Death of a Delft Blue

Preamble

‘A Fortnight in Holland.’

Title of a book by Leslie Bransby

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According to the guide books, Scheveningen, on the Netherlands side of the North Sea, has developed over the centuries from a mere fishing-village to a popular resort. It boasts excellent hotels, fine beaches, possesses every facility for boating and bathing and can offer all the other forms of amusement which a holiday-maker is likely to require.

Dame Beatrice Lestrange Bradley and her secretary, Laura Gavin, preferred to stay in it rather than in the neighbouring, more dignified but less frivolous city of The Hague, so each morning Dame Beatrice, who was in Holland to attend what her secretary described as ‘a gathering of the vultures’ — in other words, a general conference on higher education — armed herself with her notebooks, her lecture notes, some typed pages of what Laura termed ‘irrelevant answers to improbable questions’ and betook herself to Noordeinde and the historic house in which the conference was to be held. This left Laura in Scheveningen to amuse herself as she pleased for most of the day.

Laura lounged and swam, visited the Municipal Museum and strolled several times along the two-mile esplanade called the Boulevard and also along its higher promenade, the Zeekant. Every afternoon, upon the return of Dame Beatrice, she and her employer took a short walk before returning to their hotel for dinner, and, at table, exchanged the news of the day, Dame Beatrice giving witty, although not unkindly, reports of her fellow-delegates and Laura responding with an account of her own activities.

One morning, after having seen Dame Beatrice off, Laura decided to explore the old part of the town which lay behind the harbour. There were picturesque houses in narrow streets and the harbour itself was a fine and interesting sight, with dozens of vessels, mostly fishing-boats, all moored in neat lines with clear channels between them. It was early in the day, but there were crowds of people on the waterfront, including the usual bevy of Dutch cyclists, and Laura was standing gazing at the scene and enjoying the noise and bustle on the quay, when a girl of about nineteen or twenty approached her.

‘I say, do excuse me for asking, but are you English?’ the girl enquired.

‘Well, actually, I’m a Scot,’ Laura replied. ‘Why? Anything I can do?’

‘It’s about the money, if you don’t mind.’

‘Oh?’ said Laura, whose bump of caution was not highly developed but who had an instinctive objection to being accosted by perfect strangers if financial transactions were to be involved.

‘It’s about the Dutch coinage,’ the girl explained. ‘You see, I rather want to take a few presents back with me, but I haven’t unlimited cash, so I want to lay it out to the best advantage, and I just don’t really understand what the Dutch notes and coins are worth.’

‘Oh, well, it’s simple enough if you take the Dutch guilder as being worth about two shillings in our money.’

‘Yes, I know about the guilder, but they seem to have frightful coins called rijksdaalder and kwartje and dubbletje and stuiver. Grandma won’t help me and Bernardo only laughs. He’s half-Jewish, you see, and understands about the exchange, and all that sort of thing.’

‘Well, the rijksdaalder is worth about five shillings. The kwartje is about sixpence, the dubbletje is roughly twopence-halfpenny and the stuiver is equal to a little over a penny. Its value is five cents, and there are a hundred cents to the guilder. Think in terms of cents and guilders, and you can’t go wrong,’ said Laura briskly.

‘Oh, thank you so much. I’ve only been over here for a few days, you see, and I was getting into awful muddles, always paying in bank notes, of which there seem to be dozens of different ones, and never knowing whether the change was right.’

‘I don’t think one need worry about the right change in Holland. I’ve never been done down since I’ve been here. The bank notes are for a thousand guilders downwards, and are perfectly easy to understand.’ With this, Laura nodded and was about to walk on, when the girl said eagerly,

‘And about the presents. Will the English customs be very grabbing?’

‘I shouldn’t think so. Show them what you’ve got is my advice. I don’t believe in trying to dodge them. I should think it must be so wearing to the nerves. Apart from that, my husband is a policeman and I have to guard his reputation.’

This time Laura really did walk on, and went back to the hotel for a second breakfast.