The Nanny (5 page)

Oh, the notions one had as a child! Mrs. Gore-Green remembered that she had really believed that Nanny had eyes in the back of her head. (Nanny told her so, of course. “Now, Miss Penelope, you didn't think Nanny didn't catch you taking the extra muffin, did you? Nanny has eyes in the back of her head, Miss Penelope, never forget that!”) She had believed that the reason Nanny wore her hair the way she did was so no one would see those extra eyes in the back. Nanny had also told her that she slept with one eye open, and she had believed that, too. It was extraordinary how the notion of anyone sleeping with one eye open had troubled her. And what was it Nanny had said she had inside which told her whenever a child fibbed? A modern child would call it radar, Mrs. Gore-Green decided.

She watched the old woman bearing down. Indestructible, Mrs. Gore-Green thought, fingering her pearls, sighing; unlike me. Her mouth turned down. But now, poor old Nanny, it was finished. Indestructible or not, no one would have her. The last of the nannies, she told herself; a vanishing breed in England, like the buffaloes in the States and looking rather like one, too, with her large head, her thick humped shoulders, her bosom pressed into a shapeless bulge in front. Her like would not be seen again. Who else nowadays except Roman Catholic nuns, of course, offered up all their years on earth and had no worldly lives of their own? Except for nuns, who even gave up their names to become “Nanny,” forever anonymous, a humble part of a corps, indistinguishable, exchangeable. And nuns, she thought, waving at Nanny, expect their reward in heaven, while nannies learn from experience to expect nothing from a succession of ungrateful children!

“Please, sweetie, we got to go home,” a mother said.

And had been saying since Mrs. Gore-Green had sat on the bench. How different Nanny was to these young American parents who are weak in dealing with their children because they need to be loved. Nanny had never needed to know more than that she was doing the right thing!

What a life the poor old darling had had, she told herself, waving again; first a nursery at Gramount, at Granny's, trained under Granny's old nanny, who Mummy said had been a proper old Tartar and had made Nanny's life a perfect misery until in her turn she became Nanny. And she had come to Granny's fresh from home, a child herself, really. But a child without a childhood, since Nanny had been the oldest of nine, an unofficial and unpaid nursemaid from the time she had been strong enough to carry the youngest baby about. “Nanny,” Mrs. Gore-Green called, as if Nanny hadn't seen her, as if Nanny's eyes at seventy-four weren't better than hers at fifty!

The old woman, wearing her inevitable brown wool coat and squashed brown hat, lurching slightly from side to side, her broad feet treading the earth, made her way between the squealing, darting, falling or be-prammed children to the bench. She had lived for children, Mrs. Gore-Green thought, sighing, and now it was over. At least nuns, at least the Brides of Christ, were never divorced. They were allowed to die as they had lived, and Nanny wasn't going to be. “Sit here, Nanny.” She patted the bench next to her. “I don't need to ask how you are.”

“Splendid, Miss Penelope. Isn't your coat too thin?” Nanny fingered the tweed, nibbling her lips, testing its weight. “These May days here are treacherous, blow hot, blow cold. You don't want to be chilled.”

“Now, Nanny, don't fuss. I suppose you know already that Althea came home from her job last night with the suggestion … it was Mr. Fane's, if you please, that you move into Althea's room in the flat and that she move out and take a small flat somewhere on her own.”

“Bless the child,” Nanny said.

From somewhere, she always had one, Nanny produced a fresh handkerchief and pressed it to her eyes. She had never seen Nanny weep, Mrs. Gore-Green realized, but only do this—this symbolic representation of tears which was to teach one when it was
proper
to weep and was no indication that Nanny herself had been moved to tears. “Bless the child, indeed! You know better than to believe this was thoughtfulness, Nanny! Althea is no more thoughtful of you than she is of me. Now, darling, nothing would suit my book better than to have you back.” She touched Nanny's ungloved hand, which, having finished with representing emotion, now rested on her lap, and its vigorous warmth made her remember again how strong Nanny was, how weak
she
was. “You know how much I need you, Nanny. Would I ever have let you go to those Fanes if they hadn't been in such a fix? It was my most unselfish act, Nanny, and I expect to get into heaven on the strength of it, but I told myself that no matter how much I needed Nanny, poor little Mrs. Fane needed her more.”

