Little Girl Lost (37 page)

She stepped out of her skirt and took off her bodice and Lia helped her into the black cotton blouse and wool skirt. Then she slipped on the embroidered waistcoat that Lia had so patiently stitched, and fastened the striped apron round her waist. Next she stepped into a pair of Klara's clogs and then Lia turned her to face her and carefully pinned on the white starched winged cap.

‘Every area has its own style of cap or bonnet, did you know?' she asked, smiling at her, and Margriet felt a mystical sense of déjà vu.

‘Turn round,' Lia murmured, ‘and see what I see.'

Margriet slowly turned to look in the long mirror and saw the reflection of a Dutch girl in her traditional costume, but the face looking back at her was not her own. It was Anneliese.

After supper, Margriet, Oma and Florrie walked back to Gerda's house. Margriet still felt rather strange, her head empty of meaning and understanding. She couldn't understand why she had visualized her father; his image was so strong that he had seemed to be in the room with her. She had wanted to ask Lia if she had seen him too, but thought it would be a senseless question, for why would she? There would be no reason at all, for Lia and her family had only moved to Amsterdam after his death. And then to see Anneliese too, but surely that was simply a trick of the mind. Whenever she thought of Anneliese, she always pictured her dressed in Dutch clothing.

The other finished garments were parcelled up with hers ready to be taken back to Hull, and the final two would be completed the following day. She was beginning to have doubts. Maybe it was a silly idea and the intended recipients wouldn't agree to her plan, but Mr Webster and Mr Reynoldson, and Oma and Lia, seemed to think it would work. And she had to do
something
.

Gerda was speaking. ‘Such a pity that Hans was away,' she said. ‘He told me he would let me know if he might be travelling to England.' She sighed. ‘But Lia said it was very short notice, and I suppose he didn't have time.'

Margriet nodded. It was the second time Oma had mentioned Hans. ‘Never mind,' she said. ‘I'll come again.' She turned to Florrie. ‘If you can come with me?'

‘If Mrs Sanderson will allow it,' Florrie said. ‘She is my employer, Miss Margriet; I can't take advantage of her good nature.'

‘You look after her children, yes?' Gerda asked. ‘You like this work?'

‘I like working for Mrs Sanderson,' Florrie said. ‘She includes me in her family arrangements; she's not like an employer.' She glanced at Margriet and added hastily, ‘I don't mean that I didn't like working for your mother, but I didn't want to stay after Mr Frederik – that is, when Mrs Vandergroene married Mr Ramsey.'

‘I know, Florrie,' Margriet said gloomily. ‘I didn't want to stay either.' She stopped. She had said too much; she certainly could not tell Florrie that she hoped the situation might have changed by the time she arrived back home.

‘Well,' Gerda said, ‘if you ever get tired of looking after other people's children, Floris, perhaps you would consider coming to live with me? As a companion? Until such time as you might perhaps want
kinderen
of your own?'

‘Oh!' Florrie stood stock still. ‘Oh, goodness. I would – I do!'

Margriet looked at her with fresh eyes. Why had she never considered that Florrie might want a life of her own? Her own home with a family who belonged to her, instead of always serving others. She wasn't so very old, maybe only in her twenties; and Margriet thought of the young man Florrie had been talking to on the other side of the canal. Perhaps she might make a good match here in Amsterdam.

‘And then,
mevrouw
,' Florrie continued, ‘we could travel to Hull together; you to visit Miss Margriet and I to visit my sister and her family.'

Margriet could hear the contained excitement in Florrie's voice and felt pleased that there might be an opportunity opening up for her; one day, she thought, there might even be such a possibility for herself. She wasn't unhappy, but she couldn't help wondering if there might be something more to life than she had now.

The week passed swiftly, and on the last day the new clothing was packed into parcels to take home. Margriet told her grandmother that she would come again as soon as she could, but explained that she wouldn't want to leave her mother alone for too long. ‘I think she is very vulnerable without me. And I'm afraid that Mr Ramsey might come back.'

‘It seems to me,' Gerda said practically, ‘that he won't come back if there is no money to be had, and if he can't get his hands on the house.'

‘How do we learn to trust, Oma?' Margriet asked. ‘What will I do, for instance, if someone should ask for my hand in marriage? How will I know whether he wants me or only my property, like Mr Ramsey with Mama?'

