by Betty Neels
He was bending over the baby again, picking him up and then making for the door, and Hannah, who had quite forgotten that she was wearing only a nightie and couldn’t have cared less in such circumstances, rushed into her room and flung on her uniform. She was ready in slightly less than three minutes, quite neat and tidy in her uniform, even her hair, which had been hanging down her back, roughly plaited and pinned under her cap. She emerged as the doctor returned, this time with Mijnheer van Eysink as well as the baby. Neither of them took any notice of her; she was handed little Paul while the doctor spoke earnestly to his father and she wrapped the still screaming mite in a shawl, picked up a handful of nappies and stuffed them into her pockets, caught up a box of baby wipes and stood waiting.
The doctor switched to English. ‘I’ve been telling them both that it isn’t as bad as it looks,’ he spoke bracingly. ‘I’ve done two today, both completely successful, just as this will be—it’s a common condition, isn’t it, Hannah?’
She took her cue from him. ‘Oh, yes; and it’s quite a small operation and it’s marvellous how quickly the babies perk up afterwards.’ She smiled at her employer. ‘He’s in the best possible hands, too.’
‘Yours as well as mine,’ snapped the doctor. ‘I shall want you to stay at the hospital and nurse him, Hannah. We’ll go if you’re ready.’
She almost told him that she’d been ready for the last couple of minutes, but she quite understood that it was almost as important to reassure the young parents as it was to get little Paul to hospital. She followed him soundlessly through the house and out of the door while members of the household hovered anxiously. Someone else opened the car door and she got in with the still screaming infant; it wasn’t the same car as last time, part of her mind registered the fact that it was a Bristol as the doctor started the engine. ‘I shall drive fast,’ he told her.
The understatement of the year! thought Hannah; she wasn’t nervous and she liked speed and knew that it was vital to little Paul, but she had to admit to herself that she would be glad when they arrived at the hospital.
Which they did in almost no time at all. ‘You’ll follow me,’ said Uncle Valentijn as he got out, opened the door, took the now strangely quiet infant from her and waited while she got out too. She nodded, took the baby back and went with him through the wide doors of the accident room. They were expected, he must have telephoned from the villa. A small group of people closed in round them as the doctor strode through into the hospital itself to where a lift, its doors already open, was waiting.
‘You will come into theatre, Hannah, and be ready to receive Paul when I have operated. He will be placed in a side ward and you are not to leave him. You will be relieved for short periods when I consider it safe to do so.’
‘Yes,’ said Hannah, anxiously watching the small white face. Nothing would make her leave little Paul until he was out of danger—there was always the chance that symptoms might recur during the first twenty-four hours after operating. She was very strong, she had no doubt that she would be able to stay alert and ready to act instantly should that happen.
The theatre block was modern, splendidly equipped and brilliantly lighted. What was more everything was ready for them. Obedient to the doctor’s quiet order, she handed over the baby to a theatre nurse and was led away to get into theatre garb. The doctor and his assistant had already disappeared into the surgeons’ changing room, and by the time she was ushered into the theatre, they were scrubbing up in the scrub room and baby Paul, looking like a very small wax doll, was lying on the table, the anaesthetist carefully checking before he started the anaesthetic.
UncleValentijn performed the operation with monumental calm and great speed. Hannah wondered how he felt about it; it was impossible to see his face, of course, and even if she had been able to, she doubted if he would have shown any emotion. At length he nodded to his assistant, watched while Theatre Sister applied the tiny dressing, stripped off his gloves and spoke.
‘Hannah, take Paul and follow me.’
She had the receiving blanket ready; the still unconscious infant was laid in her arms and she walked carefully out of the theatre, following the doctor’s broad back down a short corridor and into a small room. Everything was ready here, too. She tucked little Paul into his cot and supported his head while his uncle set up a paediatric drip, spoke briefly to his registrar, and then gave her his instructions.
