A Match for Sister Maggy (6 page)

‘Because, unlike you, sir, I didn't ken the way around the house.'

There was a faint giggle from the bed. ‘You deserved that, Paul.'

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. ‘I'm sorry, Sister MacFergus. I had no intention of giving you such a poor welcome to Oudehof. If you would be kind enough to settle my mother in bed, I'll find Mrs Pratt and tell her to bring up tea.'

He disappeared, and Maggy lost no time in getting Mevrouw Doelsma comfortable, thinking as she did so that it must be very pleasant to sleep between such fine linen sheets, monogrammed and embroidered; each of the square pillows was embellished with lace, and the counterpane of peach and silver brocade seemed to her eye to be old but still magnificent. Tea came just as she was finished, and, rather to her surprise, the doctor as well. He introduced Mrs Pratt after she had greeted her mistress with every sign of delight, and when she had puffed her good-natured person away, said,

‘Will you pour out, Maggy?' He pulled up a chair to the small drum table where the tea tray had been set, and
waved her to it. She hesitated. ‘Will ye no' like to have tea together, sir? I have to unpack.'

‘Certainly you must unpack, but only after we've had some tea. Do please pour out.'

She found herself yielding to his compelling charm, and took her place at the table, pouring tea from a magnificent silver tea-pot into paper-thin china cups. The small meal was a lighthearted affair, and Maggy relaxed despite herself after a few minutes of the doctor's easy conversation, forgetting to be shy of her rather grand surroundings, so that an hour slipped away before he suggested that she might like to see her room and unpack.

Mrs Pratt, summoned once more, led her through a door leading from her patient's room into another similar one, equally beautifully furnished. From here they went into the corridor, where Mrs Pratt opened another door, revealing a luxurious bathroom.

‘This will be for your own use while you are here, Sister, and please ask me or Pratt for anything you may require.' The housekeeper nodded and smiled, and puffed back into the bedroom; she was a stout little woman, but very light and active on her feet. Expressing the hope that Maggy would be very happy while she was at Oudehof, she went away, leaving her to unpack and put her clothes away in the vast drawers and closets, where they were immediately lost in a luxurious vastness. When Maggy had tidied herself she went back to Mevrouw Doelsma's room, where the doctor was lounging in a very large chair by the window; he got up and she went in, saying,

‘Ah, Sister, there are one or two things to discuss, are there not?' There was no trace of the charming friendly man with whom she had had tea; rather he was the bland consultant, giving instructions to his nurse—which, she
supposed, in all fairness, was their correct relationship. They walked over to the window and she listened composedly to his directions. ‘My mother's own doctor will call tomorrow morning; if he suggests any changes you will of course follow his wishes. Now I expect you wish to get my mother ready for the night—I suggest that she has a really long sleep. Order anything you may require from Mrs Pratt.' He smiled briefly at her, went over to bed and kissed his mother and wished her goodnight, and left the room.

Mevrouw Doelsma was tired but happy. Maggy dallied over the preparations for bed and stayed with her while she ate her supper, then, leaving a bedside lamp burning and one or two books within reach, prepared to take the tray downstairs. Her patient, looking extremely comfortable against her pillows, said,

‘Now go down and have dinner, Maggy. I shall be all right. I'll ring if I want you.'

Maggy went downstairs with the tray to be met with a rather shocked Pratt, who assured her that there was no need for her to be carrying trays and that she had only to ring when she needed anything done. He put the tray down on a marble-topped wall table in the hall, and opened a pair of double doors and showed her into the dining room, led her to the vast table and pulled out her chair.

‘Master Paul has gone back to Leiden, Sister. He wished you good night and hopes that you will be comfortable.'

Maggy ate the delicious meal, barely noticing what was on her plate. The room was large and of a rich unobtrusive splendour; she felt lost and very lonely in it. Why had she imagined that the doctor would stay—at least to dine? She was, after all, only the nurse. She sat at the gleaming mahogany table, drinking her coffee and wishing she had never come. She must have been mad to have consented
to the doctor's wishes, she should have had nothing more to do with him, and then forgotten him completely. Upon reflection, she admitted to herself that this would have been very difficult indeed. She got up and strolled over to the window; it was a lovely moonlit evening, she could see quite clearly across the gardens to the country beyond. She closed her eyes and thought of her own lonely beautiful Highlands; she longed to be there, walking the dogs, with her home in the valley below; a small safe refuge where she could shut out the rest of the world—she opened her eyes—only she wouldn't be able to shut out Paul.

