by Betty Neels
Mrs Lang had dissolved into tears. ‘You know I rely on your money to pay the bills, Hannah.’ She had darted an angry look at her. ‘And I need every farthing of my pension this month, I simply must have some new clothes. I haven’t had a rag to wear for months…’
Hannah forbore from reminding her that only the previous month she had gone to Harrods of all places, and bought two dresses both expensive enough to swallow up all her pension, and it was as well that she didn’t, because her mother went on: ‘I can’t understand you being so selfish, Hannah—you’ve bought clothes for yourself.’
Unanswerable, even though, if she discounted toothpaste and shampoos and such like necessities, she had had nothing new since Christmas. Hannah had given in without another word. Somehow she would save the money and send it to Mevrouw van Eysink after she returned to England. Meanwhile there had been no point in worrying about it. Baby Paul was still the most important person to consider; he was gaining a little each day now, turning the scales at five pounds; weighing him had become a major highlight of the day.
But it wasn’t only Paul Hannah had to attend, his mother, faced at last with the removal of her hip spica, became a bundle of nerves and it needed all Hannah’s patience and resources to get her through the tiresome but painless undertaking. It was a tremendous relief when everything was finished, to find that contrary to Mevrouw van Eysink’s firm conviction, she looked perfectly normal. Provided she did exactly as she was told, Hannah assured her, she would be as good as new in no time at all. Mevrouw van Eysink eyed her tearfully. ‘Dear Hannah, you are very strong; how could I have endured this without you? It is a sad thing that Paul cannot be with me at such a crisis, and Uncle Valentijn also—they have never allowed me to suffer.’
‘Well, the suffering wasn’t all that bad, was it?’ asked Hannah cheerfully. ‘It was only because you didn’t know what was coming next. Anyway, you can forget it all now and think about going home.’
‘Indeed I will, but I must not forget so soon, it must be told to Paul.’
‘And Uncle Valentijn,’ prompted Hannah.
The departure and journey home was something of a royal progress. Mevrouw van Eysink borne away tenderly in a private ambulance from Holland, and her husband driving a powerful Mercedes with Hannah, holding little Paul in her arms and surrounded by every conceivable necessity for the journey, enthroned on the back seat. They were given a splendid send-off by various of the staff headed by Sister Thorne, and a number of friends of Hannah’s hung from ward windows, giving her the thumbs-up sign and waving as though they would never see her again. And the journey went with incredible smoothness; Hannah, who hadn’t been out of the British Isles, was all eyes at the Hovercraft they boarded at Dover. She had never expected such a treat, nor had she been prepared for the excellent lunch provided for her while Mijnheer Eysink, leaving her comfortably settled with little Paul, joined his wife in the ambulance.
And as for the baby, he behaved splendidly. True, he woke from time to time, howling for attention, to be ministered to and soothed back to sleep once more, so that Hannah didn’t have much leisure to look around her until they had left the Hovercraft far behind and had been driving for some time, and by then they were at the Dutch border. They travelled at speed after that, never leaving the motorway until Mijnheer van Eysink said over his shoulder, ‘That’s Utrecht ahead. We go round the city and take the Hilversum road.’ He sent the car past a slow-moving van. ‘Is Paul all right?’
‘He’s fine, fast asleep, just as he should be. If it isn’t very much further, he can have his next feed at home. He’s been so good, bless him.’
‘Thanks to you, Hannah. I hope he won’t be too upset when we arrive.’
‘Why? We can go straight…’
‘Well, no—you see, there’s such a welcome laid on for them both. When Corinna had her accident everyone was so upset; they felt sure that she wouldn’t get better, probably be a cripple, and certainly that the baby would be lost to us. So you see they want to express their delight…’
‘Yes, of course. Mevrouw van Eysink won’t be too tired?’
Her companion laughed. ‘Very unlikely; she’s been lying quietly for hours and must be spoiling for some excitement. All the same, when we get there I want you to stay in the car with Paul until we’ve got her indoors and in a comfortable chair.’
