The Nanny (14 page)

Well, that was one in the eye, wasn't it?

“Nanny, she came in while I was with Victor.”

Mrs. Gore-Green said, “With Victor, Althea? You were with
Victor?”

“With Victor, with Victor, with Victor, Mummy! At Victor's bedside in the hospital! Nanny, she came into his room and … well … she guessed.”

Mrs. Gore-Green whispered frantically, “I don't understand. What did she guess? Who? I don't understand.”

“No, you don't, do you, Mummy? But Nanny does. Well, it's very simple, really, Mummy. The old, old story. I'm a big girl now and I'm in love with Victor. I have been for years, but you wouldn't understand that, would you? However, Nanny does. She understands that when a man and a woman are in love, they belong together.”

She did not have the strength to even lift her hand and put it between her heart and this.

Nanny said, “Are you all right, Miss Pen? Miss Althea, you hadn't ought to have shocked Miss Pen like that!”

But having reproved Althea for the manner in which she had broken her news, Nanny wasn't going to reprove her for what she had done. Mrs. Gore-Green could see that in the calm face turned to her again.

“I'm sorry, dear, but we mustn't be selfish, now must we? There's Miss Althea and Mr. Fane to think of. You'll be all right, Miss Pen, it's just the shock of it.”

The room cracked into pieces. Althea, standing with her feet planted and her head thrown back, cracked into pieces like a jigsaw puzzle; the room splintered around her.

“Are you coming over faint, Miss Pen?”

“I can't stay with you all my life, Mummy, surely you can see that. Why don't you and Nanny go back home?”

“Now, Miss Althea, you should know that I have to stay and look after my poor Madam! Whatever will become of her when you and the master go off, now tell me that? I think Miss Pen should go home, though. Miss Drusilla's got her lovely place, and she'll be very happy to have Miss Pen with her. Sisters should stay together, I always say.”

Althea to marry Mrs. Fane's husband, Nanny to look after Mrs. Fane, and she packed off to Drusilla. Mrs. Gore-Green had closed her eyes to the splintered room; now, opening them, she saw that the child, wearing pajamas, had come to the edge of the balcony, where he leaned over the rail staring at Althea.

Althea said, “Hi, Joey.”

He cleared his throat. “Hi,” he said cautiously.

“Don't you remember me, Joey? I'm Althea Gore-Green. When you came to Daddy's office you met me. I'm Daddy's secretary, remember?”

He moved along the rail. “You know my daddy?”

“Of course, darling. I know him very well indeed.” She laughed. “I know you too, Joey. I know all about you because Daddy and I have talked about you many, many times.”

“You want a reward?” he asked eagerly. “You want a pile of dough?”

“Who doesn't darling? How do I get it? Is it a game?”

“My daddy will give you a reward if you take me away from here.”

“What? You want me to take you away from here? Why, darling?” She turned to Nanny, who simply smiled. “Why, darling?” He kicked the linoleum with the heel of his bare foot. “Where could I take you, Joey?”

“To your house, okay? I won't be a pain in the neck, I promise. And tomorrow my daddy will give you the reward.”

Althea looked another inquiry at Nanny, who continued to smile, and then at her mother, but she was still in shock. She felt guilty breaking it this way, but, really, was there any easy way? “I'm sure you won't be a pain in the neck, Joey, but you'll have to explain.”

He drew a circle with his big toe, raised and then dropped his shoulders, but he knew better than to tell her. The lady thought he was a liar, the doctor thought he was a liar, too. He said, “I can't tell you.”

“Why can't you? Is it a secret? Can I try to guess? Can I have three guesses, Joey?”

“It's not a game,” he said, miserably.

Nanny said mildly, “Now, don't tease the child, Miss Althea.”

“I'm not, Nanny!” Not teasing Joey, teasing herself, seeing herself telling Victor about it, saying, “Victor darling, he just didn't want to stay with Nanny.” That much was plain. “I thought perhaps his—his delusions had returned because the two of you were spirited off like that. If you'd
seen
him, Victor. How earnest he was, as if his little life depended on it. I had to take him. Oh,” she would say, “I want him! Can't we have him with us, Victor? If you lose him, you'll miss him terribly, darling. You'll blame me for separating you. I'll be a good mother to him,” she would say. “I'll see to it that his little face will never look the way it did when he begged me to take him away!”

