by Betty Neels
They drove very fast along the short stretch of motorway and only slowed as they entered the city, where they were held up by the heavy traffic, but Valentijn had his iron self-control back again; he showed no sign of impatience, and watching him, Hannah might be forgiven for thinking he was on his leisurely way to some pleasant outing with time in hand.
He made up for it when they reached the hospital. She was shot inside and into a lift and found herself in the children’s unit and Sister’s office before she could think anything coherent.
Sister smiled and nodded and then addressed herself to Valentijn in Dutch—a report on Paul, Hannah guessed, and waited quietly.
‘He’s no better,’ she was told tersely. ‘Will you take over at once?’
‘Of course. I’ll need a uniform, though.’
Valentijn spoke to Sister, who nodded and said in quite good English for Hannah’s benefit: ‘But first you will both have coffee.’
It seemed a waste of time, but it wasn’t really—they were both tired and a little travel-weary. Hannah stole a look at Valentijn and marvelled at the self-control which could keep him on his feet for so long, and although his face was strained and pale, he looked very much as usual. He turned and smiled at her and she smiled back, her eyes soft and smiling too.
She felt better for the coffee. Ten minutes later she was in borrowed uniform putting on a gown and a cap and mask, ready to go to her patient.
Little Paul had a room at the end of a narrow corridor and her own room was next to it. She was to sleep there, too, and when she went off duty, Sister had told her, she was to use a door at the end of the passage which would take her directly into the main hospital and avoid the rest of the unit. She would have her meals with everyone else, of course, but at all times she must observe the strictest precautions. It was bad enough having the infant Paul at death’s door with gastro-enteritis, but for it to spread to the rest of the hospital would be a nightmare disaster.
She had been told to go in when she was ready and she opened the door to find Valentijn, Sister and the nurse she was to relieve standing round the cot in the almost bare little room. She hardly recognised little Paul, his small pinched face with its sunken eyes was as white as his pillow. He was asleep, but his breathing was rapid and harsh. Hannah stared down at him and then looked sharply at Uncle Valentijn.
‘Yes, Hannah—broncho-pneumonia, unless I’m very much mistaken.’ He took off his jacket and got into a gown, no longer looking tired. ‘Antibiotics, of course, stat, and then I’ll examine him.’ After a moment he said softly: ‘I’m glad you’re here, Hannah.’
‘Oh, so am I,’ said Hannah. She was going to get little Paul well again—oh, she hadn’t the skill and experience of a paediatrician, she knew that, but she had the patience to coax fluids into the tiny mouth, drop by drop, to clean the infant after the continuous vomiting and not to lose heart when he appeared to be making no progress at all. He had fought to live when he was born, and again when he had his op, and now he was going to fight again and she would help him, mopping him up, feeding him when he was able, and mopping him up again. She looked across the cot to his godfather and smiled behind her mask. For the moment she had forgotten that there was anyone else there. ‘Don’t worry, Valentijn, we’ll get him better. He’s got well before, he will this time too.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE INFANT PAUL made heavy weather of it. Hannah, during the first twenty-four hours, almost lost hope, but then she battled on again, spurred on by the round sunken blue eyes which peeped up at her so listlessly. When Valentijn came for the third or fourth time that day, she had Paul in her arms, drip and all. ‘He’s fighting very hard,’ she told him. ‘Do tell Mevrouw van Eysink that, won’t you?’
‘Of course. Hannah, have you had a meal?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ She’d had sandwiches in her room because she wasn’t going to leave little Paul just yet. ‘Did you?’
He smiled behind his mask and she saw his eyes crinkle at the corners. ‘Yes, I did as you ordered me to, and had a nap.’ He bent over the infant. ‘What do you think, Hannah?’
‘He’s going to get better.’
‘Bless you, Hannah!’ He had gone again.
She had made her own arrangements with Sister and not told Valentijn. She stayed with Paul until almost midnight, when she was relieved. She ate hastily, had a shower and undressed, then went to bed and slept at once until she was roused as she had requested, at four o’clock. When Valentijn appeared in old slacks and a sweater at six o’clock she was sitting, as neat as a new pin, with Paul on her lap.
