by Betty Neels
Hannah poured their coffee. She said recklessly, ‘You look very abstracted, Doctor van Bertes, I expect you’re thinking about your fiancée.’ She smiled at him. ‘Won’t you tell me about her?’
‘Why should you wish to know?’
She passed him the sugar bowl. ‘Well, I expect you’d like to talk about her, wouldn’t you?’
He stared down his arrogant nose at her. ‘My dear girl, I cannot imagine what interest you could possibly have in my private life.’
She went slowly red, staring back at him. She had deserved the snub; she must have been mad, talking to him in that fashion. She drank her coffee, said quietly that it was time she returned to the nursery, and went upstairs, where, the maid gone, she busied herself getting Paul’s feed ready. And an hour later, a sleepy little creature tucked under one arm, she made her way along to Mevrouw van Eysink’s room, where she left him with his proud parents on the understanding that she should return for him in half an hour. She was glad of the little respite. She wrote to her mother, looked in all the cupboards and drawers to discover where her things were and made the feeds for the night. And half an hour had been enough. Mevrouw van Eysink, over-excited and tired now, was only too glad to be settled for the night. ‘And mind you sleep,’ admonished Hannah in a motherly voice. ‘I’ll come along about eight o’clock, shall I? Little Paul will be sleeping after his feed, then I can come after his bath and nine o’clock feed and help you get dressed and downstairs. There’ll be someone to help?’
She was assured that there would be all the help she might need.
But even with the entire staff’s cheerful help, she was to find her day a long one, and waking at midnight and again at three o’clock, although she slept soundly in between, hardly meant a good night’s sleep. But it wasn’t for ever, she told herself. Very soon little Paul would start sleeping through the night and as Mevrouw van Eysink got over her fear that her bones were going to break if she so much as turned her head, she would be able to do more for the infant. As it was, Hannah settled into a busy routine, taking her through her days with not much leisure but the satisfaction of knowing that both her patients were improving fast. And although it was a busy life, it was a pleasant one too. The weather, although hot, was no problem with a charming garden in which to wheel the pram, and willing hands to do all the chores save those to do with Mevrouw van Eysink and Paul.
Mevrouw van Eysink spent a good deal of her day sitting on the patio, taking her exercise when Hannah, the pram under a nearby tree, could help her. Mijnheer van Eysink came and went presumably to some office or other, so that Hannah saw him only in the evenings, and of Uncle Valentijn there was no sign. He had gone on the morning following his niece’s arrival—and a good thing too, Hannah assured herself. After the first few rather hectic days, things were settling down nicely. She was even managing to get an hour or two to herself either in the morning or the afternoon—not long enough to go anywhere, but then there was no need of that. There was a splendid swimming pool at the end of the garden and Hannah, in one of the maid’s swimsuits, spent her free time in it, secure in the knowledge that she was within shouting distance of the house if anything dire should happen. She swam well and there was an excellent diving board and long chairs in which to lie when she wanted to sunbathe. Life, despite her broken nights and rigorous routine, was quite fun.
It stayed fun for a week, at the end of which time little Paul had gained another pound and his mother was getting more active each day, to the satisfaction of the family doctor and the specialist who accompanied him. Hannah was given fresh instructions, complimented upon her nursing powers, while the hope was expressed that she was enjoying herself. Which, strangely enough, she was.
The day after the doctors had been was hotter than ever. Leaving mother and child sleeping in the cool of the trees beside the house, Hannah donned her borrowed swimsuit, wound her long hair into a knob on top of her head and made for the pool. Mijnheer van Eysink wouldn’t be back until the early evening and the whole household was sunk into peace and quiet until half past three when tea would be brought out on to the patio. She would have to feed Paul at three o’clock, but that was more than an hour away. She dived into the deep end and swam leisurely to and fro. Presently she went to flop down on one of the loungers round the pool and lay half asleep until a look at her watch reminded her that there was barely time for one last dive and swim before she must go back to the house and change into uniform. She had done two lengths of the pool and was on the last one when she became aware that she was being watched.
