She began to chase him round the table while he laughed and ducked this way and that, quickly putting chairs in her path whenever he could, much to Freddie’s and Lili’s amusement. Suddenly he dashed out of the room, with Marie at his heels.
‘What’s got into Marie?’ wondered Freddie. A few moments later Marie returned, quite out of breath.
‘Did you catch him?’ asked Lili.
‘Of course not,’ responded Marie. ‘That boy’s as quick as greased lightning, and as nimble as a mountain goat too! Oh, how good it feels to run. . I wish I were a boy!’
When Frédérique made to leave, Lili accompanied her downstairs; Marie said she would be down shortly.
But she lingered by the window and gazed outside, where the fading light was veiling the world with a transparent, ashen haze. She could see the canal, green and still beneath leafy overhanging boughs, and the avenue dozing beyond, melting into the dewy dusk.
She took a deep breath. She would banish that cruel sense of regret from her heart once and for all, as she had already begun doing this afternoon. She was getting old, decidedly old, she felt, she was becoming dull and weighed down with cares. But she would be brave, she would have no self-pity, she would crush the blossom within her soul, revile that vision, blot it out. It was torture, but she owed it to herself.
And as she stared vacantly into the gathering darkness, the face of her beloved rose up before her. She saw his fine head, the warm fidelity of his gaze, his kind expression, his heart-warming smile. But he was smiling at Eline, not at her.
. .
The tram cars running between Oude Scheveningseweg and the Kurhaus were packed. At the junction of Anna Paulownastraat and Laan Copes van Cattenburch they were stormed by the waiting throng and rapidly filled to overflowing, both inside and out. There was much pushing and stepping on toes, and even ladies colourfully attired in fluttery summery dresses joined the feverish scramble for places. The bell clanged, the horses started up, and all the passengers who had managed to climb on board smiled triumphantly as the conductor shouted to the crestfallen people left behind, who promptly turned away to face the arrival of the next tram.
‘Such crowds! How dreadful!’ said Eline, observing the commotion with a serene smile.
She was seated next to Betsy in the open landau, facing Henk and Otto. Dirk the coachman had been obliged to halt a moment, but now the long line of vehicles began to move again. Herman, the young groom in pale-grey livery with shiny buttons, sat bolt upright with his arms folded across his chest and his lips pursed in an expression of self-importance.
‘There are bound to be lots of people,’ said Betsy. ‘But as it’s in the open air, there will be enough places, so we needn’t fret.’
Not a breath of wind stirred the dense foliage, and after a day of soaring temperatures the gathering dusk brought little relief. The air seemed torpid, leaden. Eline leant back in her seat, looking rather wan from the heat; she spoke little, merely glanced at Otto from time to time through hooded eyes, with a hint of coquettish contentment. Betsy was chatting away to Van Erlevoort, as Henk found little to say. His mind was on other things, such as how much more pleasant it would have been to have stayed at home and taken tea in the garden instead of rushing off to Scheveningen immediately after dinner.
Betsy, however, felt on top of the world, relishing the sultry evening air, the soft padding of her well-appointed landau, which compared so favourably with the other private vehicles, and the sight of Herman sitting ramrod-stiff on the box with the hangings monogrammed in silver. She was pleased with herself, with the luxury that she had occasion to display, and with the company she was seen to be keeping. Eline was looking as pretty as a picture in a stylishly simple ensemble in a pale shade of pewter, her face framed by a refined little bonnet tied with a flutter of silk ribbon. And Van Erlevoort was a fine-looking fellow, a man of distinction. As for Henk, he looked comfortably expansive and sleek. . no indeed, her husband was not really so bad, she could have done a lot worse for herself.
When Dirk overtook another vehicle of their acquaintance, Betsy acknowledged the occupants with her most winning smile, since she did not wish to appear to be gloating at the speed of her handsome bays.
‘Oh, lovely! It’s cooling down, I’m beginning to feel quite revived,’ murmured Eline. She took a deep breath and sat up as they came to the end of the Promenade. ‘Just what I needed: some fresh air after the appalling heat we had this afternoon.’
‘Nonsense, Elly, it was delightful!’ countered Betsy. ‘In fact I wish we had such warm weather all the time.’
‘Well, it would kill me after a few weeks! Oh, Otto, you’re laughing, but I’m serious, the heat makes me quite ill. Don’t you believe me?’
‘But Elly, of course I believe you!’
She shook her head, giving him a look of mock reproof.
‘You called me Elly again,’ she whispered.
‘So I did; how silly of me. Ah, I’ve just had an idea,’ he whispered back happily.
‘What are you two conspiring about?’ Henk demanded.
‘Oh, nothing. Just a little secret between Otto and me. . shh,’ she said, putting her finger to her lips, delighting in their curiosity.
For she had asked Otto not to call her by the familiar name everyone used. She wanted him to invent a special name for her, a name that only he would use, one that was not worn and stale — he did not think it childish of her, did he? He had exhausted himself trying to come up with a suitable pet name, but she was never satisfied and kept telling him to think again. And now he appeared to have found something.
‘I’m dying to know,’ she whispered, smiling.
‘Later,’ he mouthed, returning her smile.
‘Until now I didn’t find you half as tiresome as most engaged girls, and I wish you’d stop mumbling like that, it’s very boring!’ Betsy cried out with mild indignation.
‘Well, you were no better with Henk in the old days!’ riposted Eline. ‘Was she, Henk?’
‘No, I don’t believe she was!’ chuckled Henk. Eline felt a pang: the thought of her sister’s engagement several years since brought back long-buried moments of a certain heartache she had felt at the time. It all seemed so very long ago, yet she was perturbed.
But they had long since left Badhuisweg behind, they had passed the Gallery, they had rolled round to the rear of the Kurhaus, and now they were coming to a halt at the steps leading to the terrace overlooking the sea.
. .
Betsy, Eline and Otto passed one by one through the turnstile, while Henk, who had the tickets, brought up the rear. They did not see the Eekhofs and the Hijdrechts, who were seated at one of the tables near the bandstand, and walked on. Otto’s hand was touching Eline’s arm.
‘Look, there go the Van Raats, and Miss Vere with Van Erlevoort!’ said young Hijdrecht. ‘They’ve been coming here every evening lately.’
‘What an absurdly plain dress Eline is wearing!’ said Léonie. ‘I wonder who she’s trying to impress. . and that hat with the veil! All the girls nowadays seem to think they should have a hat with a veil as soon as they get engaged. It’s preposterous!’
‘Still, they make a fine couple, don’t they?’ opined Madame Eekhof. ‘And it’s a splendid match.’
‘At least they aren’t making a spectacle of themselves the way some engaged couples do,’ said Ange. ‘Not like Marguerite van Laren, for instance, for ever flicking invisible dust off her fiancé’s lapels. Remember how we laughed the other day, Hijdrecht?’
Betsy, bobbing and smiling left and right as they picked their way through the multitude, said they ought to find a table soon or they would all be taken.