Maggy got up the next morning after a night of dreams and bouts of heavy sleep, and went to the window. It was a lovely morning; the country around was calm and peaceful, she could see a great distance in every direction. She dressed and went to see how her patient did.

Mevrouw Doelsma, after a sound night's sleep, was in the best of spirits. The day passed happily enough, as did the next two days. Maggy found that she had a fair amount of time to herself while her patient rested. Mrs Pratt took her on a tour of the house, which, she learned, was more than two hundred years old. A great deal of the furniture was almost as old too, and very beautiful. Maggy spent a long time studying the portraits on the walls. Several of them were very obvious ancestors of the doctor. She was surprised to find that there was an extensive park behind the house, and a sizeable stable block, which she made up her mind she would explore one day. She had already made friends with the gardeners and Piet, the groom, who spoke no English, but made things surprisingly clear by means of nods and smiles.

Mevrouw Doelsma was proving herself to be an excellent patient and progressing well, but Maggy took care not
to stray too far from the house. They spent a long time in each other's company, and Maggy listened enthralled to her patient recounting the history of the house and the family. Of the doctor there was no sign. His mother spoke of him frequently, but gave no clue as to his whereabouts.

Maggy went to bed at the end of her fourth day there resigned to the possibility of not seeing him again. She presumed that he would come to see his mother, but it would be unlikely that he would seek her out other than to give her his instructions, and enquire as to his mother's condition. She told herself not to cry for the moon, and resolved to enjoy herself as far as possible while she was in Holland.

M
AGGY SUPPOSED IT
was the wind that wakened her—it was sighing and rustling around the old house; she supposed that she would get used to it in a day or so. She lay listening to it, and gradually became aware of another sound. She sat up in bed and looked at her watch. Who would be walking about at half past one in the morning? She strained her ears and was sure that she heard voices. She got out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown and slippers, and went to the door and peered into the corridor. There was a dim light at the head of the stairs, and nothing to be seen, but the sounds, faint as a whisper, were still playing a duet with the wind. Maggy left the door open and padded across her room and into that of her patient. Mevrouw Doelsma was sleeping quietly. Maggy slid into the corridor and down the stairs; the dining room door was slightly open and there was a thin ribbon of light gleaming palely from it. She crossed the hall, thoughtfully picking up a poker as she passed the massive stove against one wall. The dining room was in darkness, but the kitchen beyond was brightly lit. She went steadily towards the partly open door, swallowing fear with a throat gone dry, and pushed it open. There were two people in the kitchen; one of them
was Dr Doelsma. He and a very pretty girl were sitting side by side on the kitchen table in the middle of the room. He looked over his shoulder as Maggy went in, put down the mug he was holding, and got to his feet.

‘Sister MacFergus, were we making so much noise?' He caught sight of the poker and came forward and took it from her. ‘An Amazon, and armed!' he murmured with a twinkle, then turned to the girl still sitting on the table and said casually,

‘Stien, this is Sister MacFergus, of whom I told you.' He smiled at Maggy, standing pokerless and awkward between the door and the kitchen table. ‘May I introduce Juffrouw Stien van der Duren from Utrecht hospital?'

The girl got off the table and came over to Maggy, holding out her hand. She was small, barely up to Maggy's shoulder, and slim and very pretty with fair hair hanging in a shining curtain to her shoulders. Maggy shook hands, aware of her own junoesque proportions enveloped rather bunchily in a sensible dressing gown.

‘How do you do,' she said rather stiffly. ‘I'm sorry I disturbed you. I heard noises and thought I should see who it was. I'll wish you both a good night.'

She turned to the door, the dignified exit she had planned quite spoiled by a chair which she hadn't noticed and which she now tripped over. The doctor's large hand prevented her from falling, but she didn't look at him as she brushed past him with a muttered, ‘My thanks to the doctor.'

As she went up the stairs she heard the girl's soft laughter.

Maggy awoke early and dressed, made her patient comfortable with her morning tea, and went down to get her own breakfast. Picking up her second cup of coffee, she took it to the window and stood looking out across the park. Presently she became aware of two people cantering
towards the house, and had no difficulty in recognising them. The doctor, on a raw-boned bay worthy of his size, was slightly ahead, but drew in his mount so that his companion could catch up with him. Stien, Maggy noted sourly, looked as attractive on horseback as she did on her two feet. She watched them turn the corner of the house, talking animatedly, before going back to the table, banging her cup and saucer down on it, and going to the door. She had her hand on its big brass handle when she heard her name. Dr Doelsma had come in through the french window.

‘Good morning—I saw you at the window. Have you breakfasted?' He scanned the table. ‘I hadn't expected you up so early.'