Uncle Valentijn, in the finest of summer suitings, elegant to the last button, was standing waiting for her. And he wasn’t alone. Hannah steadied herself on the side of the pool and looked up at the girl beside him. Not a girl, a very beautiful woman, exquisitely made up, not a single golden hair out of place, and wearing a thin silk sheath of a dress which made the most of her very slender shape.
Uncle Valentijn said, ‘Good afternoon, Hannah,’ and looked amused, but at least he picked up the old towelling robe, found in some forgotten cupboard, and lent to her with the swimsuit and held it out. Hannah swung herself neatly up and out, very conscious of her hair, loosened from its bun and streaming wetly all over the place. She got into the gown, feeling plump and dowdy and at a complete disadvantage. How like Uncle Valentijn—he had done it deliberately, no doubt, because this beautiful creature was undoubtedly his Nerissa, and the contrast between them was quite laughable. That was if one could laugh, thought Hannah, shooting a look of fury at him and encountering mockery.
He said blandly: ‘Nerissa, this is Hannah Lang, who is looking after baby Paul and Corinna for a few weeks. Hannah, my fiancée, Juffrouw van der Post.’
Hannah stuck out a damp hand and withdrew it again. Juffrouw van der Post had made no effort to take it, instead she slipped an arm into her companion’s. She said, ‘Hullo,’ in a gentle voice which conveyed surprise, amusement and contempt nicely blended.
‘We have come for tea,’ observed Uncle Valentijn as he ran his eye over Hannah’s shapeless, shabby gown. Hannah gathered its ample folds around her person. ‘Then I may see you later,’ she said in a tone of voice which hoped she wouldn’t, and made off across the grass, followed by a faint tinkle of laughter from Nerissa and Uncle Valentijn’s deep voice.
Fifteen minutes later, very neat in her uniform, she went to fetch Paul, to find Mevrouw van Eysink entertaining her guests from her chair and the infant, disturbed by the company, muttering to himself in his cot. Hannah would have whisked him away to the peace of the nursery, but his mother wanted to show him off first. ‘Just a minute, Hannah,’ she begged prettily. ‘Uncle Valentijn hasn’t seen him for a week and I’m sure Nerissa is longing to hold him.’
So little Paul, by now getting peevish, was studied and admired by his uncle and then handed to Nerissa.
Hannah, standing a little apart, watched. It should have been a picture to melt all hearts, and certainly send Uncle Valentijn’s beating ardently; the lovely young woman holding the little baby. But Nerissa was uneasy; she held Paul as though he was a parcel of something nasty which might come undone at any moment, and he, knowing it, acted accordingly, going alarmingly purple in the face, screwing up his eyes and yelling his tiny head off. Nerissa forced a smile which turned to a look of extreme distaste as Paul dug his head into her shoulder and dribbled. For such a small baby he dribbled largely; she held him away from her with a cry of horror. ‘Take it away!’ she cried. ‘It’s dirty—my dress—my lovely dress!’
Hannah was already there, holding the now howling infant against her shoulder, soothing him gently. ‘It’ll wash out,’ she pointed out kindly. ‘It’s only dribble—they all do when they’re little, you know.’ She could see that Juffrouw van der Post was beyond comforting, her lovely face was tight with rage. ‘It’s all very well for you,’ she snapped in excellent English. ‘No wonder you wear that hideous uniform!’
‘It keeps me dry,’ agreed Hanna
h cheerfully, and went over to Mevrouw van Eysink’s chair. That lady was looking furious, but not with her small son or Hannah. ‘I’ll feed him and stay in the nursery for a little while, shall I?’ suggested Hannah. ‘He’s so little, and people upset him.’
She had spoken softly so that the other two couldn’t hear her, and Mevrouw van Eysink nodded. ‘You wouldn’t mind, Hannah? I’ll have tea sent up to you.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘Dear Hannah, as soon as we can arrange something you shall have a whole day to enjoy yourself. You are a slave, and I do not like that—there should have been two of you.’
