‘Good for the lungs,’ Albert Taylor said, grinning. ‘That’s the way they exercise their lungs, Mabel, did you know that?’
‘There, there, there,’ the wife said, kissing it all over the face. ‘There, there, there.’
They waited another five minutes, but not for one moment did the screaming stop.
‘Change the nappy,’ Albert said. ‘It’s got a wet nappy, that’s all it is.’ He fetched a clean one from the kitchen, and Mrs Taylor took the old one off and put the new one on.
This made no difference at all.
‘Waa! Waa! Waa! Waa! Waa!’ the baby yelled.
‘You didn’t stick the safety pin through the skin, did you, Mabel?’
‘Of course I didn’t,’ she said, feeling under the nappy with her fingers to make sure.
The parents sat opposite one another in their armchairs, smiling nervously, watching the baby on the mother’s lap, waiting for it to tire and stop screaming.
‘You know what?’ Albert Taylor said at last.
‘What?’
‘I’ll bet she’s still hungry. I’ll bet all she wants is another swig at that bottle. How about me fetching her an extra lot?’
‘I don’t think we ought to do that, Albert.’
‘It’ll do her good,’ he said, getting up from his chair. ‘I’m going to warm her up a second helping.’
He went into the kitchen, and was away several minutes. When he returned he was holding a bottle brimful of milk.
‘I made her a double,’ he announced. ‘Eight ounces. Just in case.’
‘Albert! Are you mad? Don’t you know it’s just as bad to overfeed as it is to underfeed?’
‘You don’t have to give her the lot, Mabel. You can stop any time you like. Go on,’ he said, standing over her. ‘Give her a drink.’
Mrs Taylor began to tease the baby’s upper lip with the end of the nipple. The tiny mouth closed like a trap over the rubber teat and suddenly there was silence in the room. The baby’s whole body relaxed and a look of absolute bliss came over its face as it started to drink.
‘There you are, Mabel! What did I tell you?’
The woman didn’t answer.
‘She’s ravenous, that’s what she is. Just look at her suck.’
Mrs Taylor was watching the level of the milk in the bottle. It was dropping fast, and before long three or four ounces out of the eight had disappeared.
‘There,’ she said. ‘That’ll do.’
‘You can’t pull it away now, Mabel.’
‘Yes, dear. I must.’
‘Go on, woman. Give her the rest and stop fussing.’
‘But Albert…’
‘She’s famished, can’t you see that? Go on, my beauty,’ he said. ‘You finish that bottle.’
‘I don’t like it, Albert,’ the wife said, but she didn’t pull the bottle away.
‘She’s making up for lost time, Mabel, that’s all she’s doing.’
Five minutes later the bottle was empty. Slowly, Mrs Taylor withdrew the nipple, and this time there was no protest from the baby, no sound at all. It lay peacefully on the mother’s lap, the eyes glazed with contentment, the mouth half-open, the lips smeared with milk.
‘Twelve whole ounces, Mabel!’ Albert Taylor said. ‘Three times the normal amount! Isn’t that amazing?’
The woman was staring down at the baby. And now the old anxious tight-lipped look of the frightened mother was slowly returning to her face.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ Albert asked. ‘You’re not worried by that, are you? You can’t expect her to get back to normal on a lousy four ounces, don’t be ridiculous.’
‘Come here, Albert,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘I said come here.’
He went over and stood beside her.
‘Take a good look and tell me if you see anything different.’
He peered closely at the baby. ‘She seems bigger, Mabel, if that’s what you mean. Bigger and fatter.’
‘Hold her,’ she ordered. ‘Go on, pick her up.’
He reached out and lifted the baby up off the mother’s lap. ‘Good God!’ he cried. ‘She weighs a ton!’
‘Exactly.’
‘Now isn’t that marvellous!’ he cried, beaming. ‘I’ll bet she must be back to normal already!’
‘It frightens me, Albert. It’s too quick.’
‘Nonense, woman.’
‘It’s that disgusting jelly that’s done it,’ she said. ‘I hate the stuff.’
‘There’s nothing disgusting about royal jelly,’ he answered, indignant.
‘Don’t be a fool, Albert! You think it’s normal for a child to start putting on weight at this speed?’