Betty by the Numbers: The Founding Bettys’ Ratings

Shall we begin with several rousing cheers for Betty Debbie and Betty Keira, the Founding Bettys, who so assiduously worked and worried and read and dreamed and finally brought us the marvelous wonderment that is everyneelsthing.blogspot.com, a/k/a The Uncrushable Jersey Dress.  What a joy and a treasure they have unloosed upon the world, however misguided Betty D. may be about The Fortunes of Francesca (1997) or ditto Betty K. in the matter of Heaven is Gentle (1974).  So here’s to the Founding Bettys, who read 135 books with care and attention, and rated each of them with a magnificently-imagined scale-of-Betty-food (except Betty Magdalen reviewed Fate is Remarkable).  Hip, hip, hooray!  Hip, hip, HOORAY!  Hip, hip, hippety HOORAY-O-RAMA!!!



Betty Debbie's T reads, “You encourage me to fend off the encroaching years;" Betty Keira's reads, "Emily took instant exception to his pink frilled shirt."

Ithe Founding Bettys.  Now, about those ratings...

  

Almost two-thirds of the Neels oeuvre warrants, in the FBs view, a boeuf en croute or better.  One suspects a smidgeon of partisanship.  Zero, that’s right, zero, rate a tinned soup or digestive biscuits, and only 6% rate a cheese board or below.  The average score is something like a small serving of boeuf en croute with a large mince pie for afters (7.75).  The median score is boeuf en croute (8).

Time out for a quick reminder on the rating system:

The best books warrant a lashings of whipped cream rating, which equates to ten points out of ten.  A handful get lashings-plus.  Then, in descending order, we have:

9	queen of puddings	delightfully named, but really just super-custardy bread pudding with jam underneath and meringue on top
8	boeuf en croute	most excellent if you like beef...
7	mince pies	if genuine mince, with suet and organ meats and other disgusting yuk, I’d rather have tinned soup; if just nice fruits and booze and minimal citron, I may take seconds
6	treacle tart	bleargh
5	madeira cake	tasty, but too often dry
4	the cheese board	gosh, I love a good cheese board, but I suppose if you’re comparing it to a confection of meringue, almonds, cream and chocolate, it may lack something
3	beans on toast	DELICIOUS served hot with cheese melted on top, but quite unpalatable if allowed to get soggy
2	digestive biscuits	actually quite tasty, but unfortunately named
1	tinned soup	typically very salty, and no real flavor of whatever it’s supposed to be – especially sad with things like asparagus

So, here we go:  four books, or 3%, warrant lashings-plus:  Blow Hot, Blow Cold/Surgeon from Holland/Visiting Consultant (1969) – lashings of whipped cream with cherries on top; Winter Wedding (1979) – mountains of lashings of whipped cream; Caroline’s Waterloo (1980) – lashings of whipped cream with a cherry on top; and A Christmas Romance (1999) – lashings and lashings of whipped cream.  Note the broad range of publication dates; note too that we have 75% nurses, 75% Dutchmen, 25% MOCs, average heroine age of 24 and average hero age of 38, all of which are reasonably representative of the broader canon.  There’s 50% barons represented here, which is a bit high, but probably not to an expert on statistics.

The unadorned, regular-sized lashings go to 13 books, from 1970’s Fate is Remarkable to 2001’s An Ordinary Girl.  That’s 10% of the total.  After the lashings, the curve starts to go a bit top-heavy, as 24% of the books, 32 in total, get the coveted Queen of Puddings rating.  Two, in fact, get a bit higher, as Cassandra by Chance (1973) warrants Queen of Puds with a dollop of whipped cream, and Roses Have Thorns (1990) gets the pudding with a full serving of cream.  

Betty Kylene dishing up a heaping helping of Hannah, or maybe An Ideal Wife.

Down a rung we go, but still up on the top-third of the scale, and we get 36 books, or 27%, earning boeuf en croute or slightly better.  Both the beginning Betty, Sister Peters in Amsterdam (1969), and the final one, Emma’s Wedding (2001), win 8’s from our judges.  Six books win ratings like the “boeuf en croute with dollop of queen of puddings” awarded to Heaven Around the Corner (1981), although I vote “tinned dog-meat soup with a scummy crust” for that one.  Cheerfully and respectfully, I vote “tinned dog-meat soup with a scummy crust.”  And non-fat sour cream with chokecherries for afters.  But I’m on board with most of the others.

So we have covered 63% of our novels, or 85 books, as we descend unto the mince pies.  There are 16 books, or 12% of the total, in or near this category.  There’s some confusion with the volumes No Need to Say Goodbye (1989) and The Awakened Heart (1993), as the former is rated treacle tart for the first half and Queen of Puddings for the second, and the latter rated just the opposite.  Turning up my hem to tot up some maths, I get an average of 7.5, or mince-pies-plus, for each.  Grasp a Nettle (1977) was a bit simpler, as it rated halfway between pies and beef.

