lie in the bath wondering if she had become crazy
and what she was going to do about it.  She got into bed presently, and
fell asleep at once.

She woke early, her sensible self once again, determined to tell Mr.
van Doelen that, grateful to him though she was for his kindness, she
wished to find another job and lodgings as quickly as possible.

She dressed and went downstairs, treading softly,

for the house was quiet and it was still early.  Not too early for Mr.
van Doelen.  He put his head round a door in the hall, wished her good
morning and invited her to go in.

"A lovely morning," he observed blandly.

"Nanny will have heard you and will bring us tea.  Such a pleasant
habit, this early-morning cup.  It isn't the general rule in
Holland!"

Serena, intent on explaining just why she intended to leave after
breakfast, found herself agreeing very politely as Miss Glover came in
with a tray and two mugs of tea, the sugar bowl and a plate of
biscuits.

"Good morning, Serena," she said briskly.

"Breakfast in half an hour or so."

She swept out again and Mr.  van Doelen asked, "Sugar?"

Mr.  van Doelen sat back in his chair behind his desk, the mug in his
hand, very much at ease, and Serena, not at all at ease, sipped her tea
and looked around her.

It was a small room, its walls lined with books, the desk a splendid
example of a George II partner's desk.  It was loaded down with papers,
a pile of medical journals, and a computer and a stack of what she
supposed were patients' notes half hiding the telephone, but the room
didn't lack comfort.  The carpeted floor was soft underfoot, there were
some charming flower paintings between the bookshelves, and the small
window had white muslin curtains.  There was a small old-fashioned
fireplace too.  She imagined that in the winter there would be a brisk
fire burning in it.  "You wanted to talk?"  said Mr.  van Doelen in an
encouraging voice.

"Yes, well, I did--I mean, I do," said Serena, wishing she was anywhere
but where she was at the moment, but, since that wasn't possible, there
was nothing for it but to do as he suggested.

"Last night," she began, 'you took me by surprise.  If I'd stopped to
think I would never have let you go off like that and get me the sack
and give up my room.  And all that nonsense about getting married.  "

"I never talk nonsense," said Mr.  van Doelen gravely.

She wasn't looking at him.  She said sharply, "Of course you did.  You
could marry anyone you wished to; that's the advantage of being a man.
Don't tell me that you don't have any number of lady-friends."

He hid a smile.

"Any number," he agreed equably, 'but never once has it crossed my mind
that I wished to marry any one of them.  "

"You were joking..."

"I don't joke either," he told her.

At a loss for words, Serena said, "Well, then..."  Since she could see
that wouldn't end the conversation she added, "That nonsense about
getting married

Mr.  van Doelen settled himself more comfortably in his chair.

"Now, shall we start again?  I think I made myself clear yesterday
evening.  If you remember, I told you that I need a wife and you need a
future.  We get on well together, and that is essential in marriage, do
you not agree?  Neither of us are in our first youth..."

"I'm twenty-six," said Serena with a snap.

"Yes, yes.  Still quite young, but you have reached years of
discretion, have you not?  Unlike Gregory, I do not profess my love for
you, and there are many such as he around.  You are, if you will
forgive me for saying so, rather a green girl.  I, on the other hand,
like you, I enjoy your company, I am sure that we would have a pleasant
and undemanding life together and I would do everything in my power to
give you a happy life.  So if I ask you to marry me once again, Serena,
will you say yes?  I promise you you won't regret it."

"You don't think that I would marry just to have a home and no
worries?"

"No, I don't think that."

He looked untroubled and gave her a friendly're assuring smile.

Serena said slowly, "It's a bit unusual, isn't it?  But if you're sure
you only want that kind of a wife, then, yes, I'll marry you."

He got up and came round the desk to her chair and took her hand, and
for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her.

She was disappointed when he didn't.

"We will shake hands on that," he said cheerfully.

"Shall we have breakfast and discuss our plans?"

"I haven't any plans," said Serena rather bleakly, and looked for a
moment so forlorn that he bent to kiss her cheek.

"We'll see about that," he told her briskly.

"You would like to marry here?"  he asked her over their bacon and
eggs.

"You wish your brother to marry us?"

"Matthew?  No, I don't think so.  He's fond of me, but I don't think he
would understand.  If it had been Gregory... You see, Gregory expected
to marry me;

Matthew and Henry both knew him.  " She frowned.

"It's difficult to explain..."

"Then don't.  I think I understand.  Shall we have a very quiet wedding
here and return to Holland immediately afterwards?"

She nodded.

"That would be best.  There's no one who would be interested, although
I dare say your family would want to know?"  She buttered some toast
and added marmalade.

"I don't know where you live."

"In a small village near the Hague.  I have two married sisters, my
father died last year, and my mother lives in Friesland."

He passed his cup for more coffee.

"I shall tell them when I get back home tomorrow.  Our engagement will
be announced in the Haagsche Post and either The Times or the Telegraph
here."

She looked surprised.

"Oh, will anyone want to know here?"

He smiled a little.

"I have friends and colleagues here as well as in Holland.  I expect
you would like to tell your brothers.  Invite them if you would like
to.  I think we might have the Bowrings up for the wedding, don't
you?"

"Yes, I'd like that."

"If you like the idea, a friend of mind could marry us.  I'll see about
a special licence and we could marry at St.  Faith's; it's a charming
little church in the next street."

Serena agreed, reflecting how pleasant it was to have someone arranging
everything with such ease while at the same time making sure that she
was agreeable to what was suggested.  After years of her father's
bullying and Henry's dictatorial ways it was bliss.

"Not a big wedding," she said.

"I mean, just ordinary clothes..."

He hid a smile.

"Of course.  We shall so over to Holland the same evening, so there
won't be much time to dress up.  I'm sure you'll look pretty in
whatever you choose to wear."  Then he asked, "Have you enough money to
get something suitable for the occasion?"

"Yes, I've Father's five hundred pounds..."

"Then spend every penny of it."

He watched her face.  It held the same enraptured expression as a small
girl offered the fairy on top of the Christmas tree.  He had seen that
look before; he had two sisters.

"I've got my wages from Mrs.  Webster, too..."

"Spend those as well."

"It's quite a lot of money."

"I am well able to provide for you, Serena."  He said that in a quiet
voice which stopped her saying anything further about the matter.

When they had finished breakfast he said, "I'll be half an hour or so
phoning.  Then will you come with me and we will choose a ring?"  He
paused as he went through the door.

"Would you be willing to marry me when I next return to London?  I've
several appointments here; when I've dealt with them I shall need to go
back home for a time."  When she nodded, he added, "And do phone your
brothers if you would like to."  He smiled.

"If I'm hustling you, say so, Serena, but there isn't any reason for us
to wait, is there?"

"No, no, of course not.  I'll phone Henry and Matthew and be ready for
you in half an hour."

She phoned Matthew first.  He had never bothered much with her, but at
least he had never bullied her.  He was surprised, but she had expected
that.  Still he wished her well in a cautious way and called Norah to
the phone.

"Quick work," said Norah.

"I always knew you were a deep one.  Getting married so soon, too." 
Her voice held a wealth of malice.

"Well, don't expect us to come to the wedding..."

"We hadn't intended inviting you," said Serena.

Henry made no bones about his disapproval.

"The very idea!"

Re told her.

"Going off like that and marrying the first man you meet.  A foreigner,
too.  Well, don't expect any help from me if things go wrong."

"Well, I've never expected help from you.  Henry, and nothing is going
to go wrong.  I'm going to live in Holland for most of the time--that
should be a great relief to you!"

"I'm your elder brother," said Henry at his most pompous.

"I

consider myself responsible for your well-being.  "

"Rubbish," said Serena cheerfully.

"Aren't you forgetting that I shall have a husband to look after me?

"Of all the nonsense," said Serena, putting down the receiver and
turning round to see Mr.  van Doelen smiling in the doorway.

"And that I can promise I shall do, Serena--look after you.

Were your brothers disapproving?  "

"Yes, but then they have never really approved of me, if you see what I
mean, so it really doesn't matter."

"I've dealt with the special licence and my friend will be delighted to
marry us.  Now get a jacket and we'll go shopping."

He took her to a famous jeweller's and they sat in a discreet alcove
while they looked at rings together.

"I

really don't know," said Serena.

"I'm not a jewellery person, am I?"

"No, but I think that sapphires would suit you."

"You choose," said Serena, rather overcome by the display set before
them by the discreet salesman.

It was a choice she would have made herself; she had been held back by
doubts as to the price--a splendid stone set in rose diamonds--but
apparently Mr.  van Doelen wasn't bothered about that.  He chose it
without hesitation, and without asking its cost.  Either he was so
deeply in love that money didn't matter any more or he was so rich that
the price was of no account.  Serena was sure that it was the second of
these.  It fitted; he slipped it onto her finger and the salesman
smiled, not only because he had made a good sale but because he was a
sentimental man and believed in true love.

Over coffee presently, Mr.  van Doelen said, "I'll get the wedding
rings now I know your size.  Have you any preference?"

"No, just plain gold."  She admired the sapphire sparkling on her
finger.

"This is a very beautiful ring.  Thank you, Ivo."

"I had a word with my bank.  If you run out of money, apply to the
manager.  I'll leave the phone number on my desk.  He will want to see
you, of course, but there should be no problem."

"Thank you, but I'm sure I've enough."  She hesitated.

"Shall I need a lot of clothes in Holland?  I mean, do you go out a
lot?  Could I wait and buy things when I get there?"

"A very good idea.  We shall go out from time to time.  I have friends
and family--aunts and uncles and so on--and social occasions to do with
the hospitals where I work.  But you don't need to worry about that at
the moment."

Serena finished her coffee.  As far as she could see she had nothing to
worry about at all.

They spent the rest of the day together, the best of friends.  It was
strange, reflected Serena, that they hardly knew each other and yet
they felt so completely at ease together.

When he left that evening she felt bereft.  He had bidden her goodbye
quite casually, his kiss on her cheek so light and brief that she
wasn't sure if she had imagined it.  When he had gone she told herself
not to get silly and sentimental, and she got out pen j and paper and
made a list of what she intended to , buy.  Five hundred pounds seemed
a fortune, but from ,j what she had seen in the shop windows it
wouldn't -| go far.  She had her wages still; she had meant to keep
those against some future emergency, but now she could use at least
some of them.  | The list grew and she had to start again, crossing |
out quite a few of the things she would have liked j to have bought but
which weren't actually necessary, j Tomorrow she would go to the shops,
not necessarily g to buy but just to spy out the land, as it were.  |
Nanny joined her presently, sitting up very straight in her chair,
knitting. She didn't speak for quite a while, but Serena found her
presence comforting.  Like sitting with your granny, she reflected,
someone who didn't talk much, just was there.  She added a couple more
items to her list, and then crossed them out.  She must stick to
basics.  "Mr.  Ivo likes blue," said Nanny.

"That soft blue like hyacinths.  He likes pink too rose-pink I sup pose
you would call it.  Men like pink..."

"So shall I wear pink or blue for our wedding, Miss Glover?"

"Call me Nanny.  Well, it's not for me to say, dear, but blue looks
nice, doesn't it?  Perhaps you could find a pink dress as well."

"I thought I'd look for a dress and jacket, something I can wear later
on..."

Nanny nodded.

"Very sensible.  One of those little jackets.

You've a nice shape; you don't need frills and flounces to fill you
out.  "

The business of buying new clothes suddenly became fun, with Nanny
giving snippets of advice.

"You're a sensible girl;

you'll know one good outfit is worth more than three cheap ones.  Men
notice these things.  "

Which Serena took to mean that Ivo noticed them.  She set off the next
morning.  Nanny's voice ringing in her ears telling her that she was to
stop and have lunch or she would be too tired.

"For you won't find all you want in a day," she said.

"There'll be a nice tea ready for you when you get back.  Go
carefully!"

Serena thought how nice it was to have someone who actually minded what
she was doing and where she was going.  She hadn't felt as happy or as
lighthearted for a long time.

By the end of the afternoon she was glad to get back to Nanny and a
splendid tea.  She hadn't bought anything.

"I saw quite a few things I liked, but I don't want to get anything
until I've found an outfit," she explained.

"Very sensible," said Nanny, 'and you have time enough.  Why not try
some of the small dress shops?  When Mr.  Ivo's sisters are over here
on a visit they go to a boutique off Regent Street.  I don't remember
the name off hand, but I'll see if I can find a bill;

they always leave the bills with me.  "

So Serena set out again in the morning, full of hope.  A hope which was
to be fulfilled this time.  It was nothing short of a miracle that the
soft blue dress and jacket in the boutique's window fit her exactly. 
It was expensive, but she had been prepared for that, and there was
still enough money to buy undies and a pretty dressing gown and
slippers.  She returned triumphant and tried the dress on under Nanny's
sharp eye.

"Just right!"  said Nanny.

"And such a pretty colour.  Now, what else do you mean to buy?"

It took several days to find shoes and a hat for the wedding, as well
as a jersey dress, plain and un date- able, in a pleasing shade of
russet.  And then there was just enough over for a skirt and blouses.
Satisfied with her purchases, Serena packed her new wardrobe, hung her
bridal outfit in the closet, gave Nanny a hand round the little house
and took herself off for long walks in one or other of the parks.  Ivo
phoned; short, businesslike calls for only a few minutes.  Was she
well? Her brothers hadn't come to see her?  She was happy with Nanny?

She replied suitably to these questions and fore bore from chat ting
since he showed no desire to linger once she had replied.  He was busy,
she told herself, and she thought that he wasn't a man to waste
words.

Strangely enough, she had no doubts now.  Their marriage was
uncomplicated by romance, and she had no longings or fits of jealousy
or uncertainties about the future.  They would deal comfortably with
each other.

Mr.  van Doelen walked into his house a few evenings later and Serena,
winding wool for Nanny, dropped the ball and jumped to her feet.

"Oh, you're back.  You didn't phone... Why didn't you?"

"Hello, Serena, Nanny.  How very domestic you look."

Nanny put down her knitting.

"You'll want a meal," she said placidly.

"About half an hour?  You had a good trip?"

"Yes, and I'm famished."

Serena picked up the wool and sat down again.  It seemed that Ivo came
and went without fuss; she should have held her tongue.  It must have
sounded to him that she was critical of him for not phoning.  She felt
a fool.  She must remember for the future.

Mr.  van Doelen went to his study with his bag and then came back and
sat down in a chair from where he could watch her.

"You haven't been bored?"  he wanted to know.

"No, no, not at all.  I had shopping to do, and I've explored the
parks, and the Reverend Thomas called to see me.  He's nice."

She couldn't think of anything to say then.  Oh, for a witty tongue and
facile conversation, reflected Se- rena.  She wound the wool as though
it was a matter of urgency, not looking at him.

He leaned forward and took it from her.  He would have liked to have
taken her in his arms and kissed her, but their rather fragile
relationship might have been shattered.

"No doubts?"  he asked her gently.

"No, of course not.  But what about you?  You must see how dull I am?
That's because I never had anyone to talk to except Father.  Won't you
find me dull, too?"

"You aren't dull; you're restful.  To come home to someone who doesn't
start chattering the moment I get there is something I am looking
forward to, Se- rena."

She looked at him then.

"Really?  I should have thought that after a day with patients and
operating and wards, you would want a little light relief."

"That, too, but at the right time."

"Well, I'll remember that," said Serena as Nanny came back to say that
his supper was ready.

"Come and sit with me while I eat?"  said Mr.  van Doelen.

