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Promise of Happiness
Betty Neels
Mills & Boon presents the complete Betty Neels collection. Timeless tales of heart-warming romance by one of the world’s best-loved romance authors.“I’m not attracted to thin mice.” So stated the urbane Baron Tiele Raukema van den Eck – and as Rebecca Saunders was both thin and mouselike she knew exactly where she stood with him! But he had been very kind, rescuing her when she was virtually destitute.He had even found her a job – nursing his mother – that was enjoyable and well paid and that took her to Norway and Holland. The result was inevitable – Rebecca had fallen in love with him, and even the presence of his girlfriend Nina couldn’t stop her dreaming…



“It’s rather warm, but it will be cozy in the winter. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
Baron Tiele Raukema was leaning against the door, staring at her. “Thank you, no. You’ve filled out very nicely, Becky.”
She was so surprised at this that she stared at him, her mouth open, and then said, “You don’t mean that I’m getting fat?”
The horror in her voice made him laugh. “No, only that you’re no longer a thin mouse.”
She had nothing to say to that. After a moment, she said, “It as a lovely evening. I would like to thank you, Baron. Bertie and Pooch liked it, too.”
“And I, Becky? Do you think that I liked it?”
His voice was too silky for her liking, but she answered him seriously. “Yes, you did, to begin with, and then I began to bore you, didn’t I? The wine, you know. I am not used to it and it made me chatty. I’m sorry it was a wasted evening for you.”
“You’re wrong.” His voice was so mild that it did not sound like his at all. “I enjoyed every single moment of it, Becky.” He took a step forward and swept her to him with one great arm, kissed her hard and went away, leaving her standing there staring at the closed door.
Romance readers around the world were sad to note the passing of Betty Neels in June 2001. Her career spanned thirty years, and she continued to write into her ninetieth year. To her millions of fans, Betty epitomized the romance writer, and yet she began writing almost by accident. She had retired from nursing, but her inquiring mind still sought stimulation. Her new career was born when she heard a lady in her local library bemoaning the lack of good romance novels. Betty’s first book, Sister Peters in Amsterdam, was published in 1969, and she eventually completed 134 books. Her novels offer a reassuring warmth that was very much a part of her own personality. She was a wonderful writer, and she will be greatly missed. Her spirit and genuine talent will live on in all her stories.

The Promise of Happiness
Betty Neels



CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER ONE
THE ROAD over the moors was lonely, its surface glistening from the drizzle which had been falling since first light. It was still very early; barely six o’clock, but already full daylight by reason of the time of year—the end of June, but as yet there was no sign of the clouds breaking, so that the magnificence of the scenery was a little marred by their uniform greyness.
There were no houses in sight and no cars, only a solitary figure marching briskly on the crown of the road, the thin figure of a girl, wrapped in a shabby old-fashioned raincoat, her hair tied in a sopping scarf. Marching beside her was a black retriever, no longer young, attached to a stout string, and tucked under the other arm was a plastic bag from the top of which protruded a cat’s head. It was an ugly beast, made more so by its wetness and a battle-scarred ear, but it was quiet enough, taking no notice of the road but fixing its eyes on the girl’s face.
‘We’re free, my dears,’ she told them in a rather breathy voice, because she was walking so quickly. ‘At least, if we can get to Newcastle we are. The main road’s only another mile; there may be a bus,’ she added, more to reassure herself than the animals. ‘Anyway, they won’t find we’re gone for another two hours.’
The dog whimpered gently and she slowed her steps, and said: ‘Sorry, Bertie.’ Without the animals she could have got away much faster, but the thought hadn’t even entered her head. They had been her solace for two years or more and she wasn’t going to abandon them. She began to whistle; they were together and hopeful of the future; she had a pitifully small sum in her purse, the clothes she stood up in, by now very wet, and a comb in her pocket—there had been no time for more; but she was free, and so were Bertie and Pooch. She whistled a little louder.
She intended to join the A696 north of Newcastle with the prospect of at least another six miles to go before she reached the city. She had been walking through moorland, magnificent country forming a small corner of the National Park, but very shortly it would be the main road and Newcastle at the end of it.
The main road, when she joined it presently, was surprisingly free from traffic and she supposed it was too early for a bus. She began to wonder what she would do when she got there and her courage faltered a little at the prospect of finding somewhere to spend the night, and most important, a job. And that shouldn’t be too difficult, she told herself bracingly; she was a trained nurse, surely there was a hospital who would employ her and let her live in—which left Bertie and Pooch… And they would want references… She was so deep in thought that she didn’t hear the big car slowing behind her and then stopping a few paces ahead. It was a large car, a silver- grey Rolls-Royce Corniche, and the man who got out of the driving seat was large too and very tall, with pepper and salt hair and very blue eyes in a handsome face. He waited until the trio had drawn abreast of him before he spoke. He said ‘good morning’ with casual politeness and looked amused. ‘Perhaps I can give you a lift?’ he offered, still casual, and waited quietly for his answer.
‘Well, thank you—but Bertie and Pooch are wet, they’d spoil your lovely car.’ She looked it over before her eyes went back to his face.
For answer he opened the back door. ‘There’s a rug—your dog can sit on it.’ He studied Pooch’s damp fur. ‘Perhaps the cat beside him, or would you rather have him on your knee?’
‘Oh, with me, if you don’t mind, it’s all a bit strange for him.’
He opened the door for her and when they were all settled she said contritely: ‘We’re all so wet— I’m sorry.’
‘It’s of no importance. Where can I set you down?’ He smiled fleetingly. ‘My name’s Raukema van den Eck—Tiele Raukema van den Eck.’
‘Rebecca Saunders.’ She offered a wet hand and he shook it, still with an air of amusement. She really was a nondescript little thing, no make-up and far too thin—her pansy brown eyes looked huge and there were hollows in her cheeks, and her hair was so wet he could hardly tell its colour.
‘Where would you like to go?’ he asked again, and this time there was faint impatience in his voice.
‘Well, anywhere in Newcastle, thank you,’ she made haste to assure him. ‘I must look for a job.’
‘A little early in the day for that, surely?’ he queried idly. ‘You must have left home early—you live close by?’
‘I left home just before four o’clock. It’s six miles away, down a side road.’
Her companion shot her a quick glance. He said on a laugh: ‘You sound as though you’re running away from a wicked stepmother!’
‘Well, I am,’ said Rebecca matter-of-factly. ‘At least, she’s not exactly wicked, but I had to run away; Basil was going to drown Pooch and shoot Bertie, you see.’
‘I am a very discreet man,’ offered Mr Raukema van den Eck, ‘if you would care to tell me about it…?’
Her hands tightened on Pooch’s fur so that he muttered at her. ‘I can’t bother you with something that’s—that’s…’
‘None of my business? I have always found that talking to a stranger is so much easier—you see, they are not involved.’
‘Well, it would be nice to talk about it…’
‘Then talk, Miss…no, Rebecca.’
‘People call me Becky, only my stepmother and Basil call me Rebecca.’