She stood very straight, her voice as crisp and severe as her uniform.

‘Your mother likes her breakfast about this time. It's easier if I have mine first. I'm used to early rising, Dr Doelsma.'

He surveyed her coolly. ‘I hope you were not too badly frightened last night, Maggy?'

The unfairness of this remark brought a vexed flush to her cheeks, but she answered in a level voice ‘If I had been badly frightened, sir, I should not have left my bedroom.'

He raised his eyebrows and grinned at her and seemed about to say something further, but turned instead to the window where Stien had appeared. Maggy wished her a quick good morning and made her escape. As she went up the stairs she wondered, as she had wondered many times in the night, just who Stien was.

Mevrouw Doelsma didn't need much done for her, but she loved company. She talked happily about Paul, and spoke of Stien as though she had known her intimately for a long time. Maggy wanted very much to ask if they were engaged, but could not quite bring herself to do so.

The morning passed with only a brief visit from the doctor, who, as he entered the room, suggested that she might like to take advantage of his visit to have her coffee or go for a turn in the gardens, so that when she returned shortly, their conversation was limited to questions and answers of a purely professional nature.

Maggy had a solitary lunch, waited upon by Pratt, and then returned upstairs to settle her patient for her afternoon nap. That lady, thoroughly rested from her journey, and delighted at the prospect of getting up and going downstairs on the following day, was disposed to talk, and it was almost two o'clock before Maggy left her, changed into a kilt and sweater and went downstairs. As she passed through the hall, she heard voices and laughter from the dining room, and supposed Dr Doelsma and Stien were having a late lunch. Perhaps they hadn't cared to lunch with the nurse. Maggy wondered if she should have asked to have her meals in her room. She had done no private nursing, and that aspect of it had not struck her. She should have found out more about it before leaving the hospital. However, it was too late now, so she smiled at Pratt who had appeared to open the door for her, and walked briskly down the drive towards the road. The doctor was home; she felt that she could safely go further afield for an hour or so.

The village was small—a cluster of houses, a few small shops and a large church, which she found to be locked. She bought some stamps, posted letters, and purchased some local views. There were some of Oudehof, so Maggy sent one to the nurses on her ward, and one to Mrs Salt. The people she met were pleasant and friendly, and though they spoke no English, were very helpful when it came to paying for her purchases. She walked back feeling much happier and less lonely.

She changed back into uniform and went to see how Mevrouw Doelsma was feeling; she found her awake and reading letters, which she put down as Maggy went in.

‘Did you have a good walk? Paul and Stien have just gone—some play or other Stien wanted to see in Amsterdam. They asked me to say goodbye to you. Paul says that I may go for a check-up next week. He suggests that we stay for a day or two in Leiden—he has a house there—so that you can have a look round. You'll want to see Amsterdam, and Leiden and Delft, and perhaps the Hague.'

She chattered on, while Maggy helped her to the chair by the small open fire.

‘Shall we have tea, and discuss what we can do tomorrow? Paul thought that if it is fine, I might go out for an hour in the car. Do you drive, Maggy?'

Maggy nodded, ‘Aye, I do.'

Her patient's eyes sparkled. ‘Would you be all right here, do you think?'

Maggy considered. ‘Aye, I think so.' She had driven her father's old Landrover over some shocking bad roads in Scotland in snow and ice and fog. It should be easy in Holland, with never a hill to see. The signs might present a problem, but she thought that they were international to a large extent, and driving on the other side of the road, although strange, should present no difficulties.

‘I'd like fine to drive,' she said.

‘And so you shall, my dear, but perhaps we had better let Pratt drive tomorrow, and then you can take the wheel for a time. He's rather fussy, I'm afraid—he prefers horses.'

Maggy poured second cups. ‘That was a fine beast the doctor was riding this morning.'

‘Cobber? Yes, though he takes a bit of riding, Paul tells me. Do you ride, Maggy?'

‘Since I was a wee girl; but there's not much chance in London, so when I'm home, I often spend the day riding in the hills.'

‘But, Maggy, you must ride here—there are three or four horses in the stables. Ride every morning before breakfast. Pratt shall tell the groom.'

So it was settled, and early next morning Maggy spent a magic hour exploring the country. Her mount was not quite to her liking, however. Biddy was a well-mannered roan with a middle-aged disposition, and a dislike of any exercise harder than a canter. There was a wide sweep of parkland behind the house. Maggy longed to gallop over it, and Cobber, she felt sure, would share her views.

