‘Well, it sounds silly, but I had a funny feeling when I saw it first—as though it meant something to me.’ She glanced at him and found him smiling and went on defensively, ‘All right, so it’s silly—I’m not even in my own country and I don’t know anyone here except the Veskes—and you. Perhaps it’s derelict.’

Her companion looked shocked. ‘No—someone lives in it.’

‘Oh, you know them?’

‘Yes.’

They had passed the crossroads and were in the narrow lane curving between the trees with the professor leading the way.

‘What I like about you,’ observed Britannia, ‘is the terseness of your answers.’

He slowed a little so that she could catch up with him. ‘I had no idea that there was anything you liked about me,’ he said suavely.

Which annoyed her so much that she forgot about the brakes and back-pedalled so that he had to put a steadying hand on her arm. ‘Now, now,’ he chided her in a patient, superior voice which annoyed her even more.

But she couldn’t remain vexed for long; the air was cold and exhilarating and the countryside charming, and had she not got just what she had wished for most? The professor’s company…

‘It’s down here,’ she said eagerly, ‘if we go along here and look to the left…’

‘There will be a better view further on,’ observed the professor matter-of-factly.

‘Why are you laughing?’ asked Britannia.

‘My dear good girl, I am not even smiling.’

‘Inside you—something’s amusing you…’

He shot her a quick look. ‘I can see that I shall have to be very careful of my behaviour when we are together,’ he said smoothly. ‘Since you asked, I was remembering something which amused me.’

She let that pass, although it was nice, she reflected, that the professor could be amused… ‘There!’ she exclaimed, and back-pedalled to a halt. ‘That’s the place. It must be sheer heaven in the summer—all those copper beeches and that row of limes. I wonder what the garden is like.’

‘Probably if we go on a little further we could see it,’ suggested her companion. He was right; the house came into view, typically Dutch, of mellow red brick, tall chimney pots among the gables, its large windows shining in the pale sunshine. It was too far off to see as much as she wanted, but she could glimpse a paved walk all round the house, outbuildings at the side of a formal garden laid out before its massive front.

‘I hope whoever lives there loves it,’ remarked Britannia. ‘Do you suppose it belongs to some old family? Perhaps it had to be sold to pay death duties and now there’s someone living there who can’t tell Biedermeier from mid-Victorian Rococo…’

‘What a vivid imagination you have! And do you really know the difference between Rococo and Biedermeier?’ He wasn’t looking at her but staring across the countryside towards the distant house.

‘Yes, I think so. You see, my father is an antique dealer and I always went with him to sales and auctions. I didn’t mean to boast.’

‘You admire antique furniture? Which is your favourite period?’

Britannia had got off her bike and was leaning against the low wall. ‘Oh, yes. Early Regency and Gothic.’

He asked casually, ‘Have you been inside any of the houses round here?’

She shook her head. ‘No, and I don’t expect to. I only came to keep Joan company—she’s the Veskes’ goddaughter.’ She got on her bike again. ‘Can we get all the way round, or do we go back the way we came?’

The professor smiled faintly. ‘You wish to return? We can go on. Do you intend visiting any of the hospitals while you are here?’

‘I’d like to, but one can’t just present oneself and say look, I’m a nurse, can I look round. Mijnheer Veske might be able to give me an introduction, but Joan isn’t keen, anyway.’

They were side by side, pedalling into the chilly wind. ‘I should be glad to arrange a visit for you,’ said the professor surprisingly. ‘Arnhem—I go there twice a week. I will call for you and bring you back after my teaching round.’

Britannia eyed him with surprise. ‘Would you really? Why are you being so nice? I thought you couldn’t bear the sight of me.’

His voice was smooth. ‘Shall we say that the fresh air and exercise which you recommended have had their good effect?’

He didn’t go into the house with her but bade her a casual goodbye without saying another word about her visit to the hospital. Probably he had regretted his words, decided Britannia as she went to her room to tidy herself before presenting herself in the sitting room for tea.

There were visitors; an elderly couple, their daughter and a son, home from some far-flung spot on long leave. Britannia was made instantly aware of the interesting fact that he and Joan were getting on remarkably well and being a true friend, engaged the daughter in a conversation which lasted until the visitors got up to leave.

Their car had barely disappeared down the drive when Joan told her happily: ‘We’re going out tomorrow. Britannia, do you mind? I mean, if you’re left on your own. He’s only got another week…’

‘Plenty of time,’ comforted Britannia. ‘Besides, it was an instant thing, wasn’t it? Flashing lights and sunbeams and things, it stuck out a mile.’ She added: ‘Prince Charming, love?’

Joan looked smug and hopeful and apprehensive all at the same time. ‘Oh, yes. Oh, Britannia, you’ve no idea how it feels!’

In which she was wrong, of course.

Britannia, happily, did not have long to wait before the professor paid her another visit, although visit was hardly the right word. He drove up some time after breakfast, asked to see her, and when she presented herself, enquired of her coolly if she was ready to go to Arnhem with him. She felt a surge of pleasure, for Joan was committed for the whole day with Dirk de Jonge and Mevrouw Veske had asked her a little anxiously what she was going to do with herself until lunchtime; all the same she said sedately: ‘How kind, but I didn’t know that you had asked me to come with you today. It’s not very convenient…’

He stood bareheaded in the hall, watching her. ‘May I ask what you intended doing today?’ His voice was very bland.

‘Nothing,’ said Britannia before she could stop herself, and then waited for him to make some nasty remark. But he didn’t, he said quite mildly: ‘In that case I should be glad to take you to Arnhem. I think you will find the hospital interesting. You have, after all, nearly a week here, have you not, and if your friend is going to spend it exclusively with de Jonge you will have to seek your own amusement, will you not?’

‘Do you know him? I thought he looked nice…’

‘Yes, I know him, and if by nice you mean unmarried, able to support a wife and anxious to marry your friend, then yes, he is nice.’

‘You have no need to talk like that. You must live close by…?’

His brief ‘Yes,’ didn’t help at all. Britannia sighed. ‘I’ll fetch my coat.’

Mevrouw Veske gave her a roguish look when she disclosed her plans for the day. ‘Very nice, dear, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself, and in such good company too.’ She wore the pleased expression that older ladies wore when they scented romance with a capital R, and Britannia, incurably honest, made haste to explain that she was merely being given a lift to the hospital and a return lift when it was convenient to the professor. Rather a waste of time, for Mevrouw Veske, accompanying her to the hall to bid the professor good morning, wished them both a pleasant day together, with an arch look which wasn’t lost on him, for the moment they were in the car he remarked silkily:

‘Your hostess seems to be under the impression that we are to spend the day in each other’s company. I hope that you don’t think the same.’

‘No,’ said Britannia sweetly, and seethed silently as she said it, ‘I don’t—but you know what happily married women are like, they want to see everyone else happily married; such an absurd notion in our case that I see no point in wasting breath on it.’