For the remainder of that night and all the next day Hannah hardly moved from Paul’s cot. Thinking about it afterwards she was a little hazy about what she had done and what she hadn’t. Paul had needed constant attention the moment he became conscious again, and that had been soon. The drip had to be calculated to the exact amount to be administered, the fluid chart had to be dead accurate, too, and half way through the morning the continuous suction had to be stopped and two-hourly aspirations started. By the end of the day she had reported that there was nothing more to aspirate, and glucose water was started.
She was conscious of Uncle Valentijn coming in from time to time, and once the drip was down, the infant’s father, looking as pale as his son. And every few hours or so she was relieved for a short time, just long enough to have a drink or a meal but never long enough to sleep. By midday she didn’t want to sleep anyway, although she knew that once she had a chance to close her eyes she would go out like a light for hours. Uncle Valentijn, looking his age for once, had had little to say to her, although Paul van Eysink had taken her hand and shaken it over and over again. He had brought a case of night things for her too and she accepted it gratefully, enquiring after his wife and sending reassuring messages. They were, she felt in her bones, through the wood; baby Paul was beginning to behave like a baby again, another day and he would be able to take tiny feeds of milk and water. Towards evening her false energy began to flag and she had the sense to realise that she would have to tell Uncle Valentijn to replace her before the night started. But she had no need to do that; when he came prowling through the door he had Henrika with him, beaming all over her face, full of vitality and anxiety to please.
The infant was examined, pronounced in good heart, and Hannah was told to give her report to Henrika and take herself off duty until eight o’clock the next morning.
She looked up at the Doctor. He still looked tired, but at least he was as elegant as ever, and as calm. ‘Not too far from this room,’ she said stubbornly.
He smiled a little. ‘You’re a glutton for work, Hannah! The room next door has been got ready for you. Sister suggests that you have a bath and get ready for bed and someone will bring you some supper. In the morning someone will bring you breakfast. I hope you’ll sleep soundly in between.’
So she gave a concise report to Henrika, took a look at little Paul and went to the single-bedded ward next door, where she obeyed him to the letter, mostly because she was too soggy with sleep to think for herself. She had eaten half her supper when she fell asleep.
She was called at seven o’clock the next morning, made an excellent breakfast, and with nicely made up face, neat hair and a fresh uniform, popped back into the infant’s room. He was better; there was no doubt of it. Henrika gave a reassuring report and prepared to go. ‘I come again this evening—I am to come each night until you take Paul home. What suddenness, Hannah!’ She rolled her blue eyes expressively. ‘And what good fortune that you discover in time. You do not mind coming here?’
Hannah looked surprised. Now she came to think about it, there had been no choice; she had just come, she hadn’t thought beyond that at the time.
‘No, I don’t mind.’ she said. ‘I’m awfully glad it’s you, Henrika.’
‘Me also. I was fetched from my home; Doctor van Bertes sent for me. He is a splendid man, but cold.’
Hannah agreed silently, although she only smiled in reply. At least he had saved little Paul’s life; presumably he wasn’t cold where his affections lay. Left alone, she set the room to rights, made sure that everything she might need
was in working order, and settled to the day’s routine. Uncle Valentijn had already been, he wasn’t likely to come again for a few hours at least; she filled in her charts in a neat hand and started to prepare the next small feed. Paul woke up then and she whisked him out of his cot, changed him and then cuddled him for a little while. ‘You’re a big, brave boy,’ she told him softly, ‘and you’re getting better—we can thank Uncle Valentijn for that…’
‘Uncle Valentijn must return those thanks to his hard-worked nurse,’ said the Doctor as he came in. He bent over her to look at the baby. ‘Do you think of me as Uncle Valentijn, Hannah?’
It didn’t matter how red her face was, she was gowned and masked and nothing showed excepting her eyes. ‘Well, as a matter of fact, I do—you see, Mevrouw van Eysink always called you that, I didn’t know your name…’
‘But you do now.’
‘Yes. I can’t call you Doctor van Bertes to little Paul, he wouldn’t know who it was.’
He gave a crack of laughter. ‘You have a sensible answer for everything, Hannah. I’ve got his mother outside; she promised to be quiet and not cry, and I shall leave her with you for half an hour.’
