Hannah

‘Of course I have to go, my dear—you seem to forget that I have my work like any other man. I’ll see Paul tonight and he’ll make all the necessary arrangements, so you need have no worries on that score.’

His niece murmured and Hannah, judging it to be a good moment in which to enter, had her hand stretched towards the door handle. She dropped it to her side at the visitor’s next words, though.

‘Don’t thank me, liefje, I must admit that I have spent more amusing evenings, and don’t for God’s sake let her loose on the claret; my head aches with her chatter!’

Hannah felt her face glow. She whisked round and went soundlessly back the way she had come, her face very white now. She was in the milk kitchen with her back to the door when she heard the doctor’s leisurely stride pass.

‘Beast!’ said Hannah with feeling. ‘Horrible man! I hope I never see him again, and when I do I’ll cut him dead!’

She marched back again with her tray, her nice eyes flashing with temper, her face still very flushed, so that Mevrouw van Eysink exclaimed: ‘Hannah, you look as though you have been fighting a battle! Your face is most red and animated.’

Hannah allowed her calm professional mask to slide over her outraged feelings. She said cheerfully: ‘The milk kitchen’s like a furnace, it must be the hottest day we’ve had this summer.’

Mevrouw van Eysink watched her while her very small son was changed, soothed and offered his feed. ‘There is much to talk about,’ she observed happily. ‘You wish to wear uniform, Hannah?’

‘Oh, I think so, if you don’t mind—Paul sicks up quite a bit, you know, and besides, it’s most important that he doesn’t pick up small infections. If I wore a dress and got it grubby or something on it, there’s always the chance that it might upset him.’

‘I have seen you only once—last night, in your clothes. It was pretty, the pink dress you were wearing.’

‘Marks and Spencer’s with an expensive belt someone gave me for Christmas.’

‘Uncle Valentijn has been here to say goodbye; he was sorry to have missed you and wished me to express the hope that he will see you again in Holland.’

And very nicely put, thought Hannah, considering it was a fib. She murmured: ‘How kind. Your uncle was so good as to give me dinner yesterday,’ and waited for the next fib.

Sure enough it came: ‘Yes, he told me how much he enjoyed it.’ Mevrouw van Eysink heaved a thankful sigh at having got that over and done with and rattled on: ‘He is anxious to get home. He is engaged just within the last week or so to a girl I do not like very much. Her name is Nerissa and I find that silly, and she is tall and slim and always very beautifully dressed; she does not like babies or animals and I cannot think why Uncle Valentijn wants to marry her, for she will not allow him to keep his dogs, I am sure, and never, never will she have a baby…’

‘Perhaps the doctor doesn’t mind?’

‘Not mind?’ Mevrouw van Eysink’s voice rose several octaves. ‘He is a baby doctor, I told you, Hannah—he loves the little babies, and the children too, even when they are tiresome.’

She eyed her son, leaning over Hannah’s shoulder and bringing up his wind just as he ought. ‘Will little Paul be the right size by the time I have another baby?’ she asked.

‘Oh, lord, yes—he ought to catch up within the next six months. Are you ready to give him a cuddle?’

They made a pretty picture, Hannah thought; baby Paul still looked rather like a doll and his mother, in her silk lace trimmed nightie, was quite one of the prettiest creatures she had ever met. ‘How long am I to come for?’ she asked.

Mevrouw van Eysink touched the baby’s bald head with a loving finger. ‘A month. That’s not too long, Hannah? You will not mind living with us? There will be a lot for you to do, but we will promise that you will have time to yourself. We live near Hilversum, in the country, and if you wish, you can ride in the woods there, and there are shops to visit and it is easy to go to Amsterdam or Utrecht. There is a car you can borrow, and also bicycles.’

‘It sounds lovely,’ observed Hannah. ‘I love the country and I can ride—and you don’t have to worry about me being bored or anything like that, because I never am. Anyway, I’m going to look after Paul.’

‘And I’m so relieved about that, I have wondered so much what I would do if you refused to come. You will live with us, of course, and you will meet some nice people I hope, when they come to dinner with us. We have many friends.’

A new dress, thought Hannah, something for the evening, I wonder if they dress up or should I just take a short dress—two. A long one as well. She decided there and then to get one of each; it would mean spending most of the money she had in the bank, for really there hadn’t been much over each month by the time she had contributed to the household and bought dull things like tights, toothpaste and shampoos.

‘Do you have lots of parties?’ she asked.

Mevrouw van Eysink’s eyes shone. ‘Indeed, yes— I will tell you…’

‘I’d love to hear. I’ll pop Paul back into his cot and it’s time for your exercises; you can tell me while you’re doing them.’

