Cruise to a Wedding. Бетти Нилс
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‘Dear child,’ she said earnestly, ‘it is quite ridiculous that Adam doesn’t allow you more money. The least he could have done after forcing you to take up nursing in that dreary hospital, was to see that you had sufficient with which to enjoy yourself. I have mentioned it to him on many occasions, you know, but he is as steel; my motherly feelings have no effect upon him; he is a hard man.’ She dabbed her eyes with a large chiffon handkerchief and went on with the same breath, ‘tomorrow we will go to Den Haag; I saw a delightful little dress in Kuhne’s, just right for you, dearest. A little expensive, I am afraid, but we must see what we can do.’ She smiled kindly at Loveday. ‘You like clothes, Loveday?’
The three ladies embarked happily upon this interesting subject and were only interrupted by the entrance of Jaantje, inquiring if the young ladies would like to tidy themselves before lunch, and if so, she would show Miss her room.
Loveday found her bedroom to be as elaborately furnished as the sitting-room; its comfort amounting to luxury. But not quite to her fancy, she decided as she walked round it, picking things up and putting them down again. It was a room to suit Rimada’s mother down to the ground; Rimada too, she rather thought, but for her own taste it was a little too ornate and over-furnished. She found her way to the bathroom leading from it and eyed the gold-plated taps with something like awe; she had never quite believed Rimada when she had said that her mother was rich, but she could see now that she had been mistaken. She washed her face and hands, re-did her hair and face and went downstairs for lunch.
They went shopping the following morning. At least Rimada and her mother shopped while Loveday admired and tried not to envy. She considered Den Haag a lovely city and longed to explore, but it was obvious that there was to be none of that; Rimada, in the excitement of choosing a wardrobe of new clothes, had no thought for anything else; naturally enough. Loveday, with an eye to her slender purse, purchased one or two trifles for her family and refused to be coaxed or bullied, however gently, into buying anything for herself. It wasn’t as if, she told her friend later, she was going to be the bride, and it really didn’t matter a great deal what she wore as long as she was presentable. She had some nice clothes, perhaps not quite as new as she would have liked, but elegant and becoming; she had good taste and an eye for fashion and the fortunate attribute of wearing the right things at the right time. Later that day she sat on Rimada’s bed, staring out on to the flat, tranquil countryside, swept by September rain and a bustling wind, and applauded suitably each time her friend opened a box to reveal some new garment.
‘You’re sure, aren’t you, Rimmy?’ she asked suddenly.
Her friend held up a blue crêpe dress. ‘Well, of course. Look—it is exactly the colour of my eyes.’
‘Silly—I mean about marrying Terry. It’s easy enough for us to get a holiday and just go, but won’t he find himself without a job?’
Rimada nodded, not giving her whole attention. ‘I think so, but he does not mind that. He is far too clever for this job he has, you know. He will one day be a clever surgeon with an enormous practice.’
Loveday remembered his singular ineptitude in theatre and doubted it very much. All the same, he was qualified to a certain extent; he could always earn a living. Only, watching Rimada happily trying on her new clothes, Loveday wondered if that would be enough to content her. Just supposing her guardian didn’t relent? How would she react to being the wife of a comparatively poor young doctor—and how could he hope to be anything else for quite a number of years to come? He would have to work for his fellowship to start with, and that would mean at least two years’ hard study. She voiced her doubts: ‘Supposing you can’t get your money, Rimmy, do you suppose it would be better for you to wait a bit? You could be engaged, you know, until Terry has made his way…if your guardian sees that he intends to make a success of surgery, he’ll probably help.’
She watched Rimada’s mouth set stubbornly. ‘No. I wish to marry now, and so does Terry—nothing shall stop us.’ She shot Loveday a speculative glance. ‘If you back out now, I will still get what I want.’ And Loveday believed her.
They went down to a rather splendid dinner presently, and friends came in afterwards. Loveday, introduced as Rimada’s closest friend, was passed from group to group, thankfully surprised to find that everyone there could speak English. She was having a lovely time, she told herself firmly, hiding what she was distressed to find was boredom: if this was living it up with the rich, then she was disappointed. Sitting around drinking something she didn’t much care about as well as not knowing exactly what it was; listening to chat about clothes, gossip about friends, little titbits of scandal about people she would never meet… She had difficulty in not yawning, feeling mean and priggish for not enjoying herself more. Perhaps tomorrow, she decided, smilingly listening to a young man with long hair carrying on about the latest pop record, she would be able to go for a walk and see something of her surroundings.
She was getting ready for bed, much later, when the thought darted into her sleepy head that Adam de Wolff—she couldn’t remember the rest of his outlandish name—wouldn’t have enjoyed himself much either. She got into bed, dismissing the idea as being disloyal to Rimada and her mother, who were being so kind.
More friends came before lunch the next morning; Rimada’s mother had an unending succession of them, it seemed. Pleasant, talkative people, who sympathized with her in their excellent English because she was a nurse, and in the case of the men, told her how pretty she was. Everyone was so kind and friendly, which made her feel meaner than ever at not enjoying their company more than she did. And Rimada’s mother, kind though she was, began to irritate her, for she felt that the kindness was superficial and would disappear quickly enough if that lady’s comfort was interfered with in any way. I must be getting old and crabby, thought Loveday miserably; all this luxury and I’m not really enjoying it one bit—she might have liked it better if she had been brought up in it. She resolved to try harder; Rimada’s mother was really rather sweet although she spoilt Rimmy beyond anything, and once or twice, when she had been crossed, the sweetness had cracked, and as for Rimada—well, she was a poppet really, with a heart of gold.
Rimada had a hairdresser’s appointment after lunch and her mother always had a rest; it was easy enough to convince them that she would like to explore the country instead of looking at the shops in Den Haag, waiting for her friend. She started off briskly—there was wooded country close by and dunes in the distance. The weather was kinder with a blue sky and a hint of chill in the air. Loveday walked steadily looking around her as she went, stopping to study the farmhouses she passed and stare at the coated cows in the fields bordering the pleasant country road. The trees were further away than she had supposed; she reached them at last to find that they bordered the dunes, and urged on by a heady wind blowing in from the North Sea, she scrambled across them to stand on the beach at last and look at the wide expanse of water before her. It looked cold and grey, and already on the horizon the water was a rapidly darkening reflection of the great bank of clouds creeping over the sky. She stayed ten minutes or more and turned back regretfully, plodding over the dunes once more and then through the trees. The sun had lost its strength by now; she shivered a little in her jersey dress and walked faster. There was no one invited for that evening, she remembered with pleasure, and Rimada’s mother had asked her to unpick and reset the stitches of some embroidery she was doing—she found herself looking forward to the quiet little task.
It had turned four o’clock by the time she got back to the house. She went through the garden door, intending to slip upstairs and tidy herself; Rimada wouldn’t be back for another hour, but her mother would be in the sitting-room. Loveday closed the door quietly behind her and then stood motionless in the hall. Her hostess was already in the sitting-room, having what sounded very like an attack of hysterics. Loveday started forward at a particularly loud wail and was brought up short by a man’s voice. She recognized it immediately even though it spoke another language and registered anger. She was still standing, her mouth a little open with surprise, when the sitting-room door was flung open and Rimada’s guardian, on the point of coming out, changed his mind at the sight of her, and leaned against the door instead, his hands in his pockets, a quite unpleasant expression upon his handsome face. He said: ‘Hullo, Miss Loveday Pearce. Eavesdropping?’