Hannah

by Betty Neels

  ‘I’ve forgotten—it wasn’t important.’ Hannah put down her coffee cup and sat looking at her feet. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been so silly about it. It’s strange that I should be telling you of all people.’

  He was staring hard at her. ‘Why do you say that, Hannah?’

  ‘Well—you and I—I mean, we’re miles apart, aren’t we? In different worlds. It just goes to show,’ she went on slowly, ‘he hinted that it was because of me that he didn’t get a better table and we had to wait to be served—I must be a failure as a dinner companion. I wasn’t exactly a success with you, was I?’

  Uncle Valentijn muttered something forceful under his breath, then got up and walked over to where she was sitting and stood looking down at her. He seemed enormous, looming over her, and strangely reassuring, too. He said slowly: ‘You look pretty in that dress, Hannah,’ and she looked up at him shyly; she wasn’t used to compliments, especially when they were uttered by elegant self-assured gentlemen. She wiped away the last of the tears with the back of a hand and smiled at him. ‘It’s new,’ she told him. ‘I bought it just in case I—I got asked somewhere.’ She smoothed the soft folds of the skirt with a careful hand. ‘Well, at least I’ve had a chance to wear it.’

  She got to her feet and as Uncle Valentijn didn’t budge an inch, she found herself within inches of his waistcoat. ‘I think I must go now. Little Paul will wake soon—he mustn’t cry and disturb everyone.’

  He drew her close very gently and kissed her just as gently. ‘Goodnight, Hannah.’

  She murmured something and slipped away, up the stairs to the nursery and her own room. There was a full-length mirror inside the clothes closet. She stood in front of it and stared at her reflection. The dress was pretty, but any woman would know at a glance that it was cheap and she suspected that Uncle Valentijn was man of the world enough to know that too. And as for her face—it was all right, she supposed, but it had no beauty that she could discover, and her hair, although long and fine, was a very ordinary brown. There was nothing there to attract a man—one man in particular, that was, and anyway, he was already attracted to the beautiful, hateful Nerissa. ‘You’re mad,’ Hannah told her reflection. ‘Men like Valentijn don’t look twice at girls like you.’ She turned away from the mirror and started to undress. It was funny to think that when she had first met him she hadn’t liked him and now she loved him.

  It was as well for her peace of mind that she didn’t see him for several days, and when he did come, Nerissa was with him, all smiles and sweetness, cooing prettily over Paul’s pram, and wanting to know, in her excellent English, when Hannah would be going back home. ‘You must miss your friends,’ she smiled at Hannah but her eyes were cold, ‘and your mother— Valentijn told me how much she depends on you. It was very good of him to pay for a companion while you were away, but of course he is very fond of Corinna and she had set her heart on having you with her.’ Her tone implied that she couldn’t for the life of her think why. She bent over the pram and Hannah digested this piece of news as best she could—she had thought that the van Eysinks had engaged Mrs Slocombe and Uncle Valentijn had simply been on hand to arrange things for Corinna.

  ‘The dear little baby,’ said Nerissa, loud enough for Uncle Valentijn, talking to the van Eysinks close by, to hear. Indeed he did look a cherub lying there, wide awake, smiling a big windy smile. Hannah, possessed with a mighty dislike of Nerissa, lifted him up and held him out to her. He needed changing, she could see that by the flood of colour in his tiny face, and it wouldn’t hurt the wretched girl to realise that dear little babies weren’t always sweet-smelling dolls.

  Uncle Valentijn was watching. Nerissa, her smile fixed, accepted her small burden, casting a furious look at Hannah as she did so and holding the infant as gingerly as a bag of broken eggs. The smile wobbled and disappeared and she was on the verge of angry tears when Uncle Valentijn crossed the lawn pretty smartly, took the infant from her and handed him back to Hannah.

  ‘I think you are better equipped to deal with him at the moment, Hannah,’ he observed with a cold calm which sent shivers down her spine. Now she had cooked her goose. The man staring down at her now with such displeasure wasn’t the man who had kissed her. She put baby Paul into his pram and wheeled him briskly away into the house and carried him upstairs to the nursery. He was lying clean and sweet and cuddly in her arms when the door opened and Uncle Valentijn walked in.

