Little Girl Lost (10 page)

He glanced at Rosamund, who was inspecting cupboards and drawers. Without stopping what she was doing, she said at once, ‘Yes, Florence must certainly unpack and make up the beds before we think of picnics. Perhaps tomorrow.'

Margriet's face fell, and Frederik said quickly, ‘Whilst Florrie is unpacking, why don't we go out for a short walk and get our bearings? We've been sitting in the carriage for a long time; we ought to stretch our legs.'

‘Why don't you take Margriet?' Rosamund said. ‘I'll supervise Florence, and perhaps have a cup of tea if we can find the grocery basket.'

Frederik and Margriet didn't take any further persuading. Margriet put her bonnet on again and Frederik picked up his grey top hat and together they cut down the lane towards St Nicholas Cliff. Margriet clasped her father's hand. ‘I'm so excited,' she said. ‘Look, there it is!' She waved her free arm as the sea came into view. ‘Oh, I can't wait! Papa?' She jumped up and down as they walked on. ‘Will you take me if Mama doesn't want to bathe?'

‘Oh, we'll persuade Mama to take a dip in the briny,' he declared. ‘We'll tell her that it's very good for her health.'

‘And is it?' Margriet asked astutely.

‘Mmm, not sure.' He wiggled his eyebrows. ‘But it can't do any harm, can it?'

Margriet giggled. ‘Of course not.' Directly in front of them a cast-iron footbridge spanned a narrow valley, and they could see a terrace built out over the sea. ‘What's that, Papa? Is that a private place? I think Mama would prefer to sit there than on the sands.'

‘I think you're right, she would. It's the Spa; you can take a glass of water from the wells, and in that rather splendid building there's music to listen to, or you can just sit outside and enjoy the view.'

Coming from the flatlands of Netherlands and living in low-lying Hull, Frederik had been totally entranced by the steep cliffs and woodlands as they dropped down steep ravines towards Scarborough on the journey. They had driven through Ramsdale valley, which was overhung by ancient trees and filled with birdsong, where streams of crystal-clear water ran down the hillside, burrowing into the earth and resurfacing in the cliffs to tumble down into the sea. He gazed now at the green cliff, where paths had been cut to make walking safer as the steep incline rolled almost to the sands. A small whitewashed cottage with a wooden bench and table outside the door stood halfway down and he guessed that someone had spotted the opportunity to sell refreshments. Here and there greenhouses and old cottages were being dismantled and surveyors stood with measuring sticks and plans making notes.

Building is bound to happen, he thought. This is a beautiful area, and many people will want to come and share it. If it was true that the taking of the waters was not as popular as it had once been, he guessed that the town fathers would want to encourage visitors in other ways. The Spa itself had recently been rebuilt after a great storm had washed the original away, and there were plans for further developments.

‘We've lots of walking to do, Margriet. Are you fit for it?'

‘Oh, yes,' she said breathlessly. ‘I am.' She squeezed her father's hand. ‘This is the best time of my whole life!'

‘Is it,
lieveling
?' He smiled down at her bright eyes and animated expression. ‘I do believe it's mine too.' And he thought that it probably was, until unbidden another image stole into his consciousness: Cornelia sitting in her garden amidst the sweet-smelling herbs and roses. He tried to brush it away.

Margriet couldn't wait to paddle in the sea, but best of all was having her father to herself, just as she'd had when they'd walked in the streets of Hull. I wish that Anneliese could be here, she thought. I do so want a friend of my own to play with. Perhaps if I wish hard enough she will come.

‘What would you like to do?' Frederik asked. ‘Cross the bridge to the Spa or follow the path down the cliff to the sands?'

‘Oh, can we cross the bridge, please? I've never been across such a long one!' In fact the only bridge she had ever crossed was Hull's North Bridge that spanned the River Hull as they began their journey this morning, heading out of town towards Holderness and the coastal road.

As they stepped on to the bridge she looked down into the valley below and thought that she had never been so high, either. She felt quite dizzy as she watched the carriages pass below them, and she clutched her father's hand as they crossed.

