Little Girl Lost (16 page)

‘Papa, what does haunted mean?'

He waggled the lobes of his ears to show he knew she'd been eavesdropping. ‘What do you think it means?' he said.

‘I don't know. I don't think I've ever heard the word before.'

‘Have you heard of ghosts?'

‘Y-yes, I've read ghost stories. They're very eerie and might frighten little children.'

He stretched out his legs in front of the fire. ‘Well, that's what haunted means. If someone believes that there's a ghost in an empty building, they say that it's haunted.' He put his hands in the air and made a whoo-ing sound, like an owl.

She was about to say that it was Anneliese's house he and Mr Farrell had been talking about, and if Anneliese lived there how could there be a ghost? But then she remembered that her father didn't know about Anneliese or Mevrouw Lindegroen and decided that she would approach the subject in a different way.

‘Papa, you know when we were talking about Land of Green Ginger?'

‘Were we?'

‘Yes,' she answered. ‘You remember – about growing ginger.'

‘No, I don't remember,' he said. ‘But go on.' He heard the front door open and close and the murmur of voices and knew that Rosamund was home. Margriet had heard them too and said hastily, ‘Oh, I just wondered if we could grow some?' Her eyes travelled the room and Frederik knew that she hadn't been going to ask that at all but something else entirely, something she didn't want to discuss in front of her mother.

When Rosamund came into the sitting room, Margriet was sitting demurely and swinging her crossed ankles. She smiled sweetly at her mother and got up to offer her her chair.

‘Thank you, Margriet,' Rosamund said, taking it. ‘Have you had an interesting day at school?'

‘Oh, yes,' Margriet said enthusiastically. ‘I have. We've been learning about the deserving poor.'

Rosamund glanced at Frederik, who raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Really? Well, how very – erm, commendable. What subject does that come under?'

Margriet pressed her lips together, not properly understanding, but her father broke in. ‘The Poor Law, wasn't it, Margriet?'

Margriet's expression cleared. ‘Yes, I think that's what it was, and,' she hurried on before her mother lost interest, ‘we have to think about the poor people among us. So can we give them some of our things that we don't need any more, Mama? Like old clothes and boots?'

‘Well, I – we don't know any poor people, Margriet. And in any case I already give clothing and suchlike to Florence and Mrs Simmonds to pass on to anyone they might know.'

Margriet considered. She had hoped to present a parcel of clothing or a small bag of money to the first poor person that she happened to chance upon, but now it seemed that might not be possible.

Florrie knocked on the door. ‘Beg pardon, madam, sir, but Miss Margriet's afternoon tea is ready. Shall I serve it here or upstairs?'

‘I'd like it upstairs, please, Florrie, if that's all right, Mama?' Margriet said. ‘I have some reading homework to do.' She knew that would please her mother.

Frederik hid a smile. Little minx, he thought. She hadn't at all; she was just bored. She needed the company of other children; he could see the difference in her since she started school.

Upstairs in her bedroom, Margriet opened her wardrobe door and looked at the clothes hanging there, then went to fetch a stool to stand on. She began to move the dresses and coats she didn't like to one side, pushing them close together and carefully rearranging those that she liked, spreading them apart so that no one would notice that she had moved any. At some point, she decided, she would ask Florrie to take those she didn't like and give them away to the deserving poor.

When Florrie came upstairs with her tray, she was sitting reading. She put down her book. ‘Florrie,' she said, ‘don't you wish that Easter would hurry up and come so that we could go away to Netherlands?'

Florrie arranged the contents of the tray on a small table. ‘I'm looking forward to it, Miss Margriet. It'll be very exciting for me.'

‘And for me too,' Margriet said. ‘I have never met my grandmother before. I'm to call her Oma, which is a pet name for grandmother.'

‘Oh!' Florrie grinned. ‘I used to call mine Gran.' She changed the subject. ‘We'll have to sort out 'clothes you're to tek, won't we? You'll need a large trunk.'

‘I expect so,' Margriet agreed vaguely. ‘I can't wait.'