He had slowed the car as the country round them was slowly swallowed by the outskirts of the city, and his ‘Well?’ was encouraging if a little impatient.
‘I’m twenty-three,’ began Becky, ‘my mother died when I was eighteen and I looked after Father at first and when I went to Leeds to train we got a housekeeper. Everything was lovely…’ she swallowed a grief which had never quite faded. ‘My father married again. He died two years ago and my stepmother forced me to go home because she said she was ill and needed me…’
‘People don’t force anyone in these days,’ remarked her companion.
‘Oh, yes, they do.’ She wanted to argue with him about that, but there wasn’t much more time. ‘She wrote to the Principal Nursing Officer and her doctor wrote too. She sent Basil—he’s my stepbrother, to fetch me. She wasn’t really ill—jaundice, but not severe, but somehow I couldn’t get away. I tried once or twice, but each time she told me what she would do to Pooch and Bertie if I went, and I had no money.’ She added vehemently: ‘I don’t suppose you know what it’s like not to have any money? It took me almost two years to save up enough money to get away.’
‘How much did you save?’ he asked idly.
‘Thirty pounds and sixty pence.’
‘That won’t go far.’ His voice was gentle.
‘Well, I thought for a start it would pay our bus fares and breakfast before we look for a job.’
‘Will your stepmother not look for you?’
‘Probably, but they don’t get up until eight o’clock. I call them every morning—they’d wonder where I’d got to. But by the time they’ve asked the housekeeper and looked for me that will be at least another hour.’
‘And what kind of job do you hope to get?’
‘Well, nursing, of course, though I suppose I could be a housekeeper…’
‘References?’ he probed.
‘Oh—if I gave them the hospital at Leeds my stepmother might enquire there and find out—there isn’t anyone else, only my father’s elder brother, and he lives in Cornwall, and I don’t expect he even remembers me.’ She turned to look at him. ‘I suppose you couldn’t…?’
‘No, I couldn’t.’ His tone was very decisive.
She watched the almost empty street and didn’t look at him. ‘No, of course not—I’m sorry. And thank you for giving us a lift. If you’d stop anywhere here, we’ll get out.’
He pulled into the kerb. ‘I am a little pressed for time and I am tired, but I have no intention of leaving you here at this hour of the morning. I intend to have breakfast and I shall be delighted if you will join me.’
He didn’t sound in the least delighted, but Becky was hungry. She asked hesitantly: ‘What about Pooch and Bertie?’
‘I feel sure we shall be able to find someone who will feed them.’
‘I’m very obliged to you,’ said Becky, any qualms melting before the prospects of a good meal.
He drove on again without speaking, threading his way into and across the central motorway, to take the road to Tynemouth and stop outside the Imperial Hotel.
‘Not here?’ asked Becky anxiously.
‘Yes, here.’ He got out and opened her door and then invited Bertie to get out too, handing her the string wordlessly before entering the hotel. He was looking impatient again and as she hastened to keep close, reflecting that the hotel looked rather splendid and that probably the porter would take one look at her and refuse to allow her in—especially with the animals.
She need not have worried. Her wet raincoat was taken from her and leaving Pooch and Bertie with Mr Raukema van den Eck she retired to the powder room with her comb to do the best she could with her appearance. And not very successfully, judging by her host’s expression when she joined him.
They were shown into the coffee room where a table had been got ready for them and what was more, two plates of food set on the floor beside it. Becky took her seat wonderingly. ‘I say,’ she wanted to know, ‘do all hotels do this? I didn’t know— breakfast at seven o’clock in the morning and no one minding about the animals.’
Her companion looked up from his menu. ‘I don’t think I should try it on your own,’ he suggested dryly. ‘They happen to be expecting me here.’ He added: ‘What would you like to eat?’
Becky hesitated. True, he drove a Rolls-Royce and this was a very super hotel, but the car could go with the job and he might have intended to treat himself to a good meal. She frowned; it seemed a funny time of day to be going anywhere…
‘I’m very hungry,’ said Mr Raukema van den Eck. ‘I shall have—let me see—grapefruit, eggs and bacon and sausages, toast and marmalade. And tea—I prefer tea to coffee.’
‘I’d like the same,’ said Becky, and when it came, ate the lot. The good food brought a little colour into her pale thin face and her companion, glancing at her, looked again. A plain girl, but not quite as plain as he had at first supposed. When they had finished she made haste to thank him and assure him that she would be on her way. ‘We’re very grateful,’ she told him, and Bertie and Pooch, sitting quietly at her feet, stared up in speechless agreement. ‘It’s made a wonderful start to the day. I’ll get my coat…would you mind waiting with them while I go? I’ll be very quick…you’re in a hurry, aren’t you?’
‘Not at the moment. Take all the time you need.’ He had taken a notebook from a pocket and was leafing through it.
Becky inspected her person in the privacy of the powder room and sighed. Her hair had dried more or less; it hung straight and fine down her back, a hideous mouse in her own opinion. She looked better now she had had a meal, but she had no make-up and her hands were rough and red and the nails worn down with housework. She didn’t see the beauty of her eyes or the creaminess of her skin or the silky brows. She turned away after a minute or two and with her raincoat over her arm went back to the coffee room. She was crossing the foyer when the door opened and three people came in; a large, florid woman in a too tight suit who looked furious, and a small, elderly lady, exquisitely dressed, looking even more furious, and seated in a wheelchair pushed by a harassed-looking man.
‘I am in great pain,’ declared the little lady, ‘and you, who call yourself a nurse, do nothing about it! I am in your clutches for the next few weeks and I do not like it; I wish you to go.’
The large woman put down the wraps she was carrying. ‘Foreigners,’ she observed nastily. ‘They’re all alike. I’m going!’
She took herself off under Becky’s astonished stare followed by a gleeful chuckle from the little lady, who said something to the man behind the chair so that he went out of the door too. It was then that her eye lighted upon Becky. ‘Come here, young woman,’ she ordered imperiously. ‘I am in great pain and that silly woman who calls herself a nurse took no notice. You have a sensible face; lift me up and look beneath my leg, if you please.’
Becky was an obliging girl; she twitched back the rug covering the lady’s knees in preparation for lifting her and saw why she was in a chair in the first place. One leg was in plaster, the other one had a crêpe bandage round the knee. ‘Which leg?’ asked Becky.
‘The bandaged one.’
It was a pin which shouldn’t have been there in the first place, its point imbedded behind the lady’s knee. Becky made soothing noises, whisked it out, pocketed it and tucked the bandage end in neatly. ‘That must have hurt,’ she said sympathetically. ‘Can I help with anything else?’
The little lady smiled. ‘No, my dear, thank you. You’ve been kind.’ The man had come back with a small case under his arm. ‘I’ll go straight to my room and they can send up breakfast.’ She waved goodbye and Becky heard her telling the porter to let her know…she didn’t hear any more as the lift doors shut.
She went back to the coffee room and was a little surprised to find that her host seemed in no hurry at all. All the same, she bade him goodbye and marched resolutely to the door. It was still raining outside and she had no idea where to go, but she refused his rather perfunctory invitation to stay where she was for an hour or so; he must be longing to be rid of them by now. She went off down the street, walking as though she knew just where she was going, although she hadn’t a clue.