"I

want to know how soon you will marry me.  "

At the table he told her that he was intending to be in London for
three or four days, no longer.

"We could marry in the late afternoon of my last day and drive to
Harwich for the evening ferry.  It's a quick crossing by catamaran; we
can be home in the late evening."

"That sounds very sensible," said Serena, doing her best to sound
matter-of-fact.  Suddenly the future was crowding in on her.

"The Reverend Thomas won't mind short notice?"

"I've already phoned him.  He suggested three o'clock.  We can come
back here for tea, just us and Nanny and Reverend Thomas and his wife.
We'll need to leave soon after."

"Will you be here before then?"

"I doubt it.  I hope to leave the hospital some time after two o'clock,
but it may be later.  You will wait here with Nanny, will you?"

"Yes."

It was all rather businesslike, as though he was making an appointment
with his dentist.  It was disconcerting when Ivo said, "I am afraid it
is all rather rushed, but since we are to have a quiet wedding I
believe you understand.  I am committed to a good deal of work for the
next month or so, and there seems no point in you staying here with
Nanny until I'm clear of that!"  He smiled a little.

"I promise you you won't be lonely.  I have English friends who will be
delighted to meet you."

After supper he told her kindly to go to bed.

"I have some work to do, and I must leave early in the morning, but I
should be home in time for us to have tea."

That was the pattern of the next three days, and on the fourth day they
were to marry.  Of course he had already left the house when she went
down to breakfast.  She had it with Nanny, obediently eating a boiled
egg she didn't want and crumbling toast onto her plate.  Now that their
wedding day had dawned her usual sensible self was engulfed in doubts.
Not that she thought for one moment of backing out of it; it was just
the last hesitation, like the pause before diving into deep water.

Beside her vague doubts, she knew deep down that their marriage would
be a success; they liked each other and enjoyed the same things and
neither of them demanded anything from the other.  It would be a calm,
secure partnership.  As if to squash any doubts she might have had,
there was a letter from Dr.  Bowring to tell her that he and his wife
would be at the church and how sure they were that she and Ivo would be
happy together.

She went for a walk after breakfast, and then, mindful of Nanny's
reminder that she had a long journey before her that evening, ate the
dainty little lunch the dear soul had prepared.  They ate it together
in the kitchen and then went, together still, to Nanny's room so that
Serena could help her decide which hat to wear.

And by then, it was time to dress.

The blue outfit looked all right; the new shoes were comfortable and
the small-brimmed hat with its satin bow sat elegantly on her light
brown hair.  She took a last look at herself in the pier glass, caught
up the light coat she had had the foresight to buy, and went downstairs
to wait for Ivo.

Nanny was in the kitchen, and when Serena poked her nose round the door
she was told to go and sit in the drawing room.

"And take care not to get un tidy," said Miss jGlover at her most
nanny-ish.

"You look very nice."

Which from Nanny was high praise indeed.  Serena hoped that Ivo would
agree.  Regardless of any dam age, she picked up Puss, sitting beside
her.

She sat rather primly on a little balloon-backed chair and tried not to
look at the clock.  If Ivo didn't come soon they would be late for
their wedding.

He came a few minutes later; she heard his key in the lock and his
quiet footfall in the hall and in a moment he was in the doorway.

"Oh, very nice," he said, and smiled so that' she felt almost pretty.

"I'll be with you in ten minutes or so."

And he was, in a beautifully tailored grey suit and a silvery silk tie.
He took Puss off her lap and Serena got up as he said cheerfully.

"Shall we go?"

She couldn't think of anything to say as he drove the brief distance to
the church and helped her out of the car.  It was a small old church at
the end of a quiet street.  There was no one about; Nanny had gone
ahead, and Serena supposed that the Bowrings were already inside.  They
went inside together and in the porch Ivo handed her a nosegay laid
waiting on a bench.  Roses and little lilies, green leaves and sprigs
of sweet-smelling stocks.

"We are going to be happy together," he told her, then took her arm and
walked with her down the aisle to where the Reverend Thomas was
waiting.

The Bowrings were there, and Nanny and Mrs.  Thomas, turning their
heads to smile at them, and there were flowers--a feast of white and
pink roses and trailing stephanotis.  The afternoon sun shone through
the stained glass windows above the altar and the air was fragrant and
warm.  Serena was aware of all this as she stood beside Ivo; she was
aware, too, of feeling happy.  Without any doubts as to the future she
made her responses in a soft, clear voice and presently they walked
back up the aisle, a married couple now, and got into the car and drove
back to the little mews cottage where they were joined by the others.

Nanny, still in her wedding hat, served tea: tiny cucumber sandwiches,
miniature scones, fairy cakes and a wedding cake which she had made
herself.  The talk was cheerful of the wedding, and promises of a visit
to Holland later on and how soon Ivo would be returning to London.

Before long it was time to leave.  Puss was tucked into her basket, the
cases were put into the car, and farewells said.

Serena, in her coat now, her wedding hat sharing the back seat with
Puss's basket, got into the car and turned to wave as Ivo drove away,
sup pressing a sudden small panic that she had burnt her boats and
there was no going back.

Ivo said quietly, "There is still time for you to change your mind,
Serena..."

The panic melted before his calm voice.

"No, I don't want to do that.  You said that we are going to be happy
together and I believe you."

It took a while to cross London, but presently, with the suburbs
thinning to fields and trees, he sent the car forging ahead.

"We'll have a meal on board," he told her.

"It's a short drive from the Hock but you may be tired by then,
although there will be a light meal for us when we get home."

"Did you have time for lunch?"  she asked.

"No.  Coffee and a sandwich.  And you?"

"Well, I had time, but I wasn't hungry!"

"We'll make up for that on board.  Are you comfortable

They found plenty to talk about.  Theirs might be a marriage without
love, but they were completely at ease with each other; it was as
though they had known each other all their lives.  Serena heaved a
small sigh of content, and Mr.  van Doelen, glancing at her composed
face, allowed himself to indulge in a brief daydream.

The crossing was calm, and they had a meal on board while Ivo patiently
answered her questions about his home and his work.  A small village,
he told her, only a mile or so from Den Haag, and a house his family
had lived in for many years.  As for his work, he had beds in the
principal hospitals in Den Haag, but he lectured at Leiden Medical
School and had beds there too, and not only that, he had consultations
in other countries as well as being an honorary consultant in London.

"I am a busy man," he told her, 'but I'm sure you won't be lonely, and
when it's possible there's no reason why you shouldn't come with me.
"

She assured him that she would like that.

"But you will be sure and let me know if I get things wrong, won't
you?"

"Of course.  But I don't think that is likely to hap pen.  All my
friends speak English..."

"Oh, but I'd like to learn to speak Dutch as quickly as possible.
Perhaps I could have lessons?"

"A good idea."  He glanced at his watch.

"We shall be landing very shortly."

It all looked a bit like England, except for the traffic driving on
what she considered to be the wrong side of the road.  When he observed
that she might enjoy driving herself, she said uncertainly, "Oh, I
don't know--I might forget..."

"Not very likely with everyone else driving as they should.

We shall be home very soon now.  "

She was a little tired now, as well as hungry, and over and above this
she had a sudden feeling of panic.  She said rather faintly, "I'm sure
you must be glad to be home," and heard the uncertainty in her voice.

"Oh, I am, and glad to have you with me."  He dropped a hand on her
knee and said, "Our home, Serena, and I shall do my best to make you
happy in it."

He was driving around the outskirts of Den Haag now and presently
turned off into a side-road which in turn opened into a quiet country
lane.  All at once there were flat green fields and a canal running
alongside it.  It was dark now, and they had left all signs of the city
behind them.

"This is a quiet corner which seems to have been overlooked," said
Ivo.

"It is delightfully peaceful, and so close to Den Haag.  I must get you
a car as soon as possible."

"I could bike," said Serena, and then wondered if a well-known
surgeon's wife would be too grand to cycle.

It seemed not, for he said at once, "Of course you can.

Everyone here cycles.  "

They had passed a couple of farms standing back from the road, and now
there were trees on either side, and in a moment a cluster of small
houses round a church.

"The village--we're just round the corner."

Serena had very little idea what to expect; Ivo had been vague and she
had pictured a comfortable villa, substantial and rather dull.  But as
he turned into a short drive between brick pillars she saw that she was
mistaken.  The house was brick, faced with stone, with a handsome door
reached by double steps, its windows large with elaborate pediments. 
It wasn't a villa.  She studied its handsome facade with faint
misgiving. This was a country house, a gentleman's residence of some
size.

He had stopped before the front door and she said rather sharply, "You
could have told me..."

He said mildly, "I hope you won't dislike it.  It is home to me.  I
hope it will be home to you, too."

He got out of the car and opened her door and helped her out.

"It's a lovely house.  I--I was--surprised."

He took her arm.

"Come indoors and meet every CHAPTER SIX

the person who opened the door was short and stout, white-haired and
dignified.  Mr.  van Doelen clapped this dignified person on the back
and then shook his head.

"Wim, it's good to see you."

He had spoken in Dutch; now he turned to Serena.

"Wim looks after the house for me, Serena.  He's been in the family for
ever.  His wife, Elly, is the cook and housekeeper."

Serena offered a'hand and Wim shook it carefully.

"Welcome, mevrouw."  He waved an arm and led the way from the vestibule
into a broad hallway.  There were several people there and he led her
from one to the other; Mr.  van Doelen spoke again in his own language.
Whatever it was he said, they smiled and shook hands with Serena in
turn.  There was Elly, as rotund as Wim, with a round smiling face, a
thin, tall woman--Nel, and a short, stout girl--Lien.  Also an old
man--the gardener, explained Mr.  van Doelen-Domus, and a leggy youth
beside him.  Cor.

They all looked pleased to see her, reflected Serena, but she hadn't
expected them.  She gave Ivo a reproachful look which he ignored.

"Elly will take you to your room," said Mr.  van Doelen.

"There will be supper in ten minutes or so."  Serena was led away to
where a staircase curved its way up at the end of the hall.  It led to
a gallery with several doors, one of which Elly opened with a nourish.
The room beyond was large, with a four-poster bed facing the two
windows.  There was a mahogany table between the windows with a silver
gilt mirror, flanked by slender silver candlesticks, the bedside tables
were mahogany too, each with its porcelain lamp, and there was a chaise
longue upholstered in a pleasingly vague patterned brocade; the same
brocade draped the windows and formed the bedspread.  A very grand
room, Serena thought, but a delight in which to sleep.  She took a
quick look at the adjoining bathroom and opened a door at its other
end:

another bedroom, rather austere but very comfortable.  Well, really,
thought Serena, going back to peer at herself in the mirror and poke at
her hair, Ivo might have told her that he was so grand.

She went back downstairs and found him in the hall.

"In here," he said, and opened a door and ushered her into a panelled
room with long windows over looking the garden at the back of the
house.  He said, "Before we have supper will you come and meet Cas per
and Trotter?"

She went with him to the window he had opened and two dogs came racing
in: a golden Labrador and a small greyhound.  They circled Mr.  van
Doelen, beaming up at him, and he said, "Here is Serena.  Come and say
hello."

Serena bent down to fondle them.

"Oh, they're lovely.  Which is which?"  And when he told her she asked,
"Why did you call her Trotter?  I mean a greyhound..."

"She was discarded as being of no use for racing.  The man who threw
her out told me that she was only fit to trot!

She's elderly, and loves long walks, and Casper loves her dearly.  "

It was obvious that Ivo loved her too--and Casper.

"I hope they'll like me," said Serena.

"I never had a dog; Father didn't like them.  Would they go walks with
me?"

"Of course.  We'll take them tomorrow afternoon and give you some idea
of the country round us.  I have to go to the hospital in the morning
but I should be back for lunch; we can go after that.  Now let us have
supper--I'm famished."

"So am I."

They sat at one end of the long oval table with its gleaming silver and
glass.  There was a low bowl of flowers at its centre.  It looked like
a bridal bouquet, but she was too shy to say so.  It was Ivo who
observed, "I see that Wim has produced a fitting floral tribute to the
occasion. I expect Elly has thought up something equally bridal for us
to eat."

"There will be suk V, serena }vas led away to u^ E f " 91 "n ten
mmutes or so^ " P at the end of the hV i" ^^ ffl staircase curved its
several dA^ ^ ofwhickV^ a ^ taolb3f led to a gallery with lsh- The room
beyond was i' ^ leA^0 - ^ened with a flour- bed faci^ the two windo^ ^
of^^ !3e' with a four-Poster table At^een the window^ }e, ^ w w 9renerc
was a ^AS^y flanked by slender silver ca Y.^he/ sil-Iia fin a silver
gilt mirror' bles we^ mahogany too^^th^^' .^sticks, the bedside ta
lamp, and Aere was a chai C^ti^1" 1^ rh with its P01"061" 1" a
pleasingly ^gA pattern^ Ah TO ^IJ3flongue upholstered in cade draped
the windows ^ }^^^^ the same bro- Averyg^ndroom SerenaV^oc^ ^" normed
the bedspread.  which to s^ep.  she took a q, ^ f-o^' " lri Iught' but
a ^ell1 iii bathroom ^ ^^^ ^ doo^^ug^'s io01 look at the adjoining
bedroom, ^^ ^^ ^ ^ ^ othL_rilo zliits other end: another really,
thought Serena goin }?1 ^ f" "" 03 ^ comfortablewel1' in the nur ~^ ^ ^
^ A ^y / to of iback to peer at herself told her th^ he was so gran}
^ac^' a -lifirhair' Ivo ^^ have

She we^ back downstaiA^ hA "" ,. " hall.  ^ foujol bnnd found him in
the " Inhere," he said, and op."  ^ , , her into a ^nelled room w{ ,
d(Mb's I'd a door and ushered looking the ^en at the ba^d ^ - S"01 long
windows over Before we ^" , .  ^^ 1^ tie I srfl lof the house.  He
said, *~' ave supper will lc7^ -, ^ per and Tro^-^p 9. - ^f ^mesmoa a
come and meet Cas Shewent with him to the , ^ ^ , , " and two dog^ ^g ^
^ p wobnndow he had opened v, ^ Ideisblog golden Labrador and ^

a small greyhound.  They circled Mr.  van Doelen, beaming up at him,
and he said, "Here is Serena.  Come and say hello."

Serena bent down to fondle them.

"Oh, they're lovely.  Which is which?"  And when he told her she asked,
"Why did you call her Trotter?  I mean a greyhound..."

"She was discarded as being of no use for racing.  The man who threw
her out told me that she was only fit to trot!

She's elderly, and loves long walks, and Casper loves her dearly.  "

It was obvious that Ivo loved her too--and Casper.

"I hope they'll like me," said Serena.

"I never had a dog; Father didn't like them.  Would they go walks with
me?"

"Of course.  We take them tomorrow afternoon and give you some idea of
the country round us.  I have to go to the hospital in the morning but
I should be back for lunch; we can go after that.  Now let us have
supper--I'm famished."

"So am I."

They sat at one end of the long oval table with its gleaming silver and
glass.  There was a low bowl of flowers at its centre.  It looked like
a bridal bouquet, but she was too shy to say so.  It was Ivo who
observed, "I see that Wim has produced a fitting floral tribute to the
occasion. I expect Elly has thought up something equally bridal for us
to eat."


