Little Girl Lost (35 page)

She felt cock-a-hoop with success and had begun to march away when she heard her name being called. It was one of the clerks, clutching a large bouquet of tulips.

‘Miss Vandergroene! A batch of fresh flowers from Amsterdam was delivered to the office this morning. Mr Reynoldson asked if you would accept these with our compliments.'

She thanked him profusely. What a good omen. So much achieved in one morning, she thought, heading back towards town. She took a huge breath. Now for a visit to the Sandersons and Florrie.

Margriet stood on the top step of the Sandersons' house in Albion Street and waited for the door to be opened. The maid dipped her knee. ‘G'morning, miss.'

‘Good morning. Would it be convenient to speak to Mrs Sanderson?'

‘Come in, miss. I'll just ask her.' The girl tripped her way down the short hallway to a room at the end and put her head round the door, then turned back to Margriet and beckoned to her. ‘Come through, miss. Mrs Sanderson is in here.'

Margriet went in and found Mrs Sanderson sitting at a table that was strewn with papers and ledgers, with rather incongruously a knitted giraffe sitting in the middle of it all.

‘Margriet!' she exclaimed. ‘What a lovely surprise. And what beautiful flowers. Was it me you wanted to see, or Julia? I'm afraid she's out.' She raised her voice to the maid, now back in the hall. ‘Fetch a pot of coffee, Hetty, and biscuits, please.'

Margriet smiled. Mrs Sanderson was such fun and still so informal. ‘I had hoped that I might say hello to Julia, but it was you I wanted to see really. I need some advice and I thought you could give it.'

Alice Sanderson leaned back in her chair. ‘Of course. But tell me, how is your mama?'

‘She – she's having some difficulties, I'm afraid.' Margriet's voice dropped.

‘With her husband? We have heard rumours about Ramsey.' Mrs Sanderson's voice lowered too. ‘We have friends in York.' She nodded significantly. ‘I hope the situation is resolved. She has her lawyer on him, I trust?'

‘Yes, she has.' Margriet didn't want to discuss it further. Mrs Sanderson seemed to understand, and asked what she could do for her.

‘You might think it very strange, Mrs Sanderson, but I wanted to ask if I might borrow Florrie. If she's willing, that is.'

‘Borrow Florrie! What a strange request.' She stopped speaking as Hetty brought in a tray of coffee and biscuits, and waited for the maid to leave the room before reverting to the subject.

‘What do you want to do with her?' she asked as she handed Margriet a cup and a plate of biscuits.

‘I'd like her to accompany me to Amsterdam,' Margriet replied. ‘I'd like to visit my grandmother for a particular reason – as well as wanting to see her, I mean. My mother won't cross the sea and I can't travel alone and there's no one else suitable.'

‘Well, no, of course you can't go alone, not until you're older, but then you can.' She waved a finger. ‘Don't let anybody tell you that you can't, just because you're a woman. Not once you've reached twenty-one, at any rate.'

‘But that's years away, Mrs Sanderson, and I really need to go now. Perhaps if I could explain?'

And so she told of her visits to the lawyer and to the Vandergroene office, and the reasons for them, and about Billy, Betty and Mabel.

‘Well, my goodness,' Mrs Sanderson exclaimed. ‘That's quite a tall order, but most commendable. We can ask Florrie if she'd like to go with you. I don't see any reason why she shouldn't. Young Richard is rather a handful, just as Hughie was, and now there's Conrad, and I'm inclined to think that Florrie might be just a little bit bored with looking after small boys. Not that she complains,' she hastened to add. ‘But she might be glad of a change of routine and Hetty can manage them for a few days, I'm sure. I don't suppose it would be for too long, would it?'

Without waiting for an answer she shifted papers aside and picked up a brass bell that had been hidden beneath them. Hetty came rushing back in in answer to its ring. ‘Is Florrie about?' Mrs Sanderson asked. ‘If she is, will you ask her to pop down? There's someone here to see her.'

‘Sorry, ma'am,' Florrie said when she came down, looking very flustered. Her cheeks were pink and her hair was straying from its usual neat knot. ‘Oh, how nice to see you, Miss Margriet.' She turned back to her employer. ‘I've put Master Conrad in his cot, but I doubt he'll stay there for long. I've asked Hetty to stay up there until I get back.'