Florrie too was eager to be going. This was her chance. She had been listening in to her employers' conversation, not to eavesdrop but to improve her own use of language, knowing that if she wanted to better herself she needed to improve her deportment. Her imagination began to soar as she thought of the applications she might write, telling of looking after her charge both at home and abroad. She thought too of a time when she didn't have to dust and polish and run errands and help in the kitchen. She'd had enough of being a maid of all work.

At the beginning of April Florrie began to prepare Margriet's trunk and her own canvas bag. The clothes that Margriet had put to one side, telling her mother that she had outgrown them, Florrie was charged with finding a suitable home for, which she did, giving them to her own nieces, and Margriet was satisfied that she had done something to help the poor.

The day before they were due to sail, Margriet suddenly felt sorry for her mother, about to be left alone. ‘Wouldn't you like to come, Mama?' she asked. ‘I wish you would.'

Frederik felt a sudden charge of unease. Conscience-stricken, he realized that he was praying she would say no.

‘Much as I would love to,' Rosamund sounded grieved, ‘I fear I would be too ill. I wouldn't dare to make the return journey home.'

‘Mama won't be on her own for long,' Frederik told Margriet. ‘I won't be staying a whole month as you will, Daisy. I shall come home and keep her company.'

A whole month! Florrie hid a smile. Mrs Simmonds had been most put out when given this information and had nerved herself to speak to Mrs Vandergroene, saying she must have more help than had been originally arranged.

‘I didn't know it was going to be so long, ma'am,' she said peevishly.

‘No, Mrs Simmonds,' Rosamund had sighed. ‘Neither did I.' She had wondered whether she would miss her daughter's presence. Being without Frederik for a week or more didn't disturb her, because it meant that the threat of any night-time visit to her bedroom was removed. Indeed, he rarely made such visits now, and it was a huge relief to be done with such disagreeable occasions, although she did sometimes wonder if he had found consolation elsewhere. Her friend Lydia had reliably informed her that a man had to find comfort with another woman if his wife wasn't willing, and although Rosamund had pretended incredulity that a wife should so behave, she decided that perhaps she wouldn't mind too much if Frederik did take a mistress, although she thought that he was probably far too honourable to do such a thing.

She walked with them to the dockside, accompanied by the new temporary maid. Jane, she thought, was very presentable; someone she would be happy to be seen with when she went shopping.

Margriet was so excited she could barely keep still as they waited for the luggage to be taken aboard, hopping about on first one foot and then the other. Then it was their turn to cross the gangplank. She felt quite tearful as she kissed her mother goodbye, but once on board she waved her hand cheerfully and went below with Florrie and a steward to find their cabin.

Florrie heaved a deep breath. ‘I'm a bit fearful, Miss Margriet,' she said, ‘I don't mind admitting. I've never sailed afore.'

‘I've never sailed before either, Florrie,' Margriet said. ‘But I'm sure we'll be all right. We'll just have to be brave.'

‘We will,' Florrie agreed. She thought for a moment, and then said, ‘Do you think you could call me Florence, Miss Margriet? I think perhaps it would more proper now I'm your travelling companion.'

Margriet agreed, but when she told her father he laughed and said that Florrie was going up in the world.

Florrie was slightly sick as they emerged into the German Ocean, but she soon became used to the rise and fall of the ship and joined Margriet and her father for a short stroll along the deck before going below for supper. Margriet wasn't queasy at all and slept soundly in her bunk that night.

Frederik did not sleep well; deep in the pit of his stomach he had a churning sensation at the thought of seeing Cornelia again. He wondered whether he should take Margriet to meet her and, if he did, would Margriet mention the visit to Rosamund on their return? And if she did, he thought, lying in his bunk with his arms stretched above his head, would it matter? Surely he was allowed friends, just as Rosamund was. So, perhaps he would do it. He sighed. On the other hand, perhaps not.

On disembarking in Amsterdam, Frederik ordered a carriage to take them to his mother's apartment. Margriet was filled with excitement and Florrie was apprehensive.

‘You'll like my mother, Florrie,' Frederik said. ‘You needn't be nervous.'

‘What should I call her, sir?' Florrie asked. ‘Do I say ma'am, like in England?'

