by Betty Neels
‘Uncle Valentijn is the nicest man I know—after Paul, of course,’ declared Corinna rather tartly. ‘You’re very lucky to be marrying him, Nerissa.’
Hannah heard Nerissa’s tinkling laugh. ‘Yes, aren’t I? He’s got everything—a heavenly house as well as that nice place in the country, much more money than I could ever spend, and a name in the medical world…’
‘That isn’t what I meant.’ Corinna’s voice sounded cold and angry. ‘I meant that he was a nice person, kind and patient and warmhearted.’
‘Oh, that too,’ said Nerissa carelessly. ‘Let’s walk on, shall we, it looks as though it might rain, and I don’t want to ruin my hair.’
Hannah sat like a small statue. Listeners never heard any good of themselves, she knew that, and it had been demonstrated to her very fully now. Since she was not a devious person herself, it didn’t enter her head that Nerissa had set the scene and deliberately twisted the truth. She went hot and cold with shame imagining Uncle Valentijn telling Nerissa all about it and laughing too, never for one moment entertaining the idea that Nerissa, knowing nothing but the fact that he had taken Hannah out, had cleverly guessed the rest and used it to her own advantage.
Presently Hannah got up. ‘Oh, well,’ she told the sleeping Paul, ‘that’s that, isn’t it? I can’t stop loving him but I must try not to like him any more. And I need not see him…’
She was wrong there. She saw him the very next evening. The van Eysinks had put their heads together and come up with the idea of a surprise farewell party for her. Not a word was said. Henrika arrived and took up her quarters near the nursery and the day was filled with unpacking, discussions about little Paul’s routine, his fads and fancies and how to cope with them, and a brief résumé of day-to-day living at the villa. It was almost seven o’clock, with little Paul fed and tucked up and the two girls tidying the nursery between them, when Mevrouw van Eysink came along to see them. Henrika, who was in the secret, grinned as Hannah was told to put on a pretty dress and go downstairs. ‘Dinner is later this evening,’ explained Mevrouw van Eysink. ‘There is a party first, Hannah—for you, so you must hurry up and change and come downstairs. We will have drinks and nice things to eat. Henrika will stay here with Paul and come down to dinner presently.’ She beamed at them both and caught Hannah’s arm. ‘It is so little a thing—but we wish you to know that we say thank you for all that you have done.’
So Hannah showered and changed into one of her pretty short dresses, then went rather hesitantly downstairs to the drawing room, to find it full of people, most of whom she had met at one time or another during her stay. She was given a drink and passed from one group to another, and all of them had something kind to say to her. Presently Mijnheer van Eysink proposed her health and she stood awkwardly, not knowing where to look while they drank, and when she did glance up it was to see Valentijn standing in the doorway with Nerissa beside him. She looked away at once and was glad when Mevrouw van Eysink’s mother bore down upon her and engaged her in conversation. Her English wasn’t good and Hannah’s Dutch totalled a couple of dozen words, so that she was kept fully occupied, and when she had finally satisfied the good lady that her grandson was in the pink of condition and glanced cautiously round, there was no sign of Valentijn. She heaved a sigh of relief, then gave a gasp of surprise as he spoke from behind her.
‘Good evening, Hannah. I hope you’re enjoying your party, although it’s a sad occasion for the rest of us.’
She turned to look at him, relieved to feel quite calm and detached.
‘It’s a lovely party, thank you, I’m enjoying it very much.’ She added slowly: ‘Of course I’m going to miss little Paul. Henrika’s here, though, and they get on very well together, she’s such a nice person…’ Her voice trailed away into uncomfortable silence while all the things he had said about her shrieked their way round her head. She would have to make some excuse so that he didn’t feel that he had to stand there talking to her, but she was saved the trouble of doing that by Nerissa, who joined them with an airy: ‘Hannah, what a lovely party! Do you not feel honoured?’