"There will be supper in ten minutes or so."  Serena was led away to
where a staircase curved its way up at the end of the hall.  It led to
a gallery with several doors, one of which Elly opened with a flourish.
The room beyond was large, with a four-poster bed facing the two
windows.  There was a mahogany table between the windows with a silver
gilt mirror, flanked by slender silver candlesticks, the bedside tables
were mahogany too, each with its porcelain lamp, and there was a chaise
longue upholstered in a pleasingly vague patterned brocade; the same
brocade draped the windows and formed the bedspread.  A very grand
room, Serena thought, but a delight in which to sleep.  She took a
quick look at the adjoining bathroom and opened a door at its other
end:

another bedroom, rather austere but very comfortable.  Well, really,
thought Serena, going back to peer at herself in the mirror and poke at
her hair, Ivo might have told her that he was so grand.

She went back downstairs and found him in the hall.

"In here," he said, and opened a door and ushered her into a panelled
room with long windows overlooking the garden at the back of the house.
He said, "Before we have supper will you come and meet Casper and
Trotter?"

She went with him to the window he had opened and two dogs came racing
in: a golden Labrador and a small greyhound.  They circled Mr.  van
Doelen, beaming up at him, and he said, "Here is Serena.  Come and say
hello."

Serena bent down to fondle them.

"Oh, they're lovely.  Which is which?"  And when he told her she asked,
"Why did you call her Trotter?  I mean a greyhound..."

"She was discarded as being of no use for racing.  The man who threw
her out told me that she was only fit to trot!

She's elderly, and loves long walks, and Casper loves her dearly.  "

It was obvious that Ivo loved her too---and Casper.

"I hope they'll like me," said Serena.

"I never had a dog; Father didn't like them.  Would they go walks with
me?"

"Of course.  We take them tomorrow afternoon and give you some idea of
the country round us.  I have to go to the hospital in the morning but
I should be back for lunch; we can go after that.  Now let us have
supper--I'm famished."

"So am I."

They sat at one end of the long oval table with its gleaming silver and
glass.  There was a low bowl of flowers at its centre.  It looked like
a bridal bouquet, but she was too shy to say so.  It was Ivo who
observed, "I see that Wim has produced a fitting floral tribute to the
occasion. I expect Elly has thought up something equally bridal for us
to eat."

Certainly it was a meal to grace the occasion.  Globe artichokes with a
truffle dressing, grilled salmon with potato straws, and to crown these
baked Alaska.  And, of course, champagne.

Serena was hungry, and she did full justice to Elly's cooking.  It was
late now, but the food and drink had given her a new lease of life.  To
sit over their coffee talking seemed a splendid idea--only one Ivo
didn't share.  He said kindly, "You must be tired; do go to bed.  Have
you everything you want?"

Serena said politely, "Yes, thank you.  At what time is breakfast?"

"Oh, eight o'clock, but I shall be gone before then.  Ask Wim for
anything you want.  I'll see you at lunch."

Serena got up from the table and he went to open the door for her.  And
as she passed him he put a hand on her shoulder.

"Sleep well, my dear.  Tomorrow we shall have time to talk.

I'll take you round the house and answer all your questions.  " He bent
and kissed her, a light kiss but at least a kiss... " You were a
beautiful bride," he told her.

No one had ever called her beautiful before.  She said soberly, "And
I'll be a good wife, Ivo."

She slept soundly in her lovely room, to be awakened by Lien with
early-morning tea.  When she had showered and dressed and gone down the
stairs there was Wim, waiting to escort her to a small room be hind the
drawing room where her breakfast was laid at a small table by a window.
Casper and Trotter were there too, to take up their places each side of
her chair, looking expectant.  She wasn't sure if they were allowed to
be fed at the table, but since there was no one to see they shared her
toast.  When she had finished she wandered into the hall, and Wim
appeared silently to tell her in his basic English that she might like
to walk in the garden with the dogs or go to the drawing room where he
had laid out the English newspapers.

There would be coffee at half past ten, he added, and lunch at half
past twelve when Mr.  van Doelen would be back home.

Serena thanked him, feeling rather like a visitor no one quite knew
what to do with, and went into the garden.  A very large garden, she
was to discover, stretching away in all directions and bounded by a
high brick wall.  She explored it thoroughly, with the dogs trotting to
and fro, and she admired what she saw.  Velvety lawns, herbaceous
borders, a rose gar den and nagged paths between lavender hedges.  And,
separated by another brick wall, a kitchen garden, filled with orderly
rows of vegetables.  There were fruit trees too, and stooping over a
bed of lettuce was old Domus.  He straightened up when he saw her and
she wished him good morning, wishing she could talk to him.  She must
learn to speak Dutch as quickly as possible.  She went back into the
house presently, and had her coffee and glanced through the papers, but
she soon got up, feeling restless, and went into the hall and began
opening doors.

The drawing room, the dining room, the little room where she had had
breakfast.  That left two more doors as well as the baize door leading
to the kitchen quarters.  Ivo's study.  She didn't go in, only stood at
the door looking at the great desk and the chair behind it, the shelves
of books, the powerful reading lamp.  This was where he would come to
work, she supposed, undeterred by the household's activities.  She
closed the door and crossed the hall to the last door.  The library. 
Its windows overlooked the side of the house and the walls were lined
with books.

She walked slowly, looking at titles, Dutch, German, French and,
thankfully, plenty of English.  And not only medical tomes, but a fine
assortment of the English classics and a dozen or more modern
bestsellers.  There were magazines on one of the library tables, and
comfortable chairs in which to sit and read them.  Of one thing she was
certain: she would never be bored; a lovely old house, a magnificent
garden, the dogs and the friendly people who lived there.  And Puss, of
course, already placidly at home.

She perched on the library steps, studying the spines of the books
above her, and was there when Ivo came in.

She put the weighty volume she was holding back in its place and got
off the steps.  She said a little breathlessly, "You don't mind?  It's
such a beautiful library."

He crossed the room.

"Of course I don't mind; it is your library too.  You like books and
reading?"

"Yes, but I've never had much spare time.  Have you had a busy
morning?"

"Yes, and I shall be busy for a week or two.  But I intend to find the
time to teke you round the hospital; everyone is anxious to meet
you."

"Oh you mean the medical staff and the nurses?"

"Yes, and their wives and husbands.  But it will be just the medical
staff to start with.  In three or four days' time, if you would like
that."  He added, "Perhaps you would like to go shopping?  You could go
in with me tomorrow morning and you can have the day to yourself."

She thought of the few pounds she had in her purse.  He was suggesting
in the nicest possible way that she needed the kind of clothes his wife
would be expected to wear.

He watched her telltale face, and added in a matter-of-fact way, "I've
an account at several of the bigger shops, and I'll let you have an
advance on your allowance."

He strolled across the room towards the door.

"Shall we have lunch?  Then we'll go for a walk with the dogs.  Time
enough to show you round the house after tea."

Serena hadn't moved.

"I haven't any money of my own, you know that, but I don't like taking
your money, Ivo."

He leaned against the door he was holding open.  He said in a level
voice, "You are my wife, Serena.  You will share everything I possess;
you will buy all the clothes you want and anything else you fancy."  He
smiled then.

"I'm proud to have you as my wife and I want you to know that.  And let
us have no more nonsense about money.  Buy what you like and send me
the bills."

"Oh, well," said Serena, 'put like that it seems very sensible.  Thank
you, Ivo.  "

They lunched together, talking about this and that in the comfortable
manner of old friends, and presently took Casper and Trotter for a
walk.  They went through the village and Serena tried not to mind being
stared at.  She was, she supposed, a bit of an event in the quiet
little place.  They stopped to speak to several people, who beamed at
her and shook hands and laughed a great deal with Ivo.  But once clear
of the village he took her down a narrow lane with flat meadows on
either side.  There were the black and white cows she'd expected to
see, and farms, widely spaced, with their great barns and a few
sheltering trees.

"Is all Holland like this?"  she wanted to know.

"No, by no means.  Limburg, in the south, is quite hilly, and in the
north there is more space.  Lakes too.  I go there in the summer and
sail.  I've a small farm in Friesland--a few sheep and cows, hens and
ducks and geese.  Will you like that?"

"Oh, yes, but I like your house here.  It's old, isn't it?  It feels
like home..."

He took her arm.

"It is home, Serena.  Our home."

He whistled to the dogs and they turned back, going through the village
again where they were stopped by even more people.

Serena, shaking hands and smiling and murmuring, hoped that they
approved of her.

They drove into Den Haag early the next day, and Ivo parked the car and
walked her round the shopping streets, pointing out where she could
have coffee and lunch, showing her how she could get to the hospital if
she needed to.

"But you should be all right," he told her casually, "I should be ready
by four o'clock.  Just tell the porter who you are and they'll tell me
that you're there."  He gave her a quick look.

"You'll be all right on your own?"

Serena, her purse stuffed with notes, assured him that she would.

The arcade opposite the big departmental store looked promising.  She
went along its length, looking in all the windows--boutiques,
jewellers, smart cafes, magnificent china and glass.  She retraced her
steps and paused at a boutique halfway down the arcade.  There was a
dress in the window, its accompanying jacket thrown carelessly over a
little gilt chair.  Honey-coloured, a silk and wool mixture.

Very plain and simply cut-- "And very expensive," muttered Serena,
opening the door.

It was a perfect fit.  She paid its outrageous price from the roll of
notes in her purse and went off in search of shoes.

Which naturally led to the obligatory purchase of tights.

She stopped for coffee then, before going into De Bijnkorf in search of
undies and something to wear at home.  Prudently making sure that Ivo's
account could be used by her, she went from one department to the
other: simple dresses, skirts, tops, blouses, cardigans.  She stopped
for lunch then, since there was a restaurant there, and then went out
into the street again.  She had acquired a splendid wardrobe, although
it was by no means complete.  She needed a raincoat, and what about
something for the evening?  Ivo had said that he had friends. 
Presumably they would be asked out to din She began another round of
the shops, not sure what she was looking for.

It stared her in the face from a shop window in another arcade.  Pale
pink silk and chiffon, simple, relying on the cut and the delicate
colour.  Its modest neckline and long tight sleeves were just right for
dinner out or an evening with any of Ivo's friends.  She bought it, and
went in search of high-heeled strappy sandals.  And, after that,
"Enough's enough," said Serena, and went to one of the smart cafes for
a cup of tea.  She would take a taxi to the hospital, she decided.  She
was drinking her second cup when Ivo sat down opposite to her at the
little table.

"I finished early," he told her, 'and decided to come and give you a
band with your parcels.  " He glanced at the pile on the floor.

"You have had a successful day?"

"Oh, very, thank you.  Would you like tea?"

"It's coming.  Are you going to have one of these cakes?"

"I've already had one..."

"Then have another while I drink my tea.  You found shopping easy?  No
language problems?"

"No, none at all."  She selected a mouthwatering confection of
chocolate and whipped cream.

"Have you had a busy day?"

"Yes."

She waited for him to say more, and when he didn't she said, "I'm not
just inquisitive; I'm really interested."

He gave her a thoughtful look.

"Yes?  Then I shall get into the habit of boring you each evening with
my day's work."

"I shall like that."  She finished her cake and they went together to
where he had parked the car and drove back home, silent now, but it was
the pleasant, companionable silence of old friends or a longmarried
couple.  And that was what Ivo wanted, reflected Serena with a pang of
sadness.  But she had no reason to feel sad, she told herself, for he
seemed content.  For the next few days she saw very little of him, for
he spent them in Leiden and Utrecht, operating.  He got home in the
early evening, looking tired, so that she fore bore from questioning
him, but sat quietly with the wool and needles she had bought in Den
Haag, intent on knitting a sweater for his Christmas present.  True,
that was some way off, but she was a slow knitter and the pattern was
complicated.

She was rewarded one evening.

"You are a very restful woman, Serena.  I find myself thinking of you
sitting there with your knitting when I'm confronted by an over-large
clinic and you act upon me like a tranquilliser.  I shall be back here
in a couple of days.

We will go round the hospital together so that you can meet everyone.
You're not bored?

I've had to leave you alone.  "

"I couldn't possibly be bored.  Trotter and Casper take me for long
walks, and I go to the kitchen each morning and Elly and I talk--about
food and so on, with Wim helping out.

I know quite a number of Dutch words already.  "

"You shall have lessons.  I'll arrange that for you.  So, will you come
with me on Friday morning?"

"With pleasure.  I've been longing to wear the dress I bought."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Only one?  We must remedy that!"

"Oh, I bought some skirts and tops, and another dress or two.  I'm
wearing one of them."

"And very nice, too," said Mr.  van Doelen quickly;

he hadn't noticed the dress, he saw only Serena's face and her large
dark eyes.  As far as he was concerned she could be wearing a sack.  He
made a mental note to be more observant in the future.

When she joined him at the breakfast table on Friday morning he got up
to pull out her chair and kiss her on her cheek.

"You look delightful," he told her, and meant it.  The simple dress
suited her, and the pleasure of wearing it had added a sparkle to her
eyes and pink to her cheeks.

"Will it do?"  she asked anxiously.

"There's a jacket to go with it..."

"It's just exactly right."  He must buy her a brooch, he thought, and
some pearls--and there was that diamond necklace of his mother's.  He
took her straight to the consultants' room behind the vast entrance,
and just for a moment she panicked as he opened the door.  The room
appeared full of well-dressed men, all staring at her.  But the moment
was over.  A tall grey-haired man and a small woman with a sweet face
were smiling at her.  "The hospital directeur," said Ivo, 'and his
wife. Duert and Christina ter Brandt--my wife, Serena.  "

"I've been dying to meet you," said Mevrouw ter Brandt, 'well, we all
have--I wanted to come and see you, but Duert said I must wait until
you had settled in.  "

Duert ter Brandt smiled at her and shook hands.

"We are delighted that Ivo has married at last and we hope you will
both be very happy.  I'm sure you will soon have many friends."

And after that she was led from one person to the next, smiling and
murmuring politely and forgetting names as fast as she was told them.
When the last introduction had been made they went from group to group
while they drank coffee and ate little biscuits, and presently Serena
found herself without Ivo, smiling at a man younger than the rest, who
took her coffee cup from her and, standing in front of her, screened
her from the others.

"I'm sorry, I've forgotten your name," said Serena.

"Dirk--you don't need to know the rest of it.  How is it that Ivo found
you first?  I've been looking for a girl like you all my life..."

He was being familiar, decided Serena, and wasn't sure if she liked
that.  But it was rather fun to be chatted up--no one had ever done it
before.  She decided to ignore his remark and asked, "Are you a doctor
or a surgeon?"

"Doctor; I couldn't aspire to the surgical heights of your husband."
And, at her surprised look, "Only joking--he's brilliant.  Are you
going to be happy here in Den Haag?"

"Yes, of course.  And we don't live in Den Haag;

our home is in the country.  "

"May I come and see you there?-' " I'm sure we'll both be delighted,
but not just yet.  "

She glanced round and caught Mevrouw ter Brandt's eye.

"I

must speak to Mevrouw ter Brandt.  " She gave him a nod and a smile and
crossed the room.

"You must come to tea--and call me Christina;

I'm years older than you, but we're both married to Dutch medical men
so we have a lot in common.  " Christina smiled a little.

"What did you think of Dirk Veldt?  A great one for the ladies.  Come
to tea on Monday; get Ivo to bring you.  You must meet the children.
I've three--a girl and two boys."

"I'd like that very much, thank you."

Serena felt an arm on her shoulders and Christina laughed.

"Ivo, I've invited Serena to tea on Monday.  Will you bring her?  Come
early--it is your clinic afternoon, isn't it?"

"Two o'clock not too early?  May I collect her around five o'clock?"