Mr Raukema van den Eck stood where he was, watching her small upright person out of sight. If he hadn’t had an appointment he might have gone after her…it was like putting a stray kitten back on the street after letting it sit by the fire and eat its fill… He frowned with annoyance because he was becoming sentimental and he didn’t hold with that, and the waiter who had just come on duty hesitated before sidling up to him.
‘The Baroness is here, Baron,’ he murmured deferentially.
‘Just arrived?’ He glanced at the man. ‘She’s in her room? I’ll come up at once.’
He ignored the lift, taking the stairs two at a time, to tap on the door which had been indicated to him. It was a large, comfortably furnished room and his mother was sitting, still in her wheelchair, by the window.
‘Mama, how delightfully punctual, and was it very inconvenient for you?’
She lifted her face for his kiss and smiled at him. ‘No, my dear—Lucy was charming about it when I explained and William took the greatest care of me, and after all we didn’t have to leave until six o’clock.’
Her son looked round the room. ‘And the nurse?’
His mother’s very blue eyes flashed. ‘I have given her the sack. A horrible woman; I knew I should not like her when she arrived last night, the thought of spending three weeks in her company made me feel ill, and only a short while ago, as we arrived, I begged her to help me because of the pain and she would not. So I sent her away.’
Her son blinked rapidly, his mind running ahead. Here was a situation to be dealt with and he was due to leave in less than an hour. ‘Where was the pain?’ he asked gently.
‘It was a pin, in the bandage round my knee—at the back where I could not get at it. There was a girl in the foyer—a skinny little creature with enormous eyes; she knew what to do at once when I asked for help. Now why cannot I have someone like her instead of that wretched woman they sent from the agency?’
The faint but well-concealed impatience on the Baron’s features was replaced by a look of pleased conjecture. ‘And why not?’ he wanted to know. ‘Mama, will you wait for a few minutes while I see if I can find her? There is no time to explain at the moment—I’ll do that later. Shall I ring for a maid before I go?’
It was still raining as he got into the car and slid into the early morning traffic, thickening every minute, but he didn’t drive fast. Becky and her companions should be easy enough to see, even in a busy city, but there was always the likelihood that she had gone down some side street. But she hadn’t; she had stopped to ask the way to somewhere or other, that was apparent, for the matronly-looking woman she was talking to was pointing down the street. The Baron slid to a halt beside them, wound down his window and said quietly: ‘Becky…’
She turned round at once and when she saw who it was her face broke into a smile. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she observed. ‘Are you on your way again?’
He was disinclined for conversation. ‘I have a job for you; you’ll have to come back to the hotel, I’ll tell you about it there.’
He waited while she thanked the woman and then got out into the rain to usher Bertie in and settle her and Pooch beside him.
And he turned the car, he said severely: ‘You are far too trusting, Becky—to accept my word without one single question. I might have been intent on abducting you.’
She gave him a puzzled look. ‘But why shouldn’t I trust you?’ she wanted to know. ‘And who in his right mind would want to abduct me?’
‘You have a point there.’ He threw her a sidelong glance. She looked bedraggled and tired; perhaps his idea hadn’t been such a good one after all. On the other hand, some dry clothes and a few good meals might make all the difference. ‘That lady you helped in the hotel—she needs a nurse for a few weeks. She liked you, so I said I’d fetch you back so that she could talk to you…’
‘References,’ said Becky sadly. ‘I haven’t any, you know—and I can’t prove I’m a nurse.’
He had drawn up before the hotel once more, now he turned to her. ‘What would you do if you were given the care of someone with ulcerative protocolitis?’
‘Oh, that’s usually treated medically, isn’t it— they only operate when the disease is severe. I’ve only seen it done once…’ She launched into a succinct account of what could be done. ‘Is that what I’m to nurse?’ she asked.
‘No. What do you know about serum viral hepatitis?’
She wrinkled her brow. ‘I don’t know much about that, only that it’s transmitted in three ways…’ She mentioned them briefly and he asked quietly:
‘The sources?’
She told him those too.
‘And what preventative measures can be taken?’
She had to think hard about those, and when she had remembered all six of them she asked: ‘Are you examining me?’
‘No— You said that you had no references…’
Becky said suddenly: ‘Gosh, how silly I am! You must be a doctor.’
‘Indeed I am, and due to leave here within the hour, so if we might go inside…?’
For all the world as though she had been wasting his time in light conversation, thought Becky. The whole thing must be a dreadful bore for him. With a face like his and a Rolls to boot, he hardly needed to waste time on someone as uninteresting as herself. But she got out obediently, gathered the animals to her, and went back into the hotel.
The little lady she had helped in the foyer turned to stare at her as she entered the room and then took her quite by surprise by exclaiming: ‘Yes, that’s the one. How very clever of you to find her, Tiele— we’ll engage her at once.’ Her eyes fell on Bertie and Pooch. ‘And these animals…?’
‘I have been thinking about them, Mama, but first let me introduce you. This is Miss Rebecca Saunders, a registered nurse, who has run away from her home with her two—er—companions. Becky, this is my mother, the Baroness Raukema van den Eck.’ So that made him a Baron!
Becky had her mouth open to begin on a spate of questions, but he stopped her with an urgent hand. ‘No, there is little time for questions, if you don’t mind, I will explain briefly. Pray sit down.’
He was obviously used to having his own way; she sat, with Pooch peering out from under her arm and Bertie on her feet.
‘My mother, as you can see for yourself, is for the time being unable to walk. She has a compound fracture of tib and fib which unfortunately has taken some time to knit, and a badly torn semilunar cartilage of the other knee. She has had quadriceps exercises for three weeks with some good results, and we hope she may commence active movement very shortly. When she does so, she will need a nurse to assist her until she is quite accustomed to walking on her plaster, and we are satisfied that the other knee will give no further trouble. As you are aware, she had engaged a nurse to go with her, but this arrangement has fallen through and it is imperative that she has someone now—she will be sailing on a cruise ship from this port late this afternoon. Unfortunately, I have to be back in Holland by tomorrow morning at the latest, which means that I must leave very shortly.’ He added, as though it were a foregone conclusion: ‘The post should suit you very well.’
Becky sat up straight. ‘I should like to ask some questions,’ and at his impatient frown: ‘I’ll be quick. Where are we going?’
He looked surprised. ‘I didn’t mention it? Trondheim, in Norway. I have an aunt living there whom my mother wishes to visit.’
‘I have no clothes…’
‘Easily remedied. A couple of hours’ shopping.’
‘What happens when I leave?’ She suddenly caught Pooch close so that he let out a raucous protest. ‘And what about Pooch and Bertie?’ she frowned. ‘How can I possibly…’
‘You will return to Holland with my mother where it should be easy enough for you to get a job in one of the hospitals. I shall, of course, give you any help you may need. As to the animals, may I suggest that I take them with me to Holland where they will be well cared for at my home until you return there; after that it should be a simple matter to get a small flat for yourself where they can live.’
