Hannah. Бетти Нилс
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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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