Wish with the Candles. Betty Neels

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СКАЧАТЬ ‘you’ve been very kind.’ She swallowed and went on quickly, ‘I apologize for what I said about the Dutch. I like them very much.’

      He smiled at her with such enchantment that her pulse galloped.

      ‘But you were quite right; we aren’t lighthearted. I hope you enjoy the rest of your holiday.’ He nodded in a friendly way and went back to the car again, put his head through the window and wished her mother a longer and warmer goodbye, then he got back into his own car and sat waiting for Emma to go. She drove away, on the right side of the road this time and without looking at him, although she would have liked to very much. Mrs Hastings, having no mixed-up feelings, stuck her head out of the window and waved.

      When they had gone a mile or so along the road Emma stopped the car and in answer to her mother’s inquiring look, said sheepishly, ‘I just want to see what he’s written,’ and opened the note he had given her. It was, of course, in Dutch; even if it had been in English she doubted if she would have understood a word of its scrawled writing; a good thing perhaps, for he had written: ‘Give this car a quick overhaul without the young lady knowing. Charge her for a new plug and I’ll settle with you later.’ It was signed with the initials J.T.

      Emma folded the paper carefully and put it back in her purse and her mother said thoughtfully, ‘He was nice, that man. Emma, why don’t we know anyone like him?’

      Emma’s pretty eyes twinkled. ‘Dear Mother, because we don’t move in those circles, do we? Not any more.’

      ‘You liked him?’

      Emma chuckled. ‘Mother, we spoke to him for about ten minutes, and you did most of the talking. As far as I was concerned I wasn’t very friendly and nor was he.’

      Her mother sighed. ‘No, dear, I noticed. Never mind, perhaps we shall bump into him again.’ She nodded cheerfully, unaware of her unhappy choice of words.

      ‘Oh dear, I do hope not,’ said Emma, and knew as she said it that there was nothing she would like more than to meet him again. She steered the car carefully to the other side of the road. ‘There’s the garage,’ she remarked, glad to have something else to think about.

      The young mechanic she addressed in English grinned and disappeared to reappear a minute later with an older man who said, ‘Good day, miss,’ and when he had read the note she handed to him, looked at her with a smile and asked, ‘You stay at the hotel?’ and when Emma nodded, went on, ‘De Witte Engel—by the canal in the centrum, you cannot miss. The boy will come for the car. OK?’

      ‘Oh, very OK,’ said Emma with relief. ‘I think I need a new plug.’

      The man smiled again. ‘That comes in order, miss. Make no trouble.’ Which she rightly surmised to mean that she wasn’t to worry about it.

      Oudewater was rather like going through a door into Grimms’ Fairy Tales; the road was cobbled and narrow and there was, inevitably, a canal splitting it down the middle, reflecting the great variety of gabled roofs of the old houses lining it. Possibly because it was so small, the little town seemed full of people. Emma drove cautiously down one side of the canal, crossed a bridge and went slowly up the other side until she reached the hotel. It was small and dark and cool inside, although through an open door at the back of the hall Emma could see the May sunshine streaming on to a small garden. There was no one to be seen, but there were voices clearly to be heard behind several of the doors leading from the hall. Emma, obedient to a large placard which requested ‘Bellen, SVP’, rang the enormous brass bell standing beneath it, and one of the doors opened and an elderly man, not very tall but immensely thick through, appeared.

      ‘We should like to stay the night,’ stated Emma, who was ever hopeful that the man might speak English.’ It was a relief when he said at once, ‘Certainly, miss. Yourself and…?’

      ‘My mother. How much is it for bed and breakfast?’

      ‘Twelve gulden and fifty cents each, miss. Two rooms, perhaps? We are not yet so busy.’ He turned round with surprising lightness for so large a man and took two large keys, each attached to a chain with a brass ball on its end. ‘You would like to see them?’

      The rooms were in the front of the hotel, overlooking the bustling street and its canal, and although they were sparsely furnished they were spotlessly clean with wash-basins squeezed into their corners.

      ‘Plumbing?’ inquired Mrs Hastings, who liked her warm bath. They followed the landlord down an immensely long passage which ended in a door which he flung open with a flourish to reveal a narrow tiled room with what appeared to be a wooden garden seat up against one wall and a bath shaped like a comfortable armchair. ‘Very nice,’ said Emma before her mother could comment on the garden seat. ‘We may stay two nights.’

      The landlord nodded and led the way downstairs again and while they filled in their cards at the desk, fetched their bags and took them upstairs. When he came down Emma inquired hopefully:

      ‘I suppose we couldn’t have tea?’

      ‘Certainly, miss.’ He waved a hand like a ham in the direction of the coffee room. ‘And perhaps an evening meal?’

      Which seemed a splendid idea; the ladies agreed without hesitation and opened the coffee room door.

      It was dark, just like the hall, but in an old and comfortable way, with windows overlooking the street and a great many little tables dotted around. There were large upholstered chairs too and a billiard table in the middle which sustained a neatly laid out collection of papers.

      Over tea and little wafer-thin biscuits, they discussed their day.

      ‘A very satisfactory one,’ murmured Mrs Hastings. ‘How many miles have we done, darling?’

      Emma said promptly, ‘Only about ninety, but we did Utrecht very thoroughly, didn’t we, and Leiden. I liked Leiden and all those dear little villages between.’

      Her mother agreed a little absentmindedly; she was thinking about something else. ‘Do you suppose that car was badly damaged, Emma? I wasn’t very near, but I couldn’t see a mark on it.’

      ‘Nor could I,’ Emma frowned thoughtfully, ‘and I don’t quite understand why he said we should hear through the AA. That time I bumped into those cows—you remember?—it was the insurance firm, and I’m sure you’re supposed to exchange names and addresses.’

      Mrs Hastings said brightly, ‘Well, he knows ours; I saw him looking at the luggage labels. I suppose he’ll send the bill to you.’ She added not quite so brightly, ‘Shall we be able to pay it?’

      ‘Of course,’ said Emma sturdily, stifling doubts, ‘it won’t come for ages, they never do, and it won’t be much. Don’t you worry about it.’ She frowned again. ‘But we didn’t see him drive away, did we? Supposing he couldn’t. Perhaps he’s still there…’

      ‘Nonsense,’ said Mrs Hastings. ‘Now you’re worrying; that sort of car never breaks down. Let’s go for a walk.’

      They explored the town first, and then, because it was such a pleasant evening, strolled along a country road which seemed to lead nowhere. ‘A pity we have to go back,’ remarked Mrs Hastings. ‘It’s been such a lovely holiday, Emma dear, and so sweet of you to let me tag along with you. You might have had more fun with someone of your own age.’

      ‘Fiddlesticks,’ СКАЧАТЬ