“Indeed she did, Miss Pen.”

“Well! Last night Althea just burst in with this news. It was all so simple, Nanny! Into her room you go, out she goes! But Nanny, I must not give way to my own selfish desire to have my darling old Nanny back looking after me.”

“Mustn't, Miss Pen?”

“No, Nanny, because, I'm sorry to say, there's method to Althea's madness. Do you know why she positively
leaped
at her boss's idea? Obviously I wouldn't tell this to anyone but you, darling, but it was for her own private …” She wasn't certain that the old woman was paying attention because she was staring at an infant in its pram, kicking its bare legs and arms in the sunlight. “Nanny …”

“Yes, Miss Pen?”

“I can't permit Althea to live unsupervised, Nanny, no matter how good her excuse is.”

Nanny said flatly, “You must be calm, Miss Pen. Your poor face is quite red.”

Red! Really!
Really, Nanny could be most tactless!
Red
… as if she were having one of her childhood temper tantrums. Mrs. Gore-Green waited until her voice could be low and controlled again. “I have reason to believe, Nanny, that Althea wants nothing more than to live alone.”

“Well she is twenty-four, Miss Pen.”

“Twenty-four or forty-four, Nanny, I must not permit it because …” she had to lower and calm her voice again, “because I believe that my daughter is involved with some married man!”

“Indeed,” Nanny said.

Now she was paying attention. She looked extremely thoughtful. “If he weren't married she wouldn't be so mysterious about him. She would ask him to the flat. Wouldn't be so cloak-and-dagger, would she? So you see, Nanny, I must disappoint you and myself. Oh,” she said, “it is too bad of Althea! I never realized how many decisions you took off my shoulders, darling, until you left. A hundred times each day I had to decide what you had always decided for me, darling. Why, I never knew what it was to be alone when you were with us. I never realized how always there you were, you old Rock of Gibraltar!” Mrs. Gore-Green squeezed Nanny's hand and held it while she told the old woman that Mr. Fane was going to give her a generous allowance. “As well he ought,” she said. “There will be no difficulty about money, which is something.”

“Very kind, very kind, Miss Pen,” Nanny said.

But she didn't care tuppence. It wouldn't comfort her much to have a roof over her head if under that roof she had no one to look after; Mrs. Gore-Green knew that but that horrid little boy didn't want Nanny about nor did anyone else, so what could she do about it? “I've got a lovely room for you on Ninety-second Street, darling. It is sunny and large with three exposures and a bathroom and a closet kitchen so tiny you'll simply have to slim, darling. And the person who runs the house is most understanding.”

“Indeed, Miss Pen. I'm most grateful to you.”

But she wasn't grateful, not really; she was acting as if she weren't going to have to move in on Thursday and live there. Quite simply disinterested. “Nanny, do pay attention, darling. The room will be all ready for you on Thursday.”

“No, Miss Pen, not on Thursday.”

“But Nanny …”

“I want to see Master Joey first, Miss Pen.”

Nanny set her lips and waited, and Mrs. Gore-Green knew better than to contradict her when she had that face on.

“I will tell Madam that I have one request. I want to see Master Joey before I leave. I'm certain Madam won't deny me.” She pushed to her feet. “I'm grateful to you, Miss Pen, for finding me this fine place, and after I see Master Joey, I will go there and sleep the night. Madam told me it has been arranged that the new person will come on. Friday evening. Fancy,” she said vaguely and then stared about her, moving her big head as if her neck were stiff until she sighted the infant in the pram. “Excuse me, Miss Pen.”

Following cautiously, because she had been warned always to move with circumspection because of her heart, Mrs. Gore-Green came and stood with Nanny and looked down with her at the happy little creature whose limbs threshed the air. “What a duck, Nanny,” she said, because he did look so happy, his unfocused eyes such a deep shining blue.

“Yes he is a duck, but look at the way they've put a pillow under his poor head!”

