A Little Moonlight

‘The bathroom?’ asked Serena.

‘Ah, yes—there is a shower-room.’ The third door was opened to show a tiled shower-room with a washbasin.

Mevrouw Blom went back downstairs and Mrs Proudfoot turned to Serena. ‘I thought it would have been a hotel,’ she complained peevishly. ‘It’s nothing but a cheap boarding-house!’

‘Mother, it’s clean and warm and quite nicely furnished, and you mustn’t forget that the doctor is paying for both of us; he had to pay for me, I know, but he needn’t have done so for you.’ She kissed her mother. ‘Let’s tidy ourselves and go downstairs.’

Mevrouw Blom was waiting for them and ushered them into a large room which opened into a second smaller room at the back of the house. Both rooms were well furnished with comfortable chairs, small tables, and, in the smaller of the rooms, several tables were laid for a meal. Mrs Proudfoot brightened at the sight of the TV in one corner and the closed stove in the larger of the rooms. She sat down in a chair close to it while Mrs Blom poured coffee and handed cups with small sugary biscuits. The coffee was delicious and she sipped it. Perhaps it wasn’t too bad …

‘I have a letter for you, miss,’ said Mevrouw Blom, ‘from Dr Dijkstra ter Feulen. He tells me you go to work at eight o’clock, therefore there is breakfast for you at half-past seven. The hospital is five minutes’ walking—I will show you. You eat your supper here each evening and if you are late that is OK.’ She chuckled. ‘Miss Payne, when she was here, was sometimes late, but that is not important.’

She poured more coffee and Serena, with a murmured excuse, sat down near the window to read her letter.

It was a cold businesslike missive, but she hadn’t expected anything else. She was to present herself at the porter’s lodge at eight o’clock, where she would be taken to the room where she was to work. She was to be prepared to go to the wards, outpatients’ clinic or the theatre block, and she should familiarise herself with the hospital at the earliest opportunity. Here her normal working day would end at five o’clock with an hour for lunch, but these hours might be varied. He was hers, M. Dijkstra ter Feulen. At least she supposed the unreadable scrawl was his.

She folded the letter and put it back in its envelope. He might have expressed the hope that she would like her work, or something equally civil. He was not a man to waste words on polite nothings, however. To her mother’s enquiry as to the contents of the envelope, she replied in her calm way that it only contained instructions as to her work. ‘I shall be away all day, Mother, so for the time being don’t plan anything for the evenings, as Dr ter Feulen mentions that I may need to work late. I shall know more when I’ve been there for a day or two.’

Her mother was prepared to argue, but at that moment several people came into the room and Mevrouw Blom with them.

‘These ladies and gentlemen are also staying here,’ she explained. ‘I make them known to you now.’

There were two middle-aged ladies, stout and well dressed, who smiled broadly, shook hands and murmured.

‘They tell their names,’ said Mevrouw Blom. ‘Mevrouw Lagerveld and Mevrouw van Til, and the gentlemen …’

Mijnheer van Til shook hands and spoke, to Serena’s relief, in English. ‘I am charmed, now I may exercise my English?’ and Mijnheer Lagerveld, shaking hands in his turn, essayed a few words with the excuse that his English was poor.

‘Here we have a surprise,’ chimed in Mevrouw Blom, looking pleased with herself. ‘This is Mr Harding, from England, who stays with me while he studies the old houses of Amsterdam.’

He was a thin man of middle height, nice-looking with grey hair and mild blue eyes. Serena guessed him to be in his early sixties.

‘This is a most pleasant surprise,’ he observed as he shook hands. ‘I hope you’ll be staying for some time.’

Mrs Proudfoot smiled charmingly. ‘Oh, I think so. My daughter is to work at the hospital for some weeks and I’ve come with her—my doctor considered a change of scene might improve my health.’

