Little Girl Lost (26 page)

‘I'm speaking of my brother, of course.' Lydia glanced slyly at Rosamund, and then sighed. ‘Shall I have the cake or not? Oh, why not?' She popped a forkful into her mouth. ‘Mmm, delicious.' She wiped her mouth with the napkin. ‘And you, you didn't guess?'

Rosamund sat back and looked at her blankly. ‘Guess? About what?'

‘Why, that William is totally smitten with you! I could see it instantly; in fact right from the start, when I brought him to your house for luncheon. But of course, you poor dear, you wouldn't have noticed.'

Rosamund's heart thumped. Smitten? Whatever did she mean?

‘But I said to him that he must tread very carefully, for you are still very fragile and won't be looking for anyone else for years.'

Years? Rosamund had thought she would spend the rest of her life alone. It had not occurred to her that anyone would be in the least interested in sharing it with her.

‘Whether he would wait for years is another matter,' Lydia prattled on. ‘I rather think he might, but there again he's very eligible and someone might come along and snatch him away – catch him in a weak moment, you know.'

‘Lydia, what are you talking about? Has Mr Ramsey discussed me with you?' Rosamund put her hand to her throat. ‘He has been most attentive, very polite and courteous, but I'm sure he does not have any intentions towards me.'

Lydia smiled. ‘Well, that is your opinion, but I am William's sister and I know him better than most.' She waved her hand towards the waitress for the bill. ‘But we don't have to discuss it any further, because, as I said to William, I know that you wouldn't even consider it.'

Rosamund was fuming as they walked back towards St Nicholas Cliff. How dared Lydia presume to tell her brother what she, Rosamund, would or would not consider? And as for its being too soon after Frederik's death, how could she possibly know what it was like to be alone, unable to emerge from one's own front door until society decreed that it was the right and proper time to do so?

‘Are you all right, Rosamund dear?' Lydia asked. ‘You're very quiet. Would you like me to walk you to the house? I can always get a cab back to the hotel.'

‘I'm perfectly able to walk to the house by myself, Lydia,' Rosamund said sharply. ‘I am not an invalid.'

‘Indeed you're not,' Lydia agreed. ‘You look so much better for these few days of sea air. You've got quite a bloom to your cheeks, if it is indeed the sea air that has put it there!' She gave a knowing smile. ‘Goodbye, my dear. We're off tomorrow, so I'll see you when you return home at the end of the month. Give my love to dear little Margriet.'

She touched Rosamund's arm lightly in farewell and walked on towards the cabriolet box at the top of the street. Rosamund saw her wave her parasol at one of the drivers, who obligingly shook the reins and drove his horse and cab towards her.

Enviously, Rosamund watched Lydia climb into the carriage. Lydia didn't really care what society thought one way or another, she reflected, even though she pretended to set so much store by it. And perhaps she was right. Who, after all, was really affected by what Rosamund did or didn't do, and who really cared? She thought longingly of the amusing tales that William Ramsey had told her of the horse racing at Beverley and York.

‘The Knavesmire in York is the place to be,' he'd said enthusiastically, ‘and then afterwards at the Assembly Rooms, where everybody who is anybody dines and dances. Oh, you must come, Mrs Vandergroene, you'd love it – but oh, I do beg your pardon! How very crass of me.' He had been so penitent. ‘For a moment I quite forgot that you have suffered a tragedy.' In his distress he had taken her hand and gently squeezed it. ‘Please say that you'll forgive me?'

And of course she had. She sat now in the parlour gazing out of the window, watching the rain pouring down and bouncing off the footpath, and the holidaymakers scurrying home to their lodgings under their umbrellas. She had never been to a race meeting; it wasn't the kind of event that interested Frederik and anyway he was always so busy. As Mr Ramsey had talked she had found herself longing to go to one, forgetting for a moment that as a widow she was not in a position to do so; it wouldn't be the done thing. Tears came to her eyes. It just wasn't fair!

Her malaise continued for the rest of the holiday. The weather changed and became cold and misty – a sea fret, Margriet told her the locals called it – and the Sandersons decided to cut short their holiday and go home.

