Madame van Raat shook her head.
‘That Paul! I don’t know what’s got into him lately!’ she said, sighing.
But Madame Verstraeten came to his defence.
‘Never mind, Dora, he’s not a bad boy at heart. He’s simply a young man with money to spend. . what can you expect?’
‘Henk was never like that. It’s a shocking way to live one’s life! To start with, he never gets up before eleven, and then he goes for a ride on horseback or in his buggy, after which he’s off to his club. He usually dines at home, thank Heavens! As for the evenings — well, goodness knows what he gets up to.’
‘He looks well enough, though.’
‘His constitution is robust, fortunately, and until now his health does not seem to have suffered from the ridiculous hours he keeps. But as I said before, it’s a shocking way to live. He was less wayward as a student than he is nowadays. No indeed, Henk wasn’t in the least like that when he was Paul’s age!’
She continued in the same vein for some time, drawing comparisons between her eldest son, her favourite whom she thought sensible and solid, and Paul, whom she accused of being irresponsible and egotistical. For that was what he was, egotistical, there was no other word for it, taking no heed whatsoever of his mother’s wishes, offering her no companionship to speak of, and treating her house much like a hotel! He had no thought for his old mother, he lived only for himself, for his own enjoyment.
Madame Verstraeten could think of nothing to say except that Paul was a good boy at heart and that this was just a stage he was going through. Although unable to express her feelings in words, she had a sharp sense of regret at the cruelty of Nature’s laws, by which the generations inevitably became estranged once the children grew up and embarked on their own lives, entering new realms of mental and material consciousness from which their elders were excluded. The gulf of incomprehension dividing parents from their adult offspring did not signify a lack of love on either part, it was simply the outcome of that single, fateful law dictating ultimate alienation. It was not so much that all the ties of kindred love were suddenly severed, they were successively unwound, unravelled, frayed, until such time as they were slack and inconsequential. She had become painfully aware of this when Lili took against her on account of her love for Georges, and she was reminded of it again now, for it had not escaped her that Marie’s behaviour had changed of late, which was bound to portend yet another estrangement, another parting. And then there was Jan, whose turn would come a few years from now. No one was to blame, either; not the parents, who were merely victims of their own parental love, nor the children, who, once they were parents themselves, would have to bear the same martyrdom in their turn.
. .
The weather was cool and Marie felt the wind on her face as she perched on the high box beside Paul, who was holding the reins.
‘What do you keep going to that house for?’ asked Paul. ‘You just can’t get enough of it, can you?’
She had to laugh, because he had guessed the truth. The cosy little nest was all ready and waiting to receive the two lovebirds, and yet she couldn’t wait to spend time there, as if it were a brand new toy.
They rolled along Bankaplein towards Atjehstraat, with Marie giving directions to Paul.
‘Do you always carry their house key in your pocket? Whatever will you do when you’ve given it back?’ he teased, drawing the buggy to a halt. The groom jumped down from the back to help Marie alight.
‘I shall ring the bell and hope to be let in!’ she replied, laughing. ‘But why don’t you come in for a moment, Paul? Then you can see your wedding present in its proper surroundings.’
‘No thanks, I can quite imagine what it looks like!’ he responded. ‘Have fun!’
‘Thank you for the ride. .’
She slipped her key in the lock, pausing to watch as Paul’s elegant, frail-looking vehicle rolled away with the smart little groom at the back.
Stepping inside, she heard someone singing upstairs. ‘Dear Emilie,’ she thought, smiling to herself. But she did not climb the stairs at once; instead, she slipped into the salon for a quick glance at the pretty suite of furniture, blue and shiny with newness in the soft light entering through the cream-coloured lace curtains. The silver tea service glowed under its tulle dust cover on a side table. The mantelpiece, too, was prettily adorned with vases on either side of an artistic jester’s head in terracotta, which was reflected in the glass. Only the walls were still a little bare, as were the walls of the dining room, which was very simply furnished with a round dining table and chairs, a modest nut-wood dresser and a brown-leather settee.
‘It all looks so new,’ thought Marie. ‘Not very cosy yet — but that will come, all in good time.’
Everything was indeed very shiny. The kitchen was the shiniest area of all, from brand-new pots and pans to a gleaming range that had yet to be lit for the first time. True, there was no life in the place yet, but all in all the ground floor was very fetching. Marie went upstairs. Emilie was still singing, and not at all surprised to see Marie, who was busy in Georges’ study arranging countless souvenirs from his boyhood room in his parental home.
‘Oh, how cosy it’s beginning to look here!’ said Marie. ‘Those knick-knacks make all the difference. It’s still a bit bare downstairs, I think.’
She opened the door to a side room which had been made into a small, frilly boudoir for Lili.
‘Now isn’t this just too lovely?’ gushed Marie.
‘Yes, isn’t it?’ rejoined Emilie. ‘Just think: young Georges at his desk over there while milady sits in her boudoir, daydreaming.’
‘Daydreaming? Milady will be far too busy running her household!’ said Marie. ‘Oh, I can just see Lili getting all flustered giving instructions to her new housemaid! How will she ever manage?’
They both pealed with laughter, and in high good humour set about removing Georges’ books from their boxes and ranging them on the shelves of the tall, antique bookcase, another relic of his study at Noordeinde. Marie was in such high spirits that she kept dissolving into helpless hilarity, which severely impeded their progress.
‘There, there, Marie,’ chuckled Emilie. ‘Pull yourself together! We’ll never get anything done at this rate. You can’t stop laughing, can you? You seem very happy — any particular reason?’
Marie gave a start and blushed.
‘Happy? How do you mean? No, no particular reason. But every time I come here I have a fit of the giggles, I can’t imagine why,’ she said, and a fresh peal of laughter ensued. ‘Just look at us, feathering the lovebirds’ nest for them! Would they do the same for us, do you think?’
Still laughing, the pair of them made a quick survey of the bedroom, which they still found to be lacking in cosiness. There was the same untouched, formal sheen of newness whichever way they looked, and when they opened one of the closets the sight of immaculate shelves bearing stiff little piles of starched household linen tied with pink and blue ribbons caused yet more merriment. Marie plumped herself down on the unmade bed.
‘Oh please, Marie, do tell me why you’re in such a jolly mood! Are you keeping something from me?’ said Emilie.
‘What makes you think I have a secret? But seriously, Emilie, I wish you would tell me why you never married. I mean, you must have been courted at some time?’
‘Yes, I was, by a cavalry officer. He was big and strong, and he had soulful eyes, and then, one day — oh, you naughty girl, stop laughing at me, do you hear?’ she protested, whereupon Marie sprang up, pulled Emilie to her feet and waltzed her around the highly polished floor.