The Christmas Surprise
Page 13
‘Okay, okay, hand her over,’ she said, finally, anxious not to make a scene. ‘Okay. Fine. Two minutes.’
Hester undid the complicated scarf carrier, and Rosie tried to follow the procedure but couldn’t.
‘Here’s some EXPRESSED BREAST MILK,’ said Hester. ‘Put it in the fridge then heat it up in a bain-marie.’
Rosie gave her a look.
‘And if she needs her nappy changed, wash it out, it’s hemp. Reusable.’
‘Don’t be long,’ said Rosie, through clenched teeth.
‘Now don’t give her any sweets. I know your tricks!’
Hester handed over the heavy, warm bundle and dinged her way out of the shop.
The boys had gone and the shop was empty for once. Rosie sat down in the back, where there was a kettle for making tea, and an armchair they brought out for Lilian, and gave her attention to the little thing in her arms. She tried to stop shaking. She was terrified. What if she wanted to keep it? What if she couldn’t hold it properly? What was bloody Hester thinking? How thoughtless could she get? Thrusting a baby in someone’s face when they’d just lost one was completely cruel and selfish.
There was a little mewling noise from her arms. Nothing grizzly, just a tiny, curious sound. She looked down.
There was no doubt about it, Marie was a beautiful baby. Her eyes were grey blue and, like all babies, she looked wise beyond her years, as if she had spent infinity staring at the stars and had only just landed on earth. Her skin was peaches and cream, not the angry red of some little mites; she had a fine covering of soft blonde curls, which were currently hidden by a knitted red bobble hat. Her lips were like little pillows, making an ‘O’, and she gazed at Rosie with calm, fixed curiosity.
‘Well hello there,’ said Rosie, stroking the little chest tentatively. She swallowed. There was something about her smell, that mix of warm bread and soft sweet milk and cosiness. It was so powerful, she didn’t even realise she was crying until a tear dropped on to Marie’s forehead.
‘Our baby would have been nothing like you,’ she choked, rocking her a little. ‘He would have had dark hair and been noisy and clenched his little fists …’
Marie’s little fists were clenched, she saw. She put her finger inside one of them, and immediately Marie grabbed it and clung on for dear life, trying to draw it to her mouth to suck on it.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ said Rosie, attempting to smile down at her. Marie grinned back, a big gummy beam right across her face.
Rosie pulled the baby close and wept all the tears she had left to cry. No more avoiding other people’s babies, she thought. It would be all right. Surely.
Marie nuzzled into her neck, then started ferreting about for a breast.
‘Ha,’ said Rosie. ‘No, I don’t think so. Not … not yet.’
She stroked the beautiful little forehead and felt calmer, and stronger, and Marie smiled at her once more.
Hester arrived back half an hour later, as usual not mincing her words about her various gynaecological difficulties, and failing to notice, helpfully, that Rosie had given Marie her bottle stone-cold, having no idea what a bain-marie was, and that the baby hadn’t minded a bit. She had also done a huge poo just as Hester walked in, so Rosie was very pleased to hand her back before the smell spread around the shop.
‘Enjoy that?’ said Hester with the same confident belief she always had that looking after her children was the biggest treat Rosie could conceive of.
‘She’s lovely,’ said Rosie, honestly. She felt as if she’d somehow been cleansed. ‘Now, can I get you anything?’
‘Oh God, no,’ said Hester. ‘It’s poison, this shop, you know. Pure poison.’
That night, Rosie dressed up, and put on a full face of make-up for the first time in months, and presented herself to Stephen when he walked through the door, and the look on his face as she greeted him with a glass of wine and a smile was such a mixture of joy and happy relief that she grinned back at him hugely. He picked her up and twirled her round and kissed her happily and deeply as Mr Dog whipped round their ankles, leaping up and down in delight.
‘Did it work?’ said Moray.
‘Well she didn’t steal the baby, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Thanks,’ said Moray, heartfelt. ‘Thank you. It was just a hunch.’
‘Fine,’ said Hester. ‘And thanks for the antibiotics. Can it be our little secret? I don’t actually believe in them.’
‘Always,’ said Moray.
‘Excellent,’ said Stephen, when they came up for air. He didn’t know what had brought about the change – he expected it had a little to do with the afternoon at Peak House, and to be fair, it was that too. Regardless, he just saw it was there, and that was good enough for him, and it made him feel better too. ‘Let’s go to the Red Lion tonight and get pissed.’
Rosie laughed.
‘Seriously, that’s all you can think of for getting the most out of our lives?’
‘You, me, you enjoying a glass of wine again on a Saturday night’ – Rosie had stopped drinking since the pregnancy – ‘the fire lit in the pub, all our friends coming in and saying hello, some farmer gossip, then fish and chips on the way home. I absolutely cannot think of anything I could possibly enjoy more.’
‘Well, when you put it like that …’ said Rosie.
‘Quite!’ said Stephen.
A few quick calls and Tina and Jake were both in the pub when they got there, along with Moray, whose face split into a secret grin when he saw them both.
‘Well, hello,’ he said. ‘I thought you two had gone full hermit. I blamed him, obviously.’
Rosie smiled back.
‘Well, we’re out now.’
‘Would you like …’ Moray indicated the bar area generally, not wanting to ask Rosie outright if she wanted a drink.
‘Glass of white wine, please,’ said Rosie. ‘Large.’
Moray and Stephen exchanged looks.
‘Okay, when we carry her home, I want the bottom end,’ said Moray. ‘Not the spewing end.’
‘Oi,’ said Rosie, who could not handle her drink in the slightest.
