was up, left her face unmade-up before going down to the kitchen where the faithful Pretty was waiting with coffee and toast.
“Mevrouw’s cook may be out of the top drawer, but she hasn’t an idea how to cook a decent breakfast. All this bread and bits and pieces to put on it—give me bacon and eggs and a mushroom or two…”
Prudence, her teeth buried in her first slice of toast, agreed indistinctly. “When in Rome, do as Rome does,” she added, and helped herself to a slice of cheese.
“Madam will be all right now?” asked Pretty anxiously.
“I believe so—we caught her in time. I do hope she won’t do it again.”
She munched steadily for a few minutes, swallowed her coffee and got up. “I’ll take a quick peep at Aunt Emma. Will someone see to her breakfast?”
“Don’t you worry, miss, there’s help enough in this place. Has the doctor gone yet?”
“No, but he will the moment I get back to Aunt Beatrix.”
“Such a nice young man!” Pretty allowed her stern features to relax into a sentimental smile.
Prudence didn’t think this remark worth answering. She thanked her companion for her breakfast and flew upstairs, two minutes in hand.
Aunt Emma was still snoring peacefully; she skimmed along the corridor and went into Aunt Beatrix’s room.
“Ah, there you are.” Dr ter Brons Huizinga glanced at his watch, an observation which did nothing to improve her opinion of him, uttered as it was in a tone of pained patience.
“Half an hour exactly,” she pointed out. “If you’d give me your instructions…?”
He did so, watched by his patient, lying back on her pillows now, with the drip taken down, looking almost normal again. “Perhaps you would be good enough to fetch the notes I left by my aunt’s bed when I last visited her?”
He watched her with a slightly sardonic expression while she bit back the desire to tell him he could fetch them for himself on his way downstairs. With a slightly heightened colour, she went out of the room and Aunt Beatrix remarked from her bed, “You don’t like each other?” She sounded so disappointed.
Haso was strolling about the room, his hands in his pockets. “My dear Aunt—given the fact that we’ve both been out of our beds since about one o’clock this morning, and are in consequence a trifle edgy, I hardly think your observation applies.”
“Well, I do hope not. She’s a sweet girl, and so sensible.” She studied his face. “She’s extremely pretty, Haso.”
“Indeed she is. Also not very biddable and a little too sharp in the tongue. Probably due, as I’ve already said, to having to get out of her bed so very early in the morning.”
“I’m very sorry…but the chocolates were most tempting.”
He smiled very kindly at her. “I’m sure they were, only don’t be tempted again. Be a good soul and keep to your diet, and in no time at all you’ll be able to have all sorts of little extras. They make special chocolate for diabetics, you know.”
Mrs Wesley brightened. “Oh, do they? Good. How is your Aunt Emma, my dear?”
“Doing very nicely. I’ll go and see her now.” He kissed his aunt’s cheek, nodded casually to Prudence, who had just returned, took his notes from her and went away, whistling cheerfully.
The day passed uneventfully; it was amazing how quickly Mrs Wesley recovered. By teatime she was sitting in her sister’s room, exchanging somewhat exaggerated accounts of their illnesses. The doctor had been back again, pronounced himself satisfied as to their conditions, and gone again after a brief talk with Prudence. Very professional and standoffish he was, too, she thought, watching his vast back disappearing down the staircase.
She wondered where he lived, but she hadn’t liked to ask anyone, and certainly not him; she could imagine how he would look down his arrogant nose at her and tell her, in the most polite way possible, to mind her own business.
Mrs Wesley appeared to have learnt her lesson, and her sister was making steady progress; Prudence felt free to spend a little time on her own, exploring. The lake she had glimpsed on her arrival was close by; she found her way to it without much difficulty, circled it, poking her pretty nose into a boathouse on its near shore and then on the following afternoon wandering down to the village, where she bought postcards and stamps at the one shop; easily done by pointing to whatever she wanted and offering a handful of coins she had borrowed from her aunt. It had been foolish of her not to have thought of getting some Dutch money before she had left England; traveller’s cheques were of no use at all.
The doctor called briefly on the following days. It was at the end of one of these visits that he surprised Prudence very much by suggesting that she might like to go to Leeuwarden. “My aunts are well enough to leave to Pretty and Aunt Emma’s maid for a few hours; you must wish to see a little of the country while you’re here.”
She said baldly, “I want to go to a bank and change my cheques. I had no idea that Aunt Emma lived so far away from a town…”
“Not far at all,” he corrected her. “I’m going to Leeuwarden after lunch tomorrow. I’ll give you a lift.”
“How kind. How do I get back?”
“I’ll show you where to wait until I pick you up.” He was refusing to be nettled by her faintly cross voice.
She thanked him with cool politeness, and since he just stood there, looking at her and saying nothing, she felt compelled to make some sort of conversation.
“The lake is charming,” she commented, “and I walked to the village—are there other villages close by?” She gave him an innocently questioning look in the hope that he might say where he lived.
His laconic “several” was annoyingly unhelpful.
Her two patients behaved in an exemplary fashion. She helped get Aunt Emma out of her bed before lunch, had her own meal with Aunt Beatrix, an eagle eye on that diet, and then hurried away to change.
She was not dressing to impress the doctor, she assured her reflection as she got into a jersey three-piece in a flattering shade of pale green, thrust her feet into high-heeled, expensive shoes, found their matching handbag and, with a last look at her pleasing appearance, went downstairs.
Haso was in the hall, sitting on the edge of a console table, reading a newspaper and whistling cheerfully. He got up when he saw her, wished her good day and added blandly, “Oh, charming—for my benefit, I hope?”
“Certainly not, pray disabuse yourself of any such idea.”
“Not an idea, just a faint hope. I thought it would be nice if we could cry truce for a couple of hours.”
Prudence said calmly, “I’m quite prepared to be friendly, Dr ter Brons Huizinga…”
“Call me Haso, it’s quicker. Good, let’s go, then.”
There was a dark grey Daimler outside on the sweep before the house. He opened her door and she settled herself comfortably, prepared to enjoy the drive.
She certainly did. Haso took a small country road to begin with, joined a quiet main road after a few miles and then went across country until they traversed the outskirts of Leeuwarden. The scenery was green and calm, with cows in the wide fields and every so often a canal cutting through the quiet landscape. The doctor was on his best behaviour; he discoursed at length about their surroundings in a serious voice which none the less gave Prudence the uneasy feeling that he was secretly amused. But he had cried truce for the afternoon, and she for her part was prepared to keep to that. She answered him when called upon to do so, and felt vague relief when they reached the outskirts of the town—a relief which turned to indignation when he observed silkily, “Boring, isn’t it, being on our best behaviour? Shall we agree to disagree when we feel like