Making Sure of Sarah. Betty Neels

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СКАЧАТЬ her chair and said gently, ‘Miss Holt?’

      Sarah opened her eyes and allowed them to travel up a vast expanse of superfine clerical grey cloth, past a richly sombre tie and white linen, until they reached his face.

      She said clearly, ‘Not Miss Holt; he’s my stepfather. Beckwith—Sarah Beckwith. That’s a nice tie—Italian silk?’

      Mr ter Breukel, aware that she wasn’t quite awake yet, agreed gravely that it was Italian silk. Her eyes, he saw with delight, were quite beautiful, a vivid dark blue, veiled by mousy lashes.

      Sarah sat up straight and pushed her hair off her face. ‘I’m sorry, I fell asleep.’ She studied his face, a very trustworthy face, she decided, as well as a handsome one, with its high-bridged nose and firm mouth and heavy-lidded eyes. ‘Mother…?’

      ‘I am Litrik ter Breukel, consultant orthopaedic surgery. I’m sorry there was no one to see you. It has been a busy evening. Your mother is to stay here for a few days. She has been concussed, but should recover quickly. There are one or two cuts and bruises which will heal quickly. Your stepfather has a broken leg, fractured ribs, and he has been cut by glass. He must remain until he is fit to be sent back to England.’

      ‘Do I have to arrange that?’

      ‘No, no. We will see to that at the appropriate time.’

      ‘May I see Mother?’

      ‘Of course. But first I think you must be checked to make sure that you have no injuries. And you will need a tetanus injection and to be cleaned up.’

      ‘I’m not hurt, only dirty and a bit scratched. And I smell dreadful…’

      She went without demur to the Accident Room, where he handed her over to a stout, middle-aged woman with a kind face and a harassed manner. She spoke English, too. Sarah submitted to being cleaned up, her scratches and bruises dealt with, her injection given, to the accompaniment of her companion’s pleased astonishment that she wasn’t more seriously injured, and then, looking clean and smelling of good soap, she was handed back to Mr ter Breukel, who, eyeing her with all the delight of a man in love, thought she looked like some small girl who had been run through the mangle and left to dry.

      He said merely, ‘You feel better now? We will go to your mother.’ And he led the way through the hospital, in and out of lifts, up and down staircases, and eventually into a ward with a dozen beds in it.

      Her mother had a corner bed, and was lying back comfortably, but when she saw Sarah she asked peevishly, ‘Where have you been? I feel terrible. I’m sure that I’m a good deal worse than these doctors say. You should have been here with me…’

      Sarah said gently, ‘I’m sorry, Mother. I fell asleep…’

      ‘Asleep? You must have known that I was lying here in pain? And your poor father…’

      ‘Stepfather,’ said Sarah.

      ‘Yes, well—it is all very well for you, you don’t appear to have been hurt in the least.’ She added fretfully, ‘I knew this would happen; you always manage to annoy him.’

      Sarah said nothing to that, and her mother closed her eyes. ‘Now go away and spare a thought for your poor mother before you go to sleep in a comfortable bed.’

      Sarah bent and kissed an averted cheek, and then was led away by Mr ter Breukel, who had been standing just behind her, listening to every word.

      He made no mention of their conversation, however, but walked her silently to the entrance, where she stopped and offered her hand. ‘You’ve been very kind. Thank you. I know my mother and stepfather will be all right here. May I come and see them in the morning?’

      He had no intention of letting her go, and for once a kindly Fate lent a helping hand; Sarah gave a small choking gasp. ‘I’m going to be sick…’

      There was a providential sink nearby, and she found herself leaning over it, a firm, cool hand holding her head…

      Presently she gasped, ‘Oh, the relief,’ and then, aware of the hand, mumbled, ‘How awful for you. I’m so sorry.’

      ‘Best thing you could have done. You probably swallowed a good deal of ditchwater.’

      He bent over her, wiped her face with his handkerchief and led her outside into the crisp March evening.

      Sarah tugged on an arm to call a halt. ‘Thank you,’ she said again. ‘I’m fine now.’

      ‘You have somewhere to go? Money? Do you know your way about Arnhem?’

      She looked away, searching for an answer which wouldn’t sound like a fib.

      ‘The police said I could collect our cases and things in the morning from the police station…’

      ‘You know where that is?’

      ‘No, but I can ask.’

      ‘And until morning?’ he persisted.

      She opened her mouth to utter something misleading but convincing.

      ‘No, no. Let us have no nonsense. You have no money, no clothes, you are extremely dirty and probably hungry. You will come home with me…’

      He spoke pleasantly, but he sounded as though he meant it. All the same, she said tartly, ‘Indeed I won’t.’

      Mr ter Breukel slid effortlessly into his bedside manner. ‘My dear young lady, my sister will be delighted to meet you, and help you in any way she can.’ He didn’t smile, but Sarah, peeping at him, had to admit that he looked—she sought the right word—safe.

      ‘If you’re sure I won’t be a nuisance, thank you.’

      He nodded, walked to where a dark grey Rolls Royce was parked and popped her neatly into it, got in beside her and drove away.

      After a moment Sarah asked, ‘Will I be able to arrange for Mother to go home soon? If she isn’t seriously hurt…’

      ‘Shall we leave that for the moment? Time enough when you have seen the police in the morning. You will probably have to make a statement, as will your parents. Once the matter has been dealt with, arrangements can be made for you to return to England.’

      He drove to the city’s heart, where there were still ancient houses and shops which had miraculously escaped damage during the terrific battle towards the end of World War II, stopping presently in a narrow, canal-lined street.

      The houses in it were old, narrow and tall, leaning against each other, each with a splendid gable. He stopped the car halfway down, got out and opened the door for Sarah. She got out and looked around her. She could have stepped back into the seventeenth century, for there was no traffic, no cars parked, only the rustle of trees lining the canal to break the stillness.

      ‘You live here?’

      ‘Yes.’ He took her arm and marched her across the narrow pavement and up some worn steps to a handsome door flanked by long narrow windows on either side of it. He unlocked the door and urged her gently before him into the narrow hall beyond, its walls panelled, СКАЧАТЬ