Free The Nanny by Evelyn Piper

phone and, walking through the sitting room, admiring, as she always did, the Sheraton sofa and Adam chairs, it occurred to her that Althea when she did get back wouldn’t know what had happened. “But I simply do not have the time to leave Althea a note,” Mrs. Gore-Green said to the empty room, hurrying. “I really must dash. Poor old Nanny.” She moved more briskly than was her habit, since she thought of herself as a vase so delicate that any clumsiness could break it and spill her life. She put her robe, nightgown and soft morocco slippers into a bag, dropped her comb and brush and her bedside Jane Austen in, and then, to illustrate what a tearing hurry she was in, simply swept her maquillage off her dressing table into the bag.
    Only after she had closed the bag did she remember the sleeping pills. Heavens, if she had forgotten!
    If for once, she told herself waiting for the doorman to whistle up a taxi, if for once Althea should show concern about her mother, it should occur to her to call Nanny. But wouldn’t Althea assume that Nanny would be in the new place? Mrs. Gore-Green tossed her head the way she used to before life had broken her. If Althea was old enough to become involved with a married man, she was old enough to try telephoning the Fane flat on an off-chance. That will show Althea, Mrs. Gore-Green thought, pressing a half dollar rather than her usual quarter into the doorman’s palm, that will show her how I feel when she makes me anxious about her! “Four-thirty East Eighty-sixth Street,” she told the cabby. “Hurry, please.”
    Nanny opened the door and asked Dr. Meducca how the patients were.
    â€œMrs. Fane is fine. Mr. Fane … well, we’ll see, we’ll see when the analysis comes in.” He lowered his voice but there was no need. Joey had dashed past the old nurse into the apartment; now he came out looking terrified. “What gives, Joey?”
    â€œI think Master Joey was looking for the new servant. She wouldn’t stay on tonight, sir, so she asked me to … and, as Master Joey couldn’t be left alone …”
    Joey stepped to the doctor’s side. He said, “I feel sick. I don’t feel good.”
    â€œOh, Master Joey!”
    She knew as well as he did that the boy wasn’t sick. “Come on now, son!” The boy just looked up at him with those enormous eyes. “Stick out your tongue then.”
    But Joey knew it wouldn’t do. “I’m not going to stay,” he said. “I won’t stay.” He pulled himself as tall as possible. “If you’ll lend me eight dollars, I’ll go to the Fenton Hotel. It’s on Fifty-eighth Street. I know a kid who went to the Fenton Hotel. They let him. He gave them eight dollars and said to telephone his mother and she’d tell them it was okay. So I’ll say go telephone you. So if you lend me eight dollars, it will be okay. My mom and daddy will pay you back.”
    â€œWhoa!” Dr. Meducca said.
    Joey swallowed, then repeated, “My mom and daddy will pay you back.”
    Behind Dr. Meducca’s knee, where it couldn’t be seen, Joey’s bony fingers had suddenly clamped down. (It hurt.) “Whoa, son, what’s the trouble here? You got sick awfully sudden-like, didn’t you? You went off on this hotel kick very sudden-like, didn’t you?” He smiled at the big old woman standing there with her hands folded to show her that he knew how unreasonable kids could be. “Now, let’s get this straight! You were okay just so long as you thought there was going to be a new girl here to take care of you. So what’s the matter with this lady here?”
    Joey’s big head wilted on his neck. “She—she—”
    â€œShe won’t let you get away with the stuff a new one would, is that it? She’s on to all your tricks, is that it? Not let you see all the TV you want? That’s