Hannah

by Betty Neels

  Hannah smiled round as she sat down on the bed once more. ‘Well, Mother’s pleased,’ she said.

  Three weeks could go very fast when one didn’t want them to. Hannah, busier than ever with the prem. babies, wished every day could be twice as long and when she was off duty went unwillingly from one agency to the next so that she might pick the best one. She had had letters from the van Eysinks and she had written back, bright cheerful letters which didn’t mention her change of job. Presently they would stop writing—a card at Christmas, perhaps, for a year or two and then nothing, so there was no need for them to know. And she went home, to listen to her mother’s exultant chatter about the things she was going to do with the extra money. Over and above all these, she thought about Valentijn.

  It had been no good trying to forget him, not yet at any rate. In bed at night she allowed herself the luxury of remembering each occasion when they had been together. They didn’t amount to much, but she relived them constantly, hoping each time she had a letter from Mevrouw van Eysink or Henrika that there would be mention of Uncle Valentijn, but there never was.

  He had been coming to England, he had told her, and although she had told him that she never wanted to see him again, she had hoped that he might come to St Egbert’s, but he really had no reason to do so, and if Nerissa was with him, as she surely must be, then he wouldn’t have the time.

  The last day came, and Hannah packed and said goodbye and gave a little party in her room with a bottle of Marks and Spencer sherry and potato crisps and pots and pots of strong tea, and her friends gave her a gift token. Leaving wasn’t as bad as she had expected. She had minded far more when she had left the villa; for one thing, she still missed little Paul; none of the babies she had been looking after came anywhere near him, perhaps because they had never been in such danger of their lives as he had been.

  She had a job to go to, too, an old lady with pneumonia—she lived in Mayfair and, in return for a ten-hour day, was prepared to pay Hannah a fabulous salary, pay her fares, her laundry and give her meals. The agency lady seemed to think that the job might last two weeks at least and Hannah concluded that the old lady must be very ill; even with antibiotics the elderly sometimes found difficulty in making a rapid recovery. Hannah went home, unpacked, got supper for herself and a jubilant parent, and went to bed, to lie there, imagining Valentijn dancing into the small hours with his glamorous Nerissa.

  He was, in fact, sitting in his room at Claridges, thinking about her. He had already discovered that she had left St Egbert’s and he had counted on seeing her that evening before he left London for Birmingham, where he was to lecture, and he was annoyed that his plan had come to nothing. It would have to be tomorrow morning. Hannah would surely be at home then, and he could catch a later train. He had messages from the van Eysinks and Henrika, and a report on little Paul. They could all be dealt with in few minutes, what he really wanted to find out was why Hannah never wanted to see him again. He wasn’t a conceited man, but he had thought her initial dislike of him had left her, that she was even beginning to like him as a friend. She grew on one, he reflected, and strangely, she had fitted into his house, like a hand fitting a glove.

  The telephone rang and he lifted the receiver and listened to Nerissa’s fluting voice asking how he was. He answered briefly, still thinking about Hannah, and on the plea of tiredness, rang off.

  Nerissa, at the other end of the line, nibbled at a beautifully manicured finger and frowned. To the best of her knowledge, Valentijn had never been tired in his life.

  Hannah saw him the next morning as she was getting off the bus in Brook Street. He had just hailed a taxi and saw her at the same time. She didn’t stop to think but dived into Carlos Place and so into the network of narrow streets where her patient lived. She was breathing rather hard as she plied the knocker of the elegant Georgian house, peering over her shoulder, fearful that Valentijn had followed her. As the door was opened she felt disappointment that he hadn’t and overwhelming relief at the same time.

  The old lady wasn’t really ill at all. From the notes left ready for Hannah to read, she had had a small spot of pneumonia on one lung and that had responded to antibiotics. Now she lay in bed, in a pure silk nightie trimmed with real lace, making up her face. She wasn’t all that old either. Hannah, who hated shams, was sorely tempted to walk straight out of the house again, but she needed the money very badly. There was Mrs Slocombe to pay and the telephone bill, and she had had to buy uniform dresses and caps…

  She spent an hour carrying things to and fro from the bed to the dressing table and back again, and was thankful when the doctor came.

