Caroline's Waterloo

Her thoughts wandered on the verge of sleep. Would the Professor expect to be reimbursed for his trouble and his professional services, she wondered, and if so how would one set about it? Perhaps the hospital would settle with him if and when he sent a bill. He wouldn’t be bothered to do that himself, she decided hazily; she had seen a serious middle-aged woman only that morning as she crossed the hall on her way to the library and Noakes had told her that it was the secretary, Mevrouw Slikker, who came daily to attend to the Professor’s correspondence. Undoubtedly she would be businesslike about it. Caro nodded her sleepy head at this satisfactory solution and went to sleep.

She walked a little further the next day, following the paths around the gardens and sitting down now and again to admire her surroundings. She wondered if the Professor ever had the time to admire his own grounds and thought probably not, he was certainly never long enough in his own house to enjoy its comforts and magnificence. She wandered round to the back of the house and found a pleasing group of old buildings grouped round a courtyard, barns and stables and a garage and a shed which smelled deliciously of apples and corn. It was coming out of this interesting place that she came face to face with an Old English sheepdog. He stood almost to her waist and peered at her with a heavily eyebrowed whiskered face. ‘Rex!’ she cried. ‘Oh, aren’t you a darling!’ She extended a closed fist and he sniffed at it and then put an enormous paw on each of her shoulders and reared up to peer down at her. He must have liked what he saw, for he licked her face gently, got down on to his four feet again and offered a head for scratching. They finished their walk together and wandered in through a little side door to find Noakes looking anxious.

‘There you are, miss—I ’opes yer ’aven’t been too far.’ His elderly eyes fell upon Rex. ‘’E didn’t frighten yer? ’E’s always in the kitchen with Marta in the mornings. I’ll take ’im back…’

‘Oh, Noakes, please could he stay with me? He’s company and ever so gentle. Is he allowed in the house?’

‘Lor’ yes, miss. Follows the Professor round like a shadow, ’e does. Well, I don’t see no ’arm.’ He beamed at her. ‘There’s a nice lunch for yer in the library and Juffrouw Kropp says if yer wants ’er this afternoon she’s at yer disposal.’

So the day passed pleasantly enough, and the following two days were just as pleasant. Caro did a little more each day now; the Professor would be back in two days’ time, Noakes had told her, and she had to be ready to leave then. She had no intention of trespassing on his kindness for an hour longer than she needed to. Of course she would have to get tickets for the journey home, but that shouldn’t take long, and Noakes would help her and perhaps the Professor would allow him to drive her to the station in Leeuwarden; she had already discovered that the train went all the way to the Hoek—all she would need to do was to get from it to the boat. She had mentioned it carefully to Noakes when he had been clearing away her supper dishes, but he had shaken his head and said dubiously that it would be better to consult the Professor. ‘’E may not want yer to go straight away, miss,’ he suggested.

‘Well, I should think he would,’ she told him matter-of-factly, ‘for I’m quite well now and after all, he didn’t invite me as a guest. He’s been more than kind to let me get well here and I mustn’t stay longer than absolutely necessary.’

Noakes had shaken his head and muttered to himself and then begged her to go down to the sitting-room and play for them all again—something she had done with great pleasure, for it passed the evenings very nicely. When she was on her own she found that she had an increasing tendency to think about the Professor—a pointless pastime, she told herself, and went on doing it nonetheless.

It rained the next day, so that she spent a great deal of it in the library, with Rex beside her, poring over her dictionary. She was making progress, or so she thought, with an ever-lengthening list of words which she tried out on members of the staff. All rather a waste of time, she knew that, but it passed the days and in some obscure way made the Professor a little less of a stranger. She went earlier than usual to play the piano that day, perhaps because the afternoon was unnaturally dark and perhaps because she was lonely despite Rex’s company. And Noakes and his staff seemed pleased to see her, requesting this, that and the other tune, beating time and tra-laing away to each other. Presently, with everyone satisfied, Caroline began to play to please herself; half forgotten melodies she had enjoyed before her aunt had married again and then on to Sibelius and Grieg, not noticing how quiet everyone had become; she was halfway through a wistful little French tune when she stopped and turned round. ‘Sorry, I got carried away,’ she began, and saw the Professor standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, leaning against the door frame.

He didn’t smile, indeed, he was looking coldly furious, although his icily polite: ‘Pray don’t stop on my account, Miss Tripp,’ was uttered in a quiet voice.

Caroline stood up rather too hard on the bad leg so that she winced. ‘You’re angry,’ she said quickly, ‘and I’m sorry—I have no right to be here, but you’re not to blame Noakes or anyone else—I invited myself.’