‘He’s better, I think,’ she told him. ‘He’s kept down ten c.c.s of boiled water for more than half an hour.’
He bent over the baby, listening to the tiny chest and then checking the charts. ‘His chest’s no worse. Go on with the ten c.c.s for the next two hours—I’ll be back then and if all’s well, we’ll increase it.’ He took off his gown again. ‘You were relieved, Hannah?’
‘Yes, thank you—I slept marvellously and they brought me some coffee. Everyone’s being super. How are Mevrouw van Eysink and Henrika?’
‘Henrika’s through the worst, I think, but Corinna isn’t trying at the moment.’
‘Oh, the poor thing—you will tell her that Paul’s kept something down, won’t you?’
‘Yes. His father’s coming in this morning. I must go, I’ve a clinic at eight o’clock and I must change. I’ll be in later, if there’s anything urgent Sister knows where to get me—and don’t hesitate to send for me.’
The day wore on and Valentijn came and went and found Hannah waiting for him each time, still as neat as a new pin, although there were dark circles under her eyes now. But little Paul had kept down all the tiny amounts of boiled water she had given him and although he didn’t look much better, he didn’t look any worse and she was sure that his chest was clearer, something confirmed during Valentijn’s early evening visit.
Paul van Eysink had been too, in the morning and again that afternoon, his nice face as white as his little son’s, pathetically eager to hear any scrap of good news that there might be. ‘Corinna’s feeling better,’ he told Hannah. ‘She’s so relieved that you’re here, Hannah—she wants to see him, but of course, she’s not well enough yet.’
‘No,’ said Hannah gently, ‘and by the time she is, we’ll have little Paul looking quite his old self again.’
‘That’s what Valentijn said.’ And Paul had gone away full of hope.
It was a little after six o’clock and Hannah had just given the baby his allotted drops of water when Valentijn came in. There was a nurse with him, gowned and masked, as well as Sister. He took Hannah’s report, examined the infant closely and said something to the Sister, before turning to Hannah.
‘He’s holding his own nicely. You’re going off duty for an hour—and don’t argue, Hannah, we want you fighting fit, and you need a change, however brief.’ He pulled down his mask and smiled at her. ‘Go and change and be at the entrance in fifteen minutes. I’ll tell Zuster de Witteveen exactly what she has to do.’
Hannah went reluctantly, for she didn’t care to argue when Valentijn used that tone of voice. And why the front entrance in fifteen minutes, and what was she supposed to do when she got there? An hour, he had said; there was a small park quite close by and there was bound to be a snack bar. She could have a brisk walk and then eat something and be back on duty until the night nurse came to relieve her at ten o’clock. Tonight little Paul was better, she would be able to sleep for a few hours, safe in the knowledge that if anything went wrong she could be at the cotside in seconds.
She showered, changed and was down at the entrance in just over ten minutes to find Valentijn lounging at the top of the steps, talking to two housemen. He put out a casual hand as she went past and brought her to a gentle halt. ‘Hullo, you’ve been quick. Meet two of my housemen—Dirk Wouters and Karel Wintermann.’
He barely gave her time to shake hands before w
alking her down the steps and into the Bristol.
‘Look,’ said Hannah, so happy she could have burst but determined to be sensible about it, ‘I’m going for a walk in the park and then eat…’
‘Oh, dear—did I forget to tell you? You’re coming home with me. My housekeeper has a meal waiting and she’ll be very hurt if we don’t turn up—besides, there’s someone I want you to meet.’
‘Who?’
‘Wait and see.’ He was weaving the car in and out of the traffic and then left the busy streets behind to turn into the narrow streets Hannah remembered from the last time, and finally drew up before his home.