‘Quarantine?’
‘There is none—only injections, which I will undertake to see about.’
It all sounded so easy; she perceived that if you were important and rich enough, most things were easy. All the same she hesitated. ‘I’m not sure if they’ll like it…’
He smiled quite kindly then. ‘I promise you that they will have the best of treatment and be cared for.’
‘Yes, I know, but supposing…’
‘What is the alternative, Becky?’ He wasn’t smiling now and he sounded impatient again.
The alternative didn’t bear thinking about. She couldn’t be sure of getting a job, in the first place, and just supposing she should meet Basil or her stepmother before she had found somewhere to live. He was watching her narrowly. ‘Not very attractive, is it?’ he asked, ‘and you have only enough money for a meal—thirty pounds and—er—sixty pence wouldn’t buy you a bed for more than three nights, you know.’
His mother looked at Becky. ‘My dear child, is that all the money you have? And why is that? And why did you leave your home?’
‘With your permission, Mama; you will have time enough to discuss the whole situation. If Becky could decide—now—there are several matters which I must attend to…’
She was annoying him now, she could see that, but what seemed so simple from his point of view was an entirely different matter for her. But she would have to agree; the idea of parting with her pets was unpleasant enough, but at least they would be safe and cared for and after a week or so she would be able to collect them and start a new life for herself. To clinch the matter she suddenly remembered the quarantine laws; she would never have enough money to pay the fees—besides, there was no one and nothing to keep her in England. ‘Thank you, I’ll take the job,’ she said in a resolute voice.
‘Good, then let us waste no more time. My mother will explain the details later. What fee were you to pay the nurse you dismissed, Mama?’
Son and parent exchanged a speaking glance. ‘Sixty pounds a week with—how do you say?— board and lodging.’
‘But that’s too much!’ protested Becky.
‘You will forgive me if I remind you that you have been living in, how shall we say? retirement for the past two years. That is the normal pay for a trained nurse working privately. Over and above that you will receive travelling expenses, and a uniform allowance.’ He took some notes from a pocket and peeled off several. ‘Perhaps you will go now and buy what you think necessary. Your uniform allowance is here, and an advance on your week’s pay.’
Becky took the money, longing to count it, but that might look greedy. ‘I haven’t any clothes,’ she pointed out, ‘so I’d better buy uniform dresses, hadn’t I?’
‘Yes, do that, my dear,’ interpolated the Baroness. ‘You can go shopping in Trondheim and buy the clothes you need.’
Becky found herself in a taxi, the Baron’s cool apologies in her ear. He intended leaving at any moment; she was to take a taxi back to the hotel when she had done her shopping. ‘And don’t be too long about it,’ he begged her forthrightly, ‘although you don’t look to me to be the kind of girl who fusses over her clothes.’ A remark which she had to allow was completely justified but hardly flattering. She had bidden Bertie and Pooch goodbye and hated doing it, but they had looked content enough, sitting quietly by the Baroness. At the last moment she poked her head out of the taxi window.
‘You will look after them, won’t you? They’ll be so lonely…’
‘I give you my word, Becky, and remember that in a few weeks’ time you will be able to make a home for them.’
She nodded, quite unable to speak for the lump in her throat.
She felt better presently. The Baron didn’t like her particularly, she was sure, and yet she felt that she could trust him and upon reflection, she had saved him a lot of time and bother finding another nurse for his mother. She counted the money he had given her and felt quite faint at the amount and then being a practical girl, made a mental list of the things she would need.
It took her just two hours in which to do her shopping; some neat dark blue uniform dresses, because she could wear those each and every day, a blue cardigan and a navy blue raincoat, shoes and stockings and an unassuming handbag and then the more interesting part; undies and a thin dressing gown she could pack easily, and things for her face and her hair. All the same, there was quite a lot of money over. She found a suitcase to house her modest purchases and, obedient to the Baron’s wish, took a taxi back to the hotel.
She found her patient lying on a chaise-longue drawn up to the window, a tray of coffee on the table at her elbow. ‘I hope I haven’t been too long,’ began Becky, trying not to look at the corner where Bertie and Pooch had been sitting.
‘No, my dear. Tiele went about an hour ago, and your animals went quite happily with him. I must tell you that he has a great liking for animals and they like him.’ Her eyes fell upon the case Becky was carrying. ‘You bought all that you require?’ She nodded to herself without waiting for Becky to reply. ‘Then come and have coffee with me and we will get to know each other. Tiele has arranged for us to be taken to the ship in good time; we will have lunch presently—here, I think, as I do dislike being pushed around in that chair—then we shall have time for a rest before we go. I’m sure you must be wondering just where we are going and why,’ she added. ‘Give me another cup of coffee, child, and I will tell you. I have been staying with an old friend at Blanchland, but unfortunately within two days of arriving I fell down some steps and injured my legs. Tiele came over at once, of course, and saw to everything, and I remained at my friend’s house until I was fit to travel again. I could have remained there, but I have a sister living in Trondheim and as I had arranged to visit her before their summer is over, I prevailed upon Tiele to arrange things so that I might go. I get tired in a car and I suffer badly from air-sickness, so he decided that the best plan was for me to go by ship and since there is time enough, to go in comfort and leisure. We shall be sailing to Tilbury first and then to Hamburg and from there to Trondheim, where I intend to stay for three weeks. By then, with your help and that of the local doctor, I should be able to hobble and be out of this wheelchair. I have no idea how we shall return to Holland—Tiele will decide that when the time comes.’
Becky said: ‘Yes, of course,’ in a rather faint voice. After two years or more of isolation and hard work, events were crowding in on her so that she felt quite bewildered. ‘Where do you live in Holland?’ she asked.
‘Our home is in Friesland, north of Leeuwarden. I don’t live with Tiele, of course, now that I am alone I have moved to a house in Leeuwarden only a few miles from Huis Raukema. I have a daughter, Tialda, who is married and lives in Haarlem. Leeuwarden is a pleasant city, not too large, but you should find work there easily enough—besides, Tiele can help you there.’
‘He has a practice in Leeuwarden?’
‘Yes, although he doesn’t live there.’ She put down her cup and saucer. ‘I have talked a great deal, but it is pleasant to chat with someone as restful as you are, Becky. I think we shall get on very well together. Tiele says that we must arrange our days in a businesslike fashion, so will you tell me what you think is best?’ She opened her bag. ‘I almost forgot, he left this for you—instructions, I believe.’
Very precise ones, written in a frightful scrawl, telling her just what he wanted done for his mother, reminding her that she was to take the usual off duty, that she might possibly have to get up at night if the Baroness wasn’t sleeping, that she was to report to the ship’s doctor immediately she went on board that afternoon and that she was to persevere with active movements however much his mother objected to them. At Trondheim there would be a doctor, already in possession of all the details of his mother’s injuries, and he would call very shortly after they arrived there.
He hadn’t forgotten anything; organising, she considered, must be his strong point.
‘That’s all very clear,’ she told her patient. ‘Shall we go over it together and get some sort of a routine thought out?’
