LITMIR.BIZ

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and the boys rushed to greet him. Araminta got to her feet and he stared at her for a long moment. He had thought about her while he had been away, unwillingly, aware that she disturbed him in some way, and he had returned home determined to relegate her to where she belonged—the vague background, which he didn’t allow to interfere with his work.

      But the face she turned to him wasn’t easily dismissed; she looked happy. He was so accustomed to her quiet face and self-effacing manner that he was taken aback. Surely that look wasn’t for him? He dismissed the idea as absurd and knew it to be so as he watched the glow fade and her features assume their usual calm.

      He wished her good evening, listened while she gave him a report on the boy’s progress, expressed himself satisfied and, when Bas came to tell him that he had taken his coffee to the drawing room, bore the two boys downstairs with him.

      ‘Fetch them in an hour, if you will, Miss Pomfrey. When they are in bed we can discuss their progress.’

      Left alone, she tidied up the room, got everything ready for bedtime and sat down by the fire. Why was a fire so comforting? she wondered. The house was already warm but there were handsome fireplaces in the rooms in which fires were lighted if a room was in use. She had got used to living in comfort and she wondered now how she would like hospital life.

      In a few weeks now they would be returning to England. She thought of that with regret now that she had met Dr van Vleet. She wondered if she should ask for a day off—she was certainly entitled to one—but Dr van der Breugh hadn’t looked very friendly—indeed, the look he had given her had made her vaguely uncomfortable…

      She fetched the boys presently, and once they were finally in their beds went to her room to change for the evening. The skirt and one of the blouses, she decided. There seemed little point in dressing up each evening, for the doctor was almost never home. But she felt that if Bas took the trouble to set the table with such care, and Jet cooked such delicious dinners for her, the least she could do was to live up to that. She heard the doctor come upstairs and go into the boys’ room, and presently, making sure that they were on the verge of sleep, and with a few minutes so spare before Bas came to tell her dinner was ready, she went downstairs.

      There was no sign of the doctor, but she hadn’t expected to see him. He would probably tell her at breakfast of any plans for the boys. Bas, crossing the hall, opened the drawing room door for her and she went in.

      The doctor was sitting in his chair, with Humphrey at his feet. He got up as she went in, offered her a chair, offered sherry and when he sat down again, observed, ‘I think we may regard Peter and Paul as being almost back to normal. I think we should keep them from school for another few days, but I see no reason why they shouldn’t have a short brisk walk tomorrow if the weather is fine. Children have astonishing powers of recovery.’

      Araminta agreed pleasantly and sipped her sherry. She hoped he wasn’t going to keep her for too long; she was hungry and it was already past the dinner hour.

      ‘You must have a day to yourself,’ said the doctor. ‘I’m booked up for the next two days, but after that I will be at home, if you care to avail yourself of a day. And this time I promise to make sure that you enjoy yourself. You may have the Jaguar and a driver, and if you will let me know where you would like to go, I will arrange a suitable tour for you.’

      Araminta took another sip of sherry. So she was to be given a treat, was she? Parcelled up and put in a car and driven around like a poor old relative who deserved a nice day out.

      She tossed back the rest of the sherry and sat up straight. ‘How kind,’ she said in a voice brittle with indignation, ‘but there is no need of your thoughtful offer. I have other plans.’

      The doctor asked carelessly, ‘Such as?’ and when she gave him a chilly look he said, ‘I do stand, as it were, in loco parentis.’

      ‘I am twenty-three years old, doctor,’ said Araminta in a voice which should have chilled him to the bone.

      He appeared untouched. ‘You don’t look it. Had I not known, I would have guessed nineteen, twenty at the most.’ He smiled, and she knew that she would have to tell him.

      ‘Dr van Vleet has asked me to spend the day with him.’

      She had gone rather red, so that she frowned as she spoke.

      ‘Ah, a most satisfactory arrangement. And it absolves me from the need to concern myself over you. Telephone him and make any arrangements you like; I am sure you will enjoy yourself with him.’ He put down his glass. ‘Shall we go in to dinner?’

      ‘Oh, are you going to be here?’ Araminta paused; she had put that rather badly. ‘What I meant was, you’re dining at home this evening?’

      The doctor said gravely, ‘That is my intention, Miss Pomfrey.’ She didn’t see his smile, for she was looking at her feet and wondering if she should apologise.

      He, aware of that, maintained a steady flow of small talk throughout the meal so that by the time they had finished she felt quite her normal calm self again.

      Getting ready for bed later, she even decided that the doctor could, if he chose, be a pleasant companion.

      The next few days went well. The boys, making the most of their last free days before going back to school, took her about the city, spending their pocket money, feeding the ducks in the park, taking her to the Oudegracht to look at the ancient stone—a legendary edifice which, they told her, with suitable embellishments, had to do with the devil.

      She saw little of the doctor, just briefly at breakfast, with occasional glimpses as he came and went during the day, but never in the evenings. Somehow he made time to be with his nephews before their bedtime, when she was politely told that she might do whatever she wished for a couple of hours, but they didn’t dine together again.

      Not that Araminta minded. She had phoned Dr van Vleet and, after gaining the doctor’s indifferent consent, had agreed to spend the day with him on the following Saturday.

      She worried as to what she should wear. It was too chilly for the two-piece; it would have to be a blouse and skirt and the jacket. A pity, she reflected crossly, that she never had the time to go shopping. In the meantime she would have to make do with whatever her meagre wardrobe could produce. She had money, the doctor was punctilious about that, so the very first morning she had an hour or two to herself she would go shopping.

      The sun was shining when Dr van Vleet came for her; the doctor had already breakfasted, spent a brief time in his study and was in the garden with the boys, but they all came to see her off, the boys noisily begging her to come back soon. ‘As long as you’re here in the morning when we wake up,’ said Peter.

      Dr van Vleet drove a Fiat and she quickly discovered that he liked driving fast. ‘Where are we going?’ she wanted to know.

      ‘To Arnhem first. We go through the Veluwe—that’s pretty wooded country—and at Arnhem there’s an open-air village museum you might like to see. You’ve seen nothing of Holland yet?”

      ‘Well, no, though I’ve explored Utrecht pretty thoroughly. With the boys.’

      ‘Nice little chaps, aren’t they?’ He gave her a smiling glance. ‘My name’s Piet, by the way. And what is it the boys call you?’

      ‘Mintie. Short for Araminta.’

      ‘Then I shall call you Mintie.’

      He was right, the Veluwe was beautiful: its trees glowing with autumn colours, the secluded villas half hidden from the road. They stopped for coffee and, after touring the village at Arnhem, had lunch there.

      After lunch he drove to Nijmegen and on to Culemborg, and then north to Amersfoort and on to Soestdijk so that she could see the royal palace.

      They had tea in Soest and then drove back to Appeldoorn to look at the palace there. Piet finally took the Utrecht road, and she said, ‘You’ve given me a lovely day. I can’t begin to thank you; I’ve loved every minute of it…’

      ‘It’s

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