She looked round her and sighed with pleasure. Perhaps it wasn’t such a cheap boarding-house after all. Here was company, people she could talk to, and Mr Harding looked quite promising …

Serena left them presently and went upstairs to unpack her things, and then, since her mother had done nothing about her own luggage, unpacked for her, too, hung everything tidily away in the wardrobe and went back to her room to read the doctor’s letter again. If she had hoped to read a little warmth into it she failed.

The evening meal was at six o’clock—a substantial one of soup, meatballs, vegetables and potatoes, followed by blancmange. Mrs Proudfoot, who normally pecked at the kind of invalid diet she had devised for herself, ate everything, explaining to Mr Harding that after their tiring journey she needed to keep up her strength. It surprised and pleased Serena to see her mother so animated, and indeed, when she suggested that she must be tired and an early night might be advisable, Mrs Proudfoot said prettily that she was enjoying the company far too much to leave it so early and advised Serena to go to bed herself. ‘For I dare say you’ll have a busy day, darling.’ She put up her cheek for Serena to kiss. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow evening, you leave far too early in the morning.’ She smiled around the room. ‘I sleep badly and usually doze off just as everyone else is getting up!’

Serena wished everyone goodnight and climbed the steep stairs once more, had a shower, set her alarm clock, and then climbed into bed. It was altogether a relief that her mother seemed happy, and it was providential that there was the English Mr Harding for her to talk to. He would probably have the leisure to spend some time with her; at least he would be there to talk to her at meals. Serena burrowed her mousy head into the large square pillow and went to sleep.

When she went downstairs soon after seven o’clock the next morning she found Mevrouw Blom waiting for her. The rooms were spotless, the tables laid for breakfast, the stove already lighted.

‘You sleep well?’ asked Mevrouw Blom. ‘I bring coffee and rolls if you will sit.’

Serena wasn’t very hungry, she was too excited for that, but she managed to eat the boiled egg and a roll and cheese and drink the contents of the coffee-pot. No one had mentioned arrangements for her midday meal. Perhaps she was expected to go into the town for it, or return to Mevrouw Blom, but at the moment her lunch was the least important of her thoughts; she was more concerned in getting to the hospital and being where Dr ter Feulen expected her to be by eight o’clock.

The hospital was very close by, indeed she could see it looming over the housetops as she went out of the front door, and once there, with ten minutes to spare, she went to the porter’s lodge and gave her name.

The porter was elderly with a craggy face and a neat fringe of hair around his bald head. He answered her good morning with a remark in his own tongue and picked up the telephone. Since the conversation meant nothing to her, Serena took a look around her. The hospital entrance was imposing, with a paved floor and a wide sweeping staircase opposite the doors. They led to a landing lined with lifts as far as she could see, and then branched on either side to the floor above.

‘Wait, if you please,’ said the porter in very bad English, and turned back to sorting the letters.

So she waited, one eye on the enormous clock above the stairs; it was five minutes to eight and she didn’t care to arrive late on her first morning. The minute hand had moved to four minutes before a stout woman with iron-grey hair and a severe expression came from somewhere at the back of the hall.

‘Miss Proudfoot—good morning. You are to come with me.’ She looked Serena over. ‘You are a good deal younger than Miss Payne …’ She held out a hand. ‘Juffrouw Staal.’

‘Serena Proudfoot,’ said Serena, and smiled hopefully. But all Juffrouw Staal did was to nod her head briskly and lead the way to the back of the hall and through a door. There was a stone staircase beyond it and she started up it, saying over her shoulder,

‘You will come this way each day, you will not need to speak to the porter.’

They climbed to the third floor and went through a swing-door into a wide passage with rooms opening from it on either side. Almost at the end of it Juffrouw Staal stopped. ‘Dr ter Feulen comes to this room to dictate his letters and give you his instructions. You will also be required to go to the wards and clinics if he wishes to record some of his cases.’