She wanted to say a great deal more, but the look of annoyance on his face stopped her. She wished everyone goodnight in her newly acquired Dutch and went past him through the door and along the passage. He caught up with her quite easily before she could reach the staircase, and she sighed soundlessly. He was going to lecture her and she might as well have it now as later; perhaps she might even get him to see that no harm had been done, indeed he might even be glad that his staff had enjoyed a pleasant hour.

She turned to face him. ‘It’s a pity you frown so,’ she said kindly.

He looked down his splendid nose at her. ‘I have very good reason to frown, Miss Tripp, and well you know it. I return home unexpectedly and what do I find? My butler, my housekeeper, my cook, the maidservants and the gardener being entertained by you in the servants’ sitting-room. Probably if I had come home even earlier I should have found you all playing gin rummy in the cellars.’

She made haste to reassure him. ‘Not gin rummy—it was canasta, and we played round the kitchen table—just for half an hour,’ she added helpfully. ‘You see, I’m learning Dutch.’

His fine mouth curved into a sneer. ‘Indeed? I cannot think why.’

Caroline said in her quiet hesitant voice: ‘Well, it’s something to do, you know. I’m quite well, you see.’

His voice was silky and his voice cold. ‘Miss Tripp, you have disrupted my household—when one considers that I have done my best to help you and I find your behaviour intolerable.’

She stared back at him, her lip caught between her teeth, because it was beginning to tremble. After a long moment she said: ‘I’m sorry, Professor.’

He turned on his heel. ‘I’m glad to hear it—I hope you will mend your ways.’

He went into his study without another word and she went to her room, where she sat on her bed to review the situation. The Professor was going out to dinner that evening, she had heard Noakes say so—to one of his grand friends, she supposed, where the girls knew better than to play the piano in the servants’ room and said things to make him smile instead of frown. Oh well…she got up and went across to the tallboy where her few possessions were housed and laid them on the bed, fetched her duffle bag from the cupboard and began to pack. She did it neatly and unhurriedly. There was plenty of time; she would eat her supper alone presently, as she always did, and when everyone had gone to the kitchen for their own meal, she would slip away. She would have to leave a letter. She frowned a long while over its composition, but at length it was done, neatly written and sealed into an envelope. She would have to leave it somewhere where Noakes wouldn’t find it at once. The Professor’s study would be the best place, he always went straight there when he came home, shutting himself away in his own learned lonely world—for he was lonely, Caroline was sure of that.

She finished her packing and went down to her supper which this evening had been set in the dining room, a richly sombre place. She felt quite lost sitting at the great oval table surrounded by all the massive furniture, but she made a good meal, partly to please Noakes and partly because she wasn’t sure when she would have the next one. And Noakes was uneasy, although the Professor, he assured her, hadn’t been in the least angry—indeed, he had hardly mentioned the matter. Noakes hoped—they all hoped—that tomorrow she would play for them again, but first he would ascertain if the Professor objected to her visiting the servants’ sitting-room.

Caroline made some cheerful reply, finished her meal, mentioned that she would go to bed early and went upstairs. When she crept down half an hour later there was no sound. Everyone was in the kitchens by now and she wouldn’t be missed, probably not until the morning, or at least until the Professor came home, and that would be late. She had put on her anorak, counted her money carefully and carried her bag downstairs before going to the study and putting the letter on the Professor’s desk. She paused in the doorway for a last look; his desk was an orderly clutter of papers and books and his chair was pushed to one side as though he had got up in a hurry. She sighed deeply, closed the door gently, picked up the duffle bag and went to the door. Her leg was aching a little and she had bandaged it firmly because as far as she knew she would have to walk quite a distance before she could get a bus—the nearest village wasn’t too far away, she had found that out from Juffrouw Kropp. If there wasn’t a bus she would have to thumb a lift.

She put out a reluctant hand and opened the door. It was heavy, but it swung back on well-oiled hinges, revealing the Professor, key in hand, about to open it from outside. Caro, taken completely by surprise, stood with her mouth open, gaping at him. He, on the other hand, evinced no surprise, nor did he speak, merely took her duffle bag from her, put a large hand on her chest and pushed her very gently back into the house, and then just as gently shut the door behind him. Only then did he ask: ‘And where were you going, Caroline?’

‘Home—well, the hospital, actually.’ He had never called her Caroline before—no one called her that, but it sounded rather nice.

‘Why?’ He stood blocking her path, the duffle bag on the floor beside him.

