Death of a Delft Blue

year — Sweyn has obtained rooms for us at an hotel in which his father holds shares (for diamonds are not Mr Bernard’s only source of wealth), and therefore we shall be able to take in something of the city tomorrow and on the following morning. In the evening Professor Sweyn will collect us from our hotel and transport us to the one in which they have chosen to entertain us.’

‘Fine! I can’t wait to meet your two professors and their Aunt Binnen. What’s her name mean, by the way? I don’t really know any Dutch, but somehow that word seems to ring a bell.’

‘Binnen means Come In,’ said Dame Beatrice, solemnly.

‘Blimey!’ commented Laura. ‘What with that, and daughters named Opal and Ruby—! Why not have called the son Diamond, while they were about it?’

‘Possibly because the daughters’ names were bestowed fortuitously. Their father, if you remember, was English and there is no reason, so far as my information goes, to connect him with Hatton Garden. Did you have a good lunch?’

‘Yes. I could now do with some exercise. What do you say to a stroll to Wesbroek Park to take a look at that miniature town they’ve built there, and then perhaps a round of miniature golf by the Grand Hotel in Gevers Diejnootweg?’

‘Both projects appear suited to my advanced years and physical frailty.’

‘Right, then. Let’s go.’

The walk along the promenade was pleasant, although a fresh breeze was blowing inland from the North Sea. Stone breakwaters in the form of jetties took the force of the sea itself and protected a firm sandy beach along which Laura, while the Conference was on, had walked for miles to the north and from which, at least twice a day, she had swum. There were dunes behind the beach proper, but these were fenced in, except for occasional narrow paths which accommodated walkers and the ubiquitous cyclist. The fencing was to protect the grasses whose roots held down the light and shifting sand.

Dame Beatrice and Laura walked as far north as the turning to Zwolse Straat and then, at Dame Beatrice’s suggestion, they turned about and went as far as Keiser Straat before returning to Gevers Diejnootweg and the Grand Hotel for their game of miniature golf. It was the only game, except for chess and croquet, at which Dame Beatrice could always beat Laura. This gave great satisfaction to both.

They had just concluded a round of the miniature golf when a young fresh voice hailed Laura.

‘I say! This is fun! It’s you again!’ it cried. Laura and Dame Beatrice waited politely for the girl to join them. She was, of course, Laura’s pupil in the lesson on the Anglo-Dutch rate of exchange.

‘Hullo,’ said Laura, with little warmth of tone. ‘Lovely day, isn’t it? We’ve just finished playing miniature golf.’

‘Oh, that’s what I thought I would do. I suppose… it isn’t much fun going round on one’s own…’

Laura and Dame Beatrice exchanged glances. Laura raised her eyebrows, indicating her willingness to accede to the unspoken request. Dame Beatrice nodded and (most mendaciously) said that she would be very glad of a rest before returning to the hotel. She would hire a beach-chair, she added, and Laura could come and find her when they had finished their game.

‘How went the purchases?’ asked Laura of the girl, when Dame Beatrice had left them. ‘Any luck?’

‘Oh, yes, but the things seem awfully expensive here. I wondered, after I’d bought them, whether I wouldn’t have done better to wait until we went to Amsterdam. Still, I had to get something for Gran and the aunts, who live in Amsterdam, and I suppose they’d much rather have things that came from somewhere else.’

‘If they live in Amsterdam, why on earth didn’t you bring them something from England?’ Laura enquired. ‘I should have thought it was the obvious thing.’

‘You don’t know Gran. She loathes everything English since our English grandfather died of flu in London. I believe she even loathes my brother and me quite a bit, simply because we live in England instead of over here. She grows bulbs — tulips, hyacinths, daffodils — and she’s always talking about Admiral van Tromp and things like that.’

‘Oh, yes, the Dutch carrying-trade and our rather dog-in-the-manger attitude regarding it. Well, I can’t say I blame her,’ observed Laura.

‘Anyway, I bought her a bit of Delft china and the aunts a tiny silver pin-tray each,’ said the girl. ‘I don’t know what to take home for Granduncle. He’s got everything. I shall have to take him some Dutch cigars, but, of course, he can get those in England. Mamma and Papa will just have to go on hoping. I can’t possibly afford anything for them this time.’

‘Oh, well, then,’ said Laura cheerfully, ‘you’ll have only your granduncle’s present to pay Customs duty on, won’t you? I don’t think we need toss for innings. You drive off, and may the best man win.’

‘I say, I do like you,’ said the girl, touching Laura’s arm.

‘Oh, so do lots of people,’ said Laura, irritably. ‘Let’s get on with it, shall we?’

‘I’m afraid I’ve bothered you. I’m sorry.’

Laura felt that she had been piggish, and they finished the game in silence and then went to find Dame Beatrice.

‘I’m sorry to have taken your daughter away from you,’ said the girl, with apparent contrition and sincerity.

‘You flatter me,’ responded Dame Beatrice. ‘Laura is not related to me, but, if she were, she would be my granddaughter, not my daughter. There would be a generation between.’

‘Sez you!’ said Laura. ‘Well, we’d better be going,’ she added to the girl. ‘Goodbye, and thanks for the game.’