Hannah met the mocking blue eyes with her own honest grey ones. ‘Yes, I do. You must excuse me, there is that aunt of Mevrouw van Eysink’s who asked me about little Paul—she’s knitting him something…’ She smiled blindly at them both and slipped away, and somehow managed to keep out of their way until the guests went. But she hadn’t bargained for Nerissa and Valentijn staying for dinner. About half a dozen guests had been invited and Hannah, returning with Henrika just before they all went into the dining room, found that she had been seated on Mijnheer van Eysink’s right hand and her place almost obscured by a lovely bouquet of flowers. ‘For you to take home,’ he told her kindly. ‘They will be put in the cellar to keep cool, so they will remain fresh.’ He tapped his knife handle on the table and everyone fell silent. ‘Hannah, we thank you before our family for all the help you have given us and your devotion to our son. Here is a very small token of that thanks which we hope you will wear and think of us sometimes.’
Hannah opened the box he had given her while everyone clapped. There was a watch inside, a gold one on a gold band, a dainty thing and elegant. She put it on at once and thanked him in a shy voice, then she got up and walked to the other end of the table where Mevrouw van Eysink sat and held out her hand. ‘Thank you too, Mevrouw van Eysink. I’ve loved looking after little Paul and you. You were one of the bravest patients I’ve ever known.’
Mevrouw van Eysink pulled her down and hugged her. ‘Oh, Hannah,’ she cried, ‘I do not know how to thank you, only I wish so much that we may meet again.’
Hannah went back to her place and after that the meal became very festive with the kind of food Hannah was sure she would never eat again and champagne to accompany it. And all the time she managed not to look at Valentijn sitting on the other side of the table, and when quite by accident she caught his eye she looked away again at once, but not before she had seen the look on his face—thoughtful and sad and, funnily enough, calculating.
The next time she looked at him, when they were back in the drawing room, he was talking to Mevrouw van Eysink’s mother, his face a bland mask.
It was a relief when she saw that little Paul’s feed was almost due and she could quite properly excuse herself. She went from group to group saying goodbye, including Valentijn in one of them without actually speaking to him, then she joined Henrika at the door and went upstairs, telling herself how thankful she was that she wouldn’t have to see him again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE NEXT TWO DAYS passed so quickly that Hannah had no time to sit and mope. She was to leave early on the morning of the third day, and with everything packed she was sitting in the nursery writing down one or two last-minute reminders for Henrika who had gone down to the village for stamps, when Valentijn, unannounced, walked in.
Hannah went white at the sight of him and got up so suddenly that her charts and notes fell on to the floor. He picked them up and put them back on the table and then stood, looking quizzically at her. ‘Frightened of me, Hannah?’ he wanted to know.
She found her tongue. ‘No, of course not—you startled me. Paul’s awake if you want to look him over.’ She handed over the charts and notes and stood quietly without moving at all while he read them. When he had finished he said:
‘Very nice—it looks as though he’s out of the wood,’ and then went on: ‘You are one of the few women I know who can keep still, Hannah. So often I am distracted by hair patting, finger nibbling, gentle sighs and coughs and even very soft humming—so distracting!’
‘We had a very strict Sister Tutor,’ she told him woodenly.
‘Yes, what’s the matter, Hannah?’
Her voice came out a little shrill. ‘Nothing. I’m excited. You know, going home and all that.’
He raised thick eyebrows, but all he said, in an impersonal, brisk voice was: ‘Well, supposing we have a look at the little chap.’
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bsp; Which he did, not hurrying himself, his large, well-shaped hands moving gently over the tiny body. At length he straightened up. ‘He’s fine. You’re quite happy about Henrika?’
Hannah was settling Paul in his cot again. ‘Oh, yes, thank you, she’s wonderful. She’ll be here any minute if you wanted to speak to her.’
‘I don’t think it’s necessary. You might try increasing his feed another twenty c.c.s and see how he takes it. Tell Henrika to let me know if he tolerates it—he has a good deal of weight to gain still, hasn’t he?’
Hannah removed her finger from Paul’s fierce clutch. ‘Yes, but you think he’ll be all right?’
‘With care, yes.’ He strolled over to the window and looked down into the garden below. ‘I shall be over in London in a week or ten days, and I should like to take you out to dinner, Hannah.’
She said in a stony voice: ‘No—no, thank you all the same—I shall be busy.’
His mouth twitched. ‘That sounds like an excuse.’
