A Match for Sister Maggy by Betty Neels Page A

the dining room and out into the hall, and up the stairs. Long before Paul turned out the lights and went to his own room, she was fast asleep.
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    They rode for almost an hour before breakfast, the doctor immaculate in riding kit, Maggy in her old slacks and thick sweater. She wasted a few moments wishing that she had other clothes to wear, then forgot about them as she swung herself easily on to Biddy’s friendly back. If she envied the doctor Cobber, she gave no sign. As they turned for home, they broke into a brief gallop, and he held Cobber in, so that they raced neck and neck, until he allowed her to win by a short head. They pulled up outside the stables, and Maggy slid out of the saddle to make much of Biddy and give her the sugar lumps she loved. Her hair, which she had tied back in a ponytail, had come loose from its ribbon and her face glowed with happiness. She had been chattering to the doctor like an old friend. They left the horses with Piet, the groom, and went back to the house. At the door she paused.
    â€˜That was lovely,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
    He stood aside to let her pass, looking down at her. ‘A delightful ride,’ he said. ‘We must do it again.’
    They parted at the foot of the stairs, she to go to her room and change, and he to his breakfast. Maggy saw little of him that morning and he wasn’t at lunch, but later that afternoon, when she and Mevrouw Doelsma went downstairs for their promised drive, they found him waiting for them beside the Rolls. He opened the door and helped his mother in, saying, ‘Sit in front, Maggy, we’ll change seats presently.’
    She slid into the seat beside his. ‘You don’t mean thatI’m to drive this car?’ She was astounded. ‘But it’s a Rolls-Royce!’
    â€˜Don’t you want to drive it?’
    â€˜Yes, very much; but I might be a shocking bad driver.’
    â€˜In which case I shall tell you so, and drive myself.’
    He took the same route that Pratt had taken on their first drive, and once they had entered the comparative quiet of the Oranjewoud, he stopped, got out, and waited while Maggy took his place. Having made sure that she indeed knew what she was about, he suggested that she should keep on the road they were already upon, and that he would take over again when it joined the main Assen-Meppel road. Having given this piece of sound advice he half turned in his seat and engaged his mother in conversation. Maggy was thankful for his tack; she knew quite a lot about cars but found the Rolls a little awe-inspiring. She need not have worried, though, for the Rolls was a lady, and behaved like one. She relaxed. The doctor saw it and asked,
    â€˜Have you driven a Rolls before?’
    â€˜No. It’s like wearing a model dress when you’re used to Marks and Spencers—though I’ve not worn a model dress,’ she added, incurably truthful.
    â€˜How long have you been driving?’
    â€˜Five—no, six years.’
    â€˜In the Highlands, I expect?’
    â€˜Yes, mostly. The roads are surprisingly good, excepting in the winter.’ She eased the car past a farm wagon, and put her foot down gently; the road was straight and nothing in sight. He watched the needle creep round the speedometer and said,
    â€˜I gather that you have your advanced driver’s certificate.’ It was more of a statement than a question. She said.
    â€˜Yes, Doctor,’ in a meek voice and he chuckled. ‘No wonder you were annoyed with me!’
    Maggy made no answer to this, but smiled, then slowed down to pass through a very small village straddling a canal, and obedient to his direction, turned into a right-handed fork towards the main road. Presently, when it was within sight, she drew in to the side of the road, stopped the car and looked at him enquiringly.
    â€˜Very nice, Maggy; you drive as well as I do.’ He said it without conceit. He turned