Now we arrive at the quarter of the novels that rate the lowest, with 34 books remaining.  Eighteen of those, or 13% of the oeuvre, are in the treacle-tart segment.  These range all the way from 1971’s Tangled Autumn (but I love Sappha!  the causeway!) to 2001’s Always and Forever.  They also include two 6.75 scores, for Last April Fair (1980), “almost mince pies,” and The Right Kind of Girl (1995), “mince pie that’s been dropped on the ground.”    Did I mention Ithe Founding Bettys?

There are just seven madeira cakes (5%) and five cheese boards (4%).  The cheese-board scores include the unfortunate The Edge of Winter, which was headed for a boeuf en croute, but sadly detoured into a tinned-soup ending, resulting in a score of... hand me that apron and a pencil, please... 4.5.  The cheese boards are all from the mid-1970s (1973-1976).

A mere three books warrant beans on toast:  Winter of Change/Surgeon in Charge (1973), A Small Slice of Summer (1975) (WHAAAAT?!? so wrong!), and Not Once but Twice (1981).  They are followed by the sad and lonely The Gemel Ring (1974) in last place at a 2.5, or midway between beans on toast and digestive biscuits.  You can sense Betty Debbie’s more-in-sorrow as she wields her pen on this one:  “I honestly don't know what rating to give this book. I could never work up any liking or sympathy for Everard.  He was rude, insulting, hyper-critical, irritable and cranky...when he wasn't being mocking and supercilious.  The best things about him are things (cars, Gemel Rings, good looks)...but none of those really add up to any kind of real reason to fall in love with him.  His one redeeming feature is that he operates a rest home (which is all well and good, but Charity didn't know that when she fell in love).  The character of Charity was lovely - as long as we ignore the 600-pound gorilla in the room.  Why would a smart, talented, good looking Olivia fall for such a putz? There was no saucy flippancy to her remarks...she comes off sounding a wee bit desperate.  I did love Mr. and Mrs. Boekercheck (very awesome) and Corrie Blom was a brief, but fun, interlude.  Granny was also fun, she's got one of the best lines in Neeldom (speaking of a girl that Everard had dated)...’she's only half alive and the live half isn't at all to my liking.’
“I think I will have to resort to doing maths again.  Mr. and Mrs. Boekerchek get a queen of puddings, Corrie - boeuf en croute, Granny - lashings of whipped cream, Charity - treacle tart (I would have rated her higher if I thought she would be happy with Everard) and Everard - a great big ‘tinned soup.’  Overall it lands somewhere between digestive biscuits and beans on toast (for me...).”

Let’s have it, Bettys – where do you uncover the coagulated aroma of tinned soup in the oeuvre?  How many of the Novels Neels earn mountains of lashings with cherries and berries and chocolate shavings from you?

Not Once But Twice - 1981

 

My apologies to all those who love this book. I knew going in that it wasn't one of my favorites, so I tried to keep an open mind.  Didn't help. 


He said:
I could have been a great...I could have had it all. It was all within my reach, but I foolishly let it slip away. Now I'm just a lonely old man, with nothing but my money to keep me warm. My name is Adam. Adam ter Brandt (24-ish). This is my story.

It all started with George Henry Forbes. We first met at a seminar in Brussels. If I hadn't run into him again in London, none of this would have happened. We were sitting in his study talking shop (he's a doctor...I'm a doctor) when She walked in. George Henry's sister, Christina Forbes. She was oozing with sensibility and sereness...and the most gorgeous eyes...other than that, she was a plain looking little thing who was getting long in the tooth.  A plain little thing that looked like she'd never been chatted up in all her twenty-seven years. Not my usual type at all, but she had something. I wasn't sure what that something was, but she had it and I was going to find out what it was. 

My time in London was limited, so I came up with a great plan - have her apply for a job at the hospital in Holland where I studied.  I knew she'd get the job, after all, my older brother Duert(37) is the director. She jumped at the chance rather pathetically - like she was jumping at straws. I found out a little later that she was anxious to find a place away from London - George Henry was engaged to be married shortly to a woman who didn't care for Christina.

Duert came running (as I knew he would) when he heard that I wanted to send a little English nurse over to his precious hospital.  He is rather a stickler for things like 'proper medical care' and all that rubbish. For some reason, he didn't object to little Chrissy.  Granted, she's a good nurse - evidently a better diagnostician than many of the junior doctors at St. Athud's, but besides that and being able to speak 3 languages, she's not all that.

When I got back from England, Chrissy was already in Holland.  We went out a few times, had a few laughs, everything was going great...and then Duert started horning in on my territory. He succeeded in turning her affections to himself, then exiled me to...America. Thus I have been reduced to the status of an ex-pat...I run a private clinic in LA. Cosmetic surgery has been good to me - liposuction, face lifts and silicone.  That's what my life has boiled down to. Money galore, but no sweet Chrissy.

