Little Girl Lost (19 page)

Lia said she would rather wait longer for a visit than worry about his safety. ‘It is a vicious sea,' she said vehemently. ‘Wanting always to reclaim the land! People should live up on a mountain, not on the ocean bed as we do in Netherlands.'

He kissed her cheek and laughed. ‘But here we are, as we have been for a thousand years, and the engineers are coming up with new ideas all the time to keep us safe. The Dutch are the best in the world at building sea defences.'

But she wouldn't be convinced and only implored him not to travel again before spring, until at last he agreed. ‘But I can't wait until Easter to see you,' he insisted. ‘I'll come early in the New Year, after Margriet's birthday.'

She gave a shiver. ‘It will still be winter,
lieveling
,' she said. ‘January is as cold and windy as November.'

‘You're tired of me,' he teased.

‘Never,' she said. ‘Never, never, never!'

And so he didn't come, but he wrote to her and she sent letters to his Hull office. Christmas came and went and Margriet was thrilled by a visit to the newly opened theatre in Paragon Street as a special eleventh birthday treat. A week later they took a train ride on the railway line from Hull to Bridlington, also newly opened only a few months previously. In Bridlington, wrapped warmly because of the icy wind, they walked through the village and along the seashore before returning to the station.

‘So what do you think about rail travel, Margriet?' her father asked her as the train huffed and chuffed its way back to Hull, emitting great clouds of smoke and sounding its whistle as they passed through the intervening villages. ‘We are a little late in getting this line, but it will open up many opportunities for the people of Hull.'

‘I love it, Papa,' she shrieked above the screech of the wheels. ‘It's just like Amsterdam, isn't it, when we go to Utrecht to see Tante Lia and Klara and Hans?'

Frederik swallowed, but smiled guilelessly as Rosamund, wrapped in blankets and shawls, turned her eyes from Margriet to him. However, she said nothing except to remark on how well travelled Margriet appeared to be.

By February he was desperate to see Lia, but the weather was atrocious and a ship was lost on a voyage to Hull from Hamburg; he knew it was foolish to attempt travelling and he wrote to her again, assuring her of his love and wishing that they could be together more often.

I am tempted
, he wrote,
to ask if you would consider living on this side of the cruel sea that divides us as I have considered moving back to Netherlands, but I am only too aware that we both have responsibilities to our families and this, alas, keeps us apart. But I will come, my dearest love, just as soon as I am able
.

And in turn she wrote to say that just knowing that he wanted to be with her was enough for the time being.
I will keep you warm in my heart for ever, even whilst we are apart
.

At the end of February the weather was still cold, but it was less windy and he decided to make the journey, but on a bigger passenger ship. The packet was still crossing most days and bringing in his goods to the docks.

The journey was uneventful, but his mother scolded him for travelling. Amsterdam was still freezing, but he conducted his business as usual and then caught the train to Utrecht. By now he had a regular coach driver willing to drive him to Gouda whatever the weather, and the man accepted his extra tip with gratitude.

‘You have been away a long time,
meneer
,' he said. ‘I trust business has been good. Your wife will be pleased to have you back at home.'

Frederik took in a breath. ‘I hope so,' he said amicably, ‘but she won't be when I tell her that I shall be leaving again in two days' time.'

‘Ah, tut! Work is not everything. But there again, I know how it is. We must work to eat.'

Cornelia had opened a shutter when she heard the rattle of the carriage wheels and now she hurried to let him in. She kissed him tenderly before calling upstairs to Hans and Klara that Uncle Freddy was here.

‘Hans?' Frederik queried. ‘Not at school?'

Hans came down the stairs to greet him. ‘Studying,' he said. ‘I have another exam next week.' He shook hands with Frederik, who remarked that the boy was now as tall as he was.

‘I'll be sixteen in June,' Hans said, ‘and I'm still growing. Will you excuse me, sir? Perhaps we can talk over supper? I'd like to ask you a few things, if I may.'

Klara came down and gave him a kiss, and then she too disappeared back up to her room. Lia smiled.