Nanny sounded as though they had put
adders
under his head, and now, reaching into the pram, Nanny removed the pillow, fluffed it expertly, and set it against the back of the pram.

“And he's going to take cold, poor little love,” Nanny said. Reaching down again with a practiced motion, she grasped with her left hand the waving arms and pinned down the small beating legs with her forearm, while her right hand drew the woolly blue blanket up from the foot of the pram. She then tucked the blanket under the mattress bottom, left side, right side, so that, captured, swaddled, the tiny arms and legs writhed and jerked, but couldn't free themselves. “Nanny, Nanny, he doesn't
like
being covered!”

“Better not like it than catch cold.”

The round head moved from side to side and, as Mrs. Gore-Green watched, the blue eyes squeezed together, the face turned a deep turgid purple red, and then it was all open protesting mouth, the shrieks extraordinarily piercing.

“T—t—t,” Nanny said serenely. “Naughty!”

Mrs. Gore-Green looked around nervously, and sure enough, a young woman in tight trousers detached herself from a group of other young women either in trousers or maternity outfits and rushed over.

“What the
hell
do you think you're doing? Who the hell do you think you
are?”

She called towards the group, “Henny, there's a cop on the corner. Get him. We'll see if you can just come along and make my baby cry!”

Mrs. Gore-Green knew what Nanny thought of young women in trousers with cigarettes dangling from their lower lips. “I'm Penelope Gore-Green,” she said.

“So what?”

“He's going to get curvature of his little spine if you give him a pillow,” Nanny said. “Their little heads are too big; you've only to look to see that.”

“That's just what Nanny used to say to us at home in England. She never would give us a pillow, either!”

“Henny! Where's that cop?”

Mrs. Gore-Green said, “Nanny's taken care of babies all her life. She just can't help … when she thinks a baby is going to take cold, she
must
cover him!” She looked the creature over and decided she was that type. “It's … it's
compulsive
,” she said.

“Yeah?” But she simmered down. “Look, she better keep her compulsions to herself from now on where my kid is concerned.”

“Of course, of course,” Mrs. Gore-Green said, and grabbed Nanny's elbow to hurry her away, but she would not be hurried and the infant's rage, incredibly shrill, followed them.

“Right is right,” Nanny said placidly.

“Victor, I can't tell her no. I can't do it, Victor. If you heard her! She's remembered everything Joey likes best. For instance, she's making those little tunafish casseroles. See, you don't even know what I mean, but Joey used to adore them, Victor. She always baked them in the French onion soup bowls and they have a pie crust on top and she always did a “J” on Joey's so he knew it was especially his. Joey was always such a picky eater, but he
always
ate his tunafish pie … until … you know. Oh, Victor, please. She just wants to see Joey and give him this little supper so he will know she holds no grudge and then she'll go. She'll be out of here by the time the new one comes if that's what you're worried about.”

“No. Not her, you.”

“I'm all right. I'll be all right.”

“I'm not worried about her, Virgie. She's a woman of her word and what she says, she does. What I'm afraid of is you'll manage to make Joey ask for her to stay. That's a good kid, you know. Come on now, Virgie, haven't I heard you as good as telling Joey you can't live without her?” There was a complicated but weary expression on Victor's face. She had been as good as telling
him
since the Oak Room. “Okay, okay. You think I'm some kind of monster, Virgie? All I want …” He saw that he could not reach her. He was a monster. “Sure, she can give Joey a farewell supper.”

She went on pleading as if he had not said yes. “Nanny is meeting Mrs. Gore-Green in the new place at eight, Victor, so …”

He could not reach her. “And I have an appointment at nine.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry. After Friday I won't be having these evening appointments.”

She said carefully, “But Joey will be so disappointed if you go out the first evening he's home.”

“Joey'll live,” he said.

Dr. Berkover had explained that they should come to the School early enough to have lunch and they had decided to leave at eleven-thirty. Victor was ready but Virgie was still at her dressing table. Nanny was standing behind her holding the blond wool suit jacket she was to wear. Virgie, powdering her nose, saw Nanny's big face in the mirror and whispered to it, “I dread having lunch with those children.”

“Yes, Madam, I know.”