It took them until a waiter came with the lunch menu. The Baroness had made one or two suggestions which Becky secretly decided were really commands and to which she acceded readily enough, since none of them were important, but she thought that they were going to get on very well. The Baroness was accustomed to having her own way but she was nice about it. To Becky, who had lived without affection save for her animal friends, her patient seemed kindness itself. They decided on their lunch and she got her settled nicely in a chair with a small table conveniently placed between them and then went away to change her clothes.
She felt a different girl after she had bathed and done her hair up into a neat bun and donned the uniform dress. She had bought some caps too, and she put one on now and went to join the Baroness, who studied her carefully, remarking: ‘You’re far too thin, Becky, but I like you in uniform. Have you bought clothes as well?’
‘Well, no. You see, I should need such a lot….’
Her companion nodded. ‘Yes, of course, but there are some nice shops in Trondheim, you can enjoy yourself buying all you want there. There’s sherry on the table, child, pour us each a glass and we will wish ourselves luck.’
Becky hadn’t had sherry in ages. It went straight to her head and made her feel as though life was fun after all and in a sincere effort not to be thin any longer, she ate her lunch with a splendid appetite. It was later, over coffee, that her patient said: ‘We have a couple of hours still. Supposing you tell me about yourself, Becky?’

CHAPTER TWO
AFTERWARDS, thinking about it, Becky came to the conclusion that she had had far too much to say about herself, but somehow the Baroness had seemed so sympathetic—not that she had said very much, but Becky, who hadn’t had anyone to talk to like that for a long time, sensed that the interest was real, as real as the sympathy. She hadn’t meant to say much; only that she had trained at Hull because she had always wanted to be a nurse, and besides, her father was a country GP, and that her mother had died five years earlier and her father three years after her. But when she had paused there her companion had urged: ‘But my dear, your stepmother— I wish to hear about her and this so unpleasant son of hers with the funny name…’
‘Basil,’ said Becky, and shivered a little. ‘He’s very good-looking and he smiles a lot and he never quite looks at you. He’s cruel; he’ll beat a dog and smile while he’s doing it. He held my finger in a gas flame once because I’d forgotten to iron a shirt he wanted, and he smiled all the time.’
‘The brute! But why were they so unkind to you? How did they treat your father?’
‘Oh, they were very nice to him, and of course while he was alive I was at the hospital so I only went home for holidays, and then they persuaded my father to alter his will; my stepmother said that there was no need to leave me anything because she would take care of me and share whatever he left with me. That was a lie, of course. I knew it would be, but I couldn’t do much about it, could I?’ She sighed. ‘And I had already decided that I would get a job abroad. But then Father died and my stepmother told me that I had nothing and that she wasn’t going to give me anything and that I wasn’t welcome at home any more, but I went all the same because Bertie and Pooch had belonged to my father and I wanted to make sure that they were looked after. We still had the housekeeper Father had before he married again and she took care of them as best she could. And then my stepmother had jaundice. She didn’t really need a nurse, but she wrote to the hospital and made it look as though it was vital that I should go home— and then Basil came and told me that they had sacked the housekeeper and that if I didn’t go home they’d let Bertie and Pooch starve. So I went home. The house was on the edge of the village and Stoney Chase is a bit isolated anyway. They made it quite clear that I was to take the housekeeper’s place, only they didn’t pay me any wages to speak of and I couldn’t go anywhere, you see, because I had no money after a little while—once I’d used up what I had on things like soap and tights from the village shop…’
‘You told no one?’
‘No. You see, Basil said that if I did he’d kill Pooch and Bertie, so then I knew I’d have to get away somehow, so each week I kept a bit from the shopping—I had aimed at fifty pounds, but then yesterday Basil and my stepmother were talking and I was in the garden and heard them. He said he was going to drown them both while I was in the village shopping the next day, so then I knew I’d have to leave sooner. We left about three o’clock this morning…’ She had smiled then. ‘The doctor stopped and gave us a lift, it was kind of him, especially as he was in such a hurry and we were all so wet and he didn’t even know if I was making up the whole thing.’ She had added uncomfortably: ‘I must have bored you; I hate people who are sorry for themselves.’
‘I should hardly say that you were sorry for yourself. A most unpleasant experience, my dear, and one which we must try and erase from your mind. I see no reason why you shouldn’t make a pleasant future for yourself when we get to Holland. Nurses are always needed, and with Tiele’s help you should be able to find something to suit you and somewhere to live.’
Becky had felt happy for the first time in a long while.
Their removal to the ship took place with an effortless ease which Becky attributed to the doctor’s forethought. People materialised to take the luggage, push the wheelchair and get them into a taxi, and at the docks a businesslike man in a bowler hat saw them through Customs and into the hands of a steward on board. Becky, who had visualised a good deal of delay and bother on account of her having no passport, even though the Baroness had assured her that her son had arranged that too, was quite taken aback when the man in the bowler hat handed her a visitor’s passport which he assured her would see her safely on her way. She remembered that the doctor had asked her some swift questions about her age and where she was born, but she hadn’t taken, much notice at the time. It was evident that he was a man who got things done.
The Baroness had a suite on the promenade deck, a large stateroom, a sitting room with a dear little balcony leading from it, overlooking the deck below a splendidly appointed bathroom and a second stateroom which was to be Becky’s. It was only a little smaller than her patient’s and she circled round it, her eyes round with excitement, taking in the fluffy white towels in the bathroom, the telephone, the radio, the basket of fruit on the table. None of it seemed quite real, and she said so to the Baroness while she made her comfortable and started the unpacking; there was a formidable amount of it; the Baroness liked clothes, she told Becky blandly, and she had a great many. Becky, lovingly folding silk undies which must have cost a fortune and hanging dresses with couture labels, hadn’t enjoyed herself so much for years. Perhaps in other circumstances she might have felt envy, but she had a wardrobe of her own to gloat over; Marks & Spencer’s undies in place of pure silk, but they were pretty and new. Even her uniform dresses gave her pleasure, and if Bertie and Pooch had been with her she would have been quite happy. She finished the unpacking and went, at her patient’s request, to find the purser’s office, the shop, the doctor’s surgery and the restaurant. ‘For you may need to visit all of them at some time or other,’ remarked the Baroness, ‘and it’s so much easier if you know your way around.’
It was a beautiful ship and not overcrowded. Becky, while she was at it, explored all its decks, peeped into the vast ballroom and the various bars and lounges, walked briskly round the promenade deck, skipped to the lowest deck of all to discover the swimming pool and hurried back to her patient, her too thin face glowing with excitement. ‘It’s super!’ she told her. ‘You know, I’m sure I could manage the wheelchair if you want to go on deck—I’m very strong.’
The Baroness gave her a faintly smiling look. ‘Yes, Becky, I’m sure you are—but what about your sea legs?’
Becky hadn’t given that a thought. The sea was calm at the moment, but of course they weren’t really at sea yet; they had been passing Tynemouth when she had been on deck, but in another half hour or so they would be really on their way.
‘Now let us have some room service,’ observed the Baroness. ‘Becky, telephone for the stewardess, will you?’
