The Secret Pool (Betty Neels Collection) by Betty Neels

Author:Betty Neels
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mills & Boon Special Release
Published: 2013-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

THEY had lunch as soon as they got in for Litrik had to go to his consulting rooms in the afternoon and then on to the hospital at Zeist.

The boxes and parcels had been borne upstairs and Fran, eyeing their number, went down to lunch feeling guilty. But Litrik made no mention of her morning, the talk was light-hearted while Fran coaxed the little girl, now very tired, to eat something, and presently when the meal was finished she said, ‘I’ll take her up to her bed—shall I keep her there for tea?’

‘A very good idea. Why don’t you take your shopping to the nursery when she wakes up and keep her amused while she rests? She can get up for her supper if she wants to; I’ll leave that to you—I’ll not be back until late this evening.’

Nanny was waiting; Fran told her what Litrik had advised and then went downstairs again. He was in the hall on the point of leaving.

‘Before you go, how is she?’

He had his hand on the door and turned to look at her. ‘Not good, I’m afraid.’ His voice held no expression. ‘We must make the best of September and October.’

‘Litrik, I’m so very sorry.’ Her heart was wrung with pity; without stopping to think she ran across the few yards between them and put her hand over his.

He didn’t say anything but he looked down at her hand clasping his, his eyebrows lifted and she snatched away her hand as though his had been red hot. If he had slapped her face she couldn’t have been more shocked.

He opened the door then and went out without a backward glance, leaving her standing there, near to tears. When the sound of the car had died away she went into the drawing room and out into the garden through the doors at its end. The weather was still delightful but now there was a hint of early autumn in the air but her shiver had nothing to do with the cool wind. He was a monster, she told herself, and knew that that wasn’t true. A monster couldn’t love a child as he loved Lisa; go to such lengths to keep her happy. She went and sat under the mulberry tree until Tuggs came to find her. ‘Mevrouw van Rijgen wishes to speak to you on the telephone, Mevrouw, if you would take the call in the drawing room?’

A dinner party, suggested Litrik’s mother, quite an informal one, if they could manage the following Saturday evening. ‘Just a few friends,’ said Mevrouw van Rijgen kindly. ‘I want to show you off, my dear!’

‘It sounds delightful, but I’ll have to ask Litrik. May I phone you back in the morning? He is not at home at present and I don’t expect him back until later this evening.’

‘Of course, my dear. How is Lisa?’ And, when Fran hesitated, ‘Things aren’t so good, are they? I won’t bother you with questions now. Ring me tomorrow, Francesca.’

Tuggs

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