‘A good idea,’ agreed Hannah, and sat silent as he turned off the motorway at last into a side road, running between trees. She could see water from time to time as the trees thinned and gave way to meadow-land and then crowded down to the side of the road again as they went through an open gateway into a sanded drive. The house was round a curve and Hannah examined it eagerly as it came into sight. It was a villa of a very substantial size, its roof a mass of gables, its windows framed with shutters and balconies sprouting on all sides. Mid-Victorian, she judged, built in the days when servants were easy to come by. But it looked comfortable, its paintwork pristine, the windows sparkling in the late afternoon sun, the gardens around it gay with flowers. Not quite her taste, but she was happy enough to like everything. ‘What a lovely home for little Paul!’ she exclaimed, and earned a delighted glance from Mijnheer Eysink as he brought the car to a halt beside the ambulance. ‘We think so, too,’ he told her. ‘It’s not beautiful or historic, but it’s nice inside.’ He got out. ‘Stay here.’
He went across to the ambulance and Hannah watched as the front door was flung open and Mevrouw van Eysink was borne through it. She could hear excited voices from somewhere inside the house as she sat quietly, the sleeping baby on her lap, waiting until someone should come and tell her to join the party inside. There was a good deal of noise, there must be a lot of people there. She hoped Paul wouldn’t wake, but it was almost certain that he would. Perhaps she would be allowed to take him somewhere quiet once everyone had taken a quick look at him. She smiled down at the small face and at the same time became aware that someone was approaching the car.
Uncle Valentijn.
‘I might have known,’ muttered Hannah, aware that annoyance at seeing him again was strangely mixed with a pleasant feeling of excitement.
CHAPTER THREE
SHE HAD TO ADMIT that Uncle Valentijn was a splendid figure. His enormous size would have ensured a second glance in any case, but his good looks and elegance certainly merited a third look besides. And not only that, he had an air of assurance—a man, she decided, who always knew what he was doing and why.
His greeting was pleasantly indifferent, so that her, ‘Good afternoon, Doctor van Bertes,’ was cool. He opened the car door and stood looking down at her for a moment. ‘I’ll have Paul, while you get out,’ he suggested. ‘Don’t bother about that clutter, someone shall come and collect it and take it up to the nursery.’
She did as she was bid without speaking and then took Paul back into her arms. He stirred a little and she said rather anxiously: ‘I don’t suppose he’ll stay sleeping…’
‘Very unlikely, there’s the devil of a noise going on, but you’ll have to bear with it, I’m afraid.’
He led the way into the house, through a square vestibule into a large hall filled with people. It looked like the finale of a Ruritanian operetta, thought Hannah wildly; Mevrouw van Eysink was enthroned upon a large chair with her husband on one side of her and a formidable matron with a vast bosom on the other. That would be Granny, Hannah decided, and allowed her gaze to range over the other persons there. Family, she supposed; expensive hair-do’s and prosperous-looking men smoking cigars, but mingling in with them were what she supposed were family servants; a thin woman in a black dress and print apron, several younger women in overalls, a young boy and an old man holding a trowel and lastly a rather pompous individual in a dark jacket and a bow tie.
Everyone looked round as she went in, but not to look at her or, for that matter, the doctor; all eyes were on the baby. No one had told her what to do; she made her way carefully to where Mevrouw van Eysink sat, and laid lit
tle Paul in his mother’s arms, then retreated with discreet speed to the outer edge of the crowd. There was a chair against one wall, and before she sat down in it she took a quick peep at her patient. He and his mother made a delightful picture. Mevrouw van Eysink had chosen to travel in a delicate blue dressing gown, lavishly trimmed with lace. It set off her prettiness exactly and now, with Paul in her arms, she looked like a glossy advert in one of the classy magazines. And she was undoubtedly happy to be home. Hannah sighed without knowing it as she sat down. Almost immediately one of the women in overalls handed her a glass of champagne from her tray. Just what I need, thought Hannah; it had been a long day.