  ‘That was unkind, Hannah,’ he observed without preamble. ‘Nerissa knows very little about babies…’

  Having cooked her goose she might as well eat it, too. ‘Then it’s time she did,’ snapped Hannah. ‘How on earth is she going to manage when she’s got babies of her own, I’d like to know? A permanent nanny, I suppose, and half an hour after tea with spotless little creatures who don’t even know she’s Mum.’ She stopped because her eyes were swimming with tears of rage at the very idea of Uncle Valentijn’s children having such a parent…and he would be such a wonderful father…

  ‘We aren’t all alike, Hannah,’ said Uncle Valentijn quite mildly.

  She looked at him quite wildly. ‘Oh, I know, but you see she won’t change—having a baby won’t make any difference, all she thinks of is…’ She stopped again under his quelling eye. The silence which ensued lasted a very long time; presently she said in a small voice, ‘I expect you’d like to sack me and I’ll quite understand if you do, but I’m not going to say I’m sorry.’

  ‘I have no intention of sacking you, Hannah, and you do not need to apologise; I’ll—er—gloss it over when I see Nerissa.’ He came a little further into the room and sat down. ‘You’re unhappy, aren’t you? Do you wish to go back to London? I had hoped you would stay another week, but if it’s important to you, then I think something could be arranged.’

  ‘Do you want me to go?’

  He leaned forward and took her hand in his. ‘No, Hannah, I don’t.’

  ‘Henrika is very good with Paul, you know, and I must be costing Mijnheer van Eysink a lot of money.’ She wasn’t looking at him, but at little Paul, deeply asleep, so that she missed the tender amused look he gave her.

  ‘You will hand over to her, of course, before you go. I’ll see that she takes up her post here a couple of days before you’re due to leave so that she will know exactly how you have been going on.’ He was still holding her hand and she didn’t like to take it away, as probably he had forgotten about it. ‘What are you going to do with your free day?’

  ‘Oh, I thought I’d go to Baarn and find a present for Mother; I’d like to see the town too.’

  ‘Until what time does Henrika stay?’

  ‘Oh, about six o’clock, so I have all day.’

  He nodded, gave her back her hand and got to his feet. ‘Well, I must go, I’ve a lecture to give this evening. You haven’t seen round the hospital, have you, Hannah?’

  ‘No, only the baby unit and the theatre. It’s a splendid one, isn’t it?’

  ‘We think so. I must see if we can arrange for you to visit it before you go home. Could you not do your shopping in Utrecht and combine the two on Saturday?’

  She couldn’t imagine why he was being so nice. ‘Yes, of course, but would it be convenient—I mean Saturday—won’t there be a lot of staff off duty?’

  ‘I imagine not. I’ll let you know.’

  He gave her a brief nod and went away, and Hannah sat for a long time thinking about him. She had behaved disgracefully and he had been more than kind about it, and she suspected amused too. Perhaps he would be able to make Nerissa smile too. A tear escaped and tumbled down her cheek and she brushed it away impatiently; she was weeping far too often just lately.

  It was Friday evening before Mevrouw van Eysink told her that Uncle Valentijn had telephoned to say that Hannah could visit the hospital during Saturday afternoon. ‘Two o’clock, Hannah—and Paul will drive you in. Uncle Valentijn says he’ll arrange for you to be brought back afterwards.’ Her pretty face was wreathed in smiles. ‘Isn’
t that very nice? You will enjoy yourself, I think. You have had no fun since you came—if little Paul hadn’t been ill, you would have had more freedom. You are not angry that we have worked you so hard?’

  ‘Not a bit,’ Hannah assured her. ‘I’ve loved being here and I’m going to miss you all very much when I go.’

  A ready tear filled Mevrouw van Eysink’s eye. ‘I also, but we must not think like that, I must say to myself that I am well again and so is my baby.’ She smiled, happy again. ‘Paul is so very pleased with us, and he is a good father too.’ She kissed Hannah’s cheek suddenly. ‘And one day you will have a good husband also, dear Hannah.’