‘You see how it is,' she said. ‘My babies are growing up and don't need their
moeder
any more.'

‘I think they always will.' He kissed her mouth. ‘Just as I do. What fine children they are. Hans is so sensible, and handsome too; he takes after his mother.'

She laughed. ‘So he does. He wants to talk to you about his future. He's very good at maths and has a head for business, so his tutors say, rather than the classics. He's not sure that he wants to go to university, and that's why he would like to talk to you.'

Frederik nodded. ‘He is a very personable young man. I will help him all I can, and if he decides to go into commerce perhaps he might like to start in my office, when the time is right?'

‘That, I think, is what he was hoping you would say.'

As he travelled back to Amsterdam Frederik mused that this had been the happiest visit yet. The only flaw was that Margriet wasn't with him. One day, he thought, she could choose for herself where she would like to live, but he hoped that it would always be close to him.

He had had a long talk with Hans about his future and had told him that there would be an opening for him in his Amsterdam office if he decided to go into business. ‘I'll put your name down,' he had joked, but the boy had said very seriously that he would be pleased if he did. Accordingly, on arriving back at his office he discussed with his manager the prospect of employing Nicolaas Jansen's son when he finished his schooling.

‘If he is anything like his father,' said Aarden, who remembered Nicolaas, ‘he will be a welcome asset. Are you staying a few days? I wanted to talk to you about how well the bulbs are selling. We have had a huge number of growers contacting us and wanting to use us for cut flowers in the spring as well as bulbs in the autumn. A fantastic success, I would say.'

‘Then let's hope it will continue,' Frederik said. ‘And it's down to you and the team who have worked so hard to make it so. I'm returning to England tomorrow night, so we'll discuss everything in the morning; now I must go to see my
moeder
and give her some of my time before she feels neglected.'

Aarden grinned. ‘My
moeder
is the same. Please give Mevrouw Vandergroene my kind regards, sir, and tell her she is very welcome here at the office at any time.' He was well aware that Frederik's mother was a major shareholder.

Gerda welcomed him back with a smile. ‘How's the tulip business?'

‘Thriving,' he answered. ‘You will be pleased to hear that we are having great success with them, so you have no need to worry about a poverty-stricken old age.'

‘Pah!' she said. ‘You can't fool me, not when I've fooled so many.' She put the kettle on the stove, and with her back to him remarked, ‘It is the widow I think who brings you back, is it not? Not the tulips at all.'

He was silent for a moment and then sat down in one of the easy chairs and folded his arms. He sighed. Sometimes he grew tired of the secrets. He didn't want to hide Lia away; he wanted to talk about her and explain that his wish was to be with her, that his empty life with Rosamund gave him no happiness at all.

His mother turned to face him, curious about his silence when normally he was quick to respond. She sat down opposite him.

‘You can tell me,
kindje
,' she said softly. ‘Anything.'

‘But I'm no longer an infant, Moe,' he said in a despairing voice. ‘I am a grown man, and I'm split in two.'

She leaned forward and patted his hand. ‘You will always be my
kindje
, just as Anna and Bartel are,' she said. ‘So tell me, is it the widow Jansen who gives you such heartbreak?'

‘No!' He shook his head. ‘She doesn't give me heartbreak. My heart breaks because I can't be with her and I'm trapped in a loveless marriage.'

‘Ah! Does she love you, this widow?'

‘Her name is Lia, and yes, she does.'

She considered. ‘I cannot condone separation, but—'

‘Neither can I hurt Margriet,' he interrupted, adding adamantly, ‘and it would. She is a kind little girl and wouldn't want to see her mother unhappy, as she would be if we separated. I'd be condemning Rosamund to a life alone, looked down on by society.'

His mother sat back and sighed. ‘You were always such a principled child. I thought that one day those principles would floor you.' She pursed her mouth. ‘Then you must wait. Wait until Margriet is grown up and has her own life, then buy your wife another property where she can entertain her friends.' She wrinkled her lips as if to say that she doubted she had any. ‘And you can then make your own arrangements.' She shrugged. ‘How long will that be? Ten years? Less. Time travels so fast.'