She said:

What a load of hogwash. Sure, I fell for him. I fell like a ton of bricks.  With a face that's as plain as a pikestaff added to my increasing age - I was ripe to fall for anyone who gave me the time of day.  Even though I fell for Adam, I still retained a tiny little kernel of common sense. I knew that not all was as it should be. He was fun to be with...most of the time. But he was also rude and manipulative: 'Chrissy, get your hair done!' 'Chrissy, you need new clothes!' 'Chrissy, try some make-up!' 'Chrissy, you look a fright!' Yes, deep down I knew these were not the words of true love.

Duert was always there for me...he had the patience of a saint - waiting for me to shake myself out of the stupor that was Adam, offering his shoulder to cry on, taking me out for meals after the inadequate (and foreign!!) food that was all Adam saw fit to give me. He once held me in his arms for an hour while I slept! Duert grew on me slowly - Adam was frequently distracting me, and Duert seemed to be encouraging my relationship with Adam at every turn. That's not to say all was smooth between Duert and I. Once he told me, "Adam favours pretty girls, and you aren't pretty.' Duert's still paying for that one.

Adam wouldn't have been so bad if he had limited himself to flirting with me. He also lied continually about having to go to work or lectures, when he was really out with other girls. Why did he feel he had to lie? It wouldn't have come as a shock to me to hear (from him) that he was dating other girls too.  It should be no surprise that he also lied about and belittled his older brother.

What really got me was how close he came to ruining my life. Adam and I had already broken up and I was seeing more of Duert...I'd even been given the House Tour O'Love. Adam found me standing outside of Duert's house a day or two later and proceeded to be absolutely Vile and Malicious. He insinuated that I was after the richer brother, then went on to say that Duert would marry me because he felt sorry for me and that neither one of us would ever be sure of the other person's motives. Of course I didn't take him at face value, but he had sown a seed of doubt.

Duert saw the two of us together and assumed the worst. His attitude towards me changed and I felt wretched, just wretched. I was sure he despised me, so I gave notice. I couldn't leave without a parting shot - I as good as told Duert that I loved him and that the only reason I was outside his house that day was that I wanted to see his home again and remember it...then I bolted.

He said:

Hey, Duert here. In my defense, I was in quite a pickle. On the one hand, Adam is my brother. I've been privy to more of his skirt-chasing than any brother should have to be.  Christina seemed to be in love with him, so what else could I do but help her along?  That's not to say I let Adam have it all his own way.  I knew that sooner or later he would dump Christina and if I played my cards right, I would be right there ready to step into the breach.

It did take Christina a little while to make the switch...and then that no-good-dirty-rotten-scoundrel brother of mine deliberately went out of his way to to be vile. He broke the code of RDD siblings. The code clearly states that RDD siblings have the right to be:

• selfish.
• self-centered.
• navel-gazing.
• inadvertently cruel.

No where does it say that siblings have the right to be intentionally malicious. I found him guilty and sentenced him to no family holidays or family reunions for 5 to 10 years, sentence to be served in the USA.

After Christina stopped by my office on her way and of town and dropped that bombshell, I was gobsmacked. I wanted to run after her and sweep her into my arms, but I got roped into some hospital matters for the next half hour or so. I made arrangements to be gone for a few days - calculating it might take me that long to track Christina down - but I figured without my loyal household help. They were able to put me on her track much closer to home. I found my Christina walking on the beach in the teeth of a gale. We quickly sorted out our misunderstandings and I proposed. The end.

Rating: Not one of my favorites. Not even close. I didn't mind Christina...except that she spent way too much time being fooled by Adam.  Way. Too. Much. Time. And way too little noticing how much cooler and classier Duert was. I did like her inner thoughts...she knew she was being foolish. She didn't chase Adam - she just passively let him walk all over her.  I didn't mind Duert...except he spent way too little time with Christina.  I also had a tough time buying his 'love at first sight'. I do object to Adam - in a big way. I object to the thought that he is genetically related to Duert. I object to the thought that Christina will be related by marriage to the little toe rag.  Beans on Toast.  For a better treatment of this type of storyline see: Uncertain Summer (at least the heel is only a cousin...)

Fashion: Christina spends every waking hour (when not on duty at the hospital) wearing grey. A grey flannel suit, a grey jersey two piece, a grey chiffon ball gown. For some reason she's decided that grey is her colour - no wonder she never gets chatted up.  You can tell Adam's true caddish-ness by the outfit he wears to go clubbing with Christina. A blue velvet suit with an (I kid you not) open necked ruffled shirt. Duert looks pretty splendid in white tie and tails...I assume.  Christina doesn't really notice him.

