Little Girl Lost (17 page)

‘Nothing, thank you.'

‘But you will stay the night?' She lowered her voice. ‘I promise that my behaviour won't be as foolish as last time.'

He shook his head. ‘You were not foolish,' he insisted, speaking softly. ‘You were unhappy and distressed and needed a friend and I happened to come along at the right time.' He was about to say that he would always be there if she needed him when the door opened and Klara came in.

‘
Lieveling
,' Cornelia said, ‘come and say hello to Meneer Vandergroene. Tell him what you have been doing, why don't you?'

Frederik stood up as Klara dipped her knee. ‘Call me Frederik, please,' he said, putting out his hand. ‘Or Uncle Freddy? Would you prefer that?'

‘Yes, please,' she said. ‘I would.' She smiled, and turned round to point at the piano. ‘That was my
oma
's piano and she's given it to me. I'm learning to play.'

‘I used to play when I was young,' Cornelia remarked. ‘So did my mother, but she no longer does and said that Klara could have the piano. She loves it, don't you, Klara?'

The little girl nodded. ‘I could play you something if you like, Uncle Freddy. I'm not very good yet but Mama says I will improve, don't you, Moe?'

‘Of course you will.' Her mother smiled at Klara as she went to the piano and then at Frederik. Lowering her voice again, she murmured, ‘She has lost her sadness since learning to play. It has made a great difference to her, and Hans too is mixing with his friends again.'

‘They just needed time,' he said. ‘It is a great healer.'

He broke off as Klara began to play and his eyebrows lifted in delight. He could recall his sister Anna playing the same simple piece when they were young, and remembered too that he and Bartel used to tease her whenever she hit a wrong note. He clapped his hands when she had finished. ‘Well done, Klara,' he said kindly. ‘That was lovely.' She got down from the stool and dipped her knee and asked her mother if she might go upstairs.

He told Cornelia that he had brought Margriet with him on this trip, with a maid to accompany her on the voyage.

‘I wish you could have brought her here,' she said wistfully. ‘I would love to meet her.'

‘Perhaps another time,' he said. ‘She's meeting my mother for the first time, and my sister and her children, and maybe my brother and his family too. But I would like to bring her; she and Klara would get on well together I think.' What would Rosamund make of that, he thought.

‘So do you have to get back to her tonight? Or can you stay for supper?'

‘I don't have to rush back. I have business to attend to in Gouda tomorrow, and in any case I am staying at a hotel in Amsterdam. My mother doesn't have enough room for all of us.'

‘Then you must stay with us. There's no need for you to stay in hotels when we have space. It will be lovely if you can, and you can see Hans too. He needs a man to talk to.' A shadow fell across her face, and she bent her head. ‘As I do too. I also need grown-up company.'

When Hans came in he seemed very pleased to see Frederik and shook his hand, giving a little bow. He sat down to talk and said that he would soon be going to school in Amsterdam. ‘My father's old school, and yours too,
meneer
,' he said. ‘I shall have to board, as it's too far to come home every day.' He looked towards the kitchen, where his mother had gone to supervise supper, and lowered his voice. ‘I shall worry about my mother, though, alone here with Klara, so I will come home every weekend until I am satisfied that she's all right.'

‘That is most praiseworthy,' Frederik said approvingly. ‘But your mother is a strong woman and I think she will cope very well.' He hesitated, and then said, ‘And you know that I will call and see her whenever I come over from England.'

Hans nodded. ‘Thank you,
meneer
. I hoped you would say that. She looks forward to your visits.'

Frederik suggested that Hans too might like to call him Frederik or Freddy. He didn't mention uncle as the boy would soon be twelve and probably thought of himself too grown up for that, but Hans grinned and asked if he could call him Uncle Freddy anyway. He added that he would like to speak only in English, and Frederik said he could do that.

The four of them ate supper together. Frederik hadn't brought a change of clothing but only the razor blade and shaving brush that he kept in a small cardboard box in his travelling case; he hadn't wanted Cornelia to think that he assumed he would be staying. Cornelia had come down in a dark blue full-skirted silk gown patterned with small flowers, with a pointed waistline and a low neckline that emphasized her creamy skin, which was bare of jewellery.