The dark-haired, brown-eyed young creature who presented herself a few minutes later was Norwegian, ready to be helpful and friendly. ‘I shall have my breakfast here,’ decreed the Baroness, ‘and you, Becky, will go to the restaurant for yours.’ She made her arrangements smoothly but with great politeness and then asked for the hotel manager, disregarding the stewardess’s statement that he wouldn’t be available at that time. Becky picked up the telephone once again and passed on the Baroness’s request, and was surprised when he actually presented himself within a few minutes.
‘A table for my nurse, if you please,’ explained the Baroness, and broke off to ask Becky if she wanted to share with other people or sit by herself.
‘Oh, alone, please,’ declared Becky, and listened while that was arranged to her patient’s satisfaction. ‘We’ll lunch here,’ went on Baroness Raukema van den Eck, ‘and dine here too.’ And when the manager had gone, ‘You must have some time to yourself each day—I like a little rest after lunch, so if you settle me down I shall be quite all right until four o’clock or so. I’m sure there’ll be plenty for you to do, and I expect you’ll make friends.’
Becky doubted that; she had got out of the habit of meeting people and she didn’t think anyone would bother much with a rather uninteresting nurse. But she agreed placidly and assured her companion that that would be very nice. ‘I’ve found a library, too,’ she said. ‘Would you like a book?’
‘A good idea—I should. Go and find something for me, my dear, and then we’ll have a glass of sherry before dinner. Don’t hurry,’ she added kindly, ‘have a walk on deck as you go.’
It didn’t seem like a job, thought Becky, nipping happily from one deck to the other, and it was delightful to be able to talk to someone again. She wondered briefly what the Baron was doing at that moment, then turned her attention to the bookcases.
They dined in the greatest possible comfort with a steward to serve them, and Becky, reading the menu with something like ecstasy, could hardly stop her mouth watering. Her stepmother kept to a strict slimming diet and Basil had liked nothing much but steaks and chops and huge shoulders of lamb; too expensive for more than one, her stepmother had decreed, so that Becky, willy-nilly, had lived on a slimming diet as well, with little chance of adding to her meagre meals because she had to account for the contents of the larder and fridge each morning. Now she ate her way through mushrooms in sauce ré-moulade, iced celery soup, cold chicken with tangerines and apple salad, and topped these with peach royale before pouring coffee for them both. She said like a happy little girl: ‘That was the best meal I’ve ever had. I used to think about food a lot, you know, when you’re always a bit hungry, you do, but I never imagined anything as delicious as this.’ She added awkwardly: ‘I don’t think you should pay me as much as you said you would, Baroness, because I’m not earning it and I’m getting all this as well…it doesn’t seem quite honest…’
‘You will be worth every penny to me, Becky,’ her patient assured her, ‘and how you managed to bear with that dreadful life you were forced to lead is more than I can understand. Besides, I am a demanding and spoilt woman, you won’t get a great deal of time to yourself.’
Which was true enough. Becky found her day well filled. True, she breakfasted alone in the restaurant, but only after she had spent half an hour with the Baroness preparing that lady for her own breakfast in bed. And then there was the business of helping her patient to dress, getting her into her wheelchair and taking her to whichever part of the ship she preferred. Here they stayed for an hour or so, taking their coffee, chatting a little and enjoying the sun. Becky read aloud too, because the Baroness said it tried her eyes to read for herself, until half an hour or so before lunch when Becky was sent off to walk round the decks or potter round the shop and buy postcards at the purser’s office for the Baroness. They were to dock at Tilbury in the morning and as the ship wouldn’t sail for Hamburg until the late afternoon the Baroness had suggested that Becky could go up to London and do some shopping and rejoin the ship after lunch. But this Becky declined to do; so far, she considered, she hadn’t earned half her salary. She had been hired to look after her patient and that she intended to do. Instead, the two of them spent a peaceful day in the Baroness’s stateroom playing bezique, and taking a slow wander round the deck on the quiet ship. But by tea time the passengers were coming aboard and the pair of them retired once more to the little balcony leading from the suite, from where they watched the bustle and to-ing and fro-ing going on below them.
They sailed soon afterwards and Becky, leaving her patient with a considerable pile of mail to read, went on deck to watch the ship leave. She hung over the rails, determined not to miss a thing, and it was half an hour before she tore herself away from watching the busy river scene and returned to the stateroom. The Baroness was telephoning, but she broke off what she was saying to tell Becky: ‘It is Tiele—making sure that we are quite all right.’ And at Becky’s look of surprise: ‘He’s back in Friesland, and I’m to tell you that Pooch and Bertie have settled down very well.’ She nodded dismissal and Becky slipped away to her own cabin.
She had collected all the literature about the voyage that she could lay hands on, and now she sat down and studied it; Hamburg next and then Trondheim. There was a whole day at sea first, though, and more than a day between Hamburg and Trondheim. She began to read the leaflet she had been given and only put it down when her patient called to her through the slightly open door.
At Hamburg the Baroness declared her intention of going ashore. The purser, summoned to the cabin, assured her that a taxi should be arranged without difficulty, that help would be at hand to wheel the chair down the gangway and that the Baroness need have no worry herself further. To Becky, accustomed to doing everything for herself, it seemed the height of comfort. And indeed, when the ship docked there was nothing for her to do beyond readying her patient for the outing and then walking beside the chair while a steward wheeled it carefully on to the quay. There were several busloads of passengers going on shore excursions and they had been advised by the purser to get back before these returned or the new passengers began to embark. ‘Plenty of time,’ said the Baroness easily. ‘We will drive round the city, take a look at the Binnenalster and the Aussenalster and the driver can take us to a confectioner’s so that you can buy me some of the chocolates Tiele always brings me when he comes here.’
She was arranged comfortably in the taxi, accorded a courteous farewell by the officer on duty whom she warned not to allow the ship to leave until her return, and was driven away, with Becky sitting beside her.
It was all very exciting; first the journey through the dock area, which the Baroness didn’t bother to look at, but which Becky found absorbing, and then presently the shopping streets and a brief glimpse of the inner lake. ‘It is much prettier once we have crossed the Kennedybrucke,’ said the Baroness. She said something to the driver in German and he slowed down to take the pleasant road running alongside the lake, its calm water gleaming in the sunshine, the well kept villas in their splendid grounds facing it. Becky’s face lighted up and a little colour came into it. ‘Oh, this is super!’ she declared. ‘I had no idea…’
Her companion cast her a glance full of sympathy, but all she said was: ‘I think you will like Trondheim better, although it is a great deal smaller, of course.’
They circled the lake slowly before going back to the shopping centre where the driver parked outside a confectioner’s whose windows displayed extravagantly boxed sweets of every sort, and Becky, obedient to her patient’s request, went rather hesitantly inside. There were no difficulties, however. She was perfectly understood, her purchases were made and paid for and with several prettily wrapped boxes she got back into the taxi. It surprised her very much when the taxi stopped once more and the driver got out, went into a café and emerged presently with a waiter carrying a tray with coffee and cream cakes. The tray was set carefully upon Becky’s knees and they were left to take their elevenses in peace. ‘I like my little comforts,’ explained the Baroness placidly. And get them too, thought Becky admiringly.