‘Draw up a chair, Florrie,' Mrs Sanderson said, ‘and help yourself to coffee. Margriet has a proposition for you.'

Margriet was astounded by Mrs Sanderson's attitude towards her staff. She treated them like – well, like the normal people they were. It was no wonder that Florrie liked working for her. Margriet wondered whether even a visit to Netherlands would tempt her away, but she was delighted to be proved wrong. As soon as she had explained, Florrie turned to Mrs Sanderson. ‘But – would you mind, ma'am? It would mean leaving Hetty to look after 'boys.'

‘I realize that, but I think you might be ready for a change of scenery, and I'm able to do more to help now that Hughie is at school.' She waved her hand across the cluttered table. ‘And I shall soon have all this sorted out, after which there are no more projects to fill my time until the winter, when we start the soup kitchens again.'

‘Then yes please, I would love to come with you, Miss Margriet. I enjoyed staying with your grandmother. Will it be soon? It would be lovely to see 'tulip fields in full colour.'

Margriet nodded. ‘As soon as I can arrange it, if that's all right with you, Mrs Sanderson?'

‘Why not? And you're right, Florrie, the tulip fields are wonderful.' She sighed. ‘I haven't seen them for such a long time in spite of my husband's being half Dutch.' She shook her head in mock despair. ‘I don't quite know what happened to those years.'

Florrie smiled. ‘You had your babies, ma'am.'

‘Of course I did,' she agreed. ‘And they are far more precious than any holiday abroad.'

Margriet couldn't wait to put her ideas into motion. She told Florrie that she would let her know the details as soon as she'd booked a passage. As she left the house, clutching her flowers, she reflected anxiously that the only major task left for her to do was to explain the situation to her mother.

At the Junction Dock swing bridge a ship was passing through the waterway from the Old Dock towards the Humber and the sea. A flock of herring gulls flew in the ship's wake, and as she waited for the bridge to close and let her across she rehearsed what she would say. However, as she headed down Whitefriargate, she glanced up at a clock above a jeweller's shop and realized that she must go on another errand first.

She walked on, hearing an echo of jumbled voices and a clatter of clogs on the cobbles; she passed the end of Parliament Street and it was as if her feet were acting of their own volition as she was propelled into Land of Green Ginger. She stood at her usual corner and was transfixed. Looking down Manor Street, all of a sudden she saw the gardens at the end of it. Ragged boys were pushing heavy wheelbarrows filled with soil and shouting ‘Mind your backs, sirs' to gentlemen sporting trim pointed beards, wide-brimmed hats and rich brocade coats lined with shiny bright silk; ladies in long-sleeved, high-necked embroidered gowns strolled or chatted in little groups of two or three, their maids in attendance.

What's happening? Am I dreaming? She looked down at her feet and saw that she was wearing clogs, like the ones her father had brought from Netherlands, and then she looked up at the Lindegroen house and there was Anneliese beckoning her. She crossed the narrow street and approached the door; it was open a finger's width and she pushed it wide to enter. It was as she recalled it from when she had visited as a child. Had she visited? Had she met Anneliese and her mother here when she had slipped out without anyone's knowledge? She was confused, not knowing what was real and what imaginary.

She climbed the winding staircase to the first floor and entered the room overlooking the street, a room filled with dark furniture and tapestry wall hangings. Anneliese turned from the window. ‘I thought you were never coming,' she said. ‘You've missed the king. You've brought tulips; were they for him?'

Margriet looked down at the tulips. Where had they come from? ‘I can't stay,' she said. ‘I'm travelling to Amsterdam soon.'

‘Oh!' Anneliese whispered, and although the sun was shining through the glass her image faded, becoming illusory and obscure as if she were standing in shadow. ‘I wish that I could go with you. It's the place where I was born.'

‘You can come if you like,' Margriet said. ‘I'm going because of you.' But Anneliese had left, melting and disappearing as if she had never been. Margriet wandered into other rooms, all empty of furniture, although it seemed that someone had recently been there as there were footprints on the dusty floor and fingerprints on the window sills. Slowly she made her way down the stairs and hesitated at the bottom, closing her eyes and listening intently. There was something, faint voices and footsteps. Anneliese was still there, she thought. She hadn't gone away.