‘I’m fine, and as long as you think I can manage by myself, I wouldn’t want it otherwise.’ They smiled and nodded at each other, then Hannah went indoors and presently, with Paul changed and fed and already dozing off again, she took off her shoes and her cap and made herself comfortable in an armchair by the open window and ate her tea. She was half way through her second cup and doing the Daily Telegraph crossword puzzle when there was a tap on the door. She had learned a few words of Dutch already, so she said very softly, ’Kom binnen’, and looked round to see who it was.
She might have guessed. Uncle Valentijn, looming huge in the doorway. She put down her cup. ‘Don’t wake him up,’ she hissed in a whisper.
For answer he came right in, stopped to look at the cot’s occupant, then sat himself down on the low window seat by Hannah.
She put down the newspaper and pen with deliberation. She had precious little time to herself, he might at least let her have her tea in peace.
Her thoughts must have shown plain on her face. ‘Please don’t interrupt your tea, Hannah.’ He crossed one very long leg over the other. ‘I—er—felt I should explain about Juffrouw van der Post—she doesn’t like babies or children very much. She’s an only child herself and you know how it is…’
‘No, I don’t,’ observed Hannah forthrightly. ‘You tell me.’
‘You are sometimes very…’ he paused. ‘I am a good deal older than you and…’
‘I know, you’re a consultant, used to having housemen and nurses hanging on your every word, and I’m only a nurse. If ever I should meet you on a ward, I promise you I’ll be suitably servile.’
He opened his eyes wide, and she was astonished at their vivid blue.
‘Hannah, you viper!’ He added softly: ‘Have you been at the claret again?’
‘Indeed no, and I expect the minute you’ve gone I shall feel fit to go through the floor.’ She added tea to her half filled cup with a hand which shook a little. ‘Please accept my apologies, Doctor van Bertes. I was very rude.’
He smiled with such charm that she almost liked him. ‘You’re a nice change from the women I know,’ he told her. ‘But please forgive Nerissa; she feels awful about it.’
‘Of course I forgive her. She’ll feel quite differently when she’s got children of her own.’ She saw the rather bleak look on his face and wondered at it. ‘She’s got the most beautiful figure I’ve ever seen,’ said Hannah, anxious to dispel that look. ‘You must be awfully proud of her. I’m filled with envy…’
He got to his feet, all at once remote. ‘You have a great many things which she has not,’ he said soberly. ‘Goodbye, Hannah.’
She said, ‘Goodbye, Doctor van Bertes,’ in a reserved little voice and didn’t smile. Just for a few minutes he had been quite different, she had actually rather liked him, but now he wore that bland look on his face once more. She drank her cooling tea and thought how well matched he and his Nerissa were. She could just picture them married, their feelings wrapped in a layer of good manners, so that they would never shout at each other or throw things, or make it up afterwards. Maybe he was to be pitied; perhaps he still loved his first wife. Hannah ate the last biscuit and settled down to finish her crossword.
One of the maids came to tell her presently that Mevrouw van Eysink wanted her—and the baby, of course. Hannah gathered him up and went out on to the patio again. It was cooler now and she put Paul into his pram before she joined Mevrouw van Eysink.
She was told to sit down and help herself to an iced drink from the tall jug on the table at her elbow. ‘They have gone,’ declared her patient. ‘What a horrid girl is Nerissa! I should not say this to you, but there is no one else and if I do not say it, I shall burst! She called my little baby It and she did not like him. She is not the wife for my darling Oom Valentijn, who needs to be loved very much and have children of his own. I know him well, you see, and I feel that is right for him. Instead of that he is to marry that—that…’ She lapsed into Dutch and then laughed. ‘It is a good thing that you do not understand me, Hannah, for I am being very rude. Ah, well, there is many a slip, do you not say?’ She nodded and giggled. ‘She has spoilt her dress—it was a new one; she has many clothes, they are important to her.’ She sat up. ‘May we walk a little, Hannah?’
They strolled very gently up and down, Hannah holding fast to one arm, while Mevrouw van Eysink leaned on a stick. ‘I do well, don’t I?’
‘Very. Another week or two and you’ll be as good as new.’
