Free Split Code by Dorothy Dunnett Page A

you’re working,’ said Bunty patiently. ‘But Mrs Eisenkopp’s got a sprained foot. How’s she going to manage with Grover?’
    I looked round the walls. ‘Grover needs entertaining?’
    ‘Don’t be an ass,’ Bunty said. ‘Grover’ll sprint about and slaughter Sukey. I don’t suppose. . .’
    ‘...I could let him slaughter Benedict instead?’ In Hugo’s presence I didn’t care to say that Grover also had a personality hang-up, wind-burns and a throat infection.
    ‘Just till five. He wouldn’t be jealous of Ben.’ Bunty’s Liverpudlian wheedle was overpowering.
    I had opened my mouth when a short, powerful man in a cardigan entered the room and I recognized, from our moment’s sizzling clash, Grover’s father once more. He said, ‘Do I hear you ask Nurse Joanna to look after Grover?’
    ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said. ‘I don’t think I could ask Mrs Booker-Readman in any case.’
    ‘I shall ask,’ said Comer Eisenkopp loudly. ‘This evening.’ He held out his hand. ‘Nurse Joanna. You saved my kid’s life. I made a big mistake about you, and I want you to know it. That’s a bit of paper that says I’m sorry.’
    It was a cheque for a hundred dollars. I said, ‘Mrs Booker-Readman’s to be out all this evening,’ gazing at it.
    ‘If you don’t take it,’ said Comer Eisenkopp, ‘I’ll know I’ve offended you. Bunty says you sterilize all your own bottles.’
    I had guessed Bunty bought her feeds ready-made. I said carefully, ‘I just like it that way. Disposable bottles are perfectly sterile, Mr Eisenkopp. And I couldn’t really . . .’ I held out the cheque.
    He ignored it. ‘Mrs Eisenkopp and Bunty and I would like you to help us with Grover and Sukey. As a favour. Naturally, we should not show ourselves ungrateful.’
    Two jobs was all that I needed. ‘Mr Eisenkopp,’ I said. ‘I’m paid to look after one baby for twenty-four hours a day, five and a half days a week. I couldn’t take Sukey and be fair to both of them. I shouldn’t mind an odd hour with Grover in an emergency, but you’d have to ask Mrs Booker-Readman. And if he misbehaves, I can’t promise not to smack. I don’t mean beat. I mean smack, a couple of times on the bottom.’
    That, I reckoned, got me off the hook. He pushed the cheque back in my hand and stood gazing at me, more in frustration than sorrow. ‘You know the Germans have the worst problem of adult violence and child-to-child aggression because their kids get beat up all the time by their parents?’
    Eisenkopp. I ask you.
    He developed the thesis. ‘Mrs Eisenkopp and I made up our minds long ago. No doctor will ever push his dirty hypodermic into this little flower or her brother. Do you believe in injections, Nurse Joanna?’
    I stared at him, but he was serious. I said, ‘I believe child diseases can kill. I’ve been smacked by my father when I deserved it.’
    He tried. His lips hung out together as he made the effort. ‘I want you to promise,’ he said, ‘that if you have cause to reprimand Grover, you will tell Mrs Eisenkopp or myself?’
    ‘Mr Eisenkopp,’ I said, ‘Grover will tell you.’
    ‘Nurse Joanna,’ said Comer, ‘I’m real glad I met you.’
    ‘I also,’ said Hugo Panadek. Inside the gorilla skin he was bare to the navel, and the boundary demarcation was not all that evident either. ‘When you are off duty one day, you and I and Bunty will drink vodka together and play with my hypodermics. And if I am bad, you may smack me.’
    I left right away. I sometimes wonder which of my two trades is the riskier.

 
     
FIVE
    Simon was away and Rosamund was just going out when I got back to the house with my booty. I emptied my pocket on to the hall table among the airmail Times copies and shuffled the ikon together.
    Rosamund said, ‘What’s that? It doesn’t smell very nice.’
    The bandeau she was wearing drew attention to her large open eyes and high cheekbones. She had the kind of fine, sallow skin that flushes