‘It’s all right,’ said Stephen. ‘We’ll do what we always do, and pretend in the morning that you were really charming and amusing whilst pissed.’
Hester undid the complicated scarf carrier, and Rosie tried to follow the procedure but couldn’t.
‘Here’s some EXPRESSED BREAST MILK,’ said Hester. ‘Put it in the fridge then heat it up in a bain-marie.’
Rosie gave her a look.
‘And if she needs her nappy changed, wash it out, it’s hemp. Reusable.’
‘Don’t be long,’ said Rosie, through clenched teeth.
‘Now don’t give her any sweets. I know your tricks!’
Hester handed over the heavy, warm bundle and dinged her way out of the shop.
The boys had gone and the shop was empty for once. Rosie sat down in the back, where there was a kettle for making tea, and an armchair they brought out for Lilian, and gave her attention to the little thing in her arms. She tried to stop shaking. She was terrified. What if she wanted to keep it? What if she couldn’t hold it properly? What was bloody Hester thinking? How thoughtless could she get? Thrusting a baby in someone’s face when they’d just lost one was completely cruel and selfish.
There was a little mewling noise from her arms. Nothing grizzly, just a tiny, curious sound. She looked down.
There was no doubt about it, Marie was a beautiful baby. Her eyes were grey blue and, like all babies, she looked wise beyond her years, as if she had spent infinity staring at the stars and had only just landed on earth. Her skin was peaches and cream, not the angry red of some little mites; she had a fine covering of soft blonde curls, which were currently hidden by a knitted red bobble hat. Her lips were like little pillows, making an ‘O’, and she gazed at Rosie with calm, fixed curiosity.
‘Well hello there,’ said Rosie, stroking the little chest tentatively. She swallowed. There was something about her smell, that mix of warm bread and soft sweet milk and cosiness. It was so powerful, she didn’t even realise she was crying until a tear dropped on to Marie’s forehead.
‘Our baby would have been nothing like you,’ she choked, rocking her a little. ‘He would have had dark hair and been noisy and clenched his little fists …’
Marie’s little fists were clenched, she saw. She put her finger inside one of them, and immediately Marie grabbed it and clung on for dear life, trying to draw it to her mouth to suck on it.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ said Rosie, attempting to smile down at her. Marie grinned back, a big gummy beam right across her face.
Rosie pulled the baby close and wept all the tears she had left to cry. No more avoiding other people’s babies, she thought. It would be all right. Surely.
Marie nuzzled into her neck, then started ferreting about for a breast.
‘Ha,’ said Rosie. ‘No, I don’t think so. Not … not yet.’
She stroked the beautiful little forehead and felt calmer, and stronger, and Marie smiled at her once more.
Hester arrived back half an hour later, as usual not mincing her words about her various gynaecological difficulties, and failing to notice, helpfully, that Rosie had given Marie her bottle stone-cold, having no idea what a bain-marie was, and that the baby hadn’t minded a bit. She had also done a huge poo just as Hester walked in, so Rosie was very pleased to hand her back before the smell spread around the shop.
‘Enjoy that?’ said Hester with the same confident belief she always had that looking after her children was the biggest treat Rosie could conceive of.
‘She’s lovely,’ said Rosie, honestly. She felt as if she’d somehow been cleansed. ‘Now, can I get you anything?’
‘Oh God, no,’ said Hester. ‘It’s poison, this shop, you know. Pure poison.’
That night, Rosie dressed up, and put on a full face of make-up for the first time in months, and presented herself to Stephen when he walked through the door, and the look on his face as she greeted him with a glass of wine and a smile was such a mixture of joy and happy relief that she grinned back at him hugely. He picked her up and twirled her round and kissed her happily and deeply as Mr Dog whipped round their ankles, leaping up and down in delight.
‘Did it work?’ said Moray.
‘Well she didn’t steal the baby, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Thanks,’ said Moray, heartfelt. ‘Thank you. It was just a hunch.’
‘Fine,’ said Hester. ‘And thanks for the antibiotics. Can it be our little secret? I don’t actually believe in them.’
‘Always,’ said Moray.
‘Excellent,’ said Stephen, when they came up for air. He didn’t know what had brought about the change – he expected it had a little to do with the afternoon at Peak House, and to be fair, it was that too. Regardless, he just saw it was there, and that was good enough for him, and it made him feel better too. ‘Let’s go to the Red Lion tonight and get pissed.’
Rosie laughed.
‘Seriously, that’s all you can think of for getting the most out of our lives?’
‘You, me, you enjoying a glass of wine again on a Saturday night’ – Rosie had stopped drinking since the pregnancy – ‘the fire lit in the pub, all our friends coming in and saying hello, some farmer gossip, then fish and chips on the way home. I absolutely cannot think of anything I could possibly enjoy more.’
‘Well, when you put it like that …’ said Rosie.
‘Quite!’ said Stephen.
A few quick calls and Tina and Jake were both in the pub when they got there, along with Moray, whose face split into a secret grin when he saw them both.
‘Well, hello,’ he said. ‘I thought you two had gone full hermit. I blamed him, obviously.’
Rosie smiled back.
‘Well, we’re out now.’
‘Would you like …’ Moray indicated the bar area generally, not wanting to ask Rosie outright if she wanted a drink.
‘Glass of white wine, please,’ said Rosie. ‘Large.’
Moray and Stephen exchanged looks.
‘Okay, when we carry her home, I want the bottom end,’ said Moray. ‘Not the spewing end.’
‘Oi,’ said Rosie, who could not handle her drink in the slightest.
‘It’s all right,’ said Stephen. ‘We’ll do what we always do, and pretend in the morning that you were really charming and amusing whilst pissed.’