Food: Adam takes her out to cheap little Bohemian little places - including Greek food twice, first kebabs, second time - fish salad.  Duert takes her out to fancy places - The Ritz for tea - thin cucumber sandwiches, little iced cakes and tiny meringues, The Claridge for lunch - avocado, salmon (because she wasn't sure what you did with lobster) and profiteroles. In Holland Adam takes her out for nasi goreng (an Indonesian fried rice dish) then Duert takes her to Le Bistroquet for avocado vinaigrette, sole Veronique and a hot souffle.

Winter of Change--1973

Betty Barbara here--again--- Just finished a re-read of Winter of Change. Hrumph--I shall save my comments until we reach the review. I will say it is one of the few Betty books that I have hurled across the room.

This was exactly how I felt about it the first time I read it. No hard feelings, Betty. I still love you. Still, I should probably prepare you for a slightly more favorable re-read on my part. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I worked mightily to root out every kernel of charm planted therein. Let's see if that gets us anywhere...

Mary Jane Pettigrew, 22, is plain, has 'rabbity' teeth and supports herself on her own meagre earnings. She is a 'good' nurse--the kind who makes patients comfortable and pettily tyrannical Ward Sisters grind their teeth.
Upon receiving an urgent phone call, she rushes home to her grandfather--her only living relative. He's dying. It says much for the state of their relationship that she wasn't notified of his illness or his plans for her inheritance and is told summarily that she is to get a guardian (at her age!) along with the house and his fortune.
Grandfather is one of those throw-backs who scouted high and low for a near-ish male relative (his cousin or cousin's son or cousin's grandson...if they could find him anywhere) to leave the family estate to but finally settles everything on Mary Jane with the legal rider that, quote, (let's see...paragraph 3, section 7, addendum 14) 'She isn't to worry her pretty little head...' (I kid--but only a very little.)
Professor Jonkheer Fabian van der Blocq, 40 (40! Four-oh.), sweeps up to the family home. Upon his arrival he is greeted happily by Grandfather (clearly a relationship of long standing) and his presence underlines in every way that Mary Jane is not, nor has ever been, a substantive part of Grandfather's life.
Editorial Note:
It's really sad. They love each other but being around Grandfather is like warmly hugging a block of granite. Sure you can do it, but why would you want to?
Oh, and have I mentioned that everyone kindly points out at every possible moment that Mary Jane is tiresome and/or as plain as a pikestaff?
For his part, Fabian is really terrible--he's patronizing and (usually the kiss of death for a Neels character) POMPOUS and has no patience for a young girl who is losing her last relative. As for accepting the guardianship? I was only a few pages into this arrangement before I was mentally composing a 'Do-you-want-to-know-where-you-can-stick-this-inheritance?' speech. I kept hoping she would do it. (She's a State Certified Nurse! The world is her oyster!)
And then Grandfather dies. Fabian arranges the funeral and hugs Mary Jane. Wow. I am overwhelmed with his consideration and warmth.
Then, in fulfillment of the promise she made to her grandfather, she travels to Holland to nurse his old friend (Fabian's (gah, that is a flesh-crawling name) uncle). Will Uncle What'shisname survive? No, he's also destined for the boneyard and at this point I am considering questioning the wisdom of The Great Betty in making death such a central plot point. (Take a romantic cruise on the River Styx!)
Fabian pretty much drops her off with his irascible uncle and melodramatic cousin and pops in a week later (when Mary Jane has them all firmly in hand) to discover that no one is giving her time off!
Editorial Note:
(I know, there are a lot of them in this review.) This is actually an important part of the book for me. Fabian gets a lot of credit for putting himself out as her guardian but Mary Jane is doing some very skilled and long-term work for his family. This puts things on a more equitable footing --it mitigates some of the age difference and tells us why he falls for her. And fall he does...
Uncle dies.
Fabian tells us at the end that this is when he realizes he loves Mary Jane and though they haven't spent much time together in Holland he did get to see her dog and pony show of sterling qualities.
As he deposits her back in England they discuss substantively the administrative duties of guardianship:
Her: I think I shall buy a horse.
Him: Over my dead body.
With that sort of impasse (and Mary Jane still unaware that she is anything less than a festering boil on Fabian's backside) is it any wonder that when long lost Cousin Mervyn (he of the too-close eyes who might have inherited the estate if hide or hair of him had been found) arrives from Canada he finds a girl ripe for the love con?
The gentle rain of his endless compliments is balm to her wounded spirit. And soon enough she entertains thoughts of marriage and foolishly writes him a blank check (maybe to stave off monetary deflation?) so that he can purchase a murder weapon. Okay, Prince (the wild-eyed and limping horse) isn't a murder weapon yet but tally him with the Special License Mervyn has in his pocket and the insurance policy he recommends she take out and it creates a fetid stew.
Fabian arrives just in time. He essentially throws Mervyn out on his ear and breaks Mary Jane's heart like a bull in a china shop.
Editorial Note:
So if you blinked and missed his dawning realization, all this comes over very differently. There's that scene in the Olivia de Havilland movie (The Heiress) when the plain Jane is being told by her father that smoking hot Montgomery Clift was playing her for a fool and was only after her filthy lucre. Daddy isn't gently imparting the news--he's gloating. And, if you don't feel sympathetic to Fabian for having to break up the wedding of the girl he loves than it sort of comes off that way. He doesn't quite say 'What other reason, besides your fortune, would a man have for wanting you?' but she might feel it is implied. I mean, he calls her an easy mark! That's not going to translate well any way you slice it.
She yells her head off at him which he doesn't deserve as he's just been to Winnipeg and back (Winnipeg! Betty Keira expects a all from the Winnipeg Chamber of Commerce in 3...2...1...) but he's the only one to vent her considerably bruised feelings on.
They part--he to Holland and she to part-time nursing back in London (which is as near to ripping up the will that she ever gets)--but he returns, asking her to nurse his cousin.
I like this interlude in Holland. She realizes that she loves him and then in a tiny little interchange we get a peek of their future life together. They're out skating on the ice and she nearly cannons into him. 'Whoops!' said Mary Jane, breathless. 'I thought I was going to knock you over--you should have moved.'
He was still holding her. 'No need. I weigh fifteen stone or thereabouts, and I doubt if you're much more than eight.' He laughed down at her. 'You show a fine turn of speed, though I don't think much of your style.'
'Oh, style--I enjoy myself.'
Won't they make a darling pair? I wish we'd seen more of that.
She goes back to England soon after and misses him terribly. When it gets too much she takes long walks and returning to the house, cold and tired, she allows herself an 'Oh, Fabian.' He answers.
The End