Outside, Margriet stood for a moment watching the passers-by. There was nothing strange about them now. People were going about their business as usual, dressed in their everyday clothes; she felt headachy and rather faint.

‘Nice flowers, miss.' It was Billy again; she thought it strange how he always seemed to be popping up wherever she went.

She looked down at them. She really should get them home and put them in water. ‘They're Dutch tulips,' she told him. ‘Just in from Amsterdam.'

‘Aye,' he said. ‘I know what they are. Are you all right, miss?'

She nodded. ‘I think so. You can call me Margriet. It's Dutch.'

‘Oh! Are you Dutch then?'

‘Half,' she said. ‘My father was Dutch.'

‘Like 'folks that used to live here.' He nodded towards the Lindegroen house behind her. ‘Well, that's what folk say. That's how 'street got its name.' He glanced at her. ‘Shall I walk you home? You look a bit dowly.'

Margriet didn't know what dowly meant, but she said yes as she still felt rather faint, and together they walked to Parliament Street and her door. ‘Thank you very much, Billy,' she said, and drew one of the red tulips from the bouquet. ‘Have you got a buttonhole in your coat?'

He grinned. ‘No, but I can slot it through 'hole in my hat.'

Margriet watched him as he snapped off half of the tulip stalk and poked the flower through the hole in the rim of his flat cap, so that it showed bright and cheerful above his forehead. She smiled. ‘I'm going away to Amsterdam – to see my grandmother,' she added. ‘I'll bring you another cap, like the Dutchmen wear.'

‘I can't pay you.'

‘I know.' She smiled again. ‘It will be a gift.'

‘I am so thrilled to see you again.' Margriet's
oma
put out her arms to greet her as she and Florrie stepped off the ship on to the quayside. ‘It is good to see you too, Floris,' she said, and Florrie smiled as she thought how nice it sounded. ‘
Welkom. Welkom
.'

‘I'm going to keep that name, Miss Margriet,' she said later as she unpacked Margriet's trunk. ‘I really like it; it's much more elegant than Florrie and not as stiff and starchy as Florence.'

Margriet laughed. Just as at Mrs Sanderson's, Florrie was very relaxed in her
oma
's house. And, Margriet thought, she no longer seems like a servant; she's grown in status and yet is still polite and well mannered. After luncheon, Florrie offered to go out shopping for Mevrouw Vandergroene if there was anything she needed, and was asked if she would collect a parcel of cotton and embroidery thread from the haberdasher.

‘I really wanted you to myself,' Oma admitted to Margriet when she had gone. ‘There is so much I need to know after so long.' She gave a wistful sigh. ‘I haven't seen you since your papa's memorial service. I have asked your uncle Bartel to go and fetch you many times, but he said it would cause a rift between you and your mother. Would it have done, do you think?'

‘Perhaps,' Margriet agreed. ‘Mama is, or was then, rather sensitive, but she has changed since her second marriage. In any case, I always intended to come when I was old enough.' She gave a sudden smile that lit her face and her
oma
was conscious more than ever of the passing years. Her granddaughter was almost a young woman.

‘And then the opportunity presented itself,' Margriet went on. ‘In a way, that odious man Mr Ramsey opened my eyes, and my mother's too.'

Gerda gave a startled gasp at Margriet's description of her stepfather, and Margriet apologized. ‘I'm sorry if I've shocked you, Oma, but it's true. I never liked him from the moment he began to call on Mama. He was all smiles and affectation. He bought me a fur muff and hat to wheedle me into liking him, and a bracelet which he stole back, and when they married he bought Mama a curricle and pair but she never drove it once and he always took it back home with him to York.'

‘Back home to York? Did he not live with you and your mama in Hull?'

‘No. He sometimes stayed for a day or two and then went back to York. He always seemed like a guest. And then we discovered …' She faltered, wondering if she was saying too much, but she wanted Oma to understand everything. ‘We discovered that not only had he sold some of Mama's shares in Papa's company and spent all the money, but he had emptied the bank account as well. It was so embarrassing for Mama.'

Gerda put her hand to her chest. ‘I can't believe it,' she gasped. ‘Frederik worked so hard to achieve his success.'