‘Well, it is. I don’t want to see you ever again. What’s more,’ her voice despite her best efforts, rose higher, ‘I’m quite sure you don’t want to see me.’
He had crossed the room in a couple of strides and caught her hands.
‘Hannah, what has happened? Something is wrong—last night too…’
The door was pushed wider and Henrika came bouncing in. Valentijn muttered a harsh word which she didn’t hear and which Hannah didn’t understand anyway, and dropped her hands, to change instantly into a suave doctor visiting a patient, greeting Henrika affably, then chatting for several minutes in their own language until he turned to Hannah with a pleasant:
‘Goodbye, Hannah, and all the best for the future.’
She didn’t answer him because her throat was closed with tears.
St Egbert’s looked grim, dirty and unwelcoming as Hannah’s taxi turned into its forecourt. She had had a good flight back with no delays and now she had the rest of the day before reporting for duty in the morning. She would unpack, she decided, see such of her friends who happened to be off duty and then go and see her mother, something she was reluctant to do, because the last two or three letters from home had sounded faintly dissatisfied; moreover, her mother had hinted at a splendid idea she wanted to discuss with Hannah.
Unpacking didn’t take long. She shared a pot of tea and a tin of biscuits with several close friends while she answered endless questions about her stay in Holland, caught up on the latest hospital gossip and went, reluctantly, to catch a bus for home.
Number thirty-six looked dingier than ever, colourless and lifeless under a summer sky which was rapidly being obscured by wispy clouds. And there wasn’t much sky to be seen, thought Hannah, longing for the wide skies of Holland, and the trees and quiet lanes and, more than all those, the lovely old house where Valentijn lived.
She opened the flat door with her key and went in, calling to her mother as she did so, and was rewarded by a plaintive: ‘So there you are at last, Hannah—I thought your plane got in before lunch.’
Hannah cast her jacket on to the hallstand and went into the sitting room. Her mother was reclining, as she so often did, on the sofa, an open book in her hand. She didn’t get up but said: ‘I hope you’ve had lunch, darling, and tea. Dear Mrs Slocombe made me a delicious omelette and she always leaves me sandwiches for tea—such a blessing she’s been to me!’
She sat up and studied Hannah. ‘You’re beautifully tanned, but you look…’ she paused and gave a little laugh, ‘well—plain. I should have thought that after all that luxury you would have been on top of the world.’
‘I worked, too, Mother,’ said Hannah, and bent to kiss a well made up cheek.
‘Yes, dear, I know, but don’t bore me with the details—after all, it was only one baby, and at St Egbert’s you often get half a dozen, don’t you?’ Mrs Lang tossed her book on one side. ‘It’s been so hot in London—you were fine in the country, and with a swimming pool too—I simply can’t endure another summer here.’
Hannah sat down. ‘You’d like to move, Mother? Why not? I could get a Sister’s post in one of the provincial hospitals and we could find a small place…’
She was interrupted. ‘I don’t mean that at all. I’ve a much better idea; I’m surprised you hadn’t thought of it for yourself. You can leave St Egbert’s and work from an agency. I was talking to Mrs Angell at the bridge club and she tells me that an agency nurse can earn a hundred pounds a week on private cases—and think of all the perks and presents! Of course, we couldn’t move into a better place at once, but I would be able to have a weekend by the sea now and then, and Mrs Slocombe could stay on.’ Mrs Lang darted a glance at Hannah. ‘In fact, I’ve already asked her to.’
‘Mother!’ Hannah was aghast. ‘We can’t afford to pay her—it’s forty pounds a week, isn’t it?’ She made a swift mental review of her money. ‘I simply haven’t got the money to pay her, and even if you used your pension…’
‘Of course I can’t do that, heaven knows I pinch and scrape as it is.’ Mrs Lang allowed a tear to trickle down her cheek. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do. If your father was alive he’d never forgive you for being so uncaring. When he was alive he saw to it that I had the little pleasures of life, and daughters are supposed to look after their mothers—it isn’t as if you’ll marry…’
Hannah was silent for a few moments, choking back temper and impatience and a whole pile of unfilial feelings. She wanted to shout at her mother that there was no reason why she shouldn’t get herself a part-time job and contribute towards the household; move to a country town and do bed and breakfast while Hannah worked at the local hospital, cut down on her spending or just stop moaning about her lot. But she was her mother, she told herself, and she must look after her, and since Mrs Lang enjoyed excellent health then she would have to make up her mind to do just that. It was quite true that she would in all probability never marry—indeed, she would love Valentijn for the rest of her life, and she had never been a girl to put up with second best. And it didn’t really matter what she did now, did it? A change might help her to forget.