She forgot Joey's face in the vision of Victor coming home from McFarland, Fane. The door would open. She would be seated on a sofa with her arm around this dear little boy in striped pajamas. She would be reading to him. She didn't see Joey's face, only Victor's, adoring the picture of the two of them sitting together, waiting for his return. “Will do,” she said. “Come on, Joey.”

“Master Joey, you're in your pajamas. Miss Althea, if he's to go with you, he had better dress. Master Joey, you dress and put your night things in your bag.”

Joey ran to the front door. “We kin take a taxi.” He opened the door. “I want to go
now!”

“Hold up, Joey! Nanny's right.” Suppose he became ill from rushing out into the night and Victor blamed her? “You better put your clothes on. Oh, throw them on, toss what you'll need into a bag! How long will that take?” The boy slammed the door and ran (for his life) across the gallery and disappeared.

“I hope you know what you're doing, Miss Althea,” Nanny said judiciously. “I hope you've considered what Mr. Victor is going to think of such high-handed behavior in a young lady. It's one thing,” she said, “not to be able to say boo to a goose and another to be so highhanded.”

“Boo to a goose—oh, Nanny!” She laughed, but Nanny didn't laugh back.

“It's one thing not to be able to say boo to a goose and another to take matters that don't concern you into your own hands.” She turned to Mrs. Gore-Green. “Miss Althea was always one for taking the bit between her teeth, wasn't she, Miss Pen?”

“This has nothing to do with … Victor will understand that I couldn't just ignore the child. There's no doubt he wants to go with me, Nanny, not that I pretend to know why.” She turned to her mother. “Do you understand any of this, Mummy?” But, as always, Mummy was incapable of thinking of anyone but herself. Could only see far enough to realize that she wouldn't have her daughter there to fetch her sweaters and carry in her early morning tea. Couldn't tell her where Nanny was right and she wasn't “home” yet and Victor might very well be furious if she came in here and simply kidnaped his son. And Victor never had any intention of taking the boy away from his mother, she knew that perfectly. It was that and—why kid herself—that and Victor deciding to ask Nanny to leave so as to give his wife one more chance which had frightened her. “I'm off,” she said, before the child could return and weaken her resolve with that face on him. “See you tomorrow, Mummy. Oh, Nanny … do talk to Mummy, won't you?”

But after Althea left, Nanny didn't talk to her. She just said that she would go and turn down her bed. It was getting late, Nanny said.

It was because the child didn't say anything either, when, a moment later, he hurried back dressed, with his pathetic canvas zip bag in his hand and saw that Althea had gone, that Mrs. Gore-Green pulled herself out of her chair. It was because he made no protest when she told him that Althea had sensibly changed her mind, but only turned and raced back into the kitchen, that she followed him. The door to the maid's room was closed, but when she knocked and told him it was she and she wanted to talk to him … “I'm not an ogre, really, Joey!” … he gave her permission to come in.

“May I sit on your bed, Joey? I'll sit at the foot and I won't touch anything.” Obviously he had a
thing
about people touching his possessions. He was standing by the narrow window which, she was sure, looked down on a cement courtyard. It was that kind of mean narrow window. He nodded. “You mustn't be cross with my daughter, Joey. She was silly to consider for a moment that she could take you with her. Your father would have been very cross with her. Joey, you wanted to go because of Nanny, is that right? Don't answer then, I know that's why. Joey, I told you I'm not an ogre, and I'm not.”

“I'm not a liar,” Joey said. “I'm
not!”

“Joey, Joey, I've known you for a few hours. I've known Nanny all my life. You understand. I'm talking to you now as if you were a grown-up, Joey. I'm asking you how I can think you anything but a liar when you tell me Nanny tried to drown you.”

“Well, she did.”

“We won't get anywhere this way, will we, Joey?”
She did. She didn't. I am. You are not
. That's how children talk and I want you to talk like a grown-up.