Their return to the ship was as smooth as their departure had been. A steward was by the taxi door almost before it had stopped and the Baroness was bestowed carefully into her wheelchair once more. Only when she was quite comfortable did she open her handbag and pay the driver—generously too, if the smile on his face was anything to go by. Becky, trotting along beside the chair, wondered what it must be like to be rich enough to command all the attention and comfort one required without apparent effort. Probably one got used to it and took it as a matter of course; thinking about it, she remembered that the Baron hadn’t seemed surprised when she had accepted the job he had offered her out of the blue. She was deeply grateful to him, of course, but at the same time she couldn’t help wondering what he would have done if she had refused.
The Baroness was tired after their outing, so she elected to take a light lunch in her stateroom and then rest, sending Becky down to the restaurant for her own lunch while she ate hers. Becky found the place quite full, for a good many more passengers had boarded the ship that morning. She sat at her table, set discreetly in a corner, and ate a rather hurried meal, in case the Baroness should want her the minute she had finished her own lunch, and then slipped away, smiling rather shyly at the waiter as she did so. She hadn’t quite got used to being waited on.
The Baroness was drinking her coffee but professed herself quite ready to rest. Becky made her comfortable on the sofa along one wall, covered her with a rug and sat down nearby because her patient had asked her not to go away for a little while. ‘I’m expecting a call from Tiele,’ explained the Baroness, ‘and if you would stay until it comes through…’ She closed her eyes and dozed while Becky sat, still as a mouse, listening to the exciting noises going on all around them—people talking, music coming from somewhere, but faintly, the winch loading the luggage, an occasional voice raised in command or order. It was all very exciting; she contemplated her new shoes and thought about the Baron, his mother, the journey they were about to make, Norway, about which she knew almost nothing, and then the Baron again. It was a pity he didn’t like her, but very understandable, and it made his kindness in taking care of Bertie and Pooch all the greater; it couldn’t be much fun doing kindnesses to someone you didn’t care a row of pins for. Her thoughts were interrupted by the faint tinkle of the telephone, and she picked it up quickly with a glance at the still sleeping Baroness. Her hullo was quiet and the Baron said at once: ‘Becky? My mother’s asleep?’
‘Yes, but I think she would like me to wake her, if you would wait a moment.’
He didn’t answer her but asked: ‘You’re settling down, I hope? No snags? You won’t give way to seasickness or anything of that sort, I hope?’ She heard him sigh. ‘You didn’t look very strong.’
Becky’s voice stayed quiet but held indignation. ‘I’m very strong,’ she told him quite sharply, ‘and as the sea is as calm as a millpond, I’m not likely to be seasick.’
‘You seem to have a temper too,’ remarked the Baron. ‘As long as you don’t vent it on my mother…’
‘Well,’ breathed Becky, her chest swelling with rage under the neat dress, ‘I never did! As though I would! And I haven’t got a temper…’
‘I’m glad to hear it. Bertie and Pooch are quite nicely settled.’
‘I’m so glad—I’ve been worrying about them just a little; you’re sure…?’
‘Quite. Now if you would wake up my mother, Nurse?’
She was to be nurse, was she? And what was she to call him? Baron or doctor or sir? She crossed the room and roused the Baroness with a gentle touch on her shoulder and that lady opened her eyes at once with a look of such innocence that Becky didn’t even begin to suspect that her patient had been listening to every word she had uttered.
She went to her cabin while mother and son carried on a quite lengthy conversation and spent ten minutes or so doing things to her face. She had bought make-up, the brand she had always used when she had money of her own to spend, and now she was enjoying the luxury of using it. She applied powder to her small nose, lipstick to her too large mouth, and tidied her hair under her cap and then studied her face. Nothing remarkable; no wonder her employer had dismissed her with the kind of casual kindness he would afford a stray cat. She sighed and then adjusted her expression to a cheerful calm at the sound of her patient’s voice calling her.
The rest of the day passed pleasantly enough with the Baroness remarkably amenable when called upon to do her exercises. The moment they got on shore at Trondheim, Becky had been told to instruct her in the use of crutches, something she wasn’t looking forward to over-much. The Baroness could be a trifle pettish if called upon to do something she didn’t fancy doing, and yet Becky already liked her; she had probably spent a spoilt life with a doting husband and now a doting son, having everything she wanted within reason, but she could be kind too and thoughtful of others, and, Becky reminded herself, she had a wonderful job; well paid, by no means exhausting and offering her the chance of seeing something of the world.
There were almost two days before they would arrive at Trondheim, and Becky found that they went too quickly. A good deal of time was spent on deck, the Baroness in her wheelchair, Becky sitting beside her while they carried on a gentle flow of small talk. There was plenty to talk about; the distant coastline of Sweden and then Norway, their fellow passengers, the day’s events on board; there was so much to do and even though neither of them took part in any of them, it was fun to discuss them. The Captain was giving a cocktail party that evening, but the Baroness had declared that nothing would persuade her to go to it in a wheelchair; they would dine quietly in her stateroom as usual, and Becky didn’t mind; she had nothing to wear and the idea of appearing at such a glittering gathering in a nurse’s uniform didn’t appeal to her in the least. All the same, it would have been fun to have seen some of the dresses…
The Baroness liked to dress for the evening. Becky, helping her into a black chiffon gown and laying a lacy shawl over her knees, wished just for a moment that they had been going to the party, it seemed such a waste…
It wasn’t a waste. Instead of the sherry which the steward brought to the stateroom, he carried a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, and following hard on his heels was the Captain himself, accompanied by several of his officers, and they were followed by more stewards bearing trays of delicious bits and pieces, presumably to help the champagne down. Becky, with a young officer on either side of her, intent on keeping her glass filled and carrying on the kind of conversation she had almost forgotten existed, found life, for the first time in two years, was fun.
When the gentlemen had gone the Baroness sat back in her chair and eyed Becky. ‘You must buy yourself some pretty clothes,’ she observed. ‘You won’t always be on duty, you know—I know there was no time in Newcastle to do more than get the few essentials, but once we are in Trondheim you shall go shopping. Tiele gave you enough money, I hope?’
Becky thought with still amazed astonishment of the notes in her purse. ‘More than enough,’ she explained. ‘A week’s salary in advance and money to buy my uniforms and—and things.’
‘A week’s salary? What is that? Let me see, sixty pounds, did we not say? What is sixty pounds?’ It was lucky that she didn’t expect an answer, for Becky was quite prepared to tell her that for her, at least, it was a small fortune. ‘When we get to Trondheim you will have your second week’s wages—not very much, but I daresay you will be able to find something to wear.’