Someone was making a speech and everyone raised their glasses. Hannah raised hers and then put it down again. Uncle Valentijn, standing across the room and being head and shoulders above everyone else, enjoying a splendid view of her, was staring at her intently. Waiting for her to make a fool of herself, she had no doubt; if she chattered too much after a couple of glasses of claret what was she likely to do after champagne? She gave him a haughty look and turned her shoulder.
‘Not drinking the toast, Hannah?’ His voice was soft in her ear.
She turned to look up at him, her face red, her eyes flashing. ‘Surely that’s an unnecessary question from you, Doctor van Bertes? If claret makes me chatter, the risk of what I might do after a glass of champagne is too great to bear thinking about.’
If she had hoped to see him discomfited, she was disappointed, ‘You were eavesdropping.’
‘No, I was not. You have a clear voice and the door was open.’
‘Then I must ask your pardon.’ Only he didn’t sound as though he meant it, and he didn’t suggest that she should drink the champagne. Hannah, aware that little Paul would probably behave like a cartload of monkeys after his angelic day, could have done with it, better still a large pot of tea…
The party was showing signs of breaking up and a wail from Paul sent Hannah through the guests, brushing aside UncleValentijn with no ceremony at all, but when she got to Mevrouw van Eysink, she was hindered by that lady insisting on introducing her to various people standing around her chair. Hannah smiled and murmured, and when there was a pause said urgently: ‘He’s wet, I expect, and he’s hungry. Could I go somewhere quiet with him? He’ll go to sleep again once he’s been seen to and I’ll bring him back.’
Mevrouw van Eysink looked relieved. ‘Dear Hannah, of course! I have forgotten so much—I wished to tell everyone here about you, but there has been no time, and now I am a little tired…’
‘You’re going straight to your bed.’ Hannah whisked round and caught Mijnheer van Eysink’s eye. ‘I hate to ask, but could your wife go somewhere and rest? She’s tired out—a nap before dinner, perhaps? Will people mind? I mean, if they’ve come especially to see her and Paul…’
‘Of course they will not mind. She goes this minute, and you will wish to take little Paul to his nursery.’
Baby Paul was shouting his tiny head off by now and explanations were hardly necessary. Hannah carried him upstairs behind the woman in the black dress and apron, smiling rather shyly at the friendly faces around her. But not at Uncle Valentijn, standing at the foot of the stairs, listening to the formidable lady; she sounded annoyed about something.
The nursery was at the back of the house on the first floor. Hannah, pausing only long enough to assure Mevrouw van Eysink that she would be along as soon as she had settled Paul, followed her guide through an archway and into a short passage. The nursery led from it, a large, airy room furnished with just about everything a baby could require. Leading from it was a bedroom, a bathroom and a little pantry, but she didn’t stop to examine them. Paul by now was puce with temper and working himself into a splendid rage. Hannah changed him, laid him in his cot and thanked heaven that there was a feed still warm in the thermos. She was sitting in the comfortable little chair by the window, with him on her knee, gobbling it down, when there was a tap on the door and Uncle Valentijn walked in.
‘Corinna asked me to make sure that you had everything you need. Paul is all right?’
‘Fine now he’s getting his supper. I’ll top and tail him presently and put him down for a nap. I expect Mevrouw van Eysink would like to have him for a little while later on.’
‘Yes, she asked me to say that she hopes you won’t be too tired to have dinner downstairs. She’s decided to stay in bed for hers. At eight o’clock—Paul should be settled by then.’ The doctor strolled over to the window and looked out. ‘When you have finished here I’ll get someone to bring you a tray of tea. One of the maids will have unpacked for you. Don’t bother to change this evening—there won’t be any guests. I persuaded Corinna’s mother to go home.’
‘Oh, the lady with the…’ Hannah stopped herself just in time.
‘Just so,’ agreed Uncle Valentijn blandly. ‘She is a little—er—forceful, but has a good heart.’
Little Paul had finished his bottle and lay content, his small stomach full once more. Hannah wrapped him up snugly, said fondly: ‘There’s a good little man, then,’ and popped him in his cradle again. All at once she felt forlorn and tired and uncertain.