They passed the Spa terrace and promenade, where Frederik lifted his hat to the ladies who were taking tea, and then went down the steps to the sands. Men and women were strolling together or standing in groups chatting; children were racing about with kites, balls and bats, and dogs were chasing and barking at the waves. Above them, heavy-winged seabirds were swooping and screeching and making much more noise than those that flew along the Humber or above the docks in Hull.

‘Come along then, Margriet; let's take off our shoes and stockings.' Frederik sounded very boyish. ‘We'll have a paddle in the sea.'

Margriet gazed at him in astonishment. ‘Really?' she asked. ‘Is it allowed?'

He laughed. ‘Of course it's allowed.' He hopped about on one foot and then the other to take off his leather shoes. ‘Come on, there are lots of people in the sea. Don't be coy.'

Margriet blinked, and then sat down on the sands to unlace her boots. ‘If you're sure it's all right, Papa. I'm not sure Mama—'

‘It's perfectly all right,' he said, slipping his feet out of the stirrups that kept his fine wool trousers neat and tight, and rolled the legs up to his knees, showing his pale calves. Throwing caution to the wind, he shrugged off his grey frock coat and put it over his arm. ‘We're on holiday, so we're allowed to do all kinds of things we wouldn't do at home.'

Margriet looked up at him as she took off her shoes and stockings. Never had she seen her papa in such a state of undress. She giggled; he looked so comical standing there on one foot, taking off his stockings, in his rolled-up trousers, white waistcoat and pale grey cravat. It was a good thing, she thought, that Mama wasn't there to see him – especially when he removed his top hat, stuffed his stockings into it, and crammed it back on his head.

Cautiously they entered the water. Margriet's giggles ended abruptly and she shrieked, clutching her father's arm. ‘It's so cold! Ah!' She stumbled back as a foam-crested wave headed towards them, and then stopped and jumped over it instead. Frederik smiled. It was good to see her so full of high spirits. This was what had been missing from her life, the chance to be a child and not a miniature adult. He thought back to his own childhood and realized how lucky he had been.

He jumped over the next wave with her. The tide was coming in and the sea was becoming boisterous. Further north were the bathing huts; women were sheltered from public view by tent-like canvas canopies, but men were swimming in the open sea, some in costumes like his and others naked to the waist. He smiled again. That was how he and his brother used to swim in the dykes, but not his sister: that was one pleasure that she was not allowed as they grew up, even though their mother was so broad-minded; Anna had to bathe in long drawers and a tunic top.

Margriet shrieked again as the waves became bigger, and grabbed her father's arm once more. He struggled to keep hold of his clothing and shoes, and as he stumbled a breeze caught his hat and took it tumbling along the sands. He set off in hot pursuit and saw it hurtling towards a man and a group of children who were playing beach cricket. The man caught it and held it up in the air. It was Hendrik Sanderson.

‘I have a thing, a very fine thing,' he called. ‘Who is the owner of this fine thing? Frederik! How very nice to see you.' He held out his rather sandy hand as Frederik approached. ‘So you were able to find a house?'

Frederik shook his hand and took the hat, looking back at Margriet still trying to catch his windblown stockings by the water's edge. ‘We were, thanks to you. It's quite delightful. We've only just arrived, so Margriet and I escaped whilst my wife is organizing the maid and unpacking. This is Margriet's first visit to the seaside.'

‘Oh, she must be introduced to my daughters. Imogen! Julia!' He called to two young girls. ‘There's another friend for you. Go over and say hello to Margriet.'

The two girls looked across to where Margriet had just trapped the second stocking. ‘We know her,' Julia shouted. ‘She's coming to our school.'

‘Do you know how to play cricket?' Imogen asked as Margriet approached.

Margriet paused for only a second. ‘Yes,' she said. ‘I think so.'

‘I'm afraid we must get back,' Frederik said, and then felt guilty when Imogen as well as Margriet looked very disappointed. Hendrik looked from one to the other.

‘Why don't you leave Margriet with us and we'll bring her back in half an hour or so?' he said. ‘We'll be packing up by then.'