  No, thought Hannah, if I can’t have Valentijn, I don’t want anyone else. And I can’t have him. She smiled and said brightly, ‘Oh, I expect so.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  IT WAS HOTTER than ever when Hannah got up on Saturday morning, with a blue sullen sky and no wind. She suspected a storm before evening and while she was bathing little Paul tried to make up her mind what to wear.

  She hadn’t a great deal of choice; she settled for a blouse and pleated skirt and a blazer to go with them, then if it rained she wouldn’t look too silly, and if it didn’t she could take the blazer off if it got too hot.

  She changed as soon as Henrika came and got the bike from the garage and cycled down to the village to post some letters. She didn’t know how long the visit to the hospital would be and probably she wouldn’t have time to shop—besides, she didn’t know how she was to come back. Perhaps someone would put her on the bus which passed along the main road half a mile away from the villa. She didn’t intend to worry about it, just as long as she was back by six o’clock. She did her hair and her nails and made up her face again before lunch, which she had with the van Eysinks before Mijnheer van Eysink fetched the car and drove her into Utrecht.

  At the hospital he got out too and when she protested that she could find her own way to the porter’s lodge, said easily that he knew his way around better than she did and could show her where to go. The porter on duty smiled and nodded as they passed him and started down a wide corridor lined with massive doors. This was the older part of the hospital, Paul van Eysink told her, and used by the administration. As he spoke he opened one of the doors and ushered her inside. It was a large room, with a table in the middle, with a dozen chairs drawn up to it, and a number of leather armchairs scattered round. Uncle Valentijn was in one of them. He got up when he saw them and the younger man said: ‘Here you are, Valentijn, dead on time.’ And to Hannah, ‘Enjoy yourself, Hannah.’ He was gone before she could utter a word.

  ‘You look surprised,’ observed Uncle Valentijn.

  Hannah drew a calming breath. ‘Well, I am—I thought there would be a nurse…’

  He only smiled. ‘Where shall we start? The accident room, perhaps?’

  They were busy there, but as he pointed out, Utrecht was a large city and served a good stretch of surrounding countryside. Hannah, silent at first, warmed under his guidance, and found her tongue again. By the time they reached the medical floor she was asking questions as fast as he could answer them. They finished in the baby unit, which she had never had the opportunity to explore when she had been there with little Paul. It was nice seeing the Sister again and having the leisure to look round her, and this being Uncle Valentijn’s province, they took a long time while Hannah poked her little nose into every corner of the unit. At length she was satisfied and said rather guiltily: ‘I’ve been ages! I’m sorry—I must have wasted your afternoon.’

  ‘Not in the least, Hannah.’ They were walking without haste down the stairs; when they reached the entrance hall she said quickly: ‘Well, that was delightful. It’s a splendid hospital and I’m so glad I’ve seen it properly.’ She held out a hand. ‘Thank you very much, Doctor van Bertes.’

  He took the hand, but he didn’t shake it. ‘Oh, we haven’t finished yet,’ he told her lightly. ‘There’s something else I should like you to see before you go back. Is your shopping very important or could it wait for an hour?’

  ‘It can wait,’ said Hannah recklessly. This might be her last chance of talking to him before she went home and she wanted to treasure every minute of it.

  ‘In that case…’ He held the door open for her with: ‘Over this way, then,’ and led her across the courtyard to where the consultants’ car park was. The Bristol was there; he opened the door for her and she got in, supposing they were to drive to another hospital he thought she might like to see. The streets were busy, full of shoppers as well as traffic, and Uncle Valentijn didn’t hurry, sliding the car effortlessly through the centre of the city and then turning off into a narrow street with a canal down its centre, and lined with large old houses, their staid fronts gleaming with paint and polished brass, their outsize front doors ornamented with beautifully carved swags of fruit or flowers. ‘This is lovely,’ observed Hannah, craning her neck in all directions. ‘Seventeenth century, I suppose, and huge inside, no doubt. Are they flats or offices?’

  ‘God forbid!’ said Uncle Valentijn with some vehemence, and drew up before a double-fronted mansion. Hannah gave him an enquiring look which he ignored. As he opened the door he said casually: ‘A cup of tea after all that inspecting?’

  The eager ‘Oh, yes!’ was tripping off her tongue before she could stop it, but she added quietly: ‘I feel you’ve spent too much of your time on me already. I can get tea when I go shopping.’