It seemed silly to have to explain something to him which he already knew all about. ‘I’ve upset your household: I can quite see that I’ve been a perfect nuisance to you. I’m very grateful for all you’ve done for me—and your kindness—but I’m quite able to go back now and… Well, thank you again.’

His harsh laugh made her jump. Quite forgetting to be meek, she said severely: ‘And there’s no need to laugh when someone thanks you!’

‘It strikes me as ironic that you should express gratitude for something you haven’t had. I cannot remember being kind to you—I merely did what any other person would have done in similar circumstances, and with the minimum of trouble to myself. If I had been a poor man with a wife and children to care for and had offered you help and shelter at the cost of my and their comfort, that would have been quite a different kettle of fish. As it is, I must confess that I have frequently forgotten that you were in the house.’

Caro didn’t speak. A kind of despair had rendered her dumb; her head was full of a mixed bag of thoughts, most of them miserable.

He put out a hand and touched her cheek awkwardly. ‘Have you been lonely?’

Living in a bedsitter had taught her not to be lonely. She shook her head, still feeling the touch of his finger.

‘And you will be glad to get back—to your flat and your friends. I doubt if you will be allowed to work for a little while.’

She had found her voice at last. It came out in a defiant mutter: ‘I shall be awfully glad to get back.’

The gentleness had gone out of his voice; it sounded cold and distant again, just as though he didn’t care what she did. ‘Yes—I see. But be good enough to wait until the morning. I will arrange a passage for you on the night ferry tomorrow and Noakes shall drive you to the Hoek and see you on board.’

Caroline said stiffly: ‘Thank you.’

‘You have sufficient money?’

She nodded dumbly.

‘Then go to bed.’ His eye had caught her bandaged leg. ‘Your leg is worse?’

‘No. I—I put a crepe bandage on it because I thought I might have to walk for a bit.’

He stared at her without expression, then: ‘Come to the study and I will take a look and if necessary rebandage it.’

He prodded and poked with gentle fingers, dressed it lightly and said: ‘That should see you safely to Oliver’s—get it looked at as soon as you can. It will do better without a dressing.’ He held the study door open and offered a hand. ‘Goodbye, Caroline.’

His hand was cool and firm and she didn’t want to let it go.

‘Goodbye, Professor. I shall always be grateful to you—and I’m sorry that I—I disturbed your peace and quiet.’

Just for a moment she thought he was going to say something, but he didn’t.

CHAPTER THREE

CARO ARRIVED BACK at Meadow Road during the morning and the moment she opened the door of number twenty-six, Mrs Hodge bounced out of her basement flat, avid for a good gossip.

‘Your friends came,’ she said without preamble, ‘said you had a bad cut leg and concussion; nasty thing concussion; you could ’ave died.’ She eyed Caro’s leg with relish and then looked disappointed, and Caro said almost apologetically:

‘I don’t need a bandage any more. Thank you for looking after Waterloo, Mrs Hodge.’

‘No trouble.’ Mrs Hodge, a woman who throve on other people’s troubles, felt her sympathy had been wasted. ‘Your rent’s due on Monday.’

Caro edged past her with the duffle bag. ‘Yes, I know, Mrs Hodge. I’ll just see to Waterloo and unpack and then go back to the hospital and see when I’m to go back.’

She went up the stairs and unlocked the door at the back of the landing. Not one of Mrs Hodge’s best rooms, but it was quieter because it overlooked back yards and there was a tiny balcony which was nice for Waterloo.

He came to meet her now and she picked him up and laid him on her shoulder while he purred in her ear, delighted to have her back. Caroline sat down on the divan which did duty as a bed at night and looked around her.

The room was small and rather dark and seemed even more so after the Professor’s spacious home; she had done the best she could with pretty curtains and cushions and a patchwork cover for the divan, but nothing could quite disguise the cheap furniture or the sink in one corner with the tiny gas cooker beside it. Caro, not given to being sorry for herself, felt a lump in her throat; it was all such a cruel contrast… She missed them all, the Professor, even though he didn’t like her, Noakes and Marta, Juffrouw Kropp… She had been utterly spoilt, waited on hand and foot, and she, who had never been spoilt, had loved it. Right up until the moment she had gone on board, too, with Noakes seeing to her bag and getting her magazines to read and having a word with someone or other so that she had a super cabin to herself and a delicious meal before she had gone to bed. She had tried to pay him, but he had said very firmly that the Professor would deal with that later. Caroline had hoped that although he had said goodbye to her, she would have seen the Professor again before she left, but he had left the house after breakfast and wasn’t back when she went away, with the entire staff gathered at the door to see her off.

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