They said goodbye then, and Duert ter Brandt shook hands once again and
said kindly, "You must both come to dinner soon."  He clapped Ivo on
the shoulder.

"You're a lucky man, Ivo."

He kissed Serena, and Christina gave her a hug.

"Are you going round the hospital?  We won't keep you, then; it will
take the rest of the morning."

Which it did.  But, since Serena was interested in everything she saw,
that didn't matter.  Ivo took her home to lunch and then went back to
work.

"But I'm free tomorrow," he told her.

"We'll drive up to the farm."

It was a cool, crisp morning when they left soon after breakfast the
next day.  He took the road through Alkmaar and across the great dijk,
and once in Fries- land turned away from the main road toward Sneek.
There were lakes on all sides, and large farmhouses backed by vast
barns, and the roads were mostly brick and narrow.  Presently they
reached a scattering of houses, too small for a village, and a mile or
so further on Ivo turned in through an open gateway and stopped before
a farmhouse standing back from the road.

A tall, thick-set man came round the corner of the house, calling a
welcome, thumping Ivo on his shoulder and then shaking hands with
Serena, and a moment later he was joined by a woman, almost as tall as
he.

"Abe and Sien," said Ivo, 'who run the farm for me.  "

They all went indoors then, to drink coffee and eat little sugary
biscuits, with Ivo patiently translating the conversation to Serena. 
It was all about sheep and cows and poultry, and presently she was
taken to see the livestock before going back to the kitchen to sit at
the table and eat sausage and red cabbage and delicious floury
potatoes. And although she couldn't understand a word Abe and Sien were
saying, Serena enjoyed every moment of it.

She was shown over the farmhouse next.  It was a comfortable dwelling:
a large living room, well furnished--although it was obvious that the
kitchen was the hub of the house--and upstairs the bedrooms were large
and airy.

"We can come up here for a weekend and go sailing if you like," said
Ivo, and Serena could think of nothing nicer.

Although she had to admit that she had no idea of how to handle a
boat.

"I shall enjoy teaching you," said Ivo.

A lovely day, thought Serena as they drove home.

They went to church on Sunday, took the dogs for a walk, with Puss
tucked under Serena's arm, and spent the evening pottering around the
garden.  After dinner, in the library, Ivo showed her the books she was
most likely to enjoy.

A truly perfect day, and her visit to Christina to look forward to
tomorrow.  It was as she was going up to bed that Ivo came to the
bottom of the staircase to ask, "What did you think of Dirk Veldt?"

"He seemed a very pleasant man.  Very good-looking too.  Is he
married?"

"No.  Don't get too friendly with him, Serena."

Surprise kept her silent for a moment then she said, "Well, I'm not
likely to see him, am I?"

She was on the point of adding that she was old enough to choose her
own friends, but she thought better of it, for Ivo had sounded like a
man who expected to be listened to and obeyed.  And, after all, they
had been married with old-fashioned vows, and one of them had been to
love, honour and obey.  Well, she honoured him, even if she didn't love
him, so she would obey him--up to a point!

She said sweetly, "Very well, Ivo.  Goodnight."

The ter Brandts lived in a large house in a quiet, tree lined avenue in
Scheveningen.  As Serena and Ivo mounted the steps to its imposing
front door it was opened by an elderly white-haired man, rather
stout.

Ivo shook his hand.

"Serena, this is Corvinus, who looks after Duert and Christina so
well."

A remark which Corvinus received with a dignified inclination of the
head before leading them from the vestibule into the hall, just as
Christina flung open a door and came to meet them.

"Oh, good, you're here.  Ivo, must you go away at once, or can you stay
for a while?"

He bent to kiss her cheek.

"Don't tempt me, Christina, I've a clinic in ten minutes or so.  May I
collect Serena around five o'clock?"

"And stay for a drink.  Duert should be home by then."

He turned to go, dropping a light kiss on Serena's cheek as he went.

A brotherly peck, reflected Christina.  I wonder why?

She said cheerfully, "Come into the sitting room.  It's rather untidy
but I'm sorting things for a jumble sale and the children's puppy and
my cats have made it worse."

It was a lovely room nevertheless, and splendidly furnished, although
the vast sofa was covered by a variety of odds and ends and the big
rent table under the window was piled with boxes.  There was a puppy
asleep in a basket and two cats curled up on one of the chairs.

It was obvious that Christina had been sitting on the floor, cutting
something from a paper pattern.

"Corvinus doesn't approve of me making the room untidy; I have to clear
everything up before Duert comes home--not that he would mind."  She
smiled as she spoke and added for no reason at all, "We've been married
for seventeen years."

Serena got down on the floor with her hostess.  It was delightful to
find someone so friendly and unselfconscious.  She said, "May I
help?"

"Would you?  That bag of wools--if you'd sort them out?  Some of them
are in a fearful tangle.  You must come to the jumble sale.  I've got a
stall and I'll need help.  It's on Thursday afternoon."

"I'd love to, but I don't speak Dutch..."

"That won't matter as long as you can handle the money.

You'll be the star attraction; we were so delighted when we saw your
engagement in the Haag- sche Post.  Ivo's far too nice not to be
married, and I'm so glad it's you.  "

Christina rummaged in her work basket

"Now, tell me all about yourself."

"Well, I'm not a bit exciting, I'm afraid.  I lived at home looking
after my father until he died--that's when I met Ivo.  At least, we met
out walking and talked a bit, although I didn't know who he was..."

Christina made a small encouraging sound and Serena found herself
telling her about her brothers and her difficult father.  She had to
talk about Ivo too, of course, but she glossed over her stay in London,
merely saying that they had decided to marry quietly since Ivo had had
to return to Holland.

"Very sensible," said her hostess comfortably.

"I'm sure you will be happy here.  You'll be swamped with invitations
to dine and have coffee with all the wives, but they're all nice women;
you'll like them.  Gossipy of course, but you can take that with a
pinch of salt.  They've been marrying Ivo off for some years..."

And then Corvinus came in, tut-tut ting at the state of the room.  Tea,
he told his mistress, would be served in the garden room, if the ladies
cared to go there very shortly.

Christina said something to him in Dutch to make him smile and added,
"We may have ten minutes to finish what we are doing."  When he had
gone she said, "He's been with Duert for years.  When I first came here
to work at the hospital it was he who met me at Schipol, and he's been
my friend ever since."

Serena finished sorting the wools, put them tidily in a box, and went
with her new friend out of the room and across the hall to a much
smaller room, very cosy, its window overlooking the garden.  And here
they had their tea.

"English afternoon tea," said Christina with a twinkle 'and in the
winter Duert has crumpets sent from

Fortnum and Mason.  " She added simply, " He spoils me.  "

Serena felt a sudden pang of envy--to be so loved.  The thought was
followed immediately by the heartening one that Ivo might not love her
but his liking had been deep enough to make him want her for his
wife.

They lingered over tea, and they were still there when the two men came
in together.  Duert bent to kiss his wife and smiled at Serena.

"You found enough to talk about?"  he asked.

Ivo had come to stand beside her chair, stooping to kiss her cheek.

"Indeed we did," said his wife.

"Serena must come again and meet the children.  She's going to help me
at the jumble sale..."

"A nerve-shattering event for all but the most strong-minded women!"
They all laughed as Duert said it.

They went soon after that; Ivo had to return to the hospital to check a
patient's condition.

"But you'll come to dinner soon," said Christina.

"We'll have a few people; in to meet you.  Serena must get to know
everyone as quickly as possible."

"You enjoyed your afternoon?"  asked Ivo as they drove back to the
hospital.

"Very much.  I didn't know that Christina had been a nurse here."

"Yes, but she and Duert met in London.  I dare say she will tell you
about it."  He didn't say more, and there was no chance to ask him
since they had arrived at the hospital.

Ivo parked the car near the entrance, assured her that he would be a
mere five minutes or so, and went into the hospital.  The main door was
glass, and she could see him walk the length of the entrance hall and
then start up the staircase at its end.

It was comfortable and warm in the car, and she was content to stay
there and mull over her pleasant afternoon, but she rounded herself
presently and glanced at her watch.  The five minutes was already
fifteen.  She looked through the doors and watched several people
passing to and fro, but there was no sign of Ivo.  Several more minutes
had passed before she saw him, walking slowly from the staircase. 
There was a woman with him--too far off to see her clearly--but she
looked young, talking animatedly, and Ivo, his head bent, was
listening.  They slowed their walk and stood near the door so that
Serenahad a better view.  The woman was young and pretty, and well
dressed, and she had a hand on Ivo's arm.

Serena was surprised at the sudden rage which shook her, made worse
when Ivo put a hand on the woman's shoulder.  They had all the
appearance of old, familiar friends, laughing together.  Serena had the
urge to jump from the car and remind Ivo that she was his wife.  Then
common sense took over.  Ivo had friends whom he had probably known
long before he'd met her, and she had no business to mind about that. 
It would be different if she loved him.  She looked away from the door.
That was the trouble, of course.  She did love him!  She had never
fallen in love before--you couldn't count Gregory--and she had had no
idea.

She drew a long, calming breath and took another look at the door. 
They were saying goodbye--no formal handshake--and Ivo was walking out
towards the car.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ivo got into the car beside her.

"Sorry I was longer than I expected."  He gave her a brief, smiling
glance and she waited for him to tell her about the girl.  Only he
didn't.  Serena swallowed back the words she longed to utter; this was
something she must sort out for herself, a complication she hadn't even
thought of.  And if she had discovered that she had fallen in love with
Ivo before they had married, would she still have married him?

Common sense said no, but her heart said yes.  This was something she
would have to learn to live with.  She would have to fill her life with
other interests, leaving Ivo free while at the same time fulfilling her
wifely duties.  And she might as well start straight away.  "Your
patient was all right?"  she asked.  And when he nodded added, "You
don't mind if I help at the jumble sale?

Christina thinks it would be a good way of meeting a few of her
friends.  "

"I agree.  Get to know as many people as you can, my dear, then when
I'm away you won't be lonely."  He sounded casual.

"I'm going to Madrid--there is a case there I've been asked to operate
upon.  I won't take you with me for I shall be too busy."

She kept her voice pleasantly interested.

"When do you go?"

"On Thursday."

They were home by now, and the rest of the evening was spent pleasantly
enough, walking the dogs and having a leisurely dinner.  But as they
left the table Ivo said, "I've a good deal of work to do.  I'd better
say goodnight, Serena."

So she sat for a while with Puss for company and her knitting to keep
her fingers occupied.  Her head was occupied too, but not with
knitting.

Ivo was to take an afternoon flight to Madrid but first, he explained,
he would have to go to the hospital.  So Serena ate a solitary lunch on
Thursday after bidding him a cheerful goodbye.

"I'm not sure when I'll be back," he'd told her, 'but I'll phone.  "

She hadn't been able to resist asking, "A few days?  weeks?"

He'd smiled down at her.

"Days."

She had nodded and smiled brightly, longing to say that she would miss
him.

Wim was to drive her to the ter Brandts' house after lunch, and because
she felt unhappy, despite all her good resolutions, she decided to go
earlier than was necessary.

Wim could set her down in Den Haag and she could get the wool she
needed for the sweater and take a tram to Scheveningen.  The dogs had
had their walk in the morning, so she bade Puss goodbye, got into Wim's
little Flat and was driven into the shopping streets.  There was still
plenty of time before she needed to be at the ter Brandts' house, and
almost without thinking, she turned her steps to the hospital.  Ivo
would be gone, but just to look at the place would make him seem
nearer.  She was idling along, close to the hospital now, when Ivo's
car swept past her.  And sitting beside him was the girl.  She was
talking animatedly but Ivo was looking ahead, which was a good thing
otherwise he might have seen Serena's astonished face.

She stood stock-still, not quite believing her eyes.  A woman with a
push chair and several small children rather pointedly nudged her out
of the way and she turned on her heel and walked back the way she had
come.  She wanted to go home, to go into the garden and sit quietly and
think, but there was the jumble sale.  She stopped a taxi and got to
the ter Brandts' house only a few minutes later.

Christina, coming to meet her as Corvinus admitted her, took one look
at her face and said briskly.

"Good, you're on time.  I hope you've come prepared for hard work.  Did
Ivo get away in time to catch his plane?"

She bustled around, carrying on a conversation which needed no replies,
for she could see that Se- rena was in no state to chat.  Had she and
Ivo quar relied?  she wondered.  The girl looked as though she could
burst into tears.  Christina wisely forbore from asking, but hurried
Serena out to her car and drove to the hall where the sale was to be
held.

Mercifully there was so much to do when they got there, and she was
introduced to so many people that Serena had no time to think, and when
the doors were finally closed Christina drove her back and gave her tea
before getting into the car once more and taking her back home, all the
while chatting quietly about nothing much, relieved to see the colour
come back into Serena's cheeks.  She didn't stop.

"I must get back home; Duert likes me to be there when he comes back.
He mulls over his day with me.  I expect Ivo does the same?"

Serena conjured up a small smile.

"Oh, yes, he does."  But she sounded so forlorn that Christina just
stopped herself in time from asking what was wrong.

Back home later that evening, with the children in their rooms, she
looked across at Duert, sitting in his chair, reading the paper.

"There's something wrong," she told him.

"Serena isn't happy--in fact she was on the point of tears.  Do you
suppose they've quarrelled?"

Duert put down his paper.

"My darling, it is perfectly natural for couples to quarrel, and they
are neither of them young and foolish."

He smiled at her and she smiled back, sure of his love and of her love
for him.  She said, "We're happy, aren't we?"

"Blissfully so, dear heart, and so will they be, but give them time."

Serena ate a solitary dinner, took the dogs and Puss into the garden
and went early to bed, explaining to Wim that she had a bad headache.

"More like she's missing the master," he told Elly.

"Pity she couldn't have gone with him."

"He wouldn't take her to Madrid--all those foreigners."  She sighed
sentimentally.

"Missing him, of course, and he'll be glad to get back home to her."

Serena didn't sleep much.  She did her best to be sensible;

she must not let imagination run away with her.  Perhaps the girl was
one of his assistants, or a special nurse to look after his patient.
She had been very well dressed for a nurse, and she hadn't looked like
one.  Ivo would phone her in the morning and she would ask in a casual
manner.  No, she couldn't, because he would know that she had seen them
together.

Her mind in knots, Serena's imagination became more and more vivid as
the night advanced.  It was almost daybreak when at length she dozed
off.

She took the dogs out directly after breakfast, intent on being in the
house if Ivo should ring, but there was no phone call; she pottered in
the garden, never far from the house, but although various of the
ladies whom she had met at the jumble sale phoned, with invitations to
coffee or tea, there was nothing from Ivo.

"He's been too busy," she told Puss, and, since there was nothing
better to do, took the dogs for another walk.

He didn't phone the next morning either, so that by lunch time she was
not only desperately unhappy, she was in a fine rage.  Just because
they weren't madly in love with each other well, he wasn't any way, she
amended that didn't mean to say he could forget her the moment he left
home.

She pecked at her lunch and went to the library to look for a book.  It
was while she was there that Wim came to tell her that she had a
visitor.

"Dr.  Veldt, mevrouw," said Wim, 'in the drawing room.  "

Serena put down her book.

"Doesn't he want to see my husband, Wim?  Perhaps he doesn't know that
he's away.  I suppose I'd better go."

Dirk Veldt was standing looking out of the win dow, but he turned as
she went into the room.

"I thought that you might be lonely now that Ivo is away," he said, and
crossed the room to take her hand.

"Too bad of him to leave his bride so soon after the wedding."