Uncle Valentijn was on his way to the door and she said: ‘Well, thank you for the tea, it was very kind of you…’
‘You English and your tea!’ He spoke with careless good humour. ‘And don’t thank me, Corinna asked me to see about it, that’s all.’
He went away and Hannah busied herself getting the room to rights again, then went into the pantry to make up the next batch of feeds. Someone had got it all very well organised; everything she needed was there, presumably arranged for in advance. She had just finished when the tea arrived; delicate china set out on a silver tray with biscuits in a tin. She kicked off her shoes, took off her cap and sat down for half an hour’s peace and quiet before going into her bedroom. Someone had unpacked for her, so she did her face and hair, put on her cap and shoes once more and walked back along the passage to Mevrouw van Eysink’s room at the front of the house. That lady, nicely rested, consented to have a bath with Hannah’s help and be returned to her bed, where she sat up in a fetching outfit against the great square pillows. ‘I thought,’ said Hannah, ‘that you might like Paul for a little while. If I brought him along after you’ve had dinner; he’s not due for a feed until nine o’clock…’
Mevrouw van Eysink agreed happily. ‘And I will feed him, Hannah, and you can have your bath and get ready for bed if you wish and fetch him when you are ready. I am very tired, but I think you are even more tired.’
Hannah laughed and shook her head. ‘Only a very little; it was a super journey for us. Paul was so good and he’ll sleep like a top tonight.’
She didn’t add that he would waken for his feed at midnight and three o’clock in the morning. It was just possible that Mevrouw van Eysink hadn’t thought about that; in hospital there had been night staff as well as day staff, but now Hannah was going to do both jobs the clock round. Not that she minded overmuch; she was used to erratic hours and for all her smallness, she was strong. After a few days some kind of pattern would emerge and she would be able to take time off accordingly; until then she was quite content. She tidied the bathroom, wondering as she did so if Uncle Valentijn had gone yet; and was she to have dinner alone or with Mijnheer van Eysink? She thought probably the latter. She didn’t really mind either way.
The gong sounded shortly after she returned to the nursery, but she hesitated about leaving Paul, even though he was sleeping like a cherub now. The same smiling girl who had brought her her tea knocked on the door and then held it open. ‘I stay,’ she said, and nodded reassuringly. After a moment’s hard thought she added: ‘I fetch…’
‘Oh, good,’ said Hannah, and added: ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ The girl didn’t understand a word, but she nodded again and Hannah, with a last peep at little Paul, made her way downstairs.
There were several doors leading from the hall and as she reac
hed the last step, Mijnheer van Eysink put his head round one of them. ‘In here, Hannah.’
It was a pleasant room, well furnished and cleverly lighted. French windows were open on to the terrace beyond and a tray of drinks stood on a small wall table. Uncle Valentijn was still there, his back to her, bending over the bottles.
‘Ah, Hannah, I trust little Paul is sleeping?’
She didn’t like the blandness of his voice. ‘Yes, Doctor van Bertes, I wouldn’t be here otherwise.’
Mijnheer van Eysink gave her an amused glance. ‘What will you drink, Hannah?’
She said pleasantly: ‘Oh, tonic water with lemon, please.’
Mijnheer van Eysink frankly stared, and although Uncle Valentijn didn’t look round she was pleased to see him stiffen.
‘You’re joking, Hannah,’ observed Mijnheer van Eysink.
‘No, as a matter of fact, I’m not.’ She smiled at him so nicely that he grinned back at her and leaving his guest to pour the drink, invited her to sit down.
Hannah sat composedly, accepted her drink and took her part in the casual talk which followed. And over dinner, served presently in a large heavily furnished room, she continued to uphold the conversation, but only in a very modest way; answering questions put to her, agreeing politely with her companions’ opinions, saying very little, in fact. She had already made up her mind to excuse herself the moment the dessert had been removed from the table with the plea that Mevrouw van Eysink would need her, but in this she was forestalled by that lady’s husband, who got to his feet as the coffee was brought in, declaring his intention of having his with her and Hannah was to take her time before returning upstairs. Which left her with Uncle Valentijn, sitting opposite her, looking bored.