As they entered Wilrik came to meet them, according his master a slight bowing of the head and a welcoming smile for Hannah, before opening the double doors of the drawing room for them. Valentijn said something to him as they passed him and then propelled Hannah gently before him into the room. There was someone there, sitting in a chair with a padded back, a small old lady with white hair beautifully dressed and a pair of startlingly blue eyes. She was wearing a black crêpe dress with an old-fashioned high collar and her still beautiful hands were loaded with rings.
‘My aunt,’ said Valentijn. ‘She wanted to meet you.’
Hannah advanced to the chair and offered a hand. The old lady, despite her smallness, looked someone to be reckoned with and Hannah’s smile was a little uncertain.
‘How d’you do?’ observed the old lady. ‘So you’re Hannah. I’ve heard about you, of course—you aren’t a beauty, but that’s not important. Nice figure—nice eyes. I don’t hold with these flat women and I’ve told Valentijn so. I understand you’ve not much time. Pity, but we’ll make the most of what time there is.’ She looked across at her nephew, who was standing before the great fireplace, smiling faintly. ‘I’ll have a glass of sherry and so will Hannah.’ She added: ‘You’ve not said a word.’
‘Dear Aunt, I lacked the opportunity.’ He grinned at her. ‘Hannah, sit down and stop looking at the clock, I promise you I’ll have you back at the hour.’ He got their drinks and came and sat down too, his own drink in his hand, and still with a look of amusement, listened while the old lady questioned Hannah briskly. It was amazing the number of questions which she managed to ask within the next minute or two. Hannah answered them all readily but briefly. Old ladies were notoriously curious about other people, and she rather liked this one. She supplied her age, gave details of her home and childhood, skated delicately over her mother’s idle way of living since her father’s death, pronounced herself quite satisfied with her work and agreed that the van Eysinks were a delightful couple and little Paul a remarkable infant. When the old lady snapped: ‘And Valentijn what do you think of him?’ Hannah refused to be hustled into the wrong answer. She said composedly: ‘If anyone can get little Paul better, it will be his godfather.’
She heard Valentijn make a sound which could have been a chuckle, but she didn’t look to see. It was her interrogator who observed: ‘Discreet, as well.’
She nodded her elderly head and handed Valentijn her glass. ‘Well, I’m ready when you are, my dears.’
They dined in a small room Hannah hadn’t seen before, at a round table beautifully set with silver and crystal, and the delicious food was served with no delay at all, so that there was still ten minutes left by the time coffee was brought in.
Valentijn saw Hannah’s eyes stray to the grandfather clock against one panelled wall and said soothingly: ‘Don’t get worked up, Hannah—three minutes to drink your coffee, five minutes to get you back, and two minutes to get to the unit from the car.’
And he was right; there were exactly two minutes left as she got out of the Bristol and when she began a rather hurried thank-you speech, he stopped her. ‘I’m coming too,’ he remarked, and whisked her into a lift without another word.
The unit was all quietness, broken only by the twitterings and little cries of very small babies. The door at the end of the corridor was shut. Before Valentijn opened it, he bent swiftly and kissed Hannah hard.
She changed in a dream, put on her gown and mask and joined the others by the cot. The nurse nodded at her and Valentijn, gowned and masked now, glanced at her briefly, nothing in his calm impersonal manner betraying the fact that he had been kissing her only minutes earlier.
‘We will keep the drip up for another twenty-four hours,’ he told her, ‘and increase the fluids, starting with the next feed. I’ll be in early tomorrow morning, if he’s tolerating that we’ll get him started on diluted milk.’
His look was as impersonal as his voice, so was his careless nod as he went.
Hannah was too occupied with the infant’s needs to have time to indulge her thoughts, but she promised herself that she would get them sorted out in the peace and quiet of her room, once she had been relieved by the night nurse and was in bed.
A sensible resolution which stood no chance against her need for sleep. She was out like a light the moment her head touched the pillow.
She was there, gowned and masked, when Valentijn came early in the morning. The night nurse had gone and little Paul, looking decidedly the worse for wear but much more alive, was awake.
‘He’s better,’ pronounced Valentijn. ‘We just have to hang on to him for another forty-eight hours… Let’s try him with the diluted milk.’ He wrote on the chart and laid it on the desk.