Serena said calmly, "Good afternoon, Dr.  Veldt.

I'm not in the least lonely, although it is kind of you to ask.  "

"I thought you might like to drive into the country?  The real
country."  He sneered a little.

"The Veluwe is beautiful at this time of the year."

"It's a famous beauty spot, isn't it?  But, no, thank you."

She hadn't asked him to sit down, and waited quietly for him to leave.
He was an attractive man, and amusing, but she wasn't sure if she liked
him.

He smiled.

"Oh, well, there was no harm in asking.  Perhaps another time--Ivo goes
away quite frequently, you know.

Madrid this time, wasn't it?  Some V.

I.

P, I suppose, with a broken leg.  Still, he'll have Rachel to keep him
company.  "

He smiled widely at her.

She met his gaze with an answering smile.

"Yes, it's a good thing that he has," said Serena, with what she hoped
was just the right amount of casual interest.

"I'm sorry that I can't ask you to stay for tea..."

It was just as well that he left then, otherwise she might have burst
into tears.  He was a mischief- maker, with nothing better to do than
stir up trouble, she told herself.

All the same, he had sewn the seeds of doubt in her mind.

She must forget his sly remarks, she told herself.  If she hadn't
fallen in love with Ivo she supposed they wouldn't have mattered, but
now it was hard to banish them.  She went back into the library,
determined to ignore them, but when at last Ivo telephoned that evening
she found it hard to talk to him.  In reply to his questions as to how
she had spent her days she gave stilted answers, and she didn't tell
him of Dirk's visit, only enquired as to his work.

"I hope to be home in a couple of days.  You aren't lonely?"

"No, no.  There's so much to do--the dogs, you know--and--and..."  She
was stuck.

"Do you want to speak to Wim?"

His voice sounded suddenly cool.

"Yes, please.  Goodnight, Serena."

She went to see Christina in the morning; there was to be coffee, and
there would be several wives there whose husbands were colleagues of
Ivo.  She dressed carefully, anxious to make a good impression, and did
her face and hair with a good deal more attention than she usually paid
them.

She must remember that she was a happy bride.  There were two or three
wives of her own age, one or two slightly older women, and an elderly
lady with an air of great importance.  The burgermeester's wife. 
Serena was being circulated from one group to the next, and soon she
found herself sitting on one of the sofas beside her and submitted to
the questions put to her.

"You should be happy," pronounced her companion.

"Ivo is a most successful surgeon, and not only in Holland.  A charming
man too.  He has had many opportunities to marry."  She smiled--a
rather mean smile, Serena thought.

"And he ignores some of the most eligible young women in his own
country and marries you.  Men are so unpredictable."

Serena wondered if she was being deliberately rude or whether she was
just tactless.  She said, "Yes, they are, aren't they?  But he chose
me..."

"Yes, one wonders... Have you met Rachel Vinke?  Now there is a
beautiful and very clever girl.  I had always thought that she and Ivo
would marry..."

"Probably Ivo found her too beautiful and clever," said Serena in a
sweet voice.  Her companion gave her a sharp look, and then looked away
from Serena's cool, calm gaze.

"And I must go and speak to Christina," said Serena, 'and go home.  The
dogs need their walk.  "

She offered a hand and crossed the room to where Christina was talking
to two younger women, and presently, when the burgermeester's wife had
gone, one of them asked, "Was she cross-examining you, Serena?  Don't
let her worry you.  She can be very unkind."

Serena made some laughing rejoinder and said that she must go home, and
went round the room saying goodbye and accepting invitations to coffee
and tea and dinner parties.

It was as Christina accompanied her to the door that she said, "Is
there something wrong, Serena?

Someone's been gossiping.  Don't listen to it.  Have you heard from
Ivo? "

"Yes, he'll be home in a day or two."  Ivo had phoned while she had
been at Christina's house.  He would be home on the following evening,
said Wim, looking pleased.

Serena spent a restless day, which seemed endless.  The burgermeester's
wife's snide remarks refused to go away, so that she went a dozen times
to a mirror to confirm her fears that she was hopelessly plain-and this
Rachel was beautiful and clever, she had said.  Could she be the girl
she had seen Ivo with?  Serena did her hair again, renewed her make-up,
and took the dogs and Puss for a quite unnecessary walk.

She changed her dress after tea.  Pink jersey silk-Nanny had said that
Ivo liked pink.  She did her hair once again and went and sat in the
drawing room, the dogs at her feet.

Puss curled up beside her, her knitting on her lap.

Ivo, coming quietly into the room, paused at the door.  While he had
been away he had thought of her constantly, and here she was, exactly
as he had pictured her, sitting there, tranquil, a delight to the eye.
The next moment she had seen him, and got to her feet.

"Ivo, how nice to have you home again.  Was it a success?"

He bent to kiss her cheek.

"Yes, I'm glad to say.  How delightful it is to come home and find you
sitting there with your knitting."

He bent to fondle the dogs.

"Have you enjoyed your days?"

"Yes, thank you."  She gave him an account of her activities.

"And I've been in the garden with Domus;

he let me help him plant out the winter pansies.  "

"He did?"  Ivo smiled.

"How did you manage that?  He won't allow anyone to touch a blade of
grass."

"I expect it's because we can't understand a word we say to each
other!"

He laughed then.

"Dinner in half an hour?  I'll go and change..."

She asked questions about Madrid, and the hospital there, and the
operation he had performed, and he answered her readily.  But he had
nothing to say about the girl who had been with him.

Serena sat wrestling with her knitting and wondered how she could find
out.  She could, of course, ask him, but supposing his answer was
unsatisfactory?  It would be best to do nothing about it.  She was
probably making a mountain out of a molehill.  He didn't look as if he
were keeping anything from her, sitting there, reading his post.  She
had put some invitations addressed to them both in with the pile of
letters and he read them out.

"They're all from friends of mine.  I see Duert and Christina have
asked us for Saturday--there will be others there, of course."

"What should I wear?"

"Something pink; you look nice in the dress you are wearing.

I shall be free tomorrow afternoon; shall we go and look for something?
"

"Oh, yes, please.  And there's an invitation to a reception.

Will that mean a long dress?  "

"Oh, yes.  We might see a dress we like tomorrow.  Have you had any
invitations to coffee, and tea parties?"

"Yes, quite a few.  I went to Christina's yesterday and met several of
the wives we saw at the hospital.  And the burgermeester's wife..."

"Who no doubt peppered you with questions...?"

"Indeed she did, and a great deal of gossip.  I don't think she liked
me overmuch."

He had picked up another letter and said carelessly, "She doesn't like
anyone, my dear."

Going shopping with Ivo was much more exciting than being on her own.
For one thing, she didn't need to ask the price of anything, and, for
another, he was interested in what she bought.  They found a deep pink
dress in a silk crepe and, since the evenings were getting chilly, a
marabou stole to go over it, and while they were about it he suggested
matching sandals.

Serena, who would have called a halt at the dress, was enchanted. 
After a leisurely search around the boutiques they found a dress just
right for the reception.  The blue-green of a summer sea, its bodice
embroidered, its taffeta skirt wide, rustling deliciously--and sandals
to match, insisted Ivo, and swept her away to tea and cakes.

"Thank you, Ivo," said Serena, choosing a rich cream cake.  I can wear
them to all the parties we will be going to.  I mean, they're quite
suitable for the winter.  "

"My dear girl, you will need several more frocks before then.  We must
get some sort of a cloak for the evening too.

I'm due back at the London hospital in a couple of weeks' time; would
you like to come with me?  "

"Yes, please.  I'd like to see Nanny again, and your nice house..."

"Our nice house, Serena."

It had been a lovely afternoon, she reflected later, watching him drive
away.  A private patient, he had told her, and she wasn't to wait
dinner for him.  He still wasn't home when she went to bed.

He was at the table when she went down to breakfast.  She wished him
good morning and told him not to get up, and slipped into a chair
opposite him.  His own good morning was absent-minded, but since he was
reading his post that seemed reasonable enough to her.

She was completely taken by surprise when he said quietly, "Dirk Veldt
came to see you while I was away.  Why didn't you tell me?"

He looked as calm as usual, but she had a nasty feeling that he was
angry.

"Well, I really don't know, Ivo.  I mean, it wasn't important.  He
thought I might have been lonely with you away and came to ask me to go
with him for a drive in his car.  I didn't want to go and I told him
so.  He was only here for fifteen minutes or so.  I didn't invite him
to stay."

"And it was so unimportant that you didn't think to tell me of it?"

She said matter-of-factly, "That's right.  There was nothing secret
about it, you know."  She added coolly, "Husbands and wives shouldn't
have secrets."  And then went slowly red, for she had a secret, hadn't
she?  Loving him and not saying so.

Ivo watched the telltale colour.

"I have no intention to censor your friendships, Serena.  There was no
reason why you shouldn't have gone for a drive with Veldt; he's an
amusing companion, so I've been told."

"I don't want to be amused," said Serena tartly.

"Are we quarrelling?"

He laughed.

"No, no.  We're both far too sensible to do that.

What do you intend to do today?  "

"I've been asked to have coffee with someone called Mevrouw Kasper...
She's rather nice."

"Yes, Kasper's one of the anaesthetists, a sound man.

They've four children--all boys.  "

"Oh, then we shall find plenty to talk about."  She buttered toast.

"Will you be home for lunch?"

"No, but in time for tea, I hope, and a long, peaceful evening."

Mevrouw Kasper lived in Wassenaar, a leafy, wealthy suburb of Den
Haag--a modern house, but not aggressively so, and roomy, with a
fair-sized garden.

"We moved here," explained Moira Kasper, pouring coffee, 'because of
the boys.  We needed more space.  " She laughed.

"Wait till you start a family... not that that should trouble you.
Ivo's house is pretty big, isn't it, and the grounds are vast."  She
saw Serena's pink cheeks and added, "Sorry, it's none of my business. 
How do you like living in Holland?"

"Very much, though I haven't seen a lot of it yet.  We went to
Friesland, to Ivo's farm there.  I hope we can go again soon."

"Perhaps now that he's married he'll take more time off--he's a glutton
for work.  What are you wearing to the ter Brandts' on Saturday?"

* * *

Serena enjoyed the dinner party.  She knew almost everyone there, and
they stood about gossiping in the ter Brandts' drawing room, drinking
sherry and eating the tidbits which the three children offered.  And at
dinner she sat between Dr.  Kasper and an elderly rotund man who was
quite a famous pathologist.  He had a dry sense of humour, and Dr.
Kasper an endless fund of funny stories, so that she was happily
entertained.  Dirk Veldt was there, but at the other end of the table,
and beyond saying hello before dinner she hadn't spoken to him.
Although later, as they sat over coffee in the drawing room, he came
and sat beside her for a few minutes, making polite conversation before
drifting away again.  Serena, aware that Ivo was watching her, made no
attempt to delay him.

The pattern of her days settled into a quiet round of small chores
around the house: the flowers, discussing the meals with Elly--a
laborious and sometimes hilarious task, helping Domus when he was in a
good mood and didn't mind her being there, taking the dogs for their
walks, playing with Puss, writing longer letters to Nanny and shorter
notes to her brothers, who never replied.  I'm a lady of leisure if
ever there was one, reflected Serena, enjoying every minute of each
day, so different from her days looking after her father.

And each evening there was the joy of seeing Ivo come home, and to sit
and listen while he told her about his day.  She understood perhaps
half of what he told her, but she stored up his remarks and spent time
in the library, where she buried her head in the medical tomes there. 
She had started Dutch lessons too, going in to Den Haag twice a week
with Ivo in the morning and spending an hour or more with a fierce
little woman who worked her hard and was ruthless about homework not
properly done.

And she had a busy social life now, and not all idleness, for there
were various charities she had been asked to join.

Life, decided Serena, was a pleasure--although not perfect.

It would never be that unless Ivo discovered that he loved her, but
loving him coloured her days.

The reception was to be a grand affair, and everyone she knew was
going.  There was a lot of talk about dresses and hairstyles, and a
rumour that royalty might put in an appearance.

"I'm just a bit nervous," she confessed to Ivo.

"No need.  You will look delightful in that gown-which reminds me..."

He went out of the room and came back with two leather cases.

"The family pearls, yours now, and these earrings."  A double row of
pearls with a diamond clasp and pearl earrings surrounded with
diamonds.

"My goodness," said Serena, "They're heirlooms?"

"Yes."  He took another case from a pocket.

"And this is a very late wedding present, Serena."  He opened the case
and took out a bracelet, a delicate affair of diamonds and pearls, and
fastened it onto her wrist.

"It's beautiful, Ivo," said Serena, 'thank you.  " And she kissed him.
And felt him draw back.  She swallowed, hurt;

she must be more careful, and remember that they were friends and
nothing more.  Dressed for the reception, taking a last look at her
self in the pier glass, she knew that she looked almost pretty.

Nothing would improve her face, of course, but her eyes were bright
with excitement, her hair, in its usual simple style, had gone up well,
and the dress was perfection.  And, to crown everything else, the
pearls and earrings and bracelet gave her an air of opulence.

"I look like a successful man's wife," she told herself, and went
downstairs to where Ivo was waiting for her.

He watched her coming carefully into the room and thought that he had
never seen anyone so beautiful He said, "You look charming.  I'm very
proud of my wife, Serena."

"Thank you and I'm proud of you tails do something for a man.  No
wonder the burgermeester's wife told me that you could have had any one
of the beautiful and talented young women in Den Haag."

She laughed as she spoke, and he laughed with her.

"You will see some splendid uniforms tonight.  They will probably
outshine the women."

The great hall was already crowded when they arrived.  They were
received by the burgermeester and his wife--she in purple velvet cut
too tight for her ample proportions.  She eyed Serena up and down
before observing that she had never been able to wear that particular
shade of blue-green herself, adding, "You know many of the people here;
it should be an enjoyable evening."

Serena thanked her prettily and was swept onto the floor by Ivo.  He
was a good dancer, if conventional, but she was glad of that for she
had had little chance to dance when she had been living at home.  When
the dance ended they were joined by friends and she was swept away by
Duert.  And after that she never lacked partners.

Her dress, she was pleased to see, was as pretty as any in the room,
and that knowledge gave her an added sparkle.  She was enjoying
herself, and when Ivo claimed her for the supper dance she lifted a
happy face to his.

"Such a lovely evening," she told him.

Soon to be spoilt.

Leaving the supper room presently, they came face to face with the
burgermeester and his wife, and with them was a young woman.  Serena
recognised her at once--she had been with Ivo at the hospital and in
his car.  And now, having a closer look, she could see that she was
strikingly beautiful, with almost black hair and large dark eyes.  She
was dressed in black, something slinky and soft, showing off her
splendid figure.

And Ivo had stopped, so that Serena had to stop too.

"You must meet," said the burgermeester's wife.

"Ivo must have mentioned Rachel to you, Serena-such old friends."

She smiled maliciously.

"Serena, this is Rachel Vinke.

Serena is Ivo's wife.  "

She watched them both with sharp eyes and Serena offered a hand,
somehow managing to keep a smile on her face.

"How nice to meet you," she said, and was pleased to hear how friendly
she sounded.  Rachel shook hands, murmured something conventional and
turned to Ivo.

"Ivo, we must talk; there is a great deal I have to say to you."

She flashed a smiling look at Serena.

"You do not mind?  A personal matter, you understand?"  She turned back
to Ivo.

"Tomorrow, perhaps?  If I come to the hospital?"  She frowned.

"No, of course it will be Sunday..."