He went back to the door and opened it and Mevrouw van Eysink came in. She walked with a stick, but Hannah saw with satisfaction that she was moving much more easily. Hannah got up carefully. ‘Hullo,’ she said cheerfully. ‘If you like to sit down you can give him a good cuddle—he’s a great one for that.’
Mother and child installed, she turned her back for a few moments, busying herself with the charts. Mevrouw van Eysink must have time to shed a few of the tears her uncle had forbidden. ‘There are a few things for you to write up,’ declared Hannah in a businesslike voice, and marched past the surprised Doctor van Bertes out of the door.
‘Why out here?’ he asked mildly, following her into the corridor.
Hannah gave him an exasperated look. ‘If I were Mevrouw van Eysink and Paul was my baby I would be simply furious if I couldn’t have him to myself for a minute or two.’
‘I stand corrected.’ He spoke lightly, but she was puzzled to see that same look of exasperation on his face again, so she added,
‘I hope you don’t mind, sir.’
‘I don’t mind—I should have thought of that, but I do mind being called “sir” by you, Hannah. Don’t do it again.’
‘Oh, sorry—we call consultants “sir” in England.’
‘So they do here, or the equivalent of it,’ and at her look of bewilderment: ‘No, don’t try and work that one out. By the way, Paul will be here for another three or four days, then he can go home. You’ll be tied to him for twenty-four hours a day, you know that, don’t you? But his mother will be able to have him for an hour or so each day—this has driven the last vestige of invalidism out of her, so give her as much to do as you think right. Henrika will spend each Saturday at the villa and possibly a half day as well.’
He stared down at her and then put out a hand and pulled down her mask.
‘Much too pale,’ he observed. ‘We are all in your debt, Hannah, and I think we shall never thank you enough.’
She stood looking up at him; the corridor was empty and it was very quiet save for the vague subdued sounds of hospital life in the background. When he bent suddenly and kissed her she didn’t move. She was so surprised that she didn’t really believe it; it wasn’t until he said in an interested voice: ‘Now I wonder why I did that?’ that she knew she hadn’t dreamt it. She had nothing to say, only pulled up her mask and went back to Mevrouw van Eysink and Paul.
And her employer was so insistent on knowing every single detail of the last few days, that Hannah pushed the incredible little incident to the back of her head and concentrated upon telling her visitor about all the things she wanted to know. She expurgated it a good deal and didn’t appear to notice the tears trickling down Mevrouw van Eysink’s pink and white cheeks.
‘UncleValentijn told me I wasn’t to cry,’ she said, ‘and I said I wouldn’t, only I hadn’t seen him then, had I?’
‘There’s nothing like a good cry,’ pronounced Hannah in a motherly voice. ‘You’ll feel heaps better now—besides, you’ve cuddled him and talked to him and in a minute you’re going to give him his feed. He only has a drop at present, but it will be more tomorrow.’ She nodded her neat head. ‘He’s getting quite greedy, bless him!’
Mevrouw van Eysink was fetched by her husband presently, looking a great deal happier and prettier than ever. ‘I’m coming each day,’ she declared. ‘You won’t mind, will you, Hannah?’
‘Indeed not, but did Uncle Valentijn agree?’
Husband and wife exchanged a quick glance. ‘Yes, he said I could if you had no objection.’
‘Did he actually say that?’ Hannah looked her surprise. ‘Then come whenever you want to, Mevrouw van Eysink. I’ll be here; Henrika takes over about seven o’clock each evening and goes early in the morning, so there’s all day to choose from.’
Mevrouw van Eysink crossed the room and kissed Hannah. ‘You’re such a nice person,’ a tear crept down one cheek, ‘and when I think what might have happened to little Paul if you hadn’t been with him… Dear, dear Hannah! One day I will say thank you.’
Hannah kissed her back. ‘I’m glad I was there, too. See you tomorrow, then. Paul will love to have you.’