She said quietly, ‘Don’t cry, Mother. I’ll go and see the Principal Nursing Officer in the morning and resign. I’ll have to work about a month still, that will give me time to go round the agencies and choose one.’
‘And we can keep Mrs Slocombe?’
‘Yes, Mother.’ She had been saving for a new winter coat and new boots, she supposed she could manage for another year with her old ones and use the money to pay Mrs Slocombe. She had spent very little money in Holland and she had a pay cheque waiting for her at the office. She got up and put on her jacket. ‘Mother, would you help towards Mrs Slocombe’s money? Even a few pounds…’
Mrs Lang’s tears, which had disappeared immediately she had got her own way, reappeared as if by magic. ‘How can I possibly spare a penny? I haven’t a thing to wear and everyone else at the bridge club has something new at least each month—heaven knows I’m not extravagant.’
It wasn’t worth it, Hannah thought despondently. She had no fight left in her, because she really didn’t much care about the future anyway. She would miss the babies dreadfully, but perhaps later on she would be able to go back into hospital. ‘I must go, Mother. I’m on duty in the morning. I don’t know when I shall be off, but I’ll give you a ring, probably in the evening.’
Her mother was smiling again. ‘Yes, dear. I’m glad you had such a lovely time in Holland—you modern girls don’t realise what wonderful opportunities you get. Did they give you anything?’
Hannah kissed a cheek once more. ‘Yes-a watch.’
‘You’ve got one already.’ Mrs Lang looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps you could sell it—the money…’
‘No, Mother.’
It was something she would keep for the rest of her life, Hannah told herself on the bus going back to the hospital, just to remind her of all the people she had met in Holland. She really meant Valentijn
, but she had promised herself that she would forget him. It was going to be difficult; he seemed to be permanently lodged in the back of her head, ready to pop out in an unguarded moment. Sorrow fades and becomes manageable; she knew that after the death of her father, it was just a question of getting through the days until that happened.
Of course the Principal Nursing Officer didn’t see eye to eye with Hannah about leaving. ‘You have been short-listed for a Sister’s post, Staff Nurse,’ she pointed out, and it wasn’t until Hannah explained carefully, something she hadn’t wanted to do, that she conceded to her request.
‘I consider it a great waste of a good nurse,’ she declared forthrightly. ‘Half the time you’ll be wasting your talents on patients who could quite well go to their doctor and get pills for their aches and pains. You may occasionally come across a worthwhile case, of course.’ She smiled at Hannah. ‘I shall be sorry to see you go, Staff Nurse, but I can see you feel it’s your duty to leave.’ She cast her eye on the calendar on her desk. ‘You have five days’ holiday due to you, so if you add your two free days for the last week to those, you may leave in three weeks’ time.’
So that was that. Hannah broke the news to her friends that evening over their usual pot of tea and after a while gave up trying to explain just way she had to leave.
‘You’ll hate it! They’ll be rich miserable people who treat you like a slave.’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Hannah unhappily. ‘But you see, it’s the money.’ She got to her feet. ‘I promised to telephone Mother, too.’
‘There’s something else,’ declared Pat Rogers, her closest friend, to the room at large. ‘She’s—well, more unhappy than she should be, and it’s as if she can’t be bothered…’
‘Did she say anything about her job in Holland? I mean, did she meet anyone?’
‘I expect she met heaps of people,’ declared Louise. She brightened suddenly: ‘I say, I wonder if she saw that gorgeous man—what was his name? Uncle Valentijn? I know she didn’t like him, but he really was something…’ She was about to enlarge upon his attractions when Hannah came back.
