controlled voice which masked his anger.
'Never say such a thing to me again, Ermentrude. You and your parents are my guests, and welcome in my house. Be good enough to remember that.'
She stood quietly under his hand. 'All right, I won't,' she told him. 'Don't be so annoyed, there's no need.'
He smiled then. 'Should I beg your pardon? Did I startle you?'
'Oh, no. I think I've always known that you conceal your feelings.' She met his look and went pink. 'Now it's me who should say sorry. Goodness me, I wouldn't have dared talk to you like that at St Luke's. It must be because we're here.'
He studied her face, nodded and went on down the stairs, his hand still on her arm.
Lunch was a cheerful meal. The professor and Mr Foster seemed to have a great deal in common; neither was at a loss for a subject although they were careful to include Mrs Foster and Emmy.
Shortly afterwards the first of the guests arrived. The house seemed suddenly to be full of children, racing around, shouting and laughing, hugging the dogs, hanging onto their uncle, absorbing Emmy and her parents into their lives as though they had always been there.
There were only four of them but it seemed more-three boys and a girl, the eldest six years and the youngest two. A rather fierce Scottish nanny came with them, but she took one look at Emmy's unassuming person and allowed her to be taken over by her charges. So Emmy was coaxed to go to the nursery with the children and their mother, a tall young woman with the professor's good looks. She had shaken Emmy by the hand, and liked her.
'Joke,' she said with a smile. 'It sounds like part of an egg but it's spelt like a joke. I do hope you like children. Mine run wild at Christmas, and Ruerd spoils them. My sister Alemke will be here shortly; she's got a boy and two girls, and a baby on the way.' She grinned at Emmy. 'Are we all a bit overpowering?'
'No, no. I like children. Only, you see, the professor is so-well, remote at the hospital. It's hard to think of him with a family.'
'I know just what you mean.' Joke made a face. 'He loves children, but I don't think Anneliese, his fiancйe, likes them very much. I sound critical, don't I? Well, I am. Why he has to marry someone like her I'll never know. Suitable, I suppose.'
She took Emmy's arm. 'I'm so glad you're here. Only I hope the children aren't going to plague you.'
'I shan't mind a bit. How old are your sister's children?'
'The boy is five, and the girls-twins-almost three. Let's go down and have tea.'
Her sister had arrived when they got down to the drawing room and there were more children, who, undeterred by language problems, took possession of Emmy.
Alemke was very like her sister, only younger. 'Isn't this fun?' she said in English as good as Emmy's own. 'I love a crowd. Our husbands will come later, and I suppose Aunt Beatrix will be here and Uncle Cor and Grandmother ter Mennolt. She's a bit fierce, but don't mind her. There'll be Ruerd's friends, too; it should be great fun. And Anneliese, of course.'
The sisters exchanged looks. 'We don't like her, though we try very hard to do so,' said Joke.
'She's very beautiful,' said Emmy, anxious to be fair.
'You've met her?'
'She came to St Luke's when I was working there, to see the professor.'
'Do you always call Ruerd 'professor'?' asked Joke.
'Well, yes. He's-he's…Well, it's difficult to explain, but the hospital-He's a senior consultant and I was on the telephone exchange.'
Alemke took her arm. 'Come over here and sit with us while we have tea, and tell us about the hospital-wasn't there a bomb or something? Ruerd mentioned it vaguely. Anneliese was over there, wasn't she?'
Emmy accepted a delicate china cup of tea and a tiny biscuit.
'Yes, it must have been very difficult for the professor because, of course, he was busier than usual.'
Joke and Alemke exchanged a quick look. Here was the answer to their prayers. This small girl with the plain face and the beautiful eyes was exactly what they had in mind for their brother. They had seen with satisfaction that, beyond a few civil remarks, he had avoided Emmy and she had gone out of her way to stay at the other end of the room. A good sign, but it was unfortunate that Ruerd had given his promise to Anneliese. Who would be coming that evening, no doubt looking more beautiful than ever.
The children, excited but sleepy, were led away after tea to be bathed and given supper and be put to bed, and everyone else went away to dress for the evening. Emmy had seen with pleasure that her parents were enjoying themselves and were perfectly at ease in their grand surroundings. She reminded herself that before her father had been made redundant he and her mother had had a pleasant social life. It was only when they had gone to London and he had been out of work that they had had to change their ways.
Emmy took a long time dressing. The result looked very much as usual to her anxious eyes as she studied her person in the pier-glass. The brown dress was best described as useful, its colour mouse-like, guaranteed to turn the wearer into a nonentity, its modest style such that it could be worn year after year without even being noticed.
Emmy had bought it at a sale, searching for a dress to wear to the annual hospital ball at St Luke's two years previously, knowing that it would have to last for a number of years even if its outings were scanty. It hardly added to her looks, although it couldn't disguise her pretty figure.
She went slowly down the staircase, hoping that no one would notice her.
The professor noticed-and knew then why Emmy hadn't wanted to join his other guests. He crossed the hall to meet her at the foot of the staircase, and took her hand with a smile and a nod at her person. He said in exactly the right tone of casual approval, 'Very nice, Ermentrude. Come and meet the rest of my guests.'
His brothers-in-law were there now, but he took her first to an old lady sitting by the console table.
'Aunt Beatrix, this is Ermentrude Foster who is staying here over Christmas with her parents-you have already met them.'
The old lady looked her up and down and held out a hand. 'Ah, yes. You have an unusual name. Perhaps you are an unusual girl?'
Emmy shook the old hand. 'No, no. I'm very ordinary.'
Aunt Beatrix patted the stool at her feet. 'Sit down and tell me what you do.' She shot a glance at Emmy. 'You do do something?'
'Well, yes.' Emmy told her of the job at St. Luke's. 'But, now Father has a post in Dorset, I can live there and find something to do while I train.'
'What for?'
'I want to embroider-really complicated embroidery, you know? Tapestry work and smocking on babies' dresses and drawn thread work. And when I know enough I'd like to open a small shop.'
'Not get married?'
'I expect if someone asked me, and I loved him, I'd like to get married,' said Emmy.
The professor had wandered back. 'Come and meet Rik and Hugo and the others.' He put a hand on her shoulder and led her from one to the other, and then paused by Anneliese, who was superb in red chiffon, delicately made-up, her hair an artless mass of loose curls.
'Remember Ermentrude?' asked the professor cheerfully.
'Of course I do.' Anneliese studied the brown dress slowly and smiled a nasty little smile. 'What a rush for you, coming here at a moment's notice. Ruerd told me all about it, of course. You must feel very grateful to him. Such a bore for you, having no time to buy some decent clothes. Still, I suppose you're only here for a couple of days.'
'Yes, I expect we are,' said Emmy in a carefully controlled voice. Just then the professor was called away. Anneliese turned round and spoke to a tall, stout woman chatting nearby. 'Mother, come and meet this girl Ruerd is helping yet again.'
Mevrouw van Moule ignored the hand Emmy put out. She had cold eyes and a mean mouth, and Emmy thought, In twenty years' time Anneliese will look like that.
'I dare say you find all this rather awkward, do you not? You worked in a hospital, I understand.'
