Part 37 (1/2)

But she kept an eye on the clock so that they were away in good time for him to take her to the Kramer Amtsstuben.

He parked the car by St Michael's church and crossed the road with her, to lead her down a narrow alley to the old merchants' houses, lining a small cobbled street, and looking, she supposed, exactly as they must have looked centuries ago.

They had been expertly restored and although they were shops or cafes now, their charm was still very evident.

Alethea went from side to side and back again, trying to see everything at once, mindful that Sarre had very little time to spare.

When he looked at his watch she hurried back to him.

”I'm sorry, Alethea, but if I'm to drop you off at the shops, we must go.

' Well, ten minutes with him had been better than nothing at all, she mused beside him in the car once more, although she was out of it again in no time at all.

”Remember to take a taxi back to the hotel,” cautioned Sarre, changing gear, 'and if you're short of money, there's some in the top drawer of the chest in my room.

' He had gone, easing the big car into the morning traffic, disappearing far too quickly from her view.

Alethea shook off the feeling of being lost without him and took herself to the nearest store, where she whiled away an hour before finding her way to the pavilion by the Binnenalster and drinking a cup of very expensive coffee.

She went back to the shops after that, to buy presents for the children, and her grandmother, Mrs Bustle and lastly for the staff in Groningen, an exercise which kept her busy until lunch time, when she obediently took a taxi back to the hotel, had her lunch and then went for a walk by the lake.

The afternoon was as brilliantly fine as the morning had been.

She walked the considerable length of the lake, keeping to the narrow

path running round its edge, and then turned to hurry back, afraid that Sarre might have got back early after all.

He hadn't, of course; she was ready, dressed in the grey-patterned

crepe, when he got back, to knock on her door and ask her if she had enjoyed her day.

She told him yes, very, and how had his gone?

”Very satisfactory.

' He strolled across to the bed and sat down on it.

”Everything just as it should be, provided there are no complications.

I hope it will be a hundred per cent success.

' ”And the foot?

' ”Now that was tricky.

' He went into some detail as to the operation and she listened with

her usual careful attention.

When he had finished, she said: ”You must be tired--do you want a drink before you change?

' ”Thoughtful girl.

Yes--ask them to send up a whisky, will you?

What about you?

' He got to his feet and stretched hugely.

”What a heavenly evening.

Shall we dine later and go for a stroll first?

' She hadn't had any tea and she was starving, but that didn't

matter.

”T'll wait on the balcony,” she told him, ”I'm not a bit hungry.

' There were plenty of people about, strolling along the paths beside the lake, exercising the dog, playing ball with their children, or just walking and talking as they were.

Sarre tucked her hand into his arm and explained the difficulties he had had, getting the shattered shoulder into alignment, and she listened happily.

The conversation wasn't romantic, but at least they were together and he was talking to her as though he were enjoying it.

It more than made up for her lonely day.

The next day followed more or less the same pattern and the one after it, and she did a little more shopping and a good deal of exploring, the highlight of each day being their evening walk together.

And on the last day Sarre went with her in the morning, declaring that he need not go to the hospital until lunch time and then only briefly, and he could make a final call on their way home.

And since he obviously expected her to go shopping, she hastily invented a list of presents to buy and as the morning was as beautiful as its predecessors, they walked to the Monckeberg Stra.s.se, stopping on the way to drink their coffee in the pavilion by the Binnenalster and then strolling along by the enticing shop windows.

It was in a small, expensive shop that Alethea saw a musical box, a dainty little dancing lady, exquisitely dressed in eighteenth century costume, and when she remarked on its charm, Sarre took her inside, where they listened to its silvery, tinkling tune before he bought it for her.

It was wildly expensive, even for a rich man, and she protested faintly as they left the shop, only to hear his placid: ”But I haven't bought you a present since we married, my dear.