When the pair of them had gone, she sat quiet for a few minutes. Paul was asleep and it was just a little early to get his next feed ready. She went over her conversation with Uncle Valentijn, trying to understand why he should have kissed her so unexpectedly. As far as she knew, he didn’t even like her.
CHAPTER FIVE
LITTLE PAUL made an uneventful recovery, so that for the second time he was brought home to a warm welcome, though rather quieter than the first one. UncleValentijn had been very firm about that. Beyond a brief visit from his formidable granny, and quick peeps from the devoted staff of the villa, he was left undisturbed. There were flowers everywhere, of course, and the telephone ringing constantly, but Hannah, once more installed in the nursery, took little notice of that; she had her hands full with her patient, who, small though he was, was rapidly regaining his strength. But so was his mother. Mevrouw van Eysink had grown up, from the rather spoilt, pretty girl she had been, and was emerging a much stronger character. She still loved clothes and the best of everything, and her husband had only to hear her wish for something to get it for her, but now she had little Paul. Until he had been taken ill, he had seemed like a very much loved doll, and she was still recovering from her shocking accident—now she seemed to have cast all that aside and Hannah, delighted with her new interest in the infant, took time to explain his routine to her. Henrika would be moving in in a few weeks now, but as she pointed out to Mevrouw van Eysink, it was as well to know as much about looking after a baby as possible.
‘I should have learned earlier,’ Mevrouw van Eysink looked quite sad, but only for a moment, ‘but then I was ill, was I not, and not able to look after him, but now I feel so very well…’
‘You’ve learnt a great deal,’ Hannah assured her. ‘You could look after him, you know.’
‘Yes, yes—but, Hannah, you are not to go yet. First our baby must be just as he was before he was ill, and I think that is not yet.’
‘Well, he soon will be—look at him!’ They bent over the cot and little Paul squinted back at them.
Uncle Valentijn telephoned each day, not for the sake of conversation but merely to request a concise report from Hannah, and three days after they had returned he paid a lightning visit, during which his manner towards Hannah was coolly courteous, which left her wondering if she had dreamed the episode at the hospital, and when they had been back for a week he came again, this time with his beautiful Nerissa, faultlessly turned out in a dream of stunning simplicity, her golden hair brushed and burnished and beautifully dressed, her face expertly made up. Hannah found herself wondering if she minded being kissed, for surely that would spoil the del
ightful picture she made. Perhaps Uncle Valentijn didn’t like kissing overmuch. She frowned; if her memory served her right, he’d had a good deal of practice at it. They came into the nursery together, and Hannah, with little Paul in her arms, stood quietly, waiting for someone to say something.
It was Nerissa who spoke. ‘Oh, the darling little man!’ she said winningly. ‘How wonderful that he has recovered so well.’ She smiled bewitchingly at Uncle Valentijn. ‘Due to you, of course, Valentijn.’
‘Due to Hannah,’ he observed.
Nerissa shrugged: she hadn’t spoken to Hannah at all, now she added: ‘Oh, well, one expects nurses to discover these things.’
‘No, one doesn’t—they’re human, like everyone else. It happened in the dead of night, when even the most vigilant nurse might be forgiven for sleeping.’ He strolled across to Hannah and ran a finger down the infant’s cheek. ‘He’s looking splendid. Is he taking his feeds? And gaining weight?’
He took little Paul from her and looked carefully into the sleeping face.
Hannah produced her charts and reports and he read them, sitting in the big chair by the window, the infant still on his knee, and Hannah, remembering her manners, asked Juffrouw van der Post if she would like to sit down.
The lovely blue eyes narrowed. ‘No—we only came for a quick look. Valentijn, are you ready?—Corinna and Paul will be waiting for us.’
‘Go on down, Nerissa—I have to read these first; I’ll follow you in a moment.’
And when she had gone, two angry spots of colour on either cheek, he asked: ‘Have you had your day off yet, Hannah?’
She was surprised. ‘No—Henrika couldn’t come; she’s on holiday, but I don’t mind in the least, I’m not overworked.’ She gave him a very small smile because so often when she smiled at him she received only a cold stare in return. But this time he smiled back at her.
