The Secret Pool. Betty Neels

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СКАЧАТЬ didn’t look at the doctor. ‘You live here?’

      ‘Yes.’ He leaned over her and undid her door and her safety belt and then got out himself and went round the bonnet so that he was standing waiting for her as she got out, too. She said quite sharply, ‘I wish you would tell me why you’ve brought me here.’

      ‘Why, to meet my small daughter. She’s looking forward to seeing you.’

      ‘Your daughter? I had no idea…’

      He said coolly, ‘Why should you have? Shall we go in?’

      The door had been opened; a very thin, stooping, elderly man was standing by it. ‘Tuggs,’ said the doctor, ‘this is Miss Manning, come to have lunch with us. Francesca, Tuggs has been with us for very many years; he runs the place with his wife, Nel. He is English, by the way.’

      Fran paused at the top of the steps and offered a hand. ‘How do you do, Tuggs,’ and smiled her gentle smile before she was ushered indoors.

      It was a square entrance hall with splendid pillars supporting a gallery above it and with a fine staircase at its end. Fran had the impression of marble underfoot, fine silky carpets, a great many portraits, and sunlight streaming through a circular window above the staircase, before she was urged to enter a room at the back of the hall. She paused in the doorway and looked up at her host. ‘I’m a bit overwhelmed—it’s so very grand.’

      He considered this remark quite seriously. ‘One’s own home is never grand, and it is home. Don’t be scared of it, Francesca.’ He shut the door behind them. ‘Nel will bring coffee in a few moments and you can go and tidy yourself—she’ll show you where. But first come and see Lisa.’

      They were in a quite small cosy room with chintz curtains at the windows and a wide view out to a garden filled with flowers. The furniture was old, polished and comfortable, and sitting by the open window was a buxom young woman with a rosy face, reading to a little girl perched in a wheelchair.

      The young woman, looking up, saw them, put down her book and said something to the child who turned her head and shrilled, ‘Papa!’ and then burst into a torrent of Dutch.

      She was a beautiful child, with golden curls, enormous blue eyes and a glorious smile. Dr van Rijgen bent to kiss her and then lifted her carefully into his arms. He said something to the nurse and she smiled and went out of the room and he said,

      ‘This is Lisa, six years old and as I frequently tell her the most beautiful girl in the world.’

      Fran took a small thin hand in hers. ‘Oh, she is, the darling.’ She beamed at the little girl, careful not to look at the fragile little body in the doctor’s arms. ‘Hullo, Lisa.’

      The child put up her face to be kissed and broke into a long excited speech until the doctor hushed her gently. ‘Let’s sit down for a moment,’ he suggested and glanced up as a stout woman came in with a tray. ‘Here’s Nel with the coffee.’ He said something to her and turned to Fran.

      ‘This is my housekeeper; no English worth mentioning, I’m afraid, but a most sensible and kind woman; we’d be lost without her.’ He spoke to her again—she was being introduced in her turn, Fran guessed—and then got up as he said, ‘Nel will show you where you can tidy yourself.’

      The cloakroom into which Fran was ushered, tucked away down a short passage leading from the hall, was so unlike the utilitarian cubbyhole in her aunts’ house that she paused to take a good look. Powder blue tiles, silver grey carpet, an enormous mirror and a shelf containing just about everything a woman might need to repair the ravages upon her make-up. Fran sniffed appreciatively at the bottles of eau-de-toilette, washed her hands with pale blue soap and felt apologetic about using one of the stack of towels. She dabbed powder on her nose in a perfunctory manner, combed her hair and went back across the hall.

      Father and daughter looked at her as she went in and she had the strong impression that they had been talking about her—naturally enough, she supposed; and when asked to pour out she did so in her usual unflurried manner.

      Lisa had milk in her own special mug and sugar biscuits on a matching plate but they were largely ignored. She was a happy child, chuckling a great deal at her father’s soft remarks, meticulously translated for Fran’s benefit.

      A very sick child, too, the charming little face far too pale, the small body thin above the sticks of useless legs. But there was no hint of despair or sadness; the doctor drew her into the talk, making a great thing of translating for her and urging her to try out a few Dutch words for herself, something which sent Lisa into paroxysms of mirth. Presently she demanded to sit on Fran’s lap, where she sat, Fran’s firm arm holding her gently, examining her face and hair, chattering non-stop.

      They were giggling comfortably together when the young woman came back and Dr van Rijgen said, ‘This is Nanny. She has been with us for almost six years and is quite irreplaceable. She speaks little English. Lisa goes for a short rest now before lunch.’

      Fran said, ‘How do you do, Nanny,’ feeling doubtful that such an old and tried member of the family might look upon her with jealousy. It was a relief to see nothing but friendliness in the other girl’s face and, what was more puzzling, a kind of excited expectancy.

      Alone with her host, Fran sat back and asked composedly, ‘Will you tell me about Lisa? It’s not spina bifida—she’s paralysed isn’t she, the poor darling? Is it a meningocele?’

      He sounded as though he was delivering a lecture on the ward. ‘Worse than that—a myelomeningocele, paralysis, club feet and a slight hydrocephalus.’ His voice was expressionless as he added, ‘Everything that could be done, has been done; she has at the most six more months.’

      The words sounded cold; she studied his face and saw what an effort it was for him to speak calmly. She said quietly, ‘She is such a happy child and you love her. She would be easy to love…’

      ‘I would do anything in the world to keep her happy.’ He got up and walked over to the French window at the end of the room and opened it and two dogs came in: a mastiff and a roly-poly of a dog, very low on the ground with a long curly coat and bushy eyebrows almost hiding liquid brown eyes.

      ‘Meet Thor and Muff—Thor’s very mild unless he’s been put on guard, but Muff seems to think that he must protect everyone living here.’

      He wasn’t going to say any more about Lisa. Fran asked, ‘Why Muff?’

      ‘He looks like one, don’t you think?’ He bent to tweak the dog’s ears. ‘Would you like to see the gardens? Lisa spends a good deal of time out here when the weather’s fine.’

      There was a wide lawn beyond the house bordered by flower beds and trees. They wandered on for a few minutes in silence, with the doctor, the perfect host, pointing out this and that and the other thing which might interest her. But presently he began to ask her casual questions about her work, her home and her plans.

      ‘I haven’t any,’ said Fran cheerfully. ‘I would have liked to have stayed on at the Infirmary; at least I’d have had the chance to carve myself a career, but the aunts needed me at home.’

      ‘They are invalids?’

      ‘Heavens no, nothing like that. They—they just feel that—that…’

      ‘You should be at their СКАЧАТЬ