"Why not come to lunch?"  asked Serena, surprised at the words which
had popped out of her mouth before she could stop them.  She had been
mad to utter them, but at least she had seen the disconcerted look on
the burgermeester's lady's face.  When she glanced at Ivo there was no
way of knowing if he was pleased or not; he looked exactly the same as
always: calm and remote and pleasant.

"That would be ideal," said Rachel.

"We will then have the leisure to talk, you and I?"

Ivo's voice was giving nothing away; he agreed with just the right
amount of interest expected of him, and after a few minutes' talk they
separated.

Serena, not sure what was to happen next, said quickly, "I'm going to
tidy myself before the dancing starts again," whisked herself away. 
She wasn't certain, but she had the feeling that Ivo was angry.

And so he might well be, she thought angrily, pinning her already tidy
hair, springing a surprise like that on her just when she was enjoying
herself.  Well, he couldn't say that she was interfering in his life
like a possessive wife.

They were friends and nothing more, weren't they?  She whirled herself
back to the ballroom, and the first thing she saw was Ivo with Rachel.
She was looking up at him as they danced, and talking.  The second was
Dirk Veldt, who swung her onto the floor before she had the chance to
speak.

"I was beginning to think that I would never get the chance to dance
with you," he told her, 'but I see Ivo is engrossed with Rachel Vinke.
You've met her?

She's beautiful, isn't she?  Personally I prefer your type of beauty,
Serena.  You look gorgeous tonight.  "

She didn't believe that, of course, but it was welcoming to her unhappy
ears.  He was holding her too tightly, but she didn't care.  If Ivo
could go dancing off with this Rachel who seemed to know him so well,
she had every right to dance with Dirk.  And what did they want to talk
about? Something that necessitated her coming to lunch.  "You're not
listening to a word I'm saying," said Dirk, bending his head to speak
softly into her ear.

She wasn't, but as Ivo and Rachel were close enough to see them, Serena
gave Dirk a brilliant smile.

The dancing went on for some time.  She had partners for all the
dances, and two more with Dirk, but at last it was the final dance and
Ivo claimed her.  They danced in silence, and when it finally ended
they made their way back out of the ballroom, stopping to speak to
friends as they went.

Ivo said, "I will wait here while you get your coat."  He spoke
pleasantly, but his eyes were cold.  She had made him angry and she
told herself that she was glad of it.  If he wanted to quarrel she was
quite willing.  In the car, beside him, she said defiantly, "What a
delightful evening.  I did enjoy it.  Didn't you, Ivo?"  She added
daringly, "Meeting so many people too."

He gave a grunt and didn't speak again until they were home.

In the hall, Serena yawned.

"There's coffee on the Aga if you want some, Ivo.  I think I'll go
straight to bed."  She turned as she reached the staircase.

"Goodnight Ivo."

He was standing in the hall, looking at her.

"You danced a good deal with Veldt."  He spoke very quietly.

"Yes."  It seemed prudent to start climbing the staircase.

"He's a good dancer and great fun..."

"Were you paying me back in my own coin, Serena?"  he asked blandly.

"As a matter of fact I was.  What's sauce for the goose is sauce for
the gander."

The look on his face didn't exactly frighten her, but it sent her
running up to her room at a fine rate.

By the morning's light she regretted every word she had said.  Never
mind that he had hurt her so that she actually ached with unhappiness.
When they had married they had struck a bargain; she had known exactly
what he had wanted and she had agreed to it--a calm partnership with no
pretence of love, only friendship and liking and a comfortable knowing
that they got on well together.  And now she had shattered that.

She got up and dressed and went down to breakfast, and found him
standing by the open door.  The dogs were in the garden and Puss was
sitting by his feet.

He turned to wish her a genial good morning and she said at once, "Oh,
don't be nice, Ivo.  I'm sorry-- I shouldn't have said what I did last
night.  If you want to be angry I'll deserve every word of it.  And I
only danced with Dirk Veldt to annoy you..."

He turned from the door as the dogs came in.

"My dear, Serena, why should I be angry?  You may dance with whom you
choose and say what you wish."

"Yes, that's all very well, but that isn't what we agreed, is it?  We
were to have a friendly marriage and not--not interfere.  And you have
every right to see your friends.

She's very beautiful.  "

"Ah," said Ivo, in such a strange voice that she looked at him again.

"You believe that I am enjoying the resumption of a love affair?"  he
went on bitingly.

"We have been married a matter of a few weeks, Serena.  If that is what
you think of me then perhaps we should confine our feelings to the
friendship to which you so often allude and avoid looking too closely
at each other's lives."

"Oh, Ivo," said Serena miserably.

"Shall we have breakfast?  It's a splendid morning for a walk, and you
can tell me what you thought of the reception."

He sounded his usual calm self again; the whole unfortunate episode was
to be overlooked.  Now she would never know about Rachel Vinke.

CHAPTER EIGHT

it was still early when they started out with the dogs, and Serena,
anxious to make amends, said, "We mustn't be too long.  I don't know at
what time Juf- frouw Vinke is coming.

I told Elly there would be a guest for lunch--it's duckling and cherry
sauce, but there's one of Elly's raised pies in case she doesn't like
duckling.  And Domus let me have some strawberries from the greenhouse.
"

She fell silent, aware that she was babbling, and Ivo said, "Rachel is
married.  I said I would fetch her around noon.

How are you getting on with your Dutch lessons?  "

It was a gentle snub; she had deserved it, she supposed.

"Very well, I think, though the grammar is puzzling and I quite often
miss out on the verbs--I mean, having to tack them onto the end of a
sentence, one tends to overlook them."

"Well, you will have a short respite soon.  I'm due at the hospital in
London in just over a week.  I have to go to Leeds too, but you will be
happy with Nanny?"

"Oh, yes, it will be lovely to see her again.  I must find something to
take her."  She glanced at her watch.

"Shouldn't we be turning back?  If you're going to fetch Mevrouw
Vinke..."

He took her arm as they retraced their steps.

"You are anxious to meet Rachel again?  I don't imagine that you have
much in common."

"We're both women," said Serena, and heard his rumble of laughter.

Waiting for Ivo to come with their guest, Serena wandered around the
drawing room, peering in the mirror beneath the windows, poking at her
hair, putting on more lipstick and then rubbing it off again.  A waste
of time, she told herself.  She had no hope of competing with someone
as beautiful as Rachel.

She told herself how right she had been as she went to welcome Rachel
as she got out of the car-in white from head to toe.  The simplicity of
her dress owed its art to couture, and made Serena's straw- coloured
linen two-piece insignificant.  And her make-up was faultless.  Serena,
very aware of her own shortcomings, greeted her with the social smile
she had learnt, to cover her true feelings.

"Such a lovely day," she observed.

"Do come in.  What can we get you to drink?"

They had their drinks sitting by the window overlooking the ornamental
pool at the back of the house, and Serena made small talk and didn't
look at Ivo.  He was, as he always was, a perfect host, and it was
impossible to tell from his manner whether Rachel was just a friend or
someone much nearer than that.  And over lunch Serena had to admit to
herself that she quite liked Rachel;

she was amusing and a good talker, and she had a warm and ready smile.
And she was attractive.  As they finished their coffee, Rachel said,
"And now I must talk to you, Ivo.  Serena does not mind?"

"Not a bit."  Serena summoned the smile again.

"I'll take the dogs for a run.  You'll stay for tea?"

"I would have liked that, but I have a plane to catch..."

She watched them go to Ivo's study and whistled to the dogs.

How long would they be?  she wondered.  And then set off at a brisk
pace, trying to forget about them.  But she was back in the house an
hour later, sitting in the drawing room, her ears stretched to hear the
study door open.

They came into the drawing room presently; Ivo's face showed no more
than its usual calm, and Rachel was smiling widely.

"That is all settled," she told Serena.

"And now I must go back to my dear Jan.  He will be so relieved that
everything is settled.  I don't know what we would have done without
Ivo's help, first to put together his broken arms and legs and then to
deal with all this tiresome lawsuit.  But now at last it is--how do you
say?--plain sailing."

But not for Serena, of course.  She asked, "Your husband--he has been
hurt in an accident?"

"Ivo did not tell you?  A car crash--not his fault.  He has broken both
his legs and both his arms.  Can you imagine anything more terrible?
And Ivo has put him together again.

We knew he would, and he came to Madrid at once when I came to ask
him--he and Jan are old friends, you see.  And, then he has arranged
everything with Jan's solicitors--it is to go to court, you see.  Today
I brought the last of the papers for Ivo to see and sign.  "

She flashed Serena a brilliant smile.

"It is so like Ivo to do all this and say nothing."

She kissed Serena warmly.

"When Jan is well again you must both come and stay with us.  And now I
must go, but I am glad that I have met you.  You are just as Ivo
described you."

Ivo had been standing at the window with his back to them.

Now he turned round to say, "We had better leave, Rachel, we're cutting
it fine."

He looked at Serena then.

"I should be back before dinner."

He touched her shoulder as they went out, but he didn't kiss her.

By the time he returned Serena was in a bad temper.  He had
deliberately misled her; there had been no reason why he couldn't have
explained about Rahel.  Perhaps he had found it amusing.  She ground
her splendid teeth and tossed back a glass of sherry that she didn't
want.

The moment he came through the door she rounded on him, made reckless
by a second glass of sherry and a strong sense of grievance.

"You could have told me."  Her voice was shrill, so she paused and
started again.

"About Rachel.  It was beastly of you to let me think the things I
did."

"And what did you think, Serena?  Or shall we ignore your regrettable
thoughts?  And I didn't tell you for the simple reason that you had
already drawn your own conclusions."

He had crossed the room and come to stand before her, and suddenly gave
a chuckle.

"You've been at the sherry..."

Which was just too much for her.

"I hate you," said Serena in a choked voice, and raced out of the room
and upstairs, where she banged her bedroom door shut, flung herself on
the bed and burst into tears.

Ivo stood for a while, looking at nothing and deep in thought.  He had
the look of a man who had made a delightful discovery.  Presently he
went to his dinner, requesting Wim to make sure that mevrouw should
have a supper tray taken to her bedroom.

"She has a severe headache," he told his elderly retainer, who went to
the kitchen and told Elly that he was willing to bet his week's wages
on the master and missus being not on speaking terms for the moment

"It'll blow over," said Elly.

"Look at the times you and me have had words, and here we are after I
don't know how many years."

Wim took the supper tray from her and kissed her plump cheek.

"Forty next year," he told her, and trod carefully upstairs to tap on
Serena's, door.

It was perhaps not very romantic to be hungry when one's heart was
breaking, but Serena polished off the contents of the tray and then,
since there was nothing else to do and she had no intention of going
back to the drawing room, lay in a hot bath until she was as pink as a
lobster and went to bed.  Where, rather to her surprise, she fell
asleep at once.

The thought of facing Ivo across the breakfast table was daunting, but
she wasn't a coward, and dressed in a patterned skirt and a cashmere
top, she went downstairs.

Ivo came in from the garden as she reached the breakfast table.  His
good morning was friendly as was his enquiry as to her headache.

"You slept well?"

"Like a log," said Serena, 'and I didn't have a headache, only a bad
temper!  "

He passed her the toast.

"One of the things I like about you, my dear, is your honesty, so
perhaps you will set my mind at rest about something you said.  That
you hated me..."

He was staring at her across the table, not smiling, but not angry
either.

"No, I don't hate you," she said.

"I'm sorry I said that, but I was cross."

He smiled at her.

"So you were..."

"Are you never cross, Ivo?  I mean wanting to shout at someone?"

"Not cross, but angry.  Yes, I can be angry, but selfcontrol is
something one learns quite quickly in the medical profession.  I'll be
home for lunch and I have to visit an old patient in the afternoon.
Would you like to come with me?"

"Oh, yes, I would.  In Den Haag?"

"No--an old lady who lives in Leiden."  He was sitting back in his
chair and Puss jumped onto his knees, ignoring the dogs at his feet. 
He looked the picture of a happily married man.  Something which he
confidently expected to be, given the patience to wait for Serena to
discover that she was a happily married woman.  They were back on their
old friendly footing, thought Serena, happily going to the kitchen to
discuss the day's meals with Elly.

Her Dutch was improving.  She knew the names of their foods now, and
could add a few words to them, and Elly never smiled at her accent or
her mistakes so that her morning visit was a pleasure.  And, that
settled, she took the dogs for their walk and went back presently to
write a letter to Nanny with Puss curled on her lap.

It was a short drive to Leiden--ten miles or so--and since they were on
the motorway there wasn't much to see, but when they reached Leiden
Serena found plenty to look at and admire.  When Ivo stopped in a
narrow street beside a canal, with a row of small gabled houses facing
it, she exclaimed with delight.  The houses were indeed old, leaning
against each other, each gable different.  They presented a pristine
appearance, with shining paintwork and gleaming windows.

She crossed the cobbles with Ivo and stood beside him as he banged the
heavy door knocker which was opened almost immediately by a stout woman
with screwed up grey hair and very bright blue eyes.  She broke into
speech when she saw Ivo, shook hands with them both and ushered them
inside.

The hall was tiny, with a steep, narrow staircase facing the door and a
half-open door to one side.  The room beyond was small and crowded with
furniture, and every flat surface was covered by photo frames and china
ornaments.  And sitting in the middle of it was a very small old lady,
dressed severely in black.  She had a round face and small dark eyes, a
little beaky nose and white hair, piled high.

Ivo went to kiss her cheek and then introduced

Serena, who shook a hand as thin and light as a bird's claw and
murmured a greeting in her careful Dutch.  The old lady looked her up
and down and had a great deal to say to Ivo.

Whatever it was made him laugh, and he drew a chair forward for
Serena.

"Mevrouw Boldt says you are as pretty as a picture, Serena.  You will
not mind if we speak Dutch?  I must ask her questions about her health.
She worked for my mother years ago, and had an accident recently and
broke her leg and hip.  I just need to check them."

So Serena sat quietly, listening to Ivo's quiet voice, watching his
calm face, wondering if he would ever love her.

And presently the woman who had admitted them came in with a tea tray.
The china cups and saucers were very small, and the tea was weak,
without milk or sugar, but there was a plate of little sugary biscuits.
Serena sipped her tea, making it last, and nibbled a biscuit.  She had
a nasty feeling that there wouldn't be second cups and she was right.

Ivo had finished his talk with Mevrouw Boldt, and the conversation
became general, with Serena's faltering Dutch smoothly helped out by
Ivo, who translated the old lady's questions to her and popped in the
right word when Serena got stuck with her replies.  But the old lady
seemed to like her, and when they got up to go she was invited to kiss
the paper- thin cheek.

"You are to come with me again," said Ivo, bidding the woman who had
admitted them goodbye.

In the car he said, "Mevrouw Boldt is over eighty, but she lives in the
manner of her youth and has no intention of changing her ways.  She was
with my parents for more than fifty years and retired here with her
husband, who was our gardener.  Until she fell and broke a hip a year
or so ago she was very active."

"So you keep an eye on her?"

"Yes.  You liked her little house?"

"It's charming--rather a lot of furniture and ornaments ..."

"Her possessions, much treasured."

"Do you visit her often?"

"As often as I can.  You'll come with me again?"

"Yes, please.  And perhaps by then my Dutch will be better."

"You do very well, Serena."  He turned to smile at her and she smiled
back, just for the moment happy.

They went to England soon after that, and although Serena was glad to
be seeing Nanny once more, she hated leaving the dogs and Puss; she
hated leaving the lovely old house too, and her friends.