Frederik saw Margriet's pleading eyes and agreed. He gave Hendrik the address, rolled down his trousers and walked back across the sands to put on his shoes and stockings. He brushed down his coat before putting it on and placed his hat at a jaunty angle on his head. When he looked back towards the cricketers, Margriet had abandoned her coat and bonnet and was barefoot with the bat in her hand, looking as if she had been playing the game all her life. She did not look his way, and he was smiling as he made his way back to the cottage, sand crunching between his toes.

‘You left her?' Rosamund was horrified when he explained that Margriet was still playing on the sands. ‘But are they suitable children for her to be associating with?'

‘I know their father and he was there,' he said irritably. ‘He won't leave her alone, and she will be associating with the girls at Miss Barker's dame school in another month.'

She was somewhat mollified by his explanation, and when Sanderson arrived at the house with four dishevelled cricketers she relaxed enough to ask Frederik to invite him in to be introduced.

Sanderson declined her offer to be seated and said they must be getting back, as the children would need to bathe before their supper.

‘Of course. Your wife will be waiting for you.'

‘Oh, I shouldn't think she'll be back yet. She's gone walking up to the castle and across the cliffs to the North Bay. Alice likes to walk, but the children were eager to play cricket.'

Rosamund seemed bewildered. ‘Are you holidaying with friends?'

‘Sometimes we do, but not this time.'

Rosamund wanted to ask if Mrs Sanderson had gone walking with a companion or a maid, but sensed that it might be considered an intrusion. Sanderson, however, seemed to read her thoughts.

‘My wife is very sociable,' he said tolerantly, ‘but also quite comfortable with her own company. She's happy to walk alone whilst I take care of the children.'

‘I see.' Rosamund quite clearly did not see, and after a moment's hesitation she asked, ‘Are you not afraid for her well-being or her reputation, sir?'

He shook his head. ‘No, Mrs Vandergroene, I am not. Alice is a very capable and competent woman and would not thank me if I thought her any less.' Incredulous, she raised her eyebrows, and he added, ‘She believes that she has every right to walk unaccompanied if she wishes to do so, and she wouldn't take any unnecessary risks.'

Both men realized that their wives would be quite incompatible.

‘I don't understand him,' Rosamund said after the Sandersons had left. ‘What kind of man is he to let his wife go jaunting off on her own? Did you say he was half Dutch?' She raised her chin as if to say that perhaps that accounted for the lack of discernment. ‘Does he not realize how bad it looks, let alone the fact that something disastrous could happen to her? Do they not have a maid who could accompany her?'

‘I understand that they do,' Frederik sighed, bored with the conversation almost before it had begun, ‘but you heard him: his wife is capable of going out alone.' He put such heavy emphasis on the word ‘capable' that Rosamund, raising her chin, remarked sharply that she too was quite capable, but would not dream of doing such a thing.

‘You care too much about what others might think, Rosamund,' he said wearily, ‘when it really doesn't matter.'

‘Well, it matters to me,' she protested. ‘I am beginning to wonder if their children are suitable companions for Margriet after all. And what's more, Frederik, I will not be inviting Mrs Sanderson to join me for tea on the Spa terrace. Do not expect it of me.'

Frederik had not yet met Mrs Sanderson, but he responded to his wife's determined expression with an ironic bow. ‘Such a pity, my dear,' he said in mock sorrow. ‘I'm sure she will be quite devastated if perchance she should hear of it.'

The month at Scarborough was wonderful for Margriet once her mother had reluctantly agreed that the Sanderson children were well mannered and well behaved, and allowed Margriet to be in their company. Rosamund's own daily routine began when Florrie walked her to the Spa terrace and settled her at a table. She then dismissed the maid to do whatever she wanted for an hour, but said that she must return to walk with her down to the sands where Frederik and Margriet were engaged in games with the Sanderson family. It was on one such occasion that Mrs Sanderson came across to introduce herself.

She might have been warned by her husband of Rosamund's sensibilities, for she was perfectly charming, and not at all controversial. ‘Mrs Vandergroene,' she said, ‘I am thinking of bathing tomorrow. Would you care to join me?'

Rosamund had been intrigued by the bathing huts, and sufficiently interested to have walked quite close to where they were lined up in the sea to assure herself that the canopies were perfectly private and the occupants invisible to anyone on the sands.