He smiled wryly. She had always been positive, always sure that she knew best, when often she didn't. ‘What a great help you are, Moe,' he murmured. ‘Of course you are right. I must be patient.'

He said goodbye to her the next morning after breakfast and tenderly kissed her cheek. He was planning to spend the rest of the day at the office discussing with Aarden the possibility of selling even more horticultural products. In addition, he intended to put something on file to ensure that Hans Jansen would be taken on as a member of the company if that was what he wanted.

At four o'clock he packed up his briefcase, had a few final words with Aarden and left the office to go to the docks. He hadn't booked a passage but there was always plenty of room at this time of year.

It was already dark. There was a strong blustery wind, and he realized that it would be a very rough crossing. He was heading for the passenger ferry when he heard his name being hailed. There were few lights except for the oil lamps positioned by the gangplank, but someone was walking towards him and waving his arm in greeting.

‘Goodness, you've got good eyesight, Hendrik,' he said as Hendrik Sanderson approached him. ‘Are you coming or going?'

‘I
was
going home. I've been visiting my
moeder
, but the ferry is cancelled. There's a storm expected.'

Frederik blew an exasperated breath. ‘Oh, no!' Now he saw the chain across the gangplank and a seaman positioned by it. ‘What about the packets? Are any of those running?'

‘I haven't enquired. Alice would have my hide if I sailed in one of those old tubs.'

Frederik laughed. ‘They cross constantly! They're perfectly safe, just a rougher passage, that's all. How is she? Alice?'

‘She's expecting another child; she reckons she's going to lock me in the basement after this one is delivered. That's why I will only travel on a passenger ship; she made me promise.'

Frederik shrugged. ‘Ah well, in that case …' He pondered for a moment. ‘Well, I've travelled several times on Simpson's packet, the
Mary Brown
, and if she hasn't already left I'll go on her. I trust my cargo to her so I should trust myself.'

Sanderson was obviously weighing up the question of whether to overrule his wife's command or wait until the following day. ‘No,' he decided. ‘If Alice should find out, I'll be in the doghouse for weeks. Women, eh? We're ruled by them, aren't we?'

Although Frederik said he agreed wholeheartedly, he reflected ruefully that Rosamund probably didn't give much thought to how he travelled or when. Margriet, however, always asked him which ship was he crossing on, and had said that she too would like to go on the ‘little ship' sometime.

He shook hands with Hendrik and they went their separate ways, Frederik towards where he thought the packet might be berthed and Hendrik back towards the line of carriages waiting outside the dock. Hendrik paused, turning to look back but Frederik had disappeared into the darkness. The wind was getting stronger and more blustery, whistling and rattling through the riggings and furled canvas of the many ships, and as he climbed into a cab Hendrik felt a sudden unease. He wished he'd persuaded Frederik to come back to his hotel, where they could have enjoyed a companionable supper, sharing a bottle of wine and a chat. Still, he thought philosophically, he's made this journey often enough; he knows what he's doing.

The gangplank on the
Mary Brown
was open and Frederik boarded. He called to the captain, who was about to go below with a bucket of water in each hand.

‘Are you sailing tonight, Captain?'

Captain Simpson put up his thumb. ‘Aye. Are you coming with us?'

‘Please. If you have space.'

He put down the buckets. ‘Enough,' he said. ‘Only three passengers, but plenty of cargo, so I'd like to sail tonight.'

‘What about the weather?'

‘It'll be rough, no doubt about that, but she's a sturdy little lady. The firemen are re-laying the fire bed; the trimmers are standing by so we'll be ready to sail in half an hour. Find a bunk and help yourself to coffee. You know the drill.'

‘I do,' Frederik said. ‘Thanks.'

He went below at the fore of the ship, finding a cabin at the same level as the boiler room where he could hear and feel its thrum. He took off his coat and put on a warm jumper and the fur hat that covered his ears, and put his coat back on again. It would be cold on deck once they were under way. He went up to the caboose, where the kettle was steaming gently on the stove, found some cocoa and made himself a hot drink with a lot of sugar in it.