by Betty Neels
She made her way home with mixed feelings—reluctance to start an argument with her mother, and eagerness to get it over, and as luck would have it, the bus was dead on time and had never gone so fast. She found herself walking down the street, only a few steps from the front door, with not a thought in her head.
As she turned the key in the lock she was surprised to hear her mother’s quite cheerful voice call: ‘Oh, there you are! I was expecting you—come in and tell me all about it.’
Hannah advanced cautiously into the sitting room, to find her mother sitting in her favourite chair with, of all things, a tray with glasses and a bottle of sherry upon it.
‘Whatever…?’ began Hannah, quite at a loss.
Her mother smiled archly. ‘I’ve had a charming visitor. Such a delightful man—Doctor van Bertes—an important figure in the medical world, I imagine. Your patient’s uncle, and so anxious about the little baby. It seems you are the only nurse he cares to trust him with and he came to beg me to manage without you for a few weeks.’ She smiled to herself. ‘He quite understood that I needed someone to care for me and he fully appreciated the sacrifice I would be making, and he begged me—oh, so charmingly!—to allow him to substitute your occasional help with a very good woman of his acquaintance who would come each morning and see to the household, do the shopping and cook me a little meal. Of course, how could I refuse such a generous offer?’ She added peevishly: ‘I don’t know why you couldn’t have told me about it sooner, Hannah.’
‘I didn’t know, Mother. That’s why I came home this evening—to tell you.’ Hannah took a deep breath and tried not to sound eager. ‘You agreed to Doctor van Bertes’ suggestion?’
‘That’s what I’ve just said if you’d been listening.’ Her mother’s voice was sharp. ‘Now you’re here, I could fancy an omelette—but have a glass of this excellent sherry first. Doctor van Bertes sent me half a dozen bottles with his compliments and thanks.’
Hannah needed a drink. She sipped with appreciation while she brooded on Uncle Valentijn; a man of resource and a bit high-handed too—supposing, just supposing she hadn’t wanted to go? She had said that she did, though, and Mevrouw van Eysink must have voiced her doubts to him. Probably he considered that she was incapable of arranging her own affairs. Which, she considered fairly, was perfectly true.
She drank her sherry, got a dainty supper for her mother while that lady reiterated her high opinion of Uncle Valentijn and presently took her departure. It was still fairly early and although she had had a cup of coffee with her mother she hadn’t had her own supper, and although she was a sensible girl and independent she wasn’t all that keen on going into one of the small cafés near the hospital. She could, of course, see what there was on the ward when she went to see Mevrouw van Eysink. She sat in the almost empty bus thinking about clothes and should she wear uniform, and what about off duty and who was going to pay her, and had to be roused by a friendly conductor when the bus stopped by the hospital. She was still pondering these as she went up to the Prem. Unit, where she found her friend in the office, reading the report for the second time.
She looked up as Hannah went in. ‘Hullo. Mevrouw van Eysink’s waiting for you—says she won’t go to sleep until you’ve seen her. You lucky devil, Hannah, going to Holland—I expect they’ve got pots of money and you’ll live off the fat of the land. Why can’t these things happen to me?’
‘Well, you don’t need them,’ observed Hannah. ‘You’re getting married in six months and then you’ll be able to do your own housekeeping and live off the fat of the land yourself.’
Her companion laughed. ‘On a house surgeon’s salary? You must be joking!’ Hannah smiled because she knew she didn’t mean a word of it. ‘Can I pop along?’
‘Yes, do—I’ve fed baby Paul and she’s only waiting to see you before we tuck her down for the night.’
But it wasn’t only Mevrouw van Eysink who was waiting, Uncle Valentijn was there too, the epitome of understated elegance. Hannah, seeing him, hesitated at the door. ‘Oh, I’ll come back later,’ she said, and withdrew her head, to have the door opened and find herself taken by the arm and drawn into the room. ‘We’re waiting for you,’ observed the doctor. ‘Corinna refused to sleep, so perhaps you will tell her at once if you are going with her to Holland.’
‘Yes—oh, yes, I am.’ Hannah smiled widely at her patient and was quite unprepared for the sudden gush of tears from Mevrouw van Eysink. ‘My goodness, have you changed your mind?’ she asked. ‘I can easily…’
‘Tears of joy’, declared Uncle Valentijn. ‘She has been on tenterhooks.’
‘Oh, well, it’s all fixed,’ Hannah gave him a considering look. ‘Thank you, Doctor van Bertes, for—for persuading my mother, it was kind of you.’
His blue eyes, cool and amused, stared back at her. ‘High-handed, I suspect, is the word you would prefer to use, but baby Paul must be our first concern. I hope that your mother is content with the arrangements which I suggested.’
‘Oh, very—and the sherry.’
His mouth twitched. ‘I’m glad, and I know that Corinna, once she has finished weeping, will tell you that she is quite content with matters as they stand.’
His niece blew her delicate nose and smiled mistily. ‘Dear Uncle Valentijn, what would we do without you? Paul will be so pleased that everything is settled, and so easily too.’
Hannah caught the doctor’s eye and said quickly, ‘Well, I’ll say goodnight. It’s time you were asleep, and I’m not really supposed to be here.’
‘Nor am I.’ He bent to kiss his niece, looked briefly at the sleeping Paul and went to the door where Hannah was still standing. She hadn’t expected him to come with her and she stood awkwardly before muttering again: ‘Well, I’ll be off—see you in the morning, Mevrouw van Eysink.’ She added very quickly, ‘Goodnight, Doctor van Bertes.’