"The change will do you good," said Christina, 'and you can do some
shopping for me.  "

Ivo took the car, since he had to go to Leeds as well as London, and
they crossed from the Hock and then drove from Harwich.

It was nice to be in England again, reflected Se- rena, though at the
same time she wished that they were back in Holland.  But Nanny's
welcome was so warm that she forgot that for the moment.  The little
mews cottage offered a cosy welcome, and London could look delightful
on a fine day.

Ivo went at once to the hospital, leaving her to gossip with Nanny and
unpack, and she didn't see him again until the evening.  Over dinner he
told her that he would be at the hospital all day.

"Have you any plans?"  he wanted to know.

"I'm sorry to leave you on the first day..."

"I'm going shopping," said Serena, 'for Christina and for me.  Do you
want anything?  "

"No, thanks.  I'll try and get tickets for the theatre.  What would you
like to see?"

They decided on a musical.

"And we might have a night out after I get back from Leeds."

She realised after the first day that she wasn't going to see much of
him.  It wasn't just his operating lists at the hospital, there were
clinics, and on several evenings meetings with his colleagues.  But at
least she saw him at breakfast, and for dinner in the evening.  And
they had their evening at the theatre.  When she had been living at
home no one had taken her to the theatre--indeed, no one had taken her
anywhere.

The visit to the theatre was a treat, and she enjoyed it with the
wholehearted delight of a child.  Ivo, watching her rapt face, saw
almost nothing of the show.

It was on the next day that he went to Leeds.  He would be gone for
three days, he told her, dropping a light kiss on her cheek, getting
into his car and driving away.

Serena smiled and waved, and then went up to her room and had a good
cry.  She wasn't sure why she cried, but she felt better for it, and
after mopping her face and putting on fresh make-up she went in search
of Nanny.  They would go shopping, she insisted.  She needed several
things, and surely Nanny too had things to buy?

And Nanny, taking a look at Serena's pink nose, agreed immediately.

They spent most of the day at Harrods, where Nanny expressed
astonishment at the prevailing fashions and then spent happy hours in
the food hall.  Serena bought sweets for Christina's children, and a
very beautiful scarf for Christina, and then searched for suitable
gifts to take to Wim and Elly and the rest of the staff.  And for old
Domus she found a lavender bush, small enough to go in the car.

They went back home, tired but pleased with their efforts, and for her
part Serena was glad that one day away from Ivo was already nearly
over.

She and Nanny were in the kitchen when he came home.  Nanny was making
cakes and Serena was sitting on the kitchen table, running a finger
round the remains of the cake mixture in the bowl.  She was sampling it
from one finger when he walked in.

She was off the table and running to meet him when she remembered that
he might not like such a display of delight.

She came to a halt before him and changed the happy grin on her face to
one of friendly surprise.

"Ivo, how nice you're back.  Did you have a good trip?  Do you want a
meal?  Tea won't be for another hour, but we can get you a meal
straight away."

Ivo didn't kiss her because he wasn't sure if he could trust himself to
stop at a peck on her cheek.  He said in his quiet voice, "Hello,
Serena--Nanny.  I'll wait for tea; I had a meal before I left.  I must
do some phoning and catch up on my post; I'll join you in an hour."

He smiled at them and went out of the kitchen, then crossed the hall to
his study and shut the door.

And that's how it will always be, reflected Serena unhappily, doors
shut in my face, however gently.  She helped Nanny tidy the kitchen and
then went to the drawing room.  A good thing she had brought her
knitting with her; she plunged into it now, glad it was complicated,
and that it needed her concentration and the counting of stitches.

So when Ivo came into the room there she was, sitting, to all intents
and purposes, perfectly composed, looking up at him with the kind of
smile a long-married wife might give her husband.

Ivo sat down opposite to her, studying her ordinary face and neat head
of hair.  She was, he considered, not only pretty--very pretty--she was
the epitome of what every wife should be.  She might not have loved him
when they married, but from time to time--in the kitchen just now, he
reflected--her behaviour made him hope that in time she would love him.
He must have patience, he reflected, let her find her feet in this new
life she was leading.

"Did you go shopping?"  he asked.

"Yes, with Nanny.  We had a lovely day, drooling round the Harrods food
hall."  She added, "And I bought two dresses--they were so pretty--and
I'm sure I'll have a chance to wear them later on."

"Before then.  Would you like to dine out tomorrow evening?

And I thought we might go dancing on Saturday night.  " He smiled at
her.

"A chance to wear those frocks."

He took her to the Ritz, where, in one of the new dresses, she dined
off jellied lobster, spinach and walnut salad, rump of lamb and a
dessert of fruit, cream and ice cream which beggared description.  Over
coffee Serena said happily, "This is a heavenly place.  Do you come
here often?"

Ivo smiled.

"No, only on very special occasions."

"Oh, is this a special occasion?"

"I think we should make it one, don't you?"

She wasn't sure if he was serious or not.  She looked out of the window
to the park beyond and then, struck by a sudden thought said, "Is it
your birthday?  I ought to know when it is, oughtn't I?  If it is..."

"No, no, don't worry.  We shall be going back home in two days' time.
I've a meeting tomorrow evening, but we might go to Claridge's on the
following evening.  Would you like that?"

Serena beamed at him across the table.

"Oh, yes, I would.  Is it as splendid as this?"

"Just about.  Are you tired?"

"Tired?  Heavens, no... But you've had a busy day, haven't you?  It's
been lovely, but I'm ready to go home if you would like that."

"No, no.  I'm not in the least tired.  I wondered if you would like to
walk.  We'll take the car as far as the Embankment."

It was a lovely night: moon and stars and cold enough for her to pull
her soft coat around her shoulders.  And the Embankment was the best
possible place to be, she decided, with the lights reflected on the
Thames and the hundreds of lights from the city's windows.  They
strolled arm-in-arm, not always talking, but happy in their silences.
Serena's head was empty of thoughts; it was filled with content.  This
could go on for ever, she reflected, only of course it wouldn't!  But
just for the moment life was perfect.

They went back to the car later, and drove home and sat in the kitchen
drinking the coffee Nanny had left on the Aga.

And when she got up to go to bed, Serena kissed Ivo's cheek shyly, not
sure if he minded that.

"It was a lovely evening, thank you, Ivo.  And I look forward to going
to Claridge's.  Do you have to leave early in the morning?"

"Yes.  I've a list at eight o'clock, but I should be home for tea."

He stood looking down at her, waiting for her to go through the door he
was holding open for her.  The perfume she wore was faint but fragrant,
and he dropped a quick kiss on the top of her neat head of hair as she
passed him, so light that she didn't feel it.

She did the shopping for Nanny in the morning, and after they had had
their lunch together took her self for a brisk walk.  Ivo would be home
for tea and they would have their evening together.  She smiled widely
at the thought so that passers-by stared at her happy face.

It was while they were having their tea that she remembered that he had
a meeting that evening.

"When would you like dinner?"  she wanted to know.

"Did I forget to tell you?  I'm sorry, I'm dining with some of the
committee members before the meeting starts."  He glanced at his
watch.

"I'd better go and change."

"I expect you'll be back late?"

"Probably."  He saw her downcast face.

"Don't wait up, my dear, I'll see you at breakfast."

She bade him goodbye cheerfully enough; she had heaps of things to do,
she assured him, and she must start sorting out things ready to pack.

Ivo nodded absently, his mind already on the meeting ahead.

But he made up for his absence by taking her to Claridge's, as he had
promised.  As sumptuous a restaurant as the Ritz, Serena decided. 
There wasn't a pin to choose between them, and the food was just as
delicious.  And to crown the evening's pleasure they danced into the
small hours.  When at length she got to bed she was too sleepy to think
sensibly, but it had been another evening to remember for life.

Serena was sorry to say goodbye to Nanny, although, as Ivo pointed out,
it was only a matter of a few hours' journey for her to return whenever
she wanted to.

"You'll be coming again?"

"Certainly, in a couple of months' time.  I may come over for brief
visits spend one night, perhaps

He gave Nanny a hug, popped Serena into the car and drove off.  On the
way to Harwich he asked, "Did you phone your brothers?  Would you like
to visit them?  Now that we are married and settled down they may feel
differently about us."

Serena thought that even if Ivo had settled down she hadn't.

She peeped at his calm profile.

"I phoned them, but they were still annoyed; I don't think I'd better
visit them yet."

Henry had been nasty, as only Henry could be, and Matthew had talked to
her as though she had disgraced the whole family.  She said, "Gregory
has married.  She's the daughter of the Mayor of Yeovil.  He must be
glad he gave me up!"

Ivo's hand came down on her knees.

"I'm the one who is glad," he told her.

The crossing was smooth, and they were back home in time to eat the
light supper Wim had ready for them.  Ivo would be going to the
hospital in the morning, so he excused himself with the plea of letters
to read, phone calls to make and the dogs to take for a walk.  Serena,
mindful of her wish to be the perfect wife, bade him goodnight and went
up to her lovely room with Puss and unpacked and bathed and got into
bed.  She was lonely.  She supposed that loving someone and not being
able to tell them that made for loneliness.  She lay awake for a long
time, until she heard Ivo come to bed well past midnight.

Life had settled down into its quiet pattern again.

She went to see Christina the next day, handed over the things she had
bought for her, agreed to sell flags for a charity, to help at a bazaar
in aid of orphans and attend a concert in which Christina's children
were appearing, and then on an impulse she took a tram to Scheveningen,
where she walked along the promenade until she was tired.  There were
plenty of people and a great many children playing on the sands.  She
took the tram back in a while, and went back home to eat her solitary
lunch and take the dogs for a walk.

When Ivo got home after tea she was in the drawing room, knitting the
second sleeve of the sweater.  She was rather tired of it by now, and
probably Ivo wouldn't like it.  She decided that she would start on a
set of tapestry covers for the dining room chairs.  The work of a
lifetime.  Several days later she went into Den Haag, collected her
flags and collecting box and went to her allotted pitch outside a
bookshop, which pleased her since she could from time to time study all
the latest editions in its windows.

The street was a busy one, and she rattled her box with a will, smiling
at the passers-by whether they stopped or not.

She was enjoying herself; it was a fine winter's morning and she liked
the bustle around her, and later on she would meet Christina for lunch
and compare notes.  The morning was well advanced when Dirk Veldt
stopped in front of her.

"Serena, how delightful to see you, and what a marvelous excuse to stop
and chat while you sell me one of these flags."

She offered him a flag.

"Shouldn't you be working at the hospital?"

"A man must eat; I'm taking a long lunch hour."  He gave her a charming
smile.

"Will you share it with me?  There's a little restaurant near here
where they serve the most delicious sole baked in cream..."

"No, thank you.  Dirk.  I'm here for another hour and then I'm lunching
with Christina ter Brandt.  You haven't given me any money for your
flag."

He shrugged, and fished in his pocket for a note.

"I shan't give up.  You must be exciting under that matter-of-fact
manner."

"Well, you're wrong, and do go away.  Enjoy that sole.

Perhaps you'll find a pretty girl you can share it with.  "

She smiled at him, wishing that he would go.  And Ivo, driving to his
consulting rooms, saw the smile.  The rage which engulfed him needed
all his selfcontrol to subdue.

It was late afternoon when he got home and Se rena, very satisfied with
her efforts, was in the drawing room, the tea tray beside her.

She looked up as he went in, gave him a smiling greeting and asked if
he would like tea.

"It's a bit late," she explained, 'but I had lunch with Christina and
we sat talking.  I sold all my flags too.  "

Ivo sat down, refused her offer of tea, and enquired idly if she had
enjoyed herself.

"Yes, I did, and people were very generous."  She went rather pink.

"Dirk Veldt bought a flag from me.  He wanted me to have lunch with
him."

And Ivo sighed with relief--she had told him of her own free will. 
"And why didn't you?  He's an amusing companion, I should imagine."

The pink deepened.

"I thought I liked him when I met him.  I mean, I didn't know anyone,
and he came and talked to me and made me feel that I was someone--if
you see what I mean?  You see, Ivo, I never had much of a social life,
and I know I'm a plain Jane but he made me feel pretty.  But now I have
friends, and I go to committee meetings and bazaars and things like
that.  I've found my feet."  She stopped to think.

"And now I know that I don't like him.  We're bound to meet, aren't we?
But he doesn't have to be a friend."

Ivo listened to this with deep satisfaction.  His Se- rena had indeed
found her feet; she was happy and busy and she was liked by everyone
who met her.  And he had glimpsed the look of delight on her face when
he had come into the room.  Perhaps now was the right time.
"Serena..."

The phone stopped him.  He picked it up and she listened to his quiet
voice saying little.  She knew enough Dutch now to understand that it
was urgent, and when he put the phone down and told her that he must
return to the hospital for an emergency operation, she said, "Hard
luck, Ivo.  We'll wait dinner for you.  It's something that'll keep.  I
hope it's successful, whatever you will have to do."

She smiled at him as he paused by her chair to kiss her cheek, and she
wondered what it was that he had been going to say to her.

He phoned from the hospital later on that evening;

he would be late home.  Would she ask Elly to leave something on the
Aga for him?  He would see her at breakfast.

She knew better than to waste his time asking questions.  In the
morning at breakfast he might tell her about it.  It pleased her that
he was getting into the habit of describing his work to her, and she
still spent hours in the library looking up the long words that he used
so that she could look intelligent.

She wrote letters after dinner, a long, newsy one to Nanny and dutiful
ones to her brothers, and by the time she had finished it was almost
eleven o'clock.  She went upstairs to bed and then, suddenly making up
her mind, went down the stairs again in her dressing gown to find Wim.
She would stay up, she told him.  He was to go to bed after he had
locked up.  Ivo had his key, and once he was home he would bolt the
door after him.

Wim demurred.  The master would probably be very late, he told her, and
she would lose her sleep.  But she persuaded him at last, and he went
round securing the doors and windows, settling the dogs in their
baskets and turning out all but the lights in the hall and the
kitchen.

"For that's where I shall sit," declared Serena.

"I can ready Elly's cookbooks and keep an eye on whatever it is that
she has left on the Aga."

The kitchen was warm and quiet.  The stoelklok by the dresser
tick-tocked with soothing monotony, the dogs snored gently and Puss had
curled up on her lap.  It was a very cosy room, despite its size; it
smelled of baking and coffee, mingled with a whiff of something tasty
keeping warm in the oven.

Serena sat contentedly, patiently waiting.  She wasn't sleepy, and Ivo
might like to mull over his work at the hospital.

She had been there for an hour or more when he came in, to stop short
in the doorway as he saw her.

She put Puss down gently and got out of her chair.

"I wasn't sleepy, so I thought I'd wait for you.  There's something in
the oven, and coffee.  Did things go well?"

He came slowly into the room.

"Yes, as far as we can tell at the moment.  There was no need for you
to wait up, Serena."

"But you must eat something..."

"I had something at the hospital.  Go to bed, my dear.  I must just go
to the study to check something, and then I shall go up myself..."

He was holding the door open for her.  It was obvious that he didn't
want her company.  She summoned a smile.

"Well, the coffee's hot if you should change your mind," she told him
cheerfully.

"Goodnight, Ivo."

That had been a mistake, she told herself, taking no notice of the
tears trickling down her cheeks.  She must remember never to do that
again.

