The Journal of Dora Damage(118)

‘Ugh. Jocelyn brought some back from India. He loves the stuff.’

‘I got mine from an Indian family up the road an’ all. And beer. Drink lots of lovely beer. It’s the hops what does it. But whatever you do, don’t eat anything cooked with sage. And avoid onions for a week or two. Give it ten days, you should be on your own.’ Then she turned to me and added, ‘Let her cry as much as she needs to. Tears help the milk flow. She’s gonna be cryin’ buckets, an’ all.’

The crying started right then, only it was Nathaniel. I handed him to Mrs Masters, and she said, ‘Let’s give it a go right now.’ She put her finger inside his mouth to get him sucking, then she brought him over to Lady Knightley’s dress and tugged it down. She got Lady Knightley to hold the baby while her finger was still in his mouth, then, using her other hand, pinched and tugged her nipple until it stood out like a cigar butt, grabbed it between the knuckles of the hand that was in the baby’s mouth, whipped out her index finger, and shoved the nipple in. Nathaniel’s eyes opened wide in shock, and he pulled back a bit, so she guided his head back to the nipple and he gave it a lick, then clamped his mouth firmly on and started sucking.

‘When did he last feed?’

‘About two hours ago. Bread and milk.’

‘Good. He’s in the right state then. Look at him, he’s doing well already.’

‘It hurts,’ protested Lady Knightley.

‘It’s gonna,’ said Mrs Masters. ‘But not half so much as a hungry baby who’s sick with the wrong kind of milk. Cry all you like; crying helps the milk to come.’

Lacrimosa, I thought. Tears. And milk.

‘I’d better be going soon. Me milk’s comin’ in again and I’ve got four mouths waiting for me. But I’ll give you something before I go to get you through the night. Pansy, be a love and get me some hot water and a glass.’ Then, when she had them, she warmed the glass in the water, quickly undid the buttons of her blouse, pressed the rim of the glass over her nipple, and the milk poured into it as if she had turned on a tap. The glass went cloudy with milk and steam, and when it was almost full, and the flow had slowed, she pulled it away, and fastened up the buttons of her shirt with one hand, using the cloth of the shirt itself to mop up the drops. ‘Look at that,’ she said with pride, and I thought she was going to drink it, she was salivating so. ‘Ain’t no better substance on earth. She can use goat after this if she likes, shouldn’t need it for more than a week. Make sure she uses it up by midnight, or it’ll go bad. That, and the herbs, makes a nice round two and sixpence, don’t you think?’

No sooner had I given her the money than she was gone, back to her waiting hungry mouths. I could almost hear the crying that would greet her as she turned into her street.

It was getting late, and I still had things to tidy up. I pressed some small coins into Pansy’s hand, even though she wouldn’t get paid properly until the end of January, and sent her on her way, and then I went back into the kitchen to relieve Lady Knightley of her now screaming child.

Nathaniel seemed bitterly disappointed with his mother’s provisions, and there were tiny spots of blood around the top of her dress. I took him into the parlour and jiggled him up and down for a bit, before laying him out on a blanket in front of the fire, which quietened him somewhat, and he gazed at the flickering shadows it cast, while Lucinda sat by his side and stroked him. Then I went back into the kitchen, where Lady Knightley was still sitting in a droop where I had left her.

‘Come with me, upstairs, now.’ She followed me and my single candle meekly, and I took her into the bedroom, which Pansy had aired. ‘You will sleep here. I will clear all this –’ I dismissed the impedimenta of the sick-room with my other hand, ‘– tomorrow.’

Lady Knightley was looking strangely around the room. ‘What curious taste you have!’ she said quietly. ‘And my, you have so few wardrobes! Oh look, how clever!’ She pulled back the drape I had pinned across the alcove between the wall and the chimney breast, to reveal the pegs and hooks and their meagre hangings in darkness behind. In her surprise she seemed quite to forget her misfortune. ‘How ingenious! But where do you fit your dresses?’ Had she not noticed that my dresses did not trail with the yards of fabric of her own? I did not mention the brown silk one in the ottoman at the foot of the bed. ‘And look! No hangings on the bed! But what do you do about draughts? Why, this house is considerably draughtier than Berkeley-square, but still you have no curtains!’