Rating: This one is going to take a bit more explaining than an ordinary Neels. The first half is Fabian's Nasty Sojourn and the second half is The Many Mistakes of Mary Jane. But there are parts to like in both (Mary Jane being human and diligent in part 1 and Fabian being trustworthy and yearning in part 2). So, here's my Wish List for Winter of Change:

• I wish she'd called it Summer of Change and added more yellow bikinis. The somber and chilly mood of death and thick sweaters makes this seem extra depressing.
• I wish that her country home had a little more life in it--local friends popping in and out for drinks, really chummy staff (Mrs. Body, though kind enough, strikes me as someone who likes her domain in the kitchens and will be happy when a man takes up the reins of management), and a pet that is not the elderly left-over animal of her dead grandfather.
  
• Even though he tells her at the end the moment he fell in love with her, I wish that La Neels had made Fabian's Dawning Realization more clear in the moment it happens. I noticed it on the second read (which radically changed how I viewed the second act) and I had a lot more sympathy for him thereafter.
• Fabian. Here are 10 streaming consciousness names that I guarantee will all be better than Fabian: Frank, Tom Mark, George, Gus, Scott, Tiberius (My daughter is watching Star Trek), Harold, Nathan, and Carl...Okay, maybe it's better than Carl.

There are enough witty observations and charming turns of phrase to make this a darling book but Fabian's gratuitously cruel and chilling remarks to Mary Jane when her grandfather is dying sour the soup--no, no, they drop radioactive isotopes into the soup. We don't have any reason to root for him for many, many long pages.
I had remembered that Mary Jane was more of a simp than she really was. Sure, she doesn't like Fabian right off but he really earns her enmity and she's a bit off balance (what with her only living relative popping off in that fashion). She is enormously helpful and sensible when she nurses Fabian's uncle and babysits his cousin. And her only mistake is following Mervyn's trail of breadcrumbs into his Enchanted Cottage of Bull Pucky. That she needs time to be rude and disillusioned (particularly as Fabian made zero attempt to break things to her gently) and to lick her wounds doesn't fuss me.
This earns a Beans on Toast because Fabian is truly awful and that's a hole that the Great Betty doesn't quite manage to dig him out of. Still, the writing is quite good and Mary Jane is a flawed but generally sensible character. But it's a sad book and that more than anything is why I don't recommend it very highly.

Food: Bacon, eggs and scones, beef, baked apples and cream (which sounds yummy but I have serious doubts). Fillet of beef in shirtsleeves, Robert's Chocolate Fancy, Kentish roast duckling, erwtensoup, quenelles of sole, salmon with asparagus tips and chocolate gateau....mmmmmm.

Fashion: Grey dress, brown tweeds, felt hat, a 'nice' evening dress of blue and green organza with a pie-frill collar. A velvet beret that he fails to notice. A dark green pinafore dress with a crepe blouse (I think I grew up after the era in which grown women could wear pinafores without looking like mutton dressed as lamb), a gorgeous sounding burgundy red coat, dress and cap that sounds like something Jackie O might have worn and (because it is the bleak, cold winter) a sheepskin jacket and knitted mitts.

