was leaving, but perhaps a brisk run out of doors would give her the courage to do so.
At the end of an hour, she marshalled her charges into some sort of order and went back to the house, and, since their boots and shoes were covered in damp sand and frost, they went in through the side door. It wasn't until it was too late to retreat that she saw the professor standing there, holding the door open.
The children milled around him, chattering like magpies, but presently he said something to them and they trooped away, leaving Emmy without a backward glance. She did her best to slide past the professor's bulk.
'I'll just go and help the children,' she began. And then went on ashamed of her cowardice, 'I wanted to see you, Professor. I'd like to go back to England today, if you don't mind. Oom Domus said he would give me a lift this evening.' When he said nothing she added, 'I' ve had a lovely time here, and you've been so kind. I'm very grateful, but it's time I went back to England.'
He glanced at her and looked away. 'Stay a few more days, Ermentrude. I'll take you back when I go.'
'I'd like to go today-and it's so convenient, isn't it? I mean, Oom Domus is going over to England this evening.'
'You have no wish to stay?' he asked, in what she thought was a very casual voice. 'We must talk…'
'No-no. I'd like to go as soon as possible.'
'By all means go with Oom Domus.' He stood aside. 'Don't let me keep you; I expect that you have things to do. Lunch will be in half an hour or so.'
She slipped past him, and then stopped as he said, without turning round, 'You have avoided me, Ermentrude. You have a reason?'
'Yes, but I don't want to talk about it. It's-personal.' She paused. 'It's something I'd rather not talk about,' she repeated.
When he didn't answer, she went away. It hadn't been at all satisfactory; she had expected him to be relieved, even if he expressed polite regret at her sudden departure. He had sounded withdrawn, as though it didn't matter whether she came or went. Probably it
She went to her room and sat down to think about it. She could, of course, write to him, but what would be the point? He would think that she was wishful of continuing their friendship-had it been friendship? She no longer knew-and that would be the last thing he would want with his marriage to Anneliese imminent. Best leave things as they were, she decided, and tidied her hair, looked rather despairingly at her pale face and went down to lunch.
She had been dreading that, but there was no need. The professor offered her sherry with easy friendliness and during lunch kept the conversation to light-hearted topics, never once touching on her departure. It seemed to her that he was no longer interested in it.
She made the excuse that she still had some last-minute packing to do after lunch. If she remained in the drawing room it would mean that everyone would have to speak in English, and it was quite likely they wanted to discuss family matters in their own language. It had surprised her that Anneliese hadn't come to lunch-perhaps Ruerd was going to her home later that day. Everyone would be gone by the late afternoon and he would be able to do as he pleased.
Of course, she had no packing to do. She went and sat by the window and stared out at the garden and the dunes and the sea beyond. It would be dark in a few hours, but the sun had struggled through the clouds now, and the pale sunlight warmed the bare trees and turned the dull-grey sea into silver. It wouldn't last long; there were clouds banking up on the horizon, and a bitter wind.
She was turning away from the window when she saw the professor with his dogs, striding down the garden and across the dunes. He was bare-headed, but wearing his sheepskin jacket so that he looked even larger than he was.
She watched him for a moment, and then on an impulse put on her own coat, tied a scarf over her head and went quietly downstairs and out of the side door. The wind took her breath as she started down the long garden, intent on reaching Ruerd while she still had the courage. She was going away, but she had given him no reason and he was entitled to that, and out here in the bleakness of the seashore it would be easier to tell him.
The wind was coming off the sea and she found it slow going; the dunes were narrow here, but they were slippery-full of hollows and unexpected hillocks. By the time she reached the sands the professor was standing by the water, watching the waves tumbling towards him.
The sun had gone again. She walked towards him, soundless on the sand, and when she reached him put out a hand and touched his sleeve.
He turned and looked at her then, and she saw how grim he looked and how tired. She forgot her speech for a moment.
'You ought not to be out in this weather without a hat,' she told him. And then, 'I can't go away without telling you why I'm going, Ruerd. I wasn't going to-Anneliese asked me not to say anything-but perhaps she won't mind if you explain to her…I'm going because I'm in love with you. You know that, don't you? She told me so. I'm sorry you found out; I didn't think it showed. It must have been awkward for you.'
She looked away from him. 'You do see that I had to tell you? But now that I have you can forget all about it. You've been kind. More than kind.' She gulped. 'I'm sure you will be very happy with Anneliese…'
If she had intended to say anything more she was given no opportunity to do so. Wrapped so tightly in his arms that she could hardly breathe she heard his voice roaring above the noise of the wind and waves.
'Kind? Kind? My darling girl, I have not been kind. I have been in love with you since the moment I first saw you, spending hours thinking up ways of seeing more of you and knowing that I had given Anneliese my promise to marry her. It has been something unbearable I never wish to live through again.'
He bent his head and kissed her. It was even better than the kiss under the mistletoe, and highly satisfactory. All the same, Emmy muttered, 'Anneliese…?'
'Anneliese no longer wishes to marry me. Forget her, my darling, and listen to me. We shall marry, you and I, and live happily ever after. You do believe that?'
Emmy peeped up into his face, no longer grim and tired but full of tenderness and love. She nodded. 'Yes, Ruerd. Oh, yes. But what about Anneliese?'
He kissed her soundly. 'We will talk later; I'm going to kiss you again.'
'Very well,' said Emmy. 'I don't mind if you do.'
They stood, the pair of them, just for a while in their own world, oblivious of the wind and the waves and the dogs running to and fro.
Heaven, thought Emmy happily, isn't necessarily sunshine and blue skies-and she reached up to put her arms round her professor's neck.
At the end of the garden, Oom Domus, coming to look for her, adjusted his binoculars, took a good look and hurried back to the house. He would have a lonely trip to England, but what did that matter? He was bursting with good news.
Betty Neels