‘Mrs Sanderson isn't very well,' Margriet told her. She pressed her lips together as she imparted the news, and when her mother said she hoped Mrs Sanderson didn't have anything infectious Margriet shook her head and said she didn't. She glanced at her mother and said, ‘It's something only women get. It's not catching.'

The sun came out again but without its former intensity. Margriet had no one to play with and confessed that she'd like to go home too. ‘It's no fun playing on the sands or swimming by yourself,' she told Florrie, who agreed that it wasn't and told Mrs Vandergroene that Margriet wouldn't at all mind if they went home early. So they packed up their belongings, found a local driver to transport them and went home a week before they had planned to.

Rosamund pondered on her situation all that autumn. One afternoon she told Florrie that she would accompany her to collect Margriet from school and they would walk home together.

‘Miss Margriet likes to walk home with her school friends, ma'am,' Florrie told her. ‘I don't always collect her.'

Oh!' Rosamund had forgotten she had agreed to this arrangement. ‘Well, nevertheless, I will come with you today and Margriet and I will have a stroll around town, or maybe stop for a cup of tea. I think she'll enjoy that.'

No, she wouldn't, Florrie thought, but if that was what the mistress wanted she must do as she pleased. Florrie was becoming increasingly unhappy in her situation; she felt that she was neither nursemaid nor housemaid. Margriet didn't really need her any more and she was fed up with being at Mrs Simmonds' beck and call as far as housework was concerned. Since they'd returned from Scarborough the housekeeper had taken it into her head that Florrie thought herself a cut above everyone else, and she didn't like it.

I think I'll tek that position with Mrs Sanderson if she still wants me, she thought. I hope she's all right. That was a bad session of sickness that she had at Scarborough, Mr Sanderson was right bothered about her. If I see Miss Julia today I'll ask her how she is.

Margriet and Julia came out of school together and Margriet expressed great surprise at seeing her mother waiting.

‘Is everything all right, Mama?' she asked anxiously.

‘Yes,' Rosamund said. ‘Why would it not be?'

‘I thought there might be bad news or something. You never come to meet me.'

Rosamund frowned. ‘There's no bad news. I thought we could take tea somewhere. Perhaps you'd like to come too, Julia?'

‘No thank you, Mrs Vandergroene,' Julia said. ‘My mother will worry if I don't go straight home.'

‘We walk home together, Mama,' Margriet explained. ‘If I don't go with her it means she'll have to walk by herself.'

‘I'll walk back with Miss Julia,' Florrie offered. ‘I don't mind.'

Rosamund was quite put out. She had thought it would be a treat for her and Margriet to have tea together but Margriet sat in sullen silence and refused any cake and didn't discuss anything at all about her day at school.

Florrie asked Julia how her mother was.

‘She's all right now, but she had to go to bed for a few days. She's expecting another baby. Are you going to come and live with us, Florrie? Mama says that she asked you to. I wish you would. Mama really needs some help.'

Florrie nodded. ‘I think I might, Miss Julia. It's just that I worry about Miss Margriet.'

‘Yes, she'd miss you, I know. But she could come and see you, couldn't she? It's just that you'd be living at our house instead of hers.'

Florrie thought about it as she walked back to Parliament Street, and she made up her mind when she saw the curricle outside the door and Mr William Ramsey mounting the steps to ring the bell. Florrie foresaw changes ahead.

He heard her behind him and turned. ‘Good day to you.' He lifted his top hat. ‘Is Mrs Vandergroene at home, or may I leave my card?'

Florrie dipped her knee. ‘Mrs Vandergroene is out with her daughter at the moment, sir,' she began, but stopped as she saw Rosamund and Margriet turning the corner into Parliament Street. Mr Ramsey smiled.

‘What perfect timing,' he murmured, handing her his visiting card. He walked back down the steps and again lifted his hat, this time to greet Rosamund. ‘Mrs Vandergroene! I have just this second given my card to your servant. I hope I might have the pleasure of calling on you tomorrow? I'm staying with my sister for a few days.'

‘That would be very nice indeed, Mr Ramsey.' Rosamund's spirits lifted. ‘I am at home tomorrow. Shall we say at about eleven?'