Afterwards, Hans and Frederik began a game of chess and Klara played the piano whilst Cornelia sat and watched them. Presently Klara went up to bed, and Cornelia got up and poured two glasses of wine.

‘I'm going up now, Moe,' Hans said as they reached stalemate and declared the game a draw. ‘I've to be up early in the morning. I have an exam tomorrow.' He turned to Frederik. ‘I might see you in the morning, sir, or perhaps tomorrow evening?'

‘I have to be in Amsterdam tomorrow, but perhaps before I return to England I might call again. But in any case I will be back before the end of the month to collect Margriet, and I will see you then.'

Hans nodded. ‘Good. I'll look forward to it. Goodnight, Uncle Freddy.'

‘What a splendid young man he is,' Frederik said after he had gone. ‘I would have loved to have had such a son.'

‘He is quite special.' Cornelia smiled. ‘But then I am very biased.'

‘And quite rightly so. We should be proud of our children, and yours are a credit to you.'

‘Yes,' she said softly. ‘And to Nicolaas too.'

‘Of course.' He sighed. ‘What a good fellow he was.'

She nodded but didn't say anything, and they sat quietly drinking their wine. Then he asked, ‘Won't you play me something?'

She shrugged and laughed. ‘I'm rather rusty.'

‘It doesn't matter. Please do – I never hear music. We have a piano, but Rosamund is too shy to play in front of anyone.'

‘All right,' she said reluctantly, rising from her chair. ‘Will you turn the pages?'

He laughed. ‘You'll have to tell me when.'

He took his glass with him and stood slightly behind her as she began, taking sips of the full-bodied red wine. Cornelia faltered a little at first but as her confidence grew she began to play more fluently. Frederik didn't really care if she made mistakes; he was happy just to stand near her, watching her fingers on the keys and the movement of her head and shoulders as she gently swayed to the melody.

He reached across to the nearby dresser and put his glass down as she indicated that he should turn the page, and leaned over her to do so. He was mesmerized by the wisps of hair that had escaped from the braids around her head and were touching the back of her neck, quivering as an aspen leaf might. I'm drunk, he thought, on one glass of wine. He gently touched the nape of her neck and his fingers trembled as he teased the wisps of hair between them. Cornelia stirred slightly but wavered only briefly in her playing as he ran his hands down the smooth slope of her bare shoulders to the narrow silk piping of her neckline.

Her hands paused in their movement and she slowly turned round to face him. Her lips were parted as his were too.

‘Forgive me, Lia,' he whispered. ‘It's more than I can bear.'

She stood up, and with the piano stool between them she gazed at him. Then, with barely a second's pause, she leaned towards him and kissed him tenderly on his lips.

Upstairs in his room, Hans lay sleepless, waiting as he always had since his father's death for the click of the latch on his mother's door. Once he heard her he could relax, knowing she was safely in bed, although he often heard her weeping. He had heard the faint notes of the piano and was pleased that she was playing again, and now he heard footsteps on the stair. Two pairs of feet, the quiet tread along the corridor to her room and the click of the latch to open the door and close it. Only one door.

He gave a huge sigh and slid down beneath the sheets. He was glad. At last, his mother would be happy again. He was sure of it.

‘What about the children?' Frederik had whispered as Cornelia placed a guard against the fire and turned down the lamp.

He'd returned her kiss, drawing her to him and leading her to a chair where she'd sat on his knee and wept. He kissed her wet cheeks and smoothed back her hair and told her he loved her and that there was no need for tears.

‘I won't ever hurt you, Lia,' he murmured. ‘I will cherish you and take care of you always.'

She placed her finger on his lips to silence him. ‘Don't make promises,' she whispered. ‘We don't know what is in front of us. Let us make the most of what we have now. You have already given me joy by your caring friendship, and—'

Now it was his turn to put his finger to her mouth, gently tracing the outline, feeling the moistness as she parted her lips. ‘I have told you I love you,' he said softly. ‘I don't want only friendship.'