The unexciting tenor of Hannah’s life changed during the next ten days or so. There was a passport to get, an interview with the paediatrician and a number of instructions to make quite sure about, the best of her uniform to sort out and pack, and by no means least, some clothes to buy. Her wardrobe was small but adequate and she augmented it now with a cotton skirt, a pair of slacks and a couple of cotton tops which would go with either; these were quickly enough chosen from the multiple stores. She took longer over the choice of an evening dress. It had to be something she could wear for several years; plain, yet elegant enough to hold its own among high fashion. She found what she wanted in a small shop tucked away in an unfashionable side street; a silk jersey in a pinky mushroom shade, with a wide neck, swathed belt, and a flowing skirt which was full without being bunchy. It didn’t cost as much as she had reckoned on, which left her free to choose between a pastel voile dress and a leaf green cotton, each so entirely suitable that she bought them both.

She spent as much of her off duty as possible with her mother, and was surprised at that lady’s cheerful acceptance of her absence for a month. True, the companion Doctor van Bertes had undertaken to find was everything which could be wished for, and if their cosy chat was anything to go by when she arrived for an interview, Mrs Lang would have nothing to regret. There had been a bad moment though when she had let slip that Mrs Slocombe’s fees were being paid by the van Eysinks. Hannah had protested at that. ‘They’re paying the hospital for me, and I’m getting my usual salary, Mother, we simply can’t expect them to pay for anything else. We can quite well afford it for a few weeks.’

Mrs Lang had dissolved into tears. ‘You know I rely on your money to pay the bills, Hannah.’ She had darted an angry look at her. ‘And I need every farthing of my pension this month, I simply must have some new clothes. I haven’t had a rag to wear for months…’

Hannah forbore from reminding her that only the previous month she had gone to Harrods of all places, and bought two dresses both expensive enough to swallow up all her pension, and it was as well that she didn’t, because her mother went on: ‘I can’t understand you being so selfish, Hannah—you’ve bought clothes for yourself.’

Unanswerable, even though, if she discounted toothpaste and shampoos and such like necessities, she had had nothing new since Christmas. Hannah had given in without another word. Somehow she would save the money and send it to Mevrouw van Eysink after she returned to England. Meanwhile there had been no point in worrying about it. Baby Paul was still the most important person to consider; he was gaining a little each day now, turning the scales at five pounds; weighing him had become a major highlight of the day.

But it wasn’t only Paul Hannah had to attend, his mother, faced at last with the removal of her hip spica, became a bundle of nerves and it needed all Hannah’s patience and resources to get her through the tiresome but painless undertaking. It was a tremendous relief when everything was finished, to find that contrary to Mevrouw van Eysink’s firm conviction, she looked perfectly normal. Provided she did exactly as she was told, Hannah assured her, she would be as good as new in no time at all. Mevrouw van Eysink eyed her tearfully. ‘Dear Hannah, you are very strong; how could I have endured this without you? It is a sad thing that Paul cannot be with me at such a crisis, and Uncle Valentijn also—they have never allowed me to suffer.’

‘Well, the suffering wasn’t all that bad, was it?’ asked Hannah cheerfully. ‘It was only because you didn’t know what was coming next. Anyway, you can forget it all now and think about going home.’

‘Indeed I will, but I must not forget so soon, it must be told to Paul.’

‘And Uncle Valentijn,’ prompted Hannah.

The departure and journey home was something of a royal progress. Mevrouw van Eysink borne away tenderly in a private ambulance from Holland, and her husband driving a powerful Mercedes with Hannah, holding little Paul in her arms and surrounded by every conceivable necessity for the journey, enthroned on the back seat. They were given a splendid send-off by various of the staff headed by Sister Thorne, and a number of friends of Hannah’s hung from ward windows, giving her the thumbs-up sign and waving as though they would never see her again. And the journey went with incredible smoothness; Hannah, who hadn’t been out of the British Isles, was all eyes at the Hovercraft they boarded at Dover. She had never expected such a treat, nor had she been prepared for the excellent lunch provided for her while Mijnheer Eysink, leaving her comfortably settled with little Paul, joined his wife in the ambulance.

And as for the baby, he behaved splendidly. True, he woke from time to time, howling for attention, to be ministered to and soothed back to sleep once more, so that Hannah didn’t have much leisure to look around her until they had left the Hovercraft far behind and had been driving for some time, and by then they were at the Dutch border. They travelled at speed after that, never leaving the motorway until Mijnheer van Eysink said over his shoulder, ‘That’s Utrecht ahead. We go round the city and take the Hilversum road.’ He sent the car past a slow-moving van. ‘Is Paul all right?’

‘He’s fine, fast asleep, just as he should be. If it isn’t very much further, he can have his next feed at home. He’s been so good, bless him.’

‘Thanks to you, Hannah. I hope he won’t be too upset when we arrive.’

‘Why? We can go straight…’

‘Well, no—you see, there’s such a welcome laid on for them both. When Corinna had her accident everyone was so upset; they felt sure that she wouldn’t get better, probably be a cripple, and certainly that the baby would be lost to us. So you see they want to express their delight…’

‘Yes, of course. Mevrouw van Eysink won’t be too tired?’

Her companion laughed. ‘Very unlikely; she’s been lying quietly for hours and must be spoiling for some excitement. All the same, when we get there I want you to stay in the car with Paul until we’ve got her indoors and in a comfortable chair.’