Gerda hid a smile as she gazed at her beautiful, innocent granddaughter. ‘Well,
lieveling
, if he loves you he will not be able to hide it. And if you love him too you will know it without any doubt, and it won't matter whether he is rich or poor. Though try to love someone rich,' she added hastily, only half teasing. ‘But whichever he is, you will know if he is the right one.'

‘Did Papa know, do you think, when he met Mama? I used to think sometimes that their fondness for each other had died.'

Gerda gave a small sigh. She didn't know Frederik's wife sufficiently well to comment, but she had got the impression that she was a cold woman, whereas – of course she would think well of her son – Frederik had always been a loving child.

‘Your papa was full of love,' she said softly. ‘I can't speak for your mama. Love has to be shared or it can disappear into thin air.' She leaned across and kissed Margriet's cheek. ‘Don't be afraid,
lieveling
. You will find a love to last.'

It was early morning when the ship docked in Hull; both Margriet and Florrie had woken in time to watch as the ship rode out of the German Ocean and into the calmer waters of the Humber estuary. The sunrise lit the low-lying meadows of Holderness, the reclaimed Sunk Island and the rooftops of still-sleeping villages, until it reached the windmills and church steeples and touched the tall buildings and warehouses of Hull with a warm glow as the ship slipped silently through the locks and finally into Junction Dock, two minutes from home. Margriet asked Florrie to find a porter for their luggage. ‘I know it isn't far,' she said, ‘but the parcels are quite heavy.'

Florrie looked round for someone to carry their luggage from the dockside to Parliament Street, and then Margriet spotted a boy with a handcart. ‘There's Billy!'

‘Billy, is it?' Florrie said. ‘Do you know him, Miss Margriet?'

‘Yes. He's one of the boys I was telling you about.'

‘Well, in that case …' Florrie raised her voice. ‘Billy! Come and give us a hand here.'

Billy came up at a trot and grinned at Florrie as he skidded to a halt. ‘Yes, miss, what can I do for you?' Then he saw Margriet and touched his hat and she noticed that he still had the tulip threaded through it, though it was rather limp and withered now. ‘Miss,' he acknowledged.

‘Can you tek this lot to Parliament Street?' Florrie lapsed into her native Hull dialect.

‘Certainly can, miss.' He began to load the luggage and parcels into the cart.

‘Is this your handcart, Billy?' Margriet asked. ‘Or is it a borrowed one?'

‘It's mine, miss,' he said. ‘I found it some weeks back. I didn't pinch it,' he added quickly. ‘It had a leg missing, but I found a piece of wood that fitted, more or less, and nailed it on. It's a bit lopsided and 'wheels are skew-whiff, but it does 'job all right.'

Billy was right: it leaned to one side and the wheels seemed to go any way but straight, but he seemed quite adept at pushing it and within minutes he was pulling up outside Margriet's house ahead of them.

‘How does he know where you live?' Florrie asked. ‘You must be careful he doesn't tek advantage, Miss Margriet.'

Margriet laughed. ‘You sound just like my mother, Florrie. I'm surprised at you.'

‘Well, if you're in my charge, Miss Margriet,' Florrie said firmly, ‘I must tell you what's right and what's not.'

‘Of course you must.' Margriet kept a straight face and wondered what Florrie would think if she knew that she had spent time on her own with Billy and the two girls, without a chaperon. ‘I do understand that you are responsible for me.'

Billy and Florrie carried their luggage to the top step and Margriet took money from her purse to pay him. She thanked him, and just as the door was being opened she managed to murmur, ‘I need to speak to you about something, Billy. Will you and Betty and Mabel meet me tomorrow at about noon in Trinity Square?'

He seemed surprised but he nodded, touched his cap, collected his cart and, whistling, wheeled it wobbling and rattling down Parliament Street.

‘Mama!' It was a shock to see her mother. Answering the door wasn't something she normally did. Florrie too expressed surprise.

‘Where's Jane, ma'am? She hasn't left you?'

‘No,' Rosamund said. ‘But we're spring cleaning and I told her that I would do it. I was hoping it would be you.' She smiled at Margriet. ‘It's lovely to have you home again. Do come in, Florence. We'll ask Mrs Simmonds to bring coffee and you can tell me what you've both been up to.'