“Joey, can you tell me
why
Nanny should try to drown you? Tell me the reason, Joey. Just tell me the reason why Nanny would do such a horrible, horrible thing!”

“Because a Ralphie.”

“Oh, no, Joey!”

“Because I'm a pain in the neck.”

“You're not a pain in the neck, Joey. I'm sure you're a dear little boy.” She saw that the kindness in her voice was undoing him. His mouth began to tremble, his small pointed chin trembled and he was pressing his elbows as hard as he could into his sides. (She knew that trick to keep yourself from tears.) “Why, Joey, why?”

He muttered, “I doan know.”

“That would be murder, Joey. There has to be a reason for murder.”

“I doan know.”

“You don't know.” She shrugged. “Well, Joey, let me tell you what I know. That Nanny is good.” And, she thought, if I say this just now, tonight, it means a good deal. She has just told me that I must give up all that is young and bright and live alone in the shadows. (Because I will
not
live with Drusilla.) “I do know,” she repeated, her own voice shaking now, “Nanny is good. I know that she has never done and never could do anything she believed wrong, so how could she have tried to drown a small boy?”

“She did. She sneaked in and pushed me down. If I diden have soap all over me, she'd a got me.”

“Joey, be the clever child I know you are and
think!
If what you say is true, Joey, would Nanny have asked me to come here? Wouldn't she have wanted to have you to herself without a
witness?
Nanny herself said I was a witness, remember, Joey?”

He made a gesture as if her words had become a swarm of insects. “I doan know,” he repeated.

“I think you do, Joey. I think you're just being stubborn. Now, be a love and get back into your pajamas, and eat your cinnamon toast and brush your teeth and go to sleep. Right?” she said. “Okay?” she translated, but the small face, which she turned back to see as she left the room, was the same as when she had come in, abandoned, helpless, without hope.

“Your bed is ready for you now, Miss Pen.”

“I was in with the boy.”

“That was thoughtful of you, Miss Pen, tired as you must be.”

“Foolish of me, Nanny. I got nowhere. Nanny, why do you think the poor child had this … this delusion?”

“This
what
, Miss Pen?”

“Why did he believe you tried to drown him? I simply could not shake him. I tried everything. I even pointed out that if you had this—this
fell
design on him you would hardly have brought me here to be a witness against you!”

“Did you, Miss Pen?”

“But
why
, Nanny?”

“You had better ask the doctor why, Miss Pen. Dr. Meducca knows all about children like Master Joey.”

“Oh, doctors!” she said. “Nanny, I think it must be the boy's conscience troubling him. I think that when children know they've done wrong, they want to be punished for it. Oh, they weep and wail, but underneath they feel the better for it. Of course I'm not a psychiatrist, Nanny, but I think that school was wrong not to punish him. I think it's because they didn't that he's got this nonsense in his poor head.”

“I don't know, I'm sure, Miss Pen.”

“That must be right,” Mrs. Gore-Green said. “That must be right.”

She could not accept it. Could not, could not. If that girl hadn't been lying, and how would she dare lie … and Nanny approved, then Nanny could explain it to her. She was sure that if Nanny explained why she thought it right, she could accept it. And she could ask Nanny. 156 East Ninety-second Street. She would go and ask Nanny. She would get dressed and go.

And then Virgie discovered that her clothes were not in the room or in the bathroom. And then she rang for the nurse and was told that she might not have her clothes, was not to be permitted to leave. “But I'm all right,” Virgie said. “I can go perfectly well. Who says I can't go?”

The doctor Nanny had called in had left orders she was to stay in the hospital. She could not remember his name, but finally the nurse gave it to her.

“But there's really no sense your calling, Mrs. Fane. Dr. Meducca wants you to stay tonight, anyhow.”

There was no sense calling because she was told that Dr. Meducca wasn't at home. The doctor was in New York Hospital, a woman's voice said. (This was Dr. Meducca's answering service.) Virgie hurried out into the corridor to ask the nurse if she could please try to find Dr. Meducca, that he was right there in the hospital somewhere.

“I was just telling my friend about your beautiful ring. Could she see it?”

“Ring?”

She
must
be simple-minded. “Your emerald, Mrs. Fane.”