He didn’t answer for the simple reason that he went with her, striding down the corridor while she fumed, wondering how she could slip away into the kitchen and see if there was a slice of bread and butter to be had. She was still mulling over one or two quite unsuitable plans when he came to a halt outside Sister’s office. ‘Have you had supper?’ he asked.
‘Supper? Why, no, but—but I’m going to have it now.’
‘Good, I’ll join you—I’m famished.’
How to tell him that he would be expected to creep into the kitchen and hack a chunk off the loaf and if Night Sister had done her rounds, make tea?
‘Well—’ she began.
‘What I should have said,’ observed her companion smoothly, ‘was will you join me?’ And at her obvious hesitation, even more smoothly: ‘I can perhaps give you some idea of what will be expected of you when you accompany my niece.’
Hannah was too surprised to speak for a moment, but hunger got the better of all her other feelings. ‘That would be nice,’ she said sedately.
‘Good. We’re not too far from the Baron of Beef. I take it that you may stay out until a reasonable hour?’
‘Midnight, but I wouldn’t want to be out as late as that.’
The blue eyes gleamed, but all he said was: ‘Naturally not—you’re on duty in the morning, I presume.’
He swept her through the hospital and out into the street and into a taxi, where she sat very upright in the corner, unaware that in the dark he was grinning with amusement, but once in the restaurant, among the lights and crowded tables, she relaxed a little.
‘I hope you are hungry,’ remarked her host. ‘I am.’
‘Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I am.’ Hannah essayed a small smile, wishing that he wouldn’t look at her with a faint mockery which made her uncomfortable. And as though he read her thoughts the mockery wasn’t there any more, only a kind smile. ‘Good. Would you like a drink while we decide?’
She accepted a sherry because she wasn’t sure what else to ask for and bent to the enjoyable task of choosing her supper. She had dined out so seldom that she found t
his difficult, and when her companion suggested artichoke hearts with vinaigrette dressing for a start, followed by tournedos Rossini with new peas and new potatoes, she agreed happily and with relief. He didn’t consult her about the wine, though; she drank what was poured into her glass and enjoyed it, only asking after the first sip, what it was.
‘A claret,’ she was told, ‘quite harmless and most suitable to drink with a steak.’ He glanced at her. ‘I don’t suppose you have much opportunity to go out, Hannah.’
The sherry had put a different complexion on things, and the claret was improving it with every minute. ‘No, hardly ever. When my father was alive we had people to dinner and we went out to other people’s houses, but not to restaurants.’
‘Ah, yes, your father was a rural dean, your mother was telling me; you must have had a pleasant life.’
‘Oh, yes!’ Hannah just stopped herself in time from pouring out her pleasant memories to him and went red at the thought. The Doctor eyed her over his glass and wondered what he had said to make her face flame. He hadn’t met anyone quite so shy and stiff for years; certainly he hadn’t been in his right mind when he had asked her to join him for supper. Now if it had been Nerissa, with her gaiety and clever talk— He frowned down at his plate and Hannah, seeing it and the faint boredom on his face, launched into what she hoped was interesting chatter. He listened courteously, answering her when it was required of him, and uneasily aware that she wasn’t used to drinking half a bottle of claret and it had loosened her tongue past repair.
Hannah, happily unaware of her companion’s thoughts, chatted brightly over her trifle, having a little difficulty with words now and then. It wasn’t until she had had two cups of black coffee and they were in the taxi going back to the hospital that her usual good sense took over again.
She checked the flow of talk with such suddenness that Uncle Valentijn turned to look at her, but whatever he intended saying didn’t get said, for they were back at the hospital and she was already opening the door. He leaned across her. ‘No,’ he said quietly, and got out and went round and helped her out. He told the driver to wait and walked with her to the doors.
‘Thank you for my supper,’ said Hannah, and swallowed. ‘I’m sorry I talked so much—it must have been frightfully boring for you. I had a glass of sherry with Mother and then another one with you and all that wine, and I’m not awfully used to it.’ She added, to convince him, ‘I’m a very sober kind of person, really. I—I hope you won’t think I’m not—not careful enough to look after baby Paul.’
He took her hand in his. ‘Hannah, I think you are a most fitting person to look after my godson. I would trust him with you absolutely.’
She drew a deep breath. ‘Oh, that’s all right, then. I wouldn’t like you to think I’m not to be trusted.’
‘My dear girl, Corinna trusts you, doesn’t she, and likes you? I am very fond of her and of her husband and I would go to any lengths to make them happy; their opinion of you is much more important than mine.’
A remark Hannah didn’t much care for, although she wasn’t sure why, only that it hinted vaguely that he didn’t like her, or at least, didn’t think her worth an opinion. She wished him a sober goodnight and went through the swing doors, her pleasure in the evening quite spoiled.
But a sound night’s sleep dispelled her doubts and she went on duty with a light heart. It remained light until almost noon, when Uncle Valentijn paid a lightning visit to his niece in order to wish her goodbye, and Hannah, unaware of this and walking down the corridor with Paul’s feed from the milk kitchen, was brought up short outside Mevrouw van Eysink’s partly open door. For once her patient and visitor were speaking English and Uncle Valentijn’s voice, while not loud, was very clear.
‘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.’