A Girl Named Rose--1986

Dear Betty Neels, I just don't know if it can get any better than this. A Girl Named Rose is a delight and a treasure. I'm going to bury it in an old glass Mason jar in my backyard for future generations to dig up and discover. Or maybe I should rip up a copy and lovingly wallpaper my bathroom with the text--to be read several times a day by one and all while I have a captive audience. Sincerely yours (and prostrate in amazement), Betty Keira

I always think of Rose Comely as Gold Medalist Rose Comely. While all the other student nurses were being backed into the sluice room by flirtatious young housemen, Rose Comely, a plain and hard-working Martha, was conning for her tests. She would like to have been the one crowded into antiquated plumbing by a lusty doctor but chance is a fine thing.
She has a great many friends but, since the death of her parents and subsequent remarriage of a wicked step-mother, she only has Aunt Millicent and her faithful handmaiden Maggie to go home to.
While taking a package tour in Holland, she and Sadie (cute as a button and no moral compass) take shelter from a sudden storm by knocking on the door of a house at random. Mr. Sybren Werdmer ter Sane offers them tea, leers suggestively at Sadie (happily leering back) and gives Rose little jobs like pouring out and fading into the background.
The heavens stop raining and Sybren (I am not typing out that whole name even if Rose adheres to it rather rigorously.) helps Miss Fancy Britches on with her coat. Turning away from the vision of her loveliness to perform the same service for Rose (Whom, despite acting as mother for the tea party, it never entered his mind to help first.), he finds that she has helped herself.
This is nothing less than the summation of Rose, her personality and her lot in life.
Rose, acting as sort of the designated driver of the group of 6 nurses, returns home to England and St. Bride's wondering if Sybren is single--which is strangely muddled up with her desire to not be so plain and wishing she weren't quite so lonely.
Editorial Note: Which is not to say that she is unhappy. Rose is one of those Neels heroines who hoard their half loaf--making do with what they've got and being just the teensiest bit afraid of risking even that. Her plan is to stay in her proscribed little circle and make a heaven of it.
But then Sybren comes to St. Bride's. He's there to take Sadie back to Holland with him to nurse his godson. Little Duert has a skull fracture, his British mother Chrissy is due any day with her second child and frantic with worry, and maybe, Sybren thinks, a giggling and delightful (and hot) and most likely capable English-speaking nurse would take her mind off things.
But the SNO is having none of it. Sadie's alright but Rose is better. He'll have to take her or nothing.
But it seemed to me that she lacks a certain light-heartedness...
And Rose hears him say it.
She goes with him but she's wretched about it.
Sybren practically ignores her on the trip over and then has the effrontery to compliment her on her low-maintenance companionship. At the Dutch hospital she meets the Chrissy and Duert ter Brandt (Not Once But Twice) and little Duert and slips seamlessly into place--instantly becoming the prop that Chrissy needs in a way Sadie could not.
Rose is not the Gold Medalist because she spent all her time knowing the right answer to the theoretical questions, she is also an amazing nurse--caring for little Duert with a patience and doggedness that has more to do with her character than test scores.
And then one day she sees signs of life. Sybren is called and walks in on her singing Hey, Diddle, Diddle to the little fellow when he rouses enough to drowsily say, 'lickle dog'. She squeezes Sybren's hand resting on the cot.
Others are called and a stifled sort of excitement pervades the room. When everyone shuffles out again, Sybren hears the soft voice of Rose beginning Ride a Cock Horse. It is from this point that he starts to acknowledge that, try as he might, he can't seem to get her out of his mind.
When Little Duert is out of the woods Rose, who has had almost no free time and little outside contact, observes to Sybren that she's sorry that he got her when he wanted Sadie. She overheard him, she says. The blistering coldness that greets this statement is enough to freeze her bones.
Editorial Note: I'm not sure why she mentions it. I think by this time she might really like him enough to feel bad for him but maybe she just wants to underline the fact that her head hasn't been turned by him. For his part, he detests being reminded of his poor judgment.
When she is invited out by a doctor and his wife to spend an evening eating at their house and chatting over dinner, her simple delight at the prospect underlines her usually solitary days. She practically dances past Sybren on her way out and he is prompted to ask (after, no doubt, what he finds an annoying amount of thought given to it and to her) if she is not lonely.
She fibs. Of course she does. What did he expect to hear?
Yes, doctor, I am surrounded by dozens of people all day who wouldn't notice if I was hit by an articulated lorry as long as they had their temperature taken by someone in a starched cap. Yes, I'm lonely.
Unthinkable to say such a thing. Anyway, she saw him out on the town the night before and he couldn't possibly understand.
Little Duert is finally well enough to go home and Rose gets to go along for a few weeks until he's entirely fit. Before one of her very first days off Sybren asks her plans.
I'm going to Amsterdam. On a train. Because I want to. I like being by myself. I'd rather be by myself.
She's closed every loophole she can think of and even if he did sort of ask her on a date it was done in such a you-can't-be-trusted-to-sight-see-by-yourself sort of way that I can't blame her for misunderstanding. He wanted to be with her--maybe to blow away this lingering madness that makes him see her under his eyelids at night--and phrases it in a way that costs him nothing and risks none of his pride. She hears that she is just another dreary responsibility to be taken care of.
When he tells her that if she won't accept company to at least avoid lingering in Dam Square she has no other option than to start busking INXS cover songs or set up a kabob cart in the center of the aforementioned.
But would this be a Betty Neels book if she got away with it scot free?
Nope. No nope-y nope nope no.
Some Dutch hooligans form a circle around her and Sybren (conveniently driving past) throws his car into park, parts the Red Sea and plucks her out of danger. He is angry and in a mood to chew her out but, though he is entirely in the right, she refuses to come undone.
Thank you. Now I'm going to the Rijksmuseum... She took his hand gently from her arm. Goodbye, Mr. Werdmer ter Sane.
It's that 'gently' that probably makes him mutter Dutch oaths at her retreating back.
A few days later he stops in to see Little Duert and drops the anvil. The toddler is well again. You should leave.