  He was nice, very bland too, with a lovely bedside manner, and when she heard his name Hannah knew about him. He gave his services free at at least two children’s hospitals and if he thought a patient couldn’t afford his fees waived them in the nicest possible way. She warmed to him at once and became very professional while he examined his patient because she sensed that it was expected of her by them. The examination took some time, being interrupted as it was by the lady’s complaints about this and that, dealt with smoothly by the doctor and Hannah’s willing co-operation. Finally he said: ‘Well, dear lady, I think you might sit out for a little while. Nurse Lang will know just what to do to make you comfortable and if there are any ill effects she will report to me at once.’

  ‘How much longer will I have to suffer this dreadful illness?’ demanded his patient.

  Hannah wondered how he kept a straight face—and yet in a way, the poor woman was ill—ill from having too much of everything and not having to do anything for herself.

  ‘Another ten days, I would imagine, and then I suggest that you take a few days’ holiday somewhere quiet—a good hotel perhaps by the sea.’

  In the morning room downstairs, taking his instructions, Hannah asked: ‘Does Mrs de Courcy really need me here for ten days, sir?’

  His eyes twinkled. ‘A change from hospital, isn’t it, Nurse? I think we can say that length of time. They’re not all like this, you know, sometimes one gets a patient who needs nursing. Good day to you.’

  Her next case was a charming old gentleman in a Bloomsbury flat who died within four days and her third case was in Mayfair again, a youngish woman, who had had a gastric ulcer and refused to keep to her diet. It was unnecessary for her to have a nurse, but she insisted upon it, declaring that she would die unless she had constant attention, and she had so far driven a succession of young woman almost out of their minds so that their comings and goings had become a kind of routine with the agency staff. Hannah received the suggestion that she might like to try her hand with a passive acceptance with which she accepted everything just lately.

  ‘Let me know when you can’t stand it any longer,’ the agency lady told her, ‘and I’ll replace you.’

  So Hannah presented herself at the narrow Regency house in a smart little street in Mayfair and had been admitted by a toffee-nosed manservant who obviously didn’t think much of nurses, and led upstairs to her patient, a still pretty woman with a bad-tempered mouth, who greeted her with: ‘Oh, you’re the new nurse, are you? Well, I hope you understand my case. Doctor Sims will be here shortly. I’ll have my bath now and you can help me.’

  The day was interminable. It seemed that six o’clock would never come, and when it did Hannah was tired and fed up. Maybe she did earn a good deal of money, but it was no life for her and no job satisfaction. I’ll give it a month, she promised herself, strap-hanging on the homegoing bus, and then unless I get a really good case, I’ll go back to hospital. Mrs Slocombe will have to go and we’ll manage somehow. She couldn’t think how at the moment, but anything was better than her present existence.

  She tried to explain this to her mother that evening, but it was no use. Mrs Lang merely declared that the next case would be sure to be interesting, and think of the lovely presents Hannah would get. ‘You had that perfume from your first case, and the old man’s family gave you a gif
t token…’

  Hannah gave up.

  She went to work the next morning feeling jaded. Instead of going to sleep she had lain awake thinking about Valentijn. Why had he been in London, and so early in the morning? She had known that he would be coming and at the back of her mind she supposed miserably that she had hoped that he would find her, but he hadn’t even tried; after all, he knew where she lived.

  Her patient was in a tiresome mood. The diet was killing her, she hadn’t slept, she was dying slowly and no one cared. That she had a doting husband, a vague figure in the background Hannah hadn’t seen and wasn’t likely to, and countless friends who telephoned every minute of the day, were facts she forgot. She took out her ill humour on Hannah, who only half heard it anyway.

  They were half way through the morning and having settled her patient comfortably for an hour or so, Hannah had been dispatched to wash the delicate lingerie considered too good for even the best laundry. Hannah was well aware that it wasn’t part of her job, especially in a household as well staffed as this one was, but she said nothing; she needed the money, and as her mother had pointed out to her tearfully, beggars can’t be choosers.