‘You say
mevrouw
– muh-frow. You'll soon become used to it,' he added, seeing consternation written on her face. ‘And you can also say
alstublieft
– alst oo bleeft – for “if you please, ma'am”.'

‘I'll never get used to it, sir.' Florrie was beginning to panic.

‘I'll help you, Florrie,' Margriet said. ‘Florence, I mean.' She giggled. ‘We'll practise together, because I can't speak Dutch either.'

Gerda swept her granddaughter up in her arms when they arrived, giving her a great squeeze and several kisses and then patting Florrie on the shoulder in welcome so that the girl immediately felt more comfortable but still unsure of what role was expected of her. Gerda too had taken the trouble to improve her English. ‘I will call you Floris,' she said to Florrie. ‘It means the same.'

Frederik stayed until midday to have lunch with them and was surprised when his mother set a place for Florrie. He saw that Florrie was slightly embarrassed, but she helped to dish up and when they were finished at table she cleared away and washed the dishes, taking it upon herself to become a servant once more. It will be all right, he thought, standing up to leave.

‘I must go,' he said. ‘I'll see you tomorrow or the day after. Will you be all right without your papa, little Daisy?'

‘Of course she will,' his mother answered. ‘This afternoon, Margriet, we are going to meet your
tante
Anna, and your cousins are going to show you the flower gardens.'

Margriet beamed with delight and Frederik smiled. He was pleased that he had brought her.

‘I am going into the tulip business, Moeder,' he said. ‘I've been asked about supplying them to growers in England.'

‘How interesting!' she said. ‘Bulbs or flowers?'

‘Bulbs, probably. It isn't yet decided.'

He took his leave then, giving Margriet a kiss, and booked in at his usual hotel as there wasn't enough room for him to stay at his mother's. Then he called at the Amsterdam office and said he would come in again the following day as he wished to discuss several things; within minutes he was walking away from the building and once round the corner he set off at a run to catch a train to Utrecht. I'm like a lovesick schoolboy, he thought as the train rumbled and chuffed towards its destination. What was the matter with him?

It was not yet a year, he mused as the hired carriage bumped and swayed towards Gouda. Not a year since Nicolaas died – yet what had he said? That he wanted his wife to be loved, so why did he, Frederik, feel as though he was betraying him by having such feelings for her? He put his hands to his forehead. It was too soon to say anything, however desperate he might be to declare his love and affection. He took a sudden breath. But I am a married man and this feeling within me is totally immoral.

Miriam answered the door to his knock. She invited him in, explaining that her mistress had taken Klara to visit friends but wouldn't be long. She offered to make coffee for Frederik in the meantime.

‘Should I come back?' he asked, but she shook her head and said that it would be quite all right for him to wait.

‘Mevrouw was very much cheered by your last visit,
meneer
; please come in.' She led him into the sitting room and he sat facing the garden, which was full of pots of daffodils, hyacinth and early tulips. It was a very pleasant room, lit today by bright sunshine, and he noticed an upright piano by the back wall that he couldn't recall from his previous visits.

Miriam brought him coffee and cake, and he was just wiping the last crumbs from his mouth when he heard the front door open and Cornelia and Klara calling to Miriam. The maid answered them with the news that they had a visitor.

Cornelia put her head round the door, a slight apprehension in her expression until she saw who the visitor was, when he was delighted to see her face break into a warm smile. ‘Frederik! How lovely.' She came towards him, holding out both her hands to clasp his as he rose to greet her. ‘I'm so pleased to see you.'

‘You look well, Cornelia,' he said, his voice husky with nervous emotion; he was overcome at seeing her again. ‘So very well.'

‘I am well,' she said. ‘My spirits have lifted with the arrival of spring. The trees are in leaf, and my garden is flourishing. It was such a long, long winter – I thought we were never coming to the end of it. Those never-ending dark nights … well, you saw how I was. I was so grateful for your last visit.'

She invited him to sit again, and after opening the doors into the garden she took a chair next to him. ‘Miriam has given you coffee, I see. Can I get you anything else?'