‘Uncle Valentijn has been talking to me about you,’ and when Hannah’s head shot round, startled, ‘No, nothing but good, I assure you. But he says that you must have more time to yourself. He will arrange for a nurse to come once a week after breakfast and stay all day, so that you may go where you wish, and he says that I am now well enough to have little Paul each afternoon after his three o’clock feed, and that you are to be free until six o’clock. My Paul comes home about five o’clock, and there are women enough in the house if I should need help. So we will do that. I have been very selfish, Hannah, I have not remembered that you have to feed Paul twice in the night and that you are with him constantly each day. I am very sorry.’
Hannah said comfortingly, ‘Look, you’ve no need to be sorry. I came with you to help you both, and I didn’t expect a lot of free time—after all, I get a swim each day and the garden is so lovely there’s no need to go out.’
‘It is nice, isn’t it?’ agreed her companion complacently. ‘But we shall do as Oom Valentijn suggests, for he is always right. The nurse will come on Saturday, because then Paul is home too and he can help with little Paul.’
‘Thank you—only if it doesn’t work we won’t carry on with it. Little Paul is doing so well now, I don’t want to risk him loosing weight or not sleeping properly—another two pounds and he’ll be OK.’
‘It doesn’t sound much in kilos.’
‘No, but it’s enough. He’s thriving now and he’s got into a nice routine; before I go I’ll get him started on four-hourly feeds and try cutting out the night feed— I think he’ll be ready for it by then.’
‘I do not wish you to go.’ Mevrouw van Eysink sounded put out.
‘Well, I’m not going yet. I’ve only been here a week—in three weeks’ time you’ll be feeling so much better yourself that you won’t mind.’
‘Is that so? Now, tomorrow do you think that we could go for a little drive? Claus shall take us and we could sit in the back with little Paul.’
Hannah considered. ‘Why not—though it would be much nicer for you if you waited until Mijnheer van Eysink was free, then he could drive you and you could sit beside him and we’ll sit in the back.’
‘That would be better. You drive a car, do you not, Hannah?’
‘Yes, but I’d rather borrow a bike, if I may? Or—or—you did say I could ride…’
‘Of course you shall. There is a good little mare you shall have—she knows her way around here, so it wouldn’t matter if you got a little lost.’
They both laughed, and then the shrill demands of little Paul sent them over to the pram.
Hannah didn’t dare ride the following afternoon. First she must spy out the land a little; she borrowed a bicycle from the same obliging maid who had lent her a swimsuit, and pedalled in a wide circle round the villa. There were two villages fairly close by, she discovered, one much larger than the other, with a massiv
e church, two shops, a café and a tiny bandstand in the centre of its small square. The second village was very much smaller, a mere handful of little houses gathered like chicks under a hen, in the shade of the whitewashed church in their centre. She liked it enormously, but it had no shop, no post office even, so she cycled back to the other village, where she bought stamps and chocolate and then went slowly back to the villa, eating as she went.
It was lovely to be out again, wearing a cotton dress, idling along pleasing herself. She sang in a rather small wispy voice as she went, planning other afternoons like it. She would ride on Saturday, but the following week she might go into the city and look at the shops. She had brought a little money with her and there would be presents to buy. Not that she wanted to go home—she was very happy despite her busy life. The van Eysinks were kind and young and delighted with each other and their baby and everyone else besides. It would be nice, thought Hannah, wistfully, if she could meet a rich young man who fell in love with her at once and wouldn’t take no for an answer and then carry her off to a charming house full of cheerful people who seemed to like looking after their employers. There would be a huge garden, of course, and in time, children, and she, of course, would have all the clothes she could ever want, and in some mysterious way she would become beautiful overnight. Like Nerissa. And that reminded her of Uncle Valentijn—and how he came to be part of her daydream, she told herself crossly, she had no idea.
CHAPTER FOUR
SATURDAY CAME and with it the relief nurse, a girl twice Hannah’s size with a round, pleasant face and a placid disposition. Hannah took to her at once and was surprised when Henrika told her in her heavily accented but fluent English, ‘Doctor van Bertes say that you are a nice girl and I believe him; he does not tell the untruth.’ She smiled widely. ‘And you are nice, I think. And now you will tell me exactly what I must do, please.’ And when Hannah had done that: ‘And Mevrouw? Is there much to do for her?’