  When the maid came to tell her that she was to go immediately to her patient, Hannah rinsed her hands, dried them and went downstairs to the drawing room, where the lady of the house was reclining in a chaise-longue, trying to remember if she had forgotten to do one of the small chores allotted to her. She couldn’t think of anything; it would be some fresh idea her patient had thought up for her own comfort. Hannah sighed and opened the door.

  Valentijn was there, standing completely at ease, looking exactly as a respected and well-known member of his profession should look. There was a girl with him, sitting uneasily on the edge of a chair. She was in nurse’s uniform, and the patient was on the telephone.

  ‘Good morning, Hannah,’ said Valentijn, and gave her a small smile. He looked tired, and behind his bland mask she guessed that he was worried. Nobody else spoke, so she listened to the one-sided conversation being carried on by her patient. Apparently it was with the nursing agency and from the looks she was receiving, it concerned her. The receiver was replaced and her patient turned to Valentijn, her usually cross face wreathed in smiles. ‘You really are a most inconvenient man,’ she chided him laughingly, ‘but the agency assures me that your need is much greater than mine, so I shall do you a great favour and let Nurse Lang go.’ She glanced across the room at the other girl. ‘Nurse—Smith, is it?—seems a nice enough girl.’

  Valentijn was at his most urbane. ‘I am eternally grateful to you, Mrs Soames, and I quite realise that you need a nurse to look after you, that is why I took it upon myself to call at the agency and arrange for Miss Lang to be replaced without a moment’s delay. I can see that you are a kind and considerate person and can fully understand that only she can help my niece. Miss Lang looked after the baby from birth and understands him as no one else does, other than his mother, and she is too ill to be of any use.’

  Hannah found her tongue. ‘Is little Paul ill?’ she asked.

  Just for a moment his bland mask slipped. ‘Yes. I have come to take you to Utrecht to look after him, Hannah.’

  She nodded. It wasn’t the time to ask questions. She bade her patient goodbye, whisked the nurse away with her to give her a brief résumé of her tasks, and presented herself once more in the drawing room, where she watched Valentijn take a beautifully mannered goodbye of Mrs Soames. He didn’t say anything as they left the house, but she was ushered into a waiting taxi and as it set off: ‘Could you pack a few things in ten minutes or so, Hannah? I’ll explain to your mother. There isn’t much time.’

  She looked ahead of her. ‘How ill is little Paul?’

  ‘Gastro-enteritis—about as bad as he can be.’

  Hannah forgot her own problems then and put a hand on his arm. ‘Oh, Valentijn, I’m sorry—the poor darling! Is he in hospital? And what’s happened to Henrika?’

  ‘Both she and Corinna are ill with gastric ‘flu.’ He turned his head and looked down at her sympathetic face. ‘Hannah, you don’t mind? Corinna has worked herself into a fine state and insisted on you looking after little Paul.’

  ‘No, of course I don’t mind. She knows I’d do anything to help her.’

  Hannah stifled regret that it had been Corinna who had wanted her, not Valentijn, and then chided herself for thinking of herself when it was little Paul who mattered.

  ‘Are we going by boat or from Heathrow?’ she asked.

  ‘Neither. I flew my own plane over.’

  Which somehow made him seem further away than ever.

  Valentijn had a way with him when he chose. She could hear him talking to her mother while she flung what she might need for a couple of weeks into a case, and it said much for his charm that her parent, instead of dissolving into tears, was smiling quite happily.

  ‘So I’m to be left alone once again,’ she told Hannah, quite untruthfully, ‘but Valentijn has so many good reasons for taking you back with him, I could hardly grumble, could I?’ She proffered her cheek for Hannah’s kiss. ‘Let me know how you get on,’ she murmured, ‘and the dear little baby—such a shame!’

  They were in a taxi, heading for Heathrow, before Valentijn spoke. ‘You ran away, Hannah, I had intended calling at your home, but you looked…’ he paused…’ frightened. I went back to Holland without attempting to see you.’

  She said quickly: ‘I was surprised, and anyway, I couldn’t stop. I was on my way to my first case.’

  ‘Why did you leave St Egbert’s?’

  ‘Oh, I—I wanted a change. Will you tell me about little Paul?’