Florrie had quietly let herself into the house and was waiting in the hall when her mistress and Margriet came in.

‘Why is Mr Ramsey coming tomorrow, Mama?' Margriet was saying. ‘What does he want?'

‘Want?' her mother said sharply. ‘Where are your manners, Margriet? It's a social call. You know very well that's what grown-up people do. They call on each other.'

‘Oh,' Margriet said. ‘To talk, do you mean?'

‘Yes. To talk.'

Margriet considered. She knew that Mr Ramsey had been at Scarborough. She had seen him talking to her mother once or twice on the Spa terrace, and she knew that he was Mrs Percival's brother. She had a funny feeling about him; she didn't like him at all. ‘What does he want to talk about?'

Rosamund took a deep breath. Really! Margriet was becoming a very annoying child; she had hardly spoken to her over tea. ‘I have absolutely no idea, Margriet, and whatever it is has nothing whatsoever to do with you. As I said, it is a social call.' She glanced at the hovering Florrie, waiting to take her coat. ‘At last your mother is coming back into the world.'

Lia paused in the unpacking of her precious crockery to look out of the first-floor window of the tall canal house that looked out over the Amstel. It had been hard to give up her delightful home on the outskirts of Gouda, which had been so full of life and love, but it had become empty with loss.

At Easter, when the bulbs in her garden were beginning to unfurl their colours, she had realized that it wasn't enough, that she needed a fresh impetus in her life. She had called together her mother, her son and her daughter and put it to them that she would like to suggest a change.

‘It will break my heart to leave this place,' she said softly, after she had made her suggestion, ‘but my heart is already in several pieces, and I would like it to be mended.'

She had thought of Amsterdam in the first place because of Hans who, kind and generous soul that he was, so much like his father, used his precious time travelling from there to Gouda to spend his weekends with her and Klara. It would be easier for him if they were closer, she had thought, and started looking at academies in the city that Klara could attend in the autumn.

‘Living in Amsterdam will be so very different from living here that we will not be able to compare it in the least,' Lia had told them. She had added that she was very lonely now, but would make new friends in the hustle and bustle of a place like Amsterdam, especially as the children didn't need her as much as they had done when they were small.

‘We will always need you, Moe,' Klara had said, shedding a few tears, ‘but I agree. I don't need anyone to collect me from school now,' she had added on a choking, laughing sob, ‘and it would be quite nice to find out what it's like to live in a city.'

Lia's mother had said she would be happy wherever Lia and the children were and would relish meeting new people. Hans had looked at his mother seriously and said, ‘Don't do this just for me, Moe. Do it for yourself too,' and she'd smiled and said it was what she wanted.

At the beginning of August, they had moved. Hans and Klara were thrilled with the house and the fact that their bedrooms were five floors up with a view of the city; Lia's mother had rooms on the ground floor with windows where she could sit and watch the passers-by. In no time at all she was exchanging waves with the boatmen on the barges and the tourist-filled canal boats.

The city was full of leafy green trees, and tubs of bright flowers adorned every corner. As Lia looked out, she thought that if she were ever to be happy again, it would be here. The only regret was leaving Miriam behind; she had been such a support when Lia had needed her, but she was a country girl and didn't want to move. Besides, she had shyly told Lia that she had a young man in her sights whom she was fond of.

Lia finished arranging her crockery in a cupboard, put away the empty boxes and washed her hands. She would write to Mevrouw Vandergroene and give her their new address. Frederik's mother, of course; not his wife, who had not answered her letter of condolence. It would be nice to meet Gerda and Anna again, and hear news of dear Margriet.

She mentioned it to Hans and Klara, and Klara said she had written to Margriet but hadn't yet received a reply. ‘Perhaps they have moved too,' she suggested.

‘Whilst we're speaking of the Vandergroenes, Moeder,' Hans said, ‘I'd like to talk to you about my future. When I finish school I would very much like to go into the import-export business. Uncle Freddy always made it sound so interesting, so instead of going to university I'd like to take a business course and start work. His company is very successful and I wondered, do you think they might consider me for a junior position?'