  ‘My time is my own, Hannah.’ He uttered it in a no-nonsense voice and she didn’t care to stand in the street and argue with him; she got out and accompanied him up the double steps to the front door, opened as they reached it by an immensely imposing middle-aged man who in reply to Uncle Valentijn’s quiet question answered him gravely, bade Hannah good day in a dignified manner and stood aside for them to go in.

  Inside Hannah stopped to ask: ‘This isn’t your house, is it?’

  Uncle Valentijn sounded almost apologetic. ‘Yes, it is. When it was first built some two hundred years ago, it housed a large family and a horde of servants, now I’m afraid there’s only me.’ He indicated the imposing man. ‘And Wilrik, of course, and his wife and a couple of maids.’

  Hannah was taking in the imposing hall with its high plastered ceiling and panelled walls, its austerity softened by the great bowl of summer flowers on a gilt and marble wall table and the magnificent chandelier hanging from the ceiling, but she hadn’t the time to see everything, for Wilrik had opened a double door and Uncle Valentijn was saying something to him. She went past him into a room which took her breath away. Its vast walls, silk-hung in a rich shade of mulberry, were hung with a great number of paintings in ornate gilded frames and its ceiling, even loftier than the hall, was delicately painted and echoing its colours was the Aubusson carpet under her feet. Cabinets filled with china, glass and silver were ranged round the walls and interposed, nicely blending with the richness around them, were comfortable chairs and sofas, as well as a number of small tables.

  ‘Do sit down,’ said Uncle Valentijn, and pulled forward a small rose-covered crinoline chair. And when she sat, he lowered himself into a great winged armchair opposite her. He added softly: ‘Hannah, close you mouth, you look like a worried little trout.’

  Indignation snapped her jaws together, but only for a moment. ‘Well, really! I am not a trout, and if you expect me not to be surprised at all this’—she waved an expressive arm around her—‘then you’re much mistaken.’

  ‘Do you like it?’ he wanted to know.

  ‘It’s quite beautiful—I expect that if you’ve lived here for a very long time you don’t notice it very much.’

  He smiled. ‘Probably not—until someone tells me about it. But I assure you that I like living here and intend to go on doing so.’

  A neatly dressed woman brought in the tea tray and Uncle Valentijn introduced her as Wilrik’s wife, Meta, and when she had gone: ‘You be mother, Hannah.’

  So she poured their tea,
very carefully because the cups were very thin porcelain and the teapot was a beautiful silver one and very old. Uncle Valentijn fetched his cup and saucer, offered her a sandwich and went back to his chair. ‘My former wife never liked this house,’ he observed casually.

  Her eyes flew to his face. ‘Oh, is she…’ She paused, not quite sure how to go on.

  ‘Divorced—fifteen years ago. Don’t you think that it’s time that I married again, Hannah?’ He put down his cup. ‘I’m almost twice as old as you.’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m twenty-four.’

  ‘And very young with it. For a long time I felt perfectly satisfied with my life, but I realise that it isn’t enough.’ He crossed the space between them and she refilled his cup, then said carefully,

  ‘Well, you’ll be all right now you’re going to get married to Juffrouw van der Post; she’ll look splendid in this house—she’s very beautiful, you know.’

  ‘Oh, very.’ His voice was dry. ‘And much in demand, too—she will have so many social engagements that there will be no time for her to look after the house.’

  ‘Well, that’s what you must expect if you marry someone as lovely and popular as she is.’

  His voice was suddenly impatient. ‘No, it’s not what I expect. I expect a wife to be waiting for me when I come home, knitting cosily by the fire or helping the children with their homework, and it’s only during the last few weeks that I’ve realised that.’

  Hannah looked at him round-eyed. ‘It’s a bit unusual,’ she ventured. ‘I mean, for a wife to sit and knit all day…’

  ‘I didn’t say all day, indeed, I would do my best to see that she enjoyed every moment…’ He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘No doubt I seem an elderly fool to you, Hannah.’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ her voice was quite shrill with vehemence, ‘and I do know what you mean—to come home to your wife and children each evening and be glad to see them and know that they’re glad to see you—like the van Eysinks.’