  ‘He became ill suddenly two days ago and on the following day Corinna became feverish with all the symptoms of gastric ‘flu, and within hours Henrika had the same symptoms. I had little Paul moved to hospital and flew over this morning to get you.’ He added impatiently: ‘And the devil of time it took me!’

  ‘Supposing I’d refused? After all, I had my patient.’

  He gave a crack of laughter and said coolly: ‘I knew you wouldn’t refuse, Hannah, and don’t try to tell me either that the woman was ill or that you are private nursing because you want to.’

  ‘I have no intention of telling you anything,’ said Hannah sweetly, ‘but it’s hardly the time to argue, is it? Would you tell me about little Paul so that no time is wasted when we get there.’

  He stared at her for a long moment. ‘If I weren’t tired and half out of my mind with worry I would wring your neck, Hannah—what is more, I would have the greatest satisfaction in doing so!’

  She didn’t reply, but it was nice to know that Valentijn was back in form once more. The bleak look he had given her when she had asked if little Paul was ill had cut her to her loving heart; at least he was in command of himself again. He could be as unpleasant as he wished if it made him feel better and took his mind off his little godson.

  They were approaching Heathrow and he said abruptly: ‘I’ll tell you everything I know in the plane.’

  The taxi took them away from the main entrance and the departure buildings. Hannah, very vague as to exactly where they were, was bustled through a small building, offered her passport, had her case examined and was bustled out again. There was a small sports plane standing some distance off and Valentijn strode towards it, carrying her case, while she trotted to keep up. ‘Why are you parked here?’ she asked breathlessly.

  ‘Special arrangement—in extreme urgency things can be arranged. Besides, I know someone.’

  ‘Trust you!’ muttered Hannah, and ‘I heard that,’ observed her companion.

  She was bundled without ceremony aboard the aircraft and sat wordless while he strapped her in and started the engine. It was a four-seater and comfortable, and although she wasn’t keen on flying, since Valentijn was the pilot, she had no qualms at all.

  When they were airborne, he relaxed and said: ‘Now listen carefully, Hannah,’ and proceeded to tell he
r in great detail about little Paul.

  ‘He’s isolated, of course, and you will be too, Hannah—I’ve arranged that at the hospital. He’s on boiled water, but he’s not tolerating that very well. I set up a drip about two o’clock this morning— Hartmann’s solution, and I’m giving him neomycin since it’s a coliform organism. The onset was rapid, but there’s a chance we got on to it in time. It depends largely on the nursing now.’

  ‘I’ll do my best, you know that. Are there any other cases?’

  ‘No, thank God.’

  Hannah watched the English coast disappear in the distance. Less than two hours ago she was washing Mrs Soames’ smalls…life was full of surprises, and what was it someone said about an ill wind? Although it wasn’t kind to think of poor little Paul’s illness as of benefit to herself.

  After a bit she asked: ‘When did you last have a sleep?’ She added: ‘And a meal?’

  ‘Oh, I had an hour before I left this morning and I had some coffee; I’m not hungry and I assure you that I can go quite a time without a night in bed providing I can get a nap now and then.’

  ‘You’ll be fit for nothing if you go on like that,’ said Hannah severely. ‘I quite see that you haven’t had much chance of eating or sleeping, but you really must have a meal and a good sleep when we get to the hospital.’

  ‘I never realised what a bossy girl you are, Hannah.’

  ‘Why should you? Our acquaintance is of the slightest outside our work. And I’m not bossy: I’m thinking about little Paul—suppose he gets worse and you’re too cross-eyed with sleep to do much about it?’

  ‘Do you always take the consultants you work for to task in this positive fashion, Hannah?’ drawled Valentijn.

  ‘No—I’ve never done it before. I—I forgot you’re a consultant.’

  ‘Oh, good,’ said Valentijn.

  He brought the plane down on an airfield to the east of Bilthoven, only a few miles from Utrecht, and his car was there. They were in it and away after only a few minutes. Valentijn wasn’t only a rich man, reflected Hannah, sitting very upright beside him, he had influence in all the right places too. Life if you were born into the right circles could be totally free of complications.