It was then that she stood up, drawing him to her and asking him to come again to her bed. ‘But this time not as a friend, but as my lover.'

And then he had asked, ‘What about the children?'

She kissed his hand as she led him to the door, carefully closing it behind them. ‘They'll be asleep,' she whispered as they mounted the stairs. ‘They sleep well.'

Once inside her room he took off his jacket and threw it on a chair, and when Cornelia turned her back to him he fumbled to unfasten the lacing that reached below her waist. The sleeves of the bodice slipped off her shoulders, her gown falling to the floor in an abundant cascade, leaving her in only her linen chemise.

He took in a deep breath as she turned towards him and raised her arms, and he lifted the chemise over her head so that she stood naked before him. He gazed at her and then fell to his knees, and as he knelt she lifted first one foot and then another so that he could take off her dainty slippers. He kissed each foot in turn, murmuring her name. Not Cornelia, but Lia. That was his name for her, and never in his life had he felt such emotion, such strength of passion as he was feeling now. Not once had he seen a woman unashamed to show him her body in all its beauty, and as he knelt before her she bent to unfasten his shirt, her breasts touching his face, and he felt that he was in heaven.

It was not as if he had never felt any affection for Rosamund, he told Lia many weeks later on one of his many return visits. She was the mother of his daughter, after all, but he felt that she didn't return his affection and his feelings for her had dwindled after so many years of her reluctance to share her bed or have another child.

He turned to Lia as she stroked his cheek. Her thick luxuriant hair was strewn across her pillow and he told her again how much he loved her.

‘I would gladly give you a child, Frederik,' she whispered. ‘But I fear that because you are a part-time husband and I am a widow it would not be to our advantage.'

‘I could leave her,' he said. The prospect of that had filled his mind constantly. ‘I have every reason to do so.'

‘
Nee, lieveling
,' she said. ‘I would not wish that on any woman. Your wife would be ostracized, and from what I gather about her she would not cope with that. She would be condemned to living a life without friends or family.'

They were alone in the house. Klara had gone to stay with Lia's mother and Hans was now at school in Amsterdam, but before he had departed the boy had asked to have a private word with Frederik. He had blushed, and said, ‘I wanted to tell you, Uncle Freddy, that I'm pleased that you have brought my
moeder
some happiness, but I wonder what will happen to her if you return to your wife.'

Frederik was startled. He and Lia had tried to be discreet, but Hans was old enough – and mature enough, it seemed – to see through their veil of discretion. Honesty appeared to be his only option.

‘I haven't actually left my wife, Hans. We are still married, and although I am willing to leave her your mother is against it. She says that my wife would be shunned by society if I follow that line, and she doesn't want that.'

Hans gave a little smile. ‘
Mijn moeder
always thinks of others. It is a generous trait.'

‘I love your mother,' Frederik said. ‘And I would give anything to be with her, but she is right. I must think not only about my wife but about my daughter too, for our separation would reflect on her as well.'

Hans nodded. ‘Margriet. Yes. I wish we could meet her.'

‘I promise that I'll bring her one day. She is coming to stay with her
oma
again in the summer; perhaps I will bring her then.'

And so he did. When summer came along he once again asked Florrie to accompany Margriet to his mother's and she agreed immediately. She liked Gerda Vandergroene, and her daughter too, and her plans for improving her position were still in her mind. Mrs Simmonds asked Jane to step into the breach once more.

Margriet stayed for a week this time, visiting her cousins and learning to speak Dutch. Often Floris, as the Dutch called her, took the children out alone without Gerda or Anna. Then Frederik arrived from his office one day and told Margriet he would like her to come with him to meet a friend and her children.

‘Do you recall, Margriet, that a very dear friend of mine died and you asked if I would tell his children, Hans and Klara, that you were very sad for them?'

‘Yes, I do remember,' she said. ‘I said that I would cry if you died.'

‘Well, I would expect at least a bucketful of tears, Margriet,' he joked, patting her head. ‘I've seen Hans and Klara a few times since then and they would like to meet you, so could Oma spare you for a day, do you think?'