But having come to exorcise her from his life once and for all, he finds himself saying (in a kind of lost manner), 'I suppose I shall always be Sir to you, Rose. I wish...' A telephone call from Mies the Merciless (your standard issue Dutch society miss with a penchant for long walks on the beach, crushing the dreams of a poor orphan girl and returning volleys with a really wicked backhand) has interrupted them...not for the last time.
Chrissy and Big Duert (who have totally read the situation correctly: Brit nurse is so in love with Dutch doc but doesn't know it yet) take her out for one last dinner where they spot Sybren and Mies at another table. Sybren is probably clenching and unclenching his hands at just how remarkable fate is.
Rose returns to England where she spends a few days with Aunt Millicent. It is on the last day, while pegging some laundry up that she hears a creak at the gate. She looks up and when she sees that it is not Sybren (whom she had no reason to expect) she also realizes the depth of her disappointment. Ah. So this is love.
Editorial Note: This dawning realization is one of the best in all of Neelsdom--triggered as it is by something so common as someone walking through a gate and knowing, at last, that it is the wrong someone. Bravo, Betty.
She returns to St. Bride's with a little less bounce in her step but she's determined (as Rose always is) to buck up and move along. She's doing fairly well, too, and then Sybren returns to St. Bride's. He's confused and irritated with himself for dropping everything so quickly when he's asked to come over for a consultation. He found himself nearly tripping over himself in his hurry to see Rose again even though he is still unable to admit to any feeling stronger than preoccupation and unhealthy obsession.
His greeting is tight-lipped and he throttles his first impulse to take her out on the town for dinner. But when he runs into her at the end of a long day (as she is fetching a bag of baked potatoes for a belated dinner--so much more humble than the one he would have taken her to or the one he subsequently enjoyed with a nubile young thing) he is almost shattered with a desire to scoop her up and shower his wealth on her person. Why he doesn't recognize this as love is beyond me--maybe he's got a peptic ulcer he can ascribe it to.
His consultation is successful and he afterwards asks Rose to come with him for high tea--lowering himself to coerce her by asking her to talk over the operation. High tea at a bourgeois eatery is...(Oh dear. Betty Keira, don't do it. I must!)...not his cup of tea but even he is shocked by how much he enjoyed it.
Some little time later, Rose comes to Holland to visit the ter Brandt family after refusing a lift from Sybren (if he's not interested in saving himself from her then she'll save him herself). They meet again and we find that the intervening time has cleared his mind.
She said with desperate chattiness, 'Are you on holiday too?'
'No.' He looked at her. 'I like your hair like that.' He sighed gently. 'I always thought of you as rather a plain girl, but I see that I was wrong.'
Sounds like someone has been dining on an exclusive diet of dawning realization...
He has to run off to make a dinner date with Mies (Noooooooooo!), but if Rose would be willing to meet him the following day...
She comes to his house--a return to the scene of their first meeting and what a difference a few months make. They have an enchanted day together. He takes her on The Home Tour of Undying Love and at its conclusion, when emotions are understandably running high (Think of all those William and Mary settees!), he proposes...ish.
Rose, what would you say if I were to tell you that I want to get married?
What sort of proposal-ish is that? A terrified and uncertain one, that's what.
Rose sits as still as a poker and it only needs the tiniest nudge to send her into his arms. Fate unkindly nudges her in the other direction with a phone call.
Sybren swears 'ferociously' (I'll bet.) and takes it. The upshot is that he must leave. On his way out the door he tosses a hand grenade over his shoulder. 'It's only fair to tell you that that was Mies.'
Rose is shaken but stays where he left her. Surely he will return to explain? Instead, she receives a phone call (Phone calls from Mies are like acid rain, falling on the innocent and guilty alike with alarming frequency.).
Mies: Sybren is so busy proposing marriage to me that he can't come to the phone and tell you that he wishes you'd just go home already. We're celebrating! I'm sure you'll agree that this behavior is not out of character at all...
Rose returns to the ter Brandt's alone and in a rare rage unalleviated by Sybren's remark (the next day) that he didn't get home until morning! Her fury at being used leads to some hasty words and she finds herself back in England without anything being cleared up. Poor Sybren had been called to operate on the fateful night and doesn't understand any of it.
St. Bride's looks more dire than usual and a blight by the name of Percy Pride (new houseman) has taken up residence. He chats Rose up out of boredom and ego inflation and she very kindly agrees to go on a date with him. Enter Sybren --all his travel can't be good for his carbon footprint ;0) . He takes Percy's number immediately, dangles an invitation to lunch in front of the poor Brit nurse's nose, and awaits catastrophe. After being marched through the mummy section of the British museum, given an inadequate snack, and propositioned (I have a key to a friend's flat which has a rip in the space-time continuum which will deposit us in Brighton!), seeing Sybren at the hospital is the last straw. It really is.
He kindly whisks her out to that fabulous meal that he referred to earlier. Her bonhomie is restored, her tummy is filled and then he goes and ruins it by reminding her that any other girl would have had enough experience with men to know that Percy was the kind to suck her into an inter-dimensional vortex.
And you have no need to remind me--haven't I been told since I was a teenager that I was plain--homely was the word my stepmother used and she was so right--men don't make passes at homely girls, only when there's no one else available I suppose...You should know that.
Being forgotten for Mies still rankles--will always rankle--and Rose has had a simply grotty day. He'll have to charge the hill tomorrow.
Tomorrow there's an explosion and her whole ward nearly collapses out from under her. But she's heroic, Percy's a worm and Sybren kicks some doors down to save the day. When she faints at the end of it he kicks through another door to get her to her bed.
Sybren gets a chance when all the chaos is cleared to ask Rose if she wants him to go away.
Yes.
She is sent home on her off days and Sybren walks into her garden (like she hoped he would way back at the DR! He flipped a U-turn on the expressway and drove back to her).
Rose, do you really want me to go away?
Yes.
He does but this time he's determined to run Mies to ground. What does she know and when did she know it?
Sybren comes to England once more, stuffs Rose into his Rolls and takes off for the motorway. Explanations and declarations.
Where is a lay-by when you need one!!
The End