Margriet and Florrie exchanged glances. Margriet couldn't think of a time when her mother had been so bright and cheerful, whilst Florrie was astounded to be invited to take coffee with them. ‘I'll go down and make it, ma'am, if that's all right?' she said. ‘I don't think Mrs Simmonds will mind if she's busy.'

‘Of course she won't,' Rosamund said cheerfully. ‘And ask Cook if there are any biscuits, although,' she turned to Margriet and said pensively, ‘I don't suppose they'll be as nice as the ones you've been having in Amsterdam.'

Margriet kissed her mother's cheek. ‘Cook makes lovely biscuits,' she said. ‘And it's really nice to be home again.'

‘I have something to tell you, Margriet.' Her mother lowered her voice as they went upstairs to the sitting room, even though Florrie had gone off to the kitchen. ‘William Ramsey has been here again.'

Surely he wasn't coming back? Mama couldn't have forgiven him? She wouldn't, would she? Questions flew around Margriet's head, but she couldn't voice any of them whilst Florrie was there, talking about Amsterdam: the fine old buildings, the canals, the pots and troughs and baskets of spring flowers that adorned the waterways.

‘It sounds lovely,' Rosamund said regretfully. ‘If only I could rid myself of my great fear of crossing the water. My husband – my late husband, I mean – really wanted me to visit his country of birth.'

‘You'd love it, Mrs Vandergroene,' Florrie said, completely forgetting that Margriet's mother had changed her name on marriage.

Margriet and her mother exchanged glances. ‘I'm Mrs Ramsey now, Florence,' Rosamund said. Florrie began to apologize, but Rosamund told her there was no need. ‘Sometimes I forget too, or try to,' she said wryly.

As soon as Florrie had gone, Margriet demanded to be told more about Mr Ramsey. Rosamund took a deep breath, and nodded.

‘I had a visit from Mr Webster shortly after you left,' she began. ‘He has been very helpful with advice and reassurance, and he warned me to expect another visit from Mr Ramsey.' Margriet noticed that she no longer referred to him as William. ‘He told me very firmly that if he came I must send for him at all speed.' Her mother seemed filled with nervous energy. ‘So I told Jane to fetch Mr Webster at once, without referring to me, if Mr Ramsey should call.'

Margriet was astounded. She was quite sure that at one time, confronted by such a situation, her mother would have retired to her bed whilst someone else attended to the matter. But now, of course, there wasn't anyone.

‘And so he came,' she prompted. ‘What did he want? Did he ask if he could stay – or I suppose,' she said slowly, ‘I suppose he didn't have to ask, thinking that he had every right to be here as he's your husband?'

Rosamund shuddered. ‘He did think that, and so did I, and he sat here, very nonchalantly, in that very chair where you are now, and told me what we were going to do. He said he would leave his lodgings and we would rent a house in York because surely I could scrape some money together from somewhere, and I was still saying it was impossible when Mr Webster arrived.' She took a moment to compose herself. ‘I can only trust that he was telling the truth when he said, before he even got through the sitting room door, that he had firm instructions from Miss Vandergroene that Mr Ramsey was not to be admitted to her property under any circumstances whatsoever.'

Margriet smiled. ‘I told him I didn't want Ramsey in my house, but it sounds much better in legal language. And so did he leave?'

‘He looked as though he was about to make a fuss, but then Mr Webster told him that he was following up certain information he had received regarding a Marie-Louise Ramsey, formerly Jarvis, who he had been told would testify that she was legally married to William Ramsey six years ago, resulting in four children and that she was expecting another.'

Margriet drew in a breath. ‘No! So he married you illegally. Can he go to prison for that?'

‘I don't know,' her mother admitted. ‘He made a very swift departure, and Mr Webster hurried off too. He said he had much to do, and his last words to me were “Don't worry, dear lady”.' Her voice dropped. ‘I have met this person,' she said, ‘this Marie-Louise Jarvis, and I believe she might have been a party to this deception.'

‘I'm so sorry, Mama.' Margriet came and knelt by her chair. ‘It means more difficulty for you.' Scandal too, she thought. She wasn't sure her mother could withstand the shame of it.