The drive to Sneek after lunch was a great success. The lakes sparkled in the autumn sunshine; they drove slowly through the little town, and then turned into the direction of Heerenveen. Pratt turned the car just below the town into Oranjewoud, where the roads were quiet, and changed places with Maggy. The car was a Daimler Sovereign, and she drove it through the wooded lanes before turning and going back the way they had come. Pratt sat silently beside her, but when she drew up before the door at Oudehof, gave his opinion that her driving was as good as his own, and he for his part felt quite happy about her taking the car whenever she wanted it. This was indeed high praise and she thanked him gratefully. While he was having his tea later, he informed his wife that Sister MacFergus was a well set up, sensible young lady, and pretty too, if you liked your women big.

The next few days passed happily enough. Maggy rode every morning and drove her patient, with Pratt in attendance, round the countryside each afternoon. There was no sign of Dr Doelsma; if his mother had heard from him, she
said nothing. Friends began to call, and Maggy, with time on her hands, spent some time in the stables, making friends with Cobber. He rolled a wicked eye at her, but took her sugar lumps and listened while she talked to him. She had every intention of riding him when she had the opportunity. It came sooner than she had expected, a couple of mornings later when she slipped out of the side door. There was a grey sky with a hint of rain and more than a hint of wind, and no one about in the stables. Without hesitation she went to Cobber's stall, saddled him and led him out into the back drive.

Half an hour later, horse and rider turned for home, girl and beast both happy and satisfied. Some way from the house, Maggy turned off the track they had been following, and once on the grass gave Cobber his head. He needed no urging, but broke into a gallop across the parkland. With easy skill Maggy pulled him back into a canter as they neared the house, and turned the corner of the house at a gentle walk.

Dr Doelsma was standing on the side door steps. He was dressed for riding and white with well-controlled rage. Maggy stopped Cobber in front of him, leaned forward and patted the horse's neck, and said in a small voice. ‘Good morning, Dr Doelsma.' She had gone rather white too, but met his furious gaze bravely. He stood at his ease, looking her up and down. It had been raining for some time, and her hair hung in a damp pony-tail, and small mist-spangled curls framed her face. She was only too aware of the bedraggled appearance of her sweater and slacks, and her lack of make-up. She sat quite still, waiting for him to speak.

‘How dare you take my horse?' His voice was very soft. ‘No one rides Cobber but myself.'

‘Aye, I know, Doctor. But he was in need of a good gallop, and I've done him no harm.' She lapsed into broad
Scots: ‘Dinna' fash yersel', sir, I ken well hoo to ride, and have done since I was a wee bairn.'

‘So I am able to see for myself, but that is no excuse, I think.' His eyes were grey steel. ‘I should like to shake you!' he added furiously. Maggy dismounted, and threw the bridle over one arm, and prepared to lead Cobber back to the stables.

‘I'm sorry ye're disappointed at not getting your ride, Doctor, but it's as well. I'm thinking, for ye're in an awful rage. A good walk, now, is fine for the bad temper. I was not to know that ye'd be wanting Cobber, and please don't blame Pratt. I was earlier than usual this morning, and he knew nothing of this.'

She didn't wait for an answer, but led Cobber away without a backward glance.

She didn't see him again until after lunch—she had been taking her meals with Mevrouw Doelsma, but suggested that today it would be a good idea if she had hers in her room. Her patient agreed that she had a great deal to talk about with her son, mostly business, which could perhaps be better discussed if they were alone.

Accordingly, mother and son sat down to luncheon without Maggy. It wasn't until Paul looked up from his soup and enquired carelessly as to Maggy's whereabouts that Mevrouw Doelsma asked the question she had been pondering for most of the morning.

‘What have you said to Maggy, Paul?'

He looked faintly annoyed. ‘Nothing of consequence, Mama.'

‘She's displeased you?'

‘If you mean am I displeased with the nursing treatment she gives you, Mother—on the contrary, she is a splendid nurse. I am all admiration for her skill.'

His mother caught his eye. ‘Please don't blame her, Paul. It was I who suggested she should drive in the first place, and Pratt says she handles the car to the manner born.'

Paul choked on his soup. ‘The Daimler?' he enquired.

She nodded, then frowned. ‘Wasn't that it?' She sounded worried. ‘Is there something else?'

He said in an interested voice, ‘I wasn't aware that Sister MacFergus had been driving the car. We can discuss that later. She was out riding this morning…' His mother interrupted eagerly.

‘Yes, dear. She goes out every morning; she rides well, I believe. Did you join her?'

Her son smiled reluctantly. ‘I had no opportunity, Mama, to do so. Maggy was riding Cobber.'