The Cazalet Chronicles Collection by Elizabeth Jane Howard

Author:Elizabeth Jane Howard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media

Louise

October, 1943

“Hasn’t he finished yet?”

“He keeps falling asleep.”

Mary, the new, very young, highly trained nanny looked disapproving. “Pinch his cheeks,” she said.

Louise gave a gentle tweak. The baby squirmed, pushed his head against her breast and found her nipple once more, but after sucking once or twice, he gave up.

“I don’t think I’ve got any milk left on that side.”

“Oh, well. Have you winded him?”

“I tried, but nothing much happened, I’m afraid.”

Mary leaned down, and took the baby from her. “Come to Mary, then,” she said in a different, far kinder voice. She put the baby over her shoulder and patted the small of his back. He belched several times.

“That’s a good boy. Your cup of tea’s on the side there.”

“Thank you, Mary.”

“Say goodbye to Mummy, then.” She levered the baby down so that Louise could kiss his face. He was pale, excepting for two blotches of bright pink on his cheeks; his mouth was pink and damp and pouting with a bead of milk on the protuberant lower lip. He smelled of milk and his eyes were shut. When they had gone, Louise buttoned up her nursing bra, putting fresh pads over her nipples. They were sore, but nothing like as bad as they had been. She reached for the cup of tea and drank it gratefully. The early morning feed was the worst. She was wakened from deep sleep by Mary, sometimes not until six o’clock, but sometimes even earlier, and the feed which, if only the baby would drink properly, need not take more than half an hour, always took twice as long. By the end of it she felt tired, but horribly awake. It took her ages to get to sleep again, and by the time she did, she had to get up for breakfast. At home, she would have stayed in bed, but at Hatton, where she now was, this was out of the question. She would have to get up, have her bath, dress and have breakfast with Zee and Pete, and soon after that it would be time for the next feed.

Michael had brought her down a week ago, and it had been made clear to her that, although, of course, he could not stay, Zee wanted to see her grandson, “really get to know him.” So they were to stay three weeks, of which only one was nearly over. Michael had not been sure when he would be able to get down again, and Zee had begun to say that it would surely be best if Louise and the baby continued to stay until he was able to fetch them. This, she felt, might be weeks, even months hence. It was twenty to seven: she had better try and sleep. She turned off the bedside light but, as usual, the dark seemed simply to accelerate everything that had to be suppressed with people and the daytime. Sometimes, as now, she thought that if she abandoned herself to it she would understand it better.

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