She indicated the desk and chair set under the window. ‘You will go for your coffee at ten o’clock. The canteen is on the ground floor—someone will show you. You will also lunch there at fifteen minutes past twelve. You may have ten minutes for tea, and that is at half-past three. The cloakrooms are at the end of this corridor.’

Serena thanked her. ‘You speak English awfully well,’ she said.

Miss Staal unbent very slightly. ‘I have lived in your country for a year or so. You will be here only a short time, but I advise you to learn a few basic phrases as soon as possible.’

She nodded and went away, leaving Serena to take the cover off her typewriter, look into the drawers and cupboards and make sure that her pencils were sharpened, and, that done, she went to the window to look out over the neighbouring streets. It was a grey morning and there was a mean wind, but the city looked interesting from where she stood, looking down on to its roofs.

‘I suppose I stay here until someone comes, and let’s hope that’s soon—he might turn nasty if I’m late.’ She had spoken out loud, as she so often did when she was alone, and a slight sound made her turn round in a hurry.

Dr ter Feulen had come into the room. He gave her an unsmiling good morning and added, ‘Since you’re not late I can see no reason to turn nasty. You have a poor opinion of me, Miss Proudfoot.’

She had gone pink, but she didn’t avoid his eye. ‘No, not really, it’s just that I’m a bit nervous of doing the wrong thing, and to be late would be such a very bad start.’

He nodded carelessly. ‘You are comfortable at Mevrouw Blom’s house?’

‘Oh, very, thank you, and Mother is so pleased. There are other people there who speak English and an English gentleman …’ She stopped because he was looking impatient. She asked quickly, ‘What do you wish me to do first, sir?’

He stood looking at her and she wondered if there was something wrong with her. She had left the house as neat as a new pin, but the hurried climb up the stairs might have loosened her tidy head of hair, or was her blouse rumpled? She surveyed her person with an anxious eye, relieved at last to hear him say, ‘No, there’s nothing wrong, Miss Proudfoot. And must I call you that? You won’t object to being called Serena?’

‘Not in the least, sir.’

‘Then let us make a tour of the hospital so that when you are sent for you don’t take all day to get there.’

She said crossly, quite forgetting to whom she was speaking, ‘You do have a most unfortunate way of making me feel inadequate! I’m sure I’m quite capable of finding my way around without anyone’s help.’

‘Oh, undoubtedly. But all the same, perhaps you will be good enough to come with me now.’

She went out of the room with something of a flounce, not seeing his smile, and after ten minutes of traipsing up and down stairs and along corridors which all looked alike, she was forced to admit that without him she would have been hopelessly lost. She took care to look where she went; the theatre block was on the top floor and Outpatients was on the ground floor at the back of the hospital. She was introduced to the ward sisters, and it wasn’t until they were back in the office where she was to work that she realised how difficult it would have been to find her way around the vast place without a guide. She said apologetically, ‘I’m sorry I was so rude. It was kind of you to show me round—I would have got hopelessly lost.’

The doctor nodded, unsmiling. ‘Indeed you would, and I might have turned nasty!’ He saw the look on her face and said hastily, ‘No—it is I who am sorry. I had no reason to say that. I think we shall get on very well together. Let us begin as we mean to go on. I have a clinic in ten minutes’ time. Bring your notebook and pencil—there’s a long morning’s work ahead of us.’ He nodded again, but this time he smiled.

He was really rather nice, she decided, watching his broad back disappear along the corridor.

That evening, reviewing her day, Serena decided that she hadn’t done so badly. It had been very like working at the Royal, and although the doctor had spoken Dutch to his patients he had detailed his notes in English, and he and his registrar had spoken together in that language with as much ease as if they were speaking their own tongue. Serena had been nervous at first, but by the end of the morning she had found her feet and had gone down to the canteen for her lunch with two of the other hospital clerks and had quite enjoyed herself. She had spent the afternoon typing up the notes, typed up the details of an operation the doctor had performed that afternoon, this time from a tape recorder, and handed the whole lot to him when he came to the office just after half-past five. She had asked him if he wanted her for anything else and he had replied that no, he thought not, she had done sufficient for her first day.

