She patted Britannia’s arm, her severe features lighted by a delightful smile. ‘Jake’s two uncles are here, you shall meet them presently, they are talking to Madeleine.’

Which gave Britannia the chance to look at her. Oyster crêpe, cut far too low for such a bony chest and too elaborate for the occasion. Quite unsuitable, almost as unsuitable as Britannia’s own garment. She looked away quickly and met the smiling eyes of Corinne. ‘We’re going to sit near you, so that you will know what’s happening. Jake has to be at the other end of the room to welcome the Sint. You see, we do it exactly the same every year, if we didn’t the children would be disappointed. He’s coming now.’

The big doors opened once more and the Sint entered, with Zwarte Piet behind him. The professor greeted him with a short speech and everybody clapped while he walked, with the professor showing him the way, down the centre of the room to where a space had been cleared for him and his attendant. He was an imposing figure in his crimson and purple robes and his mitre set on a head with a lavish display of white hair and beard. He carried a book which Corinne whispered held the names of all the children present. Provided they had been good throughout the year, each child would receive a present and an orange. Bad children were popped into Zwarte Piet’s sack, but this, Corinne concluded, seldom happened.

Several of the children had come to sit on the sofa with Britannia; now they were called one by one and advanced to receive their gifts, so that there was a good deal of paper being rustled and whispered exclamations of delight going on around her. She nodded and smiled and admired the boxes of paints, dolls, clockwork engines and the like which quickly strewed the sofa, and was busy tying a doll’s bonnet more securely when she became aware that the children had given way to the grown-ups. And certainly the good Sint had been generous; Corinne waltzed up to the good man, received her gift, kissed him for it amidst a good deal of laughter, and returned to the sofa to open it; earrings, quite beautiful ones of sapphires and pearls—antique and very valuable, thought Britannia, and then turned to admire Mevrouw Luitingh van Thien’s gift, a thick gold chain with a locket and quite lovely. Everyone else had something similar too, although she was relieved to see that Madeleine’s present—an evening bag—had a less personal flavour. She was quite taken by surprise when her own name was called and the professor said: ‘I’ll take it for you, Britannia. St Nikolaas has it from me that you have been a good girl and deserve your gift.’

He brought it over presently and she thanked him in a quiet little voice and undid the beribboned package. It was a headscarf, a Gucci, pink and brown and cream and a hint of green, a lovely thing. She wondered who had bought it and the professor, who hadn’t gone away, bent and whispered in her ear just as though she had asked him. ‘I hope you like it, the colours reminded me of you.’

She thanked him again and this time when she looked at him, his eyes were warm and he was smiling, so that she smiled too. She wasn’t sure what she might have said next if Madeleine hadn’t joined the little group round them, slipped a hand under the professor’s arm and made some laughing remark about her present. ‘And just the colour I wanted,’ she went on. ‘So clever of you, Jake dear, to choose it.’ She smiled down at Britannia. ‘That’s a charming scarf— I don’t suppose you have ever had a Gucci before.’

‘No.’ The sight of Madeleine’s hand on Jake’s arm, just as though it belonged there, made Britannia uncertain. ‘I shall love wearing it.’

Emma had joined them too; she began to talk to Britannia almost immediately and Britannia didn’t see Jake and Madeleine go away. The party began to split up into groups and the children made a dutiful round of goodnights. They had sung themselves hoarse as St Nikolaas had made his dignified way out of the room once more, they had drunk their lemonade and eaten their speculaas and as much of their chocolate letters as they had been allowed, now they were more than ready for bed. The room seemed larger than ever once they had gone, but very pleasant in the glow of the many rose-coloured lamps and the firelight. Presently Marinus came in with drinks and Britannia was just beginning to worry as to how she was to get back upstairs again when the professor returned, picked her up and carried her across the hall and into the dining room, where he sat her on a chair at one corner of the great rectangular table, her leg on a cushioned stool.

‘Oh, but I can’t,’ she protested. ‘It’s a family dinner party—and I’m not dressed.’

‘You’ve said that already. Here’s Corinne’s husband to sit beside you and Oom Jiers, and if you think that a strange name, he’s from Friesland.’

He left her with her two table companions and went to the head of the table at the farther end so that she couldn’t really see him very well unless she peered round Oom Jiers’ considerable bulk. It was small comfort that Madeleine was seated quite close to him, near enough to talk to him if she wanted to. Britannia decided not to spoil her dinner by trying to see what he was doing and applied herself to Corinne’s husband, Jan, and then to Oom Jiers, who proved to be a man of wit despite his elderly appearance.

They settled down to enjoy themselves. As Jan said, there was nothing like good conversation and good food to go with it, and it was certainly that; lobster soup, rich and creamy, followed by roast leg of pork with spiced peaches, served on a great silver dish and carved, suitably, by the professor amid a good deal of joking from his family, and as well as the peaches there were dishes of vegetables, handed round by Marinus and the two maids. Britannia, doing justice to her dinner, found it all the better by reason of the exquisite china upon which it was served and the rat-tailed silver spoons and forks, worn thin with use but as lovely as the day they had first been used some time in the seventeenth century.

The sweet was sheer luxury; mangoes in champagne, served in exquisite wine glasses, and they drank champagne too, so that by the end of the meal Britannia was feeling a good deal happier than she had done. All the same, as soon as they had had coffee she decided that she would make some excuse and go back to her room; it was, after all, a family gathering and although everyone—well, nearly everyone—had been very sweet to her, she was conscious of feeling an outsider. She had her opportunity quite soon, for the professor wandered round the table as they all got up to go back to the sitting room, with the obvious intention of carrying her there.

She didn’t give him a chance to speak but said at once: ‘I’ve had a simply lovely time, but I’d like to go upstairs now, if you wouldn’t mind.’

‘I mind very much, Britannia.’ He made no attempt to lower his voice and she was painfully aware that Jan and Oom Jiers were both listening quite openly; not only that, Madeleine, from the other side of the table, was watching them.

‘I think I’m tired,’ she elaborated.

He smiled then, a tender little smile which was just for her but which must have been seen by anyone who happened to be looking. ‘Shall we compromise? Don’t go to your room just yet, we will go to the little sitting room my mother sometimes uses, and sit quietly and talk.’

She supposed that it was the champagne that made his suggestion sound so delightful, but all the same she asked: ‘But your guests? You can’t leave them.’

‘Oom Jiers will fill in for me, won’t you? And they’re not guests—they’re family.’

She eyed him steadily, not caring now that their two companions were drinking in every word. ‘Madeleine isn’t family—or is she, Jake?’

‘You are a persistent young woman, Britannia. No, she isn’t family, but I—we have all known her for a very long time, she has come to our St Nikolaas feast for years.’ He added in a slightly louder voice: ‘Of course, if you prefer, I’ll take you to your room, we can talk there just as easily.’