‘When are you free today, Hannah?’
‘I don’t know, but I’m perfectly all right as I am, I can make up for it when he’s better.’
‘You will be able to get away for a couple of hours this afternoon, I should think—I’ll see Sister.’
‘Thank you, but if he sicks up after the milk mixture I won’t go.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘You’ll do as I ask, Hannah, but I don’t think he will. I think he’s turned the corner.’ He added cautiously: ‘I’m not committing myself, mind.’
‘Why are doctors so—so careful?’ she flung at him crossly. ‘Of course he’s going to get better!’
‘Probably because we haven’t got your faith.’
Hannah muttered ‘Oh, pooh!’ as he went out of the door.
He came back again during the morning and when mid-afternoon he came again, he brought the same nurse who had relieved her before. He said with a placid authority she couldn’t ignore: ‘Go off duty now, please, Hannah, and be back in two hours’ time.’
She decided what to do as she changed. The park first because she longed for exercise and fresh air and as far as she could tell from looking out of the window, it was a lovely day; summer was coming to an end, but in the nicest possible way. She got into a pleated skirt and blouse and picked up her blazer. She should have brought more clothes with her, but she hadn’t been given much time to pack, had she? She did her hair and face in a rather perfunctory fashion and made her way to the entrance. She was crossing the narrow forecourt when the Bristol purred to a halt beside her.
‘Jump in,’ said Valentijn in his most avuncular voice.
‘I’m going for a walk in the park.’
‘Another day. Corinna wants to see you and I think it would do her a great deal of good if you were to tell her personally that little Paul is muddling through. There’ll be time for a walk, too.’
He smiled at her with such charm that her heart stopped and then hurried its beat so that she had to swallow it back to its place. ‘Very well,’ she said, and added idiotically: ‘Are you free too?’
He leaned over and opened the door wider and when she had settled herself closed it before driving on. ‘I had a teaching round this morning and a small clinic. I see my private patients this evening.’
‘Babies—private patients?’ asked Hannah in a surprised voice.
‘Quite a few—in their own homes, of course. Feeding problems and small malformities which I can correct without having to take them into hospital. Have you heard from your mother, Hannah?’
‘Yes, she’s fine, Mrs Slocombe goes each day.’
&nb
sp; ‘You will return to your private nursing?’ He asked the question idly.
‘Well, yes—I’ll have to…’ She stopped, angry that her tongue had run away with her.
‘To pay for Mrs Slocombe?’ Valentijn made the suggestion so quietly that she went on quite naturally.
‘Yes, she costs an awful lot, you know, and I can earn almost twice as much.’
‘But you prefer hospital.’
‘Oh, lord, yes—I miss it dreadfully.’ She stopped again. She mustn’t whine about it, above all to him. ‘But I’m sure to get an interesting job when I get back—it’s a very good agency.’ She turned her head and smiled at him, but he was staring in front of him, his profile stern, so she went on in a flurry: ‘How is Nerissa—I mean Juffrouw van der Post? I expect you see a great deal of each other, it must be very nice for you—I mean, to have her to talk to when you’re finished at the hospital.’
Valentijn threw her a quick glance and she saw that his eyes were cold and hard; she’d said the wrong thing again, he would tell her any minute to mind her own business.
He didn’t. He said in an expressionless voice: ‘As a matter of fact I haven’t seen her since Paul was taken ill.’
Relieved that she wasn’t to have her head bitten off, Hannah ploughed on. ‘How silly of me—of course you wouldn’t want her to risk getting the ‘flu or picking up a bug.’
‘I don’t seem to have been as thoughtful with you, Hannah.’
‘But I’m a nurse.’
He gave a chuckle. ‘I tend to forget that. Here’s the villa. You’ll find Corinna downstairs in the small sitting room. Go on in—I’ll be along presently.’
So Hannah went inside, to be met and welcomed and taken to Mevrouw van Eysink who was sitting in a chair looking out of the window, doing nothing.