‘A good idea,’ agreed Hannah, and sat silent as he turned off the motorway at last into a side road, running between trees. She could see water from time to time as the trees thinned and gave way to meadow-land and then crowded down to the side of the road again as they went through an open gateway into a sanded drive. The house was round a curve and Hannah examined it eagerly as it came into sight. It was a villa of a very substantial size, its roof a mass of gables, its windows framed with shutters and balconies sprouting on all sides. Mid-Victorian, she judged, built in the days when servants were easy to come by. But it looked comfortable, its paintwork pristine, the windows sparkling in the late afternoon sun, the gardens around it gay with flowers. Not quite her taste, but she was happy enough to like everything. ‘What a lovely home for little Paul!’ she exclaimed, and earned a delighted glance from Mijnheer Eysink as he brought the car to a halt beside the ambulance. ‘We think so, too,’ he told her. ‘It’s not beautiful or historic, but it’s nice inside.’ He got out. ‘Stay here.’

He went across to the ambulance and Hannah watched as the front door was flung open and Mevrouw van Eysink was borne through it. She could hear excited voices from somewhere inside the house as she sat quietly, the sleeping baby on her lap, waiting until someone should come and tell her to join the party inside. There was a good deal of noise, there must be a lot of people there. She hoped Paul wouldn’t wake, but it was almost certain that he would. Perhaps she would be allowed to take him somewhere quiet once everyone had taken a quick look at him. She smiled down at the small face and at the same time became aware that someone was approaching the car.

Uncle Valentijn.

‘I might have known,’ muttered Hannah, aware that annoyance at seeing him again was strangely mixed with a pleasant feeling of excitement.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE HAD TO ADMIT that Uncle Valentijn was a splendid figure. His enormous size would have ensured a second glance in any case, but his good looks and elegance certainly merited a third look besides. And not only that, he had an air of assurance—a man, she decided, who always knew what he was doing and why.

His greeting was pleasantly indifferent, so that her, ‘Good afternoon, Doctor van Bertes,’ was cool. He opened the car door and stood looking down at her for a moment. ‘I’ll have Paul, while you get out,’ he suggested. ‘Don’t bother about that clutter, someone shall come and collect it and take it up to the nursery.’

She did as she was bid without speaking and then took Paul back into her arms. He stirred a little and she said rather anxiously: ‘I don’t suppose he’ll stay sleeping…’

‘Very unlikely, there’s the devil of a noise going on, but you’ll have to bear with it, I’m afraid.’

He led the way into the house, through a square vestibule into a large hall filled with people. It looked like the finale of a Ruritanian operetta, thought Hannah wildly; Mevrouw van Eysink was enthroned upon a large chair with her husband on one side of her and a formidable matron with a vast bosom on the other. That would be Granny, Hannah decided, and allowed her gaze to range over the other persons there. Family, she supposed; expensive hair-do’s and prosperous-looking men smoking cigars, but mingling in with them were what she supposed were family servants; a thin woman in a black dress and print apron, several younger women in overalls, a young boy and an old man holding a trowel and lastly a rather pompous individual in a dark jacket and a bow tie.

Everyone looked round as she went in, but not to look at her or, for that matter, the doctor; all eyes were on the baby. No one had told her what to do; she made her way carefully to where Mevrouw van Eysink sat, and laid little Paul in his mother’s arms, then retreated with discreet speed to the outer edge of the crowd. There was a chair against one wall, and before she sat down in it she took a quick peep at her patient. He and his mother made a delightful picture. Mevrouw van Eysink had chosen to travel in a delicate blue dressing gown, lavishly trimmed with lace. It set off her prettiness exactly and now, with Paul in her arms, she looked like a glossy advert in one of the classy magazines. And she was undoubtedly happy to be home. Hannah sighed without knowing it as she sat down. Almost immediately one of the women in overalls handed her a glass of champagne from her tray. Just what I need, thought Hannah; it had been a long day.

Someone was making a speech and everyone raised their glasses. Hannah raised hers and then put it down again. Uncle Valentijn, standing across the room and being head and shoulders above everyone else, enjoying a splendid view of her, was staring at her intently. Waiting for her to make a fool of herself, she had no doubt; if she chattered too much after a couple of glasses of claret what was she likely to do after champagne? She gave him a haughty look and turned her shoulder.

‘Not drinking the toast, Hannah?’ His voice was soft in her ear.

She turned to look up at him, her face red, her eyes flashing. ‘Surely that’s an unnecessary question from you, Doctor van Bertes? If claret makes me chatter, the risk of what I might do after a glass of champagne is too great to bear thinking about.’

If she had hoped to see him discomfited, she was disappointed, ‘You were eavesdropping.’

‘No, I was not. You have a clear voice and the door was open.’

‘Then I must ask your pardon.’ Only he didn’t sound as though he meant it, and he didn’t suggest that she should drink the champagne. Hannah, aware that little Paul would probably behave like a cartload of monkeys after his angelic day, could have done with it, better still a large pot of tea…

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