The Chain of Destiny by Betty Neels

good deal better than I. As soon as I have a free day I’ll go shopping; something dark and very plain.’
    Julie had looked at her suspiciously, wondering if she had meant it. ‘But your hair,’ she complained. ‘It is so red…’
    â€˜Yes, isn’t it? But don’t ask me to dye it, because that’s something I will not do.’
    But before she had her day off Julie decided that she had to go shopping. ‘You’ll come with me, of course,’ she said. ‘I haven’t anything fit to wear. There are several boutiques I go to, and we can stay in town for lunch.’
    Suzannah made no demur; for one thing it wouldn’t have been of much use, and for another, according to the letter of instructions she anxiously re-read each evening, Julie was to lead a normal life if she wished, provided she rested, went to bed at a reasonable hour and didn’t tire herself.
    Easier said than done, reflected Suzannah, but Julie showed no signs of tiredness, nor did she complain of headaches. Suzannah kept a brief record of each day and its happenings, for she felt sure that when the professor did come he would require her to give a detailed account of his patient’s activities.
    The day’s shopping left Julie van Dijl more or less satisfied and Suzannah frankly envious. They had been driven to the heart of den Haag and deposited in Lange Voorhout, where a number of exclusive boutiques rubbed elegant shoulders. Julie van Dijl appeared to be a well-known client with them all: dresses and suits and ballgowns were displayed in a seemingly unending flow of colour and fabric while she chose what she liked without—as far as Suzannah could see—once asking the price. They sat on little gilt chairs and drank delicious coffee, and after a time Suzannah, sitting just behind Julie, ignored by everyone and not minding at all, began playing a kind of game with herself, deciding which of the outfits she would buy if she were in Julie’s shoes.
    They lunched in Le Baron restaurant at the Hotel des Indes, a stone’s throw from the boutiques they had been visiting, and over the meal Julie van Dijl became quite friendly.
    â€˜I shall have that gold tissue dress with the roses,’ she observed, ‘and the pink satin with the tulle stole. I shall need at least two suits, and I liked the satin blouses with them… That grey knitted three-piece was quite nice, but the colour’s wrong.’ She paused to glance at Suzannah’s bright head. ‘Right for you though, but of course you would never wear anything like that. I dare say you shop at Marks and Spencer.’
    Suzannah said without heat, ‘Yes, when I can afford to.’ A remark which left her companion without words for a few moments.
    â€˜What will you do when you leave here?’
    â€˜I have no idea at the moment, but there is always a job, you know—mother’s help or domestic work…’
    Julie said slowly, ‘Guy—Professor Bowers-Bentinck told my mother that you were to have gone to a university. I suppose you are clever.’
    â€˜Oh, no. The best I could hope for was a degree in English so that I could get a teacher’s post…’ She paused because Julie had gone off into peals of laughter.
    â€˜But you don’t look like a schoolteacher. Did you wish to be one?’
    â€˜Not particularly; it was a way of earning a living.’
    Julie looked at her in astonishment. ‘But if you do not wish to work, why do you not marry?’
    â€˜No one has asked me,’ said Suzannah. The mildness of her voice belied the temper swelling inside her. ‘Do you want to see if you can find anything instead of the three piece you don’t like?’
    There was one more boutique which Julie declared might have something to suit her, and happily she found what she was looking for there; just in time to walk the length of Lange Voorhout and find the car