‘I shall be operating in the morning,’ he told her, ‘but I’ll send someone up with my letters and a couple of tapes. Have them ready by two o’clock, will you?’

They had wished each other goodnight and she had gone back to Mevrouw Blom’s house to find the evening meal already eaten, although she was given soup, pork chops, zuurkool and delicious floury potatoes by an attentive Mevrouw Blom, followed by ice-cream and coffee, while everyone else sat in the sitting-room. Her mother had been remarkably cheerful, full of her day, and beyond a perfunctory question or two as to what Serena had done, she had little interest in it. But Serena hadn’t minded, it was a relief to find that her mother was actually enjoying herself. There was no trace of boredom and no complaints of headaches or tiredness—indeed, she was the life and soul of everyone there, and barely noticed when Serena after an hour or so slipped away to her bed. It was nice to see her mother so happy, she thought sleepily, and that nice Mr Harding had been very kind, taking her mother into the heart of the city and showing her where all the best shops were. Serena, curled up in her comfortable bed, went to sleep.

By the end of the week she had to admit that she was enjoying herself. It was all work, but interesting, and she hardly noticed that she had very little leisure. Dr ter Feulen was a glutton for work; when he wasn’t operating he was dictating letters, giving lectures or examining students. Serena made copious notes, typed them neatly and left them each evening with Juffrouw Staal. She saw the doctor each day, but beyond wanting to know in a rather impatient manner if she was all right, he had nothing of a personal nature to say to her. She returned to the cheerful haven of Mevrouw Blom’s house each evening, tired and hungry but satisfied that she had done a good day’s work and delighted to find that her mother was enjoying herself. Mr Harding had taken her under his elderly wing and each evening she recounted to Serena the various pleasures of her day. She didn’t want to know about Serena’s; she dismissed it as boring, and beyond a fleeting concern that Serena didn’t seem to have much time to herself, she had no comment to make.

‘Well, I’ll be free on Saturday,’ said Serena.

‘Oh, will you, darling? You’ll love to potter round the shops. Mr Harding is taking me to Utrecht—there are some patrician houses there he wants to see. He says I have a great eye for architecture …’

Serena swallowed disappointment. She had been looking forward to a day sightseeing with her mother, but all she said in her sensible way was, ‘That sounds fun. I’m so glad you’re enjoying yourself, Mother, and you look years younger.’

Mrs Proudfoot peered into the small looking-glass. ‘Yes, I do, don’t I?’ she agreed complacently, and added without much interest, ‘You’re not working too hard, are you, darling?’

Serena assured her that she wasn’t.

She was asked that question again on the following morning, but by the doctor. She assured him that she had never felt better, and he gave her a quizzical look. ‘You are free tomorrow and Sunday, so you and your mother will be able to explore.’

‘Well, actually, she’s going out with Mr Harding who’s at Mevrouw Blom’s—they’re going to Utrecht to look at old houses.’

‘And you?’

‘Me? Oh, I’ll look at the shops and wander about.’ She had spoken in a cheerful and matter-of-fact voice, but something in her face made him give her a thoughtful look.

He said, ‘There is quite a lot to see in Amsterdam,’ and Serena said too quickly,

‘Oh, yes, I know, I’m looking forward to it.’

He went away and she started her day’s work, resolutely determined not to feel sorry for herself.

She found herself unwillingly tidying her desk that evening, knowing that she wouldn’t be at it for two days. She felt secure while she was working, and she was beginning to make the acquaintance of other girls who worked along the corridor; they were friendly and kind and they all spoke English of sorts. Serena was last, as usual. She turned off the lights as she went, ran down the stairs and out of the side door and into the street, then hurried along the pavement to Mevrouw Blom’s house, watched by the doctor, sitting in his car, waiting for a gap in the traffic.

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