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