Rating: You already know that this is a lashings of whipped cream for me. Rose isn't even trying to reach for the moon and does her best to let Sybren go ahead with the Misadventure of Mies. Sybren's slow-growing affection is such a charming thing to watch. He meets her and vaguely pities her in an off-hand way. Another meeting and it's shifted to annoyance. Still more and we watch him struggle with grudging admiration and then he can't get her out of his head (and you know he's trying). Before he knows it he's swimming upstream against the current of delight at everything she does and desperately attempting to maintain his dignity when what he wants to do is throw her over his shoulder and marry her out of hand.
Even the wrenches (Mies and Percy) are fun to read and there aren't so many of them that it becomes silly.
It is also super fun to meet the ter Brandt family again and Betty fleshes them out very nicely considering they're not primary characters and act as mere catalysts.

Food: Chips, shepherd's pie, milk pudding, asparagus salad with shrimp, roast partridge, meringue tartlets, chicken a' la King, spinach tartlets, lardy cake, hot baked potatoes, high tea, Dundee cake (Maggie's love language is 'cooking'), boiled eggs, ham broodjes, lager, potted shrimp, potato staws, orange ice cream and bread and butter pudding. On the Day of the Great Concatenation of Awfulness she is offered beans on toast, sponge cake and tea by Percy Pride and then taken out for mushrooms in cream sauce and lobster thermidor by the good doctor.

Fashion: Our heroine wears a cotton jersey, a plain blue linen dress--she wears and wears and wears a soft pink crepe calf-length number with a lower bosom and long sleeves. A printed lawn dress with a shawl collar comes streaking out of the mid-80s sky to ruin any pretense of timelessness. Rose also buys a few pastel T shirts (!) and a pleated cream skirt and cardigan set.
Mies the Brat wears an asymetrical red dress that I'm thinking belongs in Dynasty.
Chrissy ter Brandt wears luxurious housecoats (post-natal outfit de rigueur) and then shows up (astonishingly soon after delivery) in a silk dress that I must only assume has an elastic waistband and a stretchy bustline.