CHAPTER NINE

it seemed to Serena that Ivo was avoiding her.  Unless he had been
called away early they breakfasted together, and either dined at home
or with friends.  They walked the dogs, went to an occasional theatre,
but although he was a pleasant and thoughtful companion she sensed a
reserve in his manner, and never once did he talk about them.  She
decided that no woman could feel less married than she did, and that
something must be done about it.  There was always some reason why he
had to go to his study after dinner, or return to the hospital until
the late evening.  And of course when they dined with friends they had
no chance to talk.  The plain unhappy fact was that he didn't enjoy her
company.

And yet when they had married he had made it very clear that he liked
her well enough to marry her.  Rachel was no longer a threat, but
perhaps there was someone else?  He was a man any girl would want to
attract.  She squashed the thought as unworthy.  Perhaps there was
something about her which annoyed him?  And the best way to find out
would be to ask him.

She chose to do it one evening when, after half an hour or so together
in the drawing room after dinner, Ivo put down the newspaper he was
reading.

"I've some notes to look through..."

"Before you go there's something I want to ask you," said Serena, and
now that she had got the words out she wished that she hadn't spoken,
because the look he gave her was suddenly intent.

"Yes?"

She must have been mistaken about the look; his voice was as mild as
milk.  She put down her knitting and met his look.

"There's something not right," she began.

"Have I done something which has annoyed you?  Am I too dull?  Perhaps
I don't behave as I should when we go out, or wear the wrong clothes.
Whatever it is I wish you would tell me and I'll put it right."  She
added in a voice which had become a little sharp, "I think you are
avoiding me.  Oh, not just being with me, I mean when we're together
you remote."  She sighed.

"I'm not explaining very well, am I?"  And when he didn't speak she
added carefully, "I don't want to intrude on your life.  That was
partly why you married me, wasn't it?

To be a friend and a companion but not a real wife.  And I thought it
was working out very well.  "

"Tell me, Serena, are you quite content with our marriage?"

He showed no signs of anger, only interest.

Serena longed to shout No at him.  How could she be content when she
loved him so much?  Faced with the years ahead and never being allowed
to tell him.  Instead she said, "Yes, I am," and went rather red
because she didn't lie easily.

Ivo got out of his chair and stood in front of her chair, towering over
her so that she had to crane her- neck to look at him.

He was smiling.

"Well, I'm not..."  And the phone rang.

Ivo van Doelen wasn't a man who swore habitu ally, but now he let out a
robust Dutch oath which fortunately Serena didn't understand, but his
voice was quiet as he answered it, listened, replied briefly.  He said,
"I must go at once," and was out of the room before she could open her
mouth.

She would wait up for him, she decided.  He might be back within an
hour or so.  Now that she had broken the ice they could talk at least
she could do the talking.  She wasn't sure if he had been listening,
for all he had done was ask if she were content.  But when the
stoelklok chimed eleven she gave up the idea;

he would be too tired to listen, too tired to talk.  She went up to
bed; perhaps in the morning she would try again.  But she saw at once
when she went down to break fast that it was out of the question.  Ivo
was as immaculate as always, but there were tired lines in his face.

"Did you get any sleep?"  she asked him, after wishing him a good
morning.

"A couple of hours.  I didn't disturb you when I came in?"

He was his usual friendly self, passing her the toast, commenting on
the weather.

"No.  Have you a busy day?  You couldn't take a few hours off?"

"I'm afraid not.  I've a clinic this morning, and I'm operating at
Leiden this afternoon."

He gathered up his post and got up from the table.

"I should be home around teatime."

He laid a hand on her shoulder as he passed by her chair.

"Enjoy your day."

Which of course she didn't; she worried until she had a headache.

A few hours in the garden with Domus made her feel better.

They still didn't understand what the other was saying, but somehow
they managed to work together, she undertaking the humbler tasks of
weeding and thinning seedlings while he did complicated jobs such as
grafting and pruning.  She felt so much better that she went indoors
and spent a long time learning her next lesson for her visit to her
teacher on the following day.  And when Christina phoned to ask her if
she and Ivo were going to the burgermeester's dinner party she was so
bright and chatty that Christina put down the phone wondering why
Serena sounded so unlike herself.

Ivo thought the same thing when he got home.  Serena, usually so quiet
and restful, talked non-stop, barely giving him time to answer or make
any comment, and although she asked him about his day, she gave him no
chance to answer.  Any ideas he had had about a serious talk he
rejected, for Serena was clearly not in the mood.

And so it was for the next few days; Serena was hiding behind a barrier
of small talk.  She was friendly made sure that his house was run
exactly as he wished, was a charming hostess when he brought colleagues
back with him one afternoon but the barrier was there, as intractable
as barbed wire.

They just couldn't go on like it, of course; he would be free on the
following weekend and he would tell her that it was impossible to go on
as they were.  His hope that she might learn to love him was fading
fast, but he would tell her that he loved her, even if it meant that
she would want to end their marriage.  That she was unhappy about it
seemed evident to him.  It was such a pity that each time they had been
on the point of talking about it they had been interrupted.

But nothing of their disquiet showed when they reached the
burgermeester's house; they appeared to be exactly what they were: a
newly married couple and very happy.  Only Christina saw the dark
circles under Serena's eyes and Ivo's bland expression which concealed
his true feelings.

There's something wrong," she told Duert as they were getting ready to
go to bed.

"I have a feeling in my bones..."

"Well, don't try and find out, my darling, it might make matters worse.
Allow Fate to settle the matter in her own way; she always does."

And he was right.

Several days passed, and Serena wondered uneasily if she would get a
chance to talk to Ivo.  He was busier than ever, it seemed, sometimes
away overnight, often late home in the evening.  He was invariably
pleasant, enquiring after her days, her Dutch lessons, whether she had
heard from Nanny.  but there was never time to do more than give him a
quick answer.

He was going to Luxembourg in the morning, he told her one evening.  To
operate on one of its leading citizens.

"Nothing too serious.  If all goes well I should be home late in the
evening, or at least the following morning.  I'll phone you as soon as
I know."

He had gone with a quick peck on her cheek and a wish that she would
have a pleasant day.

He phoned in the early evening.  He would have to stay longer than he
had expected.  He would be home some time during the following
evening.

Serena went to bed early, which was silly because she didn't sleep
until early morning, and woke wondering how to fill the empty day
stretching endlessly until Ivo should be home again.  She would go to
the sea, she decided, and got up to an early breakfast, took 'the dogs
for their walk and went home to find a message from Christina.  Would
she go to the new day centre that had been opened in Den Haag?  A
project to keep young people with nothing to do off the streets.

There was to be a free meal at midday, and they were short of
helpers.

Serena agreed at once, and went in search of Wim.  She explained that
she would be out for most of the day and asked him to drive her to the
centre.

Wim didn't approve.  The centre was in a poor quarter of the city; he
wasn't sure if the master would approve either.

"There will be several ladies there, Wim," Serena assured him, 'and
I'll be back around teatime.  "

She had to agree with him about the shabbiness of the centre's
surroundings: mean streets with small houses, many of them with their
windows boarded up.

Wim tut-tutted with disapproval.

"There are illegal immigrants here from all over Europe.  They bring
many children with them and there is not always any work."

He was reassured to see several ladies going to and fro inside the
centre, and Serena said briskly, "You see, Wim, there are any number of
us here.  And I'll get a lift back."

She was given an apron the moment she put her face round the door, and
the burgermeester's wife-in charge, of course--directed her to one of
the long counters set up in the main room.  And no sooner was Serena
behind it when the doors were opened and people poured in.  A medley of
humanity, not just the young people she had expected, but the old, and
mothers with young children.  She poured soup and handed bread and mugs
of coffee, hoping she was doing the right thing, for there was no
chance of talking to any of the other helpers.

It was a seemingly unending stream, and she was quite sure that several
of the younger ones came back for second helpings.  And while the food
held out, why not?  she asked herself.  When the burgermeester's wife
came round to make sure that everyone was doing things the right way,
and told her that on no account must she allow anyone to have more than
one helping, Serena replied with suitable meekness and doled out more
soup to a very large and hungry- looking man who undoubtedly needed
it.

The lady helpers were supposed to leave their positions in turn, in
order to refresh themselves with coffee in a back room, but somehow
Serena didn't manage to get there.  The food and soup were beginning to
run out and the afternoon was well advanced.  The crowd was thinning,
although there were still a great many young mothers with babies and
toddlers.

After this, the opening day, marked by the free lunch, the centre would
cater only for schoolchildren and teenagers, and the old people and
small children would stand no chance.

Serena scraped out the soup to the last drop and handed out the last of
the bread.  The coffee had long since gone.

The ladies began to collect up their things, ready to go home, telling
each other that their efforts had been very successful while they
ushered the last of the lingerers out of the door.  Volunteers would
come in the morning and clear up and prepare the centre for the
evening.  Now everything could be safely left.

Serena, offered a lift by one of the helpers who lived outside the
city, looked around her.  It worried her house-proud notions to leave
the place scattered with used mugs and crumbs and spilled soup, but
since there were people coming to clear up.  she started for the door
with the last few ladies.  They had almost reached it when Serena
stopped.

Up against a wall in the shadows there was a bundle, but somehow it
didn't look like an ordinary bundle.  She went nearer to have a look
and saw a child,

little more than a toddler, dark-skinned, with black curly hair and
very dirty.  He was sound asleep.

All but one of the ladies had gone through the door; the one who had
offered her a lift came to join her.

"We can't leave him here," said Serena urgently.

"Surely his mother will miss him and come back?  He's not Dutch, is
he?"

"No, Bosnian, I should think; there were a lot of Bosnian women here,
most of them with babies or toddlers.  Shall I phone the police?  I'll
call in at Christina's and phone from there."

She eyed Serena uncertainly.

"You wouldn't mind waiting here with him?  I can't stop--the
children..."

"Of course.  As long as Christina knows where I am and will come pick
me up later.  I'm sure the mother will return soon."

"Then I'll go.  Will you lock the door?"

"No, otherwise if she comes she may think there is no one here."

It was quiet once her companion had gone.  Serena went and looked at
the child, still sleeping.  She looked round for a chair and found a
wooden one in the room at the back of the building.  She took it back
and set it up against a wall facing the door, picked up the sleeping
child and sat down.

The chair was hard and the child was surprisingly heavy, but she told
herself it wouldn't be for long.

The minutes ticked away half an hour, an hour, and there was no sign of
the mother, and presently the little boy woke up.

He began to cry at once, bellowing his fright in a language Serena
couldn't understand.  Certainly not Dutch; if he was Bosnian then this
wasn't her lucky day.  For want of a better idea she spoke to him in
English, which didn't help matters, although he stopped crying for a
time while she sang all the nursery rhymes she could remember.  And
there was not a crumb to eat or a drop of drink, other than the water
which dripped from the solitary tap in the bare little kitchen.

And when she tried to put him down so that she could fetch some he
roared and screamed so much that she gave up the idea.

"The police will be here soon," she assured him, and hoped that they
wouldn't be long.

But the lady who had promised to go to Christina's and phone from there
had found her away from home and, rather than explain to Corvinus, had
driven on home.  In the small flurry of finding one of her children had
cut her knee, she had forgotten all about the matter, a fact of which
Serena was unaware-and a good thing too!

Another hour passed.  The child slept again and she turned over in her
mind what was best to be done.  There was little noise from the street
outside; she had tried calling but no one had answered, and she
hesitated to roam the streets, knocking on doors to be confronted by
people who would probably not understand a word she said.  They might
even think that she had kidnapped the boy.  It was a silly situation,
she reflected, but surely the police would come, and if Christina had
been told she would come too.  She decided that she would wait for
another hour and then try to find someone to help her.  It would be
difficult, for she would have the boy with her and he wasn't a passive
child.

He awoke then, and burst into tears once again, wetted himself, and
then was sick all over her skin.  Mr.  van Doelen, home from
Luxembourg, wandered into his drawing room and found it empty.  He
turned to look enquiringly at Wim, who had hurried after him.

"Mevrouw went this morning to help at that new centre for young people.
I drove her there, and it's not in a decent part of the city either. I
didn't like leaving her, but she said she'd get one of her friends
there to drive her back.

Teatime she said.  But she ought to be home by now.  "

"Probably having tea with someone, Wim."

"Oh, no, mijnheer, she would never be away from home if she knew you
were coming."

"I'll phone around and see where she is."  It wasn't until he had rung
several of Serena's friends and been told that she had certainly been
at the centre and as far as they knew had left when they did that he
began to worry.  And Christina wasn't home.  She had been the first
person that he had phoned; now he phoned again.  She had just
returned.

"Wait while I ask if anyone has left a message," she told him.

She was back very quickly.

"Anna opened the door to Mevrouw Slotte she was helping at the centre
she said she had a message for me but couldn't stop to tell Corvinus.
I'm going to ring her now.  I'll phone you back..."

Ivo curbed his fierce impatience.  It was several minutes before
Christina rang.

"The silly woman says she forgot.

Serena found a small child just as they were leaving the others had
gone on ahead.  It was asleep and Serena said she would stop until the
mother came for him.  Mevrouw Slotte said she would call here and let
me know, and also tell the police.  She forgot all about it when she
got home some small domestic crisis, she said.  "

"Thanks, Christina.  I'll phone the police and go there immediately."

"I'll phone the police; you go and fetch her.  There are too many
undesirables living around there..."

Ivo was out of his house, shouting to Wim as he went, and driving to
Den Haag as though the devil were at his heels.

But as he went through the door at the centre to all appearances he was
his usual, calm, unhurried self.

He saw Serena at once, of course, sitting with the child, sleeping
again, on her lap, and saw her face light up with joy and heard her
voice, a bit squeaky with emotion.  He crossed the floor, lifted her
and the boy out of the chair and sat down, holding them both close.

For a moment he didn't say anything, but he kissed her instead.

"Oh, Ivo," said Serena, and kissed him back.  Then added, "He's been
sick all over my dress and he's..."

"Trifling matters, my darling.  You're all right?  You weren't
afraid?"

"Not at first.  I was just beginning to get scared, only you came.  You
called me darling; did you mean to?"

"Of course I meant to.  I've been wanting to call you darling since the
moment I set eyes on you--' He broke off as two police officers came
in.

Ivo put Serena carefully back on the chair and picked up the boy, and
she sat there, strangely content, smelling dreadful, listening to him
explaining to the men.  Presently he handed over the child to one of
the officers and came with the other to where she was sitting.  The
officer understood English, and Ivo filled in gaps when Serena got
stuck, and presently the police left.

"We are going home," said Ivo.

"I'll lock the door and let Christian have the key."  He held out a
hand.

"Come, my love."

She looked down at her ruined dress.

"The car-- I'm filthy..."

"Take it off."

No sooner said than done.  He cast the garment into a corner and took
her hand without appearing to look at her, and he had her into his
coat, out of the place and into the car before she could utter. 
Somehow it seemed quite a normal thing to be sitting there in a flimsy
slip under his coat while he drove first to Christina, with the key,
and then home.

Wim, opening the door, took one look and retired discreetly to the
kitchen.

"They won't be wanting their dinner just yet," he told Elly.

Serena made for the staircase, but Mr.  van Doelen was too quick for
her.  She was held tight in his arms, her face grubby, her hair a
disaster, in a slip that would never be the same again.

"Did I ever tell you that you are beautiful?"  asked Ivo, "And that I
love you to distraction?"

"No," said Serena, 'you didn't, but you can tell me now.  No, wait
until I've had a bath and got into clean clothes.  "

He sighed.

"I've waited so long I suppose that I can wait a few minutes longer."

She leaned up to kiss him.

"I love you too, you know."  She studied his face.

"Shall we be happy ever after now?"

His kiss gave her the answer she wanted.