Becky thought privately that she would have no difficulty at all, although she had no intention of spending all that money. It was of course tempting to do so, but she had the future to think of; she supposed her present job would last a month or a little longer and even though she managed to get another job at once, there would be rent to pay if she were lucky enough to find somewhere to live, and food for herself and the animals until she drew her pay. All the same she allowed herself the luxury of planning a modest outfit or two. They would arrive at Trondheim the next day and a little thrill of excitement ran through her, just for the moment she forgot the future and the unpleasant past; Norway, as yet invisible over the horizon, was before her and after that Holland. Perhaps later she would be homesick for England, but now she felt secure and content, with almost the width of the North Sea between her and her stepmother and Basil.
She fell to planning the little home she would make for herself and Bertie and Pooch and was only disturbed in this pleasant occupation by the Baroness, who had been reading and now put down her book and suggested a game of dominoes before the leisurely process of getting ready for bed.
The next day was fine and warm, the sea was calm and very blue and the shores of Norway, towering on either side of the Trondheimsfjord, looked magnificent. Becky, released from the patient’s company for an hour, hung over the rail, not missing a thing; the tiny villages in the narrow valleys, the farms perched impossibly on narrow ledges half way up the mountains with apparently no way of reaching them, the camping sites on the edge of the water and the cosy wooden houses. It was only when Trondheim came into sight, still some way off on a bend of the fjord, that she went reluctantly back to the Baroness. She had packed earlier, there was little left to do other than eat their lunch and collect the last few odds and ends, but there would be ample time for that; the Baroness had elected to wait until the passengers who were going on the shore excursions had left the ship; they would have to go ashore by tender, and Becky knew enough of her patient by now to guess that that lady avoided curious glances as much as possible.
The passengers were taken ashore with despatch and wouldn’t return until five o’clock. Becky, sent on deck to take a breath of air while her patient enjoyed a last-minute chat with the ship’s doctor, the purser and the first officer, watched the last tender returning from the shore. Trondheim looked well worth a visit and she longed to get a closer look. It was nice to think that she would have two or three weeks in which to explore it thoroughly. There was a lot to see; the cathedral, the old warehouses, the royal palace, the Folk Museum…she pitied the passengers who had just gone ashore and who would have to view all these delights in the space of a few hours. One of the young officers who had come to the Baroness’s cabin joined her at the rail. ‘You get off here, don’t you?’ he asked in a friendly voice. He glanced at her trim uniform. ‘Will you get time to look around Trondheim?—it’s a lovely old place.’
‘Oh, I’m sure I shall—I don’t have to work hard, you know. The Baroness is kindness itself and I get free time each day just like anyone else.’ She smiled at him. ‘I loved being on board this ship.’
He smiled back at her; he was a nice young man with a pretty girl at home waiting to marry him and he felt vague pity for this small plain creature, who didn’t look plain at all when she smiled. He said now: ‘Well, I hope you enjoy your stay in Norway. Do you go back to Holland with the Baroness?’
‘Yes, just for a little while, then I’ll get a job there.’
He looked at her curiously. ‘Don’t you want to go back to England?’
She was saved from answering him by the stewardess coming in search of her to tell her that the Baroness was ready to go ashore now. Getting that lady into the tender was a delicate operation involving careful lifting while Becky hovered over the plastered leg, in a panic that the tender would give a lurch and it would receive a thump which would undo all the good it had been doing. But nothing happened, the Baroness was seated at last, the leg carefully propped up before her and Becky beside her, their luggage was stowed on board, and they made the short trip to the shore. Here the same procedure had to be carried out, although it wasn’t quite as bad because there were no stairs to negotiate. Becky nipped on to the wooden pier and had the wheelchair ready by the time the Baroness was borne ashore. Escorted by a petty officer, they made their way off the pier to the land proper.
There were a lot of people about and a couple of officials who made short work of examining their papers before waving them on to where a Saab Turbo was waiting. The lady sitting in the car got out when she saw them coming, not waiting for her companion, and ran to meet them. She was a small woman, a little older than the Baroness and very like her in looks. The two ladies embraced, both talking at once, and only broke off when the elderly gentleman who had been in the car reached them. The Baroness embraced him too and embarked on another conversation to stop in the middle of a sentence and say in English: ‘I am so excited, you must forgive me, I had forgotten my dear Becky. She has looked after me so very well and she is going to stay with me until I return home.’ She turned to Becky standing quietly a few paces away. ‘Becky, come and meet my sister and brother-in-law. Mijnheer and Mevrouw van Denne—he is Consul here and will know exactly the right places for you to see while you are here. And now if I could be put in the car…?’
An oldish man joined them and was introduced as Jaap the chauffeur, between them Becky and he lifted the Baroness into the back seat where she was joined by the Consul and his wife while Becky, having seen the chair and the luggage safely stowed in the boot, got in beside Jaap.
She tried to see everything as they went through the city, of course, but she would have needed eyes all round her head. But she glimpsed two department stores and a street of pleasant shops with other streets leading from it and she had the palace pointed out to her, an imposing building built entirely of wood, then they were in a wide street with the cathedral at its far end. But they didn’t get as far as that; half way down Jaap turned into a tree-lined avenue with large houses, before one of which he slowed to turn again into a short drive and stop before its solid front door. They had arrived. Becky drew a deep breath to calm herself. It would never do to get too excited; she was a nurse and must preserve a calm front, but her eyes shone with delight and her pale face held a nice colour for once. The Baroness, watching her with some amusement, decided that she wasn’t only a nice girl, she was—just now and again—quite a pretty one, too.

CHAPTER THREE
THE HOUSE WAS surprisingly light inside and furnished with large, comfortable furniture. The whole party crossed the hall and went into a lofty sitting room with a splendid view of the cathedral in the distance, and the Baroness, still talking, was transferred from her wheelchair to a high-backed winged chair while coffee and little cakes were served by a cheerful young woman whom the Baroness’s sister introduced as Luce. She added, smiling at Becky, ‘And you do not mind if we call you Becky?’ Her English was as good as her sister’s.
‘Please do,’ said Becky, and was interrupted by her patient with: ‘And tomorrow morning, my dear, you shall go to the shops as soon as you have helped me, and buy yourself some pretty clothes. It is a good idea to wear uniform, I know, but now you will get some free time each day and then you will want to go out and enjoy yourself.’
Her three companions turned to look at her kindly, but she could also see doubt in their elderly faces. If she had been pretty, she thought wryly, she would probably have a simply super time, as it was she would have to content herself with a round of museums and places of interest. She gave herself a mental shake, appalled at her self-pity; good fortune was smiling on her at last, and she had no need to be sorry for herself. She agreed with enthusiasm tempered with a reminder that exercises for the day hadn’t yet been done and since the family doctor was going to call that evening, it might be as well if they were done and over before he arrived—a remark which was the signal to convey the Baroness to her room on the ground floor. It was a charming apartment and extremely comfortable with a bathroom leading from it and on the other side of that, a smaller but just as comfortable room for Becky. The exercises over, she settled her patient back into a chair by the window and prepared to unpack, a task which was frequently interrupted by her companion who was watching the traffic in the distance and declared that she could see the coachloads of passengers off the ship on their way to the cathedral. ‘You must go there,’ she declared. ‘It is quite beautiful— I should like to see it again myself.’

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