Page 203 of The Sun Sister
The baby hardly moved in Cecily’s arms on the journey back and her breathing was so shallow that Cecily could barely detect it. When she arrived at the house, she laid the child on a blanket on the kitchen floor and Wolfie settled down to guard her.
‘Now, you stay there and don’t move, okay?’ she said, before racing back outside and into the barn they used as a storeroom. Bill had packed away all the baby paraphernalia in there before Cecily had arrived home from hospital. Some of it still lay in its original boxes and she searched through the pile for feeding bottles and terry towelling diapers. She also grabbed the shawl that she remembered spending weeks knitting, before heading back to the house, thinking she could collect whatever else she might need later. For now, the baby urgently needed milk.
‘Heaven only knows how long the poor thing has been lying there,’ she said breathlessly to Wolfie, who hadn’t moved from his spot beside the baby and watched her with mournful eyes. ‘Let’s just hope it’s not too late.’ She grabbed a jug of milk from the refrigerator, warmed some in a saucepan, then washed the bottle in hot water before filling it.
‘Come on up here,’ she said to the baby as she wrapped the shawl around the tiny form then settled the child in the crook of her arm. She eased the teat between the baby’s lips and wriggled it around.
‘Come on, baby, suck for me,’ she encouraged. ‘It’ll make you feel so much better if you do.’
Nothing happened, and then Cecily remembered a tip from one of the books she had read when she was pregnant.
If the baby does not respond to the teat, attempt to dribble the milk on its lips.
Cecily did so, then waited with bated breath for a reaction. Finally, she noticed the tiniest sucking movement, and quickly thrust the teat back inside the tiny mouth.
‘There we go!’ Cecily let out the breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding.
The suckling was weak at first and it seemed like most of the milk was leaking back out of the baby’s mouth, but finally it became a little stronger and Cecily could see the movement of swallowing in the child’s throat.
‘Thank the Lord.’ Cecily let out a small sob, just as the baby decided to throw up most of the milk she’d managed to take down.
Reaching for a cloth, Cecily wiped herself and the baby down as best she could. The baby emitted small mewling noises that sounded like a pathetic attempt at a cry.
‘She must have gotten at least some of that into her little stomach?’
And sure enough, a few minutes later, a small trail of green tar-like liquid oozed from her backside.
‘At least your system is working. Lord knows how long you were lying there before Wolfie found you.’
Eventually, exhausted from the exertion, the baby – who had yet to open her eyes – relaxed her grip on the teat and exhaled.
‘Are you asleep?’ Cecily whispered as she bent her head to try and hear the sound of breathing. She could see the baby’s chest rising and falling. As she slept, Cecily sat there in an agony of indecision. She knew she should call for Dr Boyle to come and check the baby over; lying in the woods for however long must have left her dehydrated or perhaps with other medical conditions that Cecily hadn’t even heard of. But it had been shady and cool where she’d found her...Cecily felt her tiny forehead. There was no fever and the baby seemed neither too hot, nor too cold.
‘From the colour of those faeces, I’d reckon she’s not much more than a few hours old...Besides,’ she added, looking down at the sleeping child, ‘Dr Boyle will just insist he takes you with him and he’ll place you in some dreadful orphanage like the ones Mama raises funds for.’
Cecily must have drifted off herself, exhausted from all the panic, for when she woke, dusk was already falling and the baby was mewling in her arms.
‘Okay, okay, let’s try a little more milk.’
When the baby had finished suckling, Cecily withdrew the bottle and saw that she had drunk over an ounce, and so far it had not come back up.
‘Right, I’m sorry, baby, but we need to clean you up. I’m going to put you right there in a bowl in the sink and give you a good wash.’
Setting to with a soft clean cloth and a bar of soap, Cecily was wetter than the baby by the time she had cleansed her thoroughly. There was an odd waxy coating on her skin to remove, but she had done her best to keep the umbilical cord dry, remembering that from her baby book. The baby had hollered loudly all the while, flexing her tiny limbs, which gave Cecily confidence that she was healthy.
After swaddling her in a dry towel and laying her gently on the bedroom floor, Cecily went back outside with the flashlight to fill the bassinet – still sheeted in Cellophane – with things she might need overnight. Back inside, she tried her best to pin the diaper on the baby correctly, then placed her in the unwrapped bassinet on her bed. The baby had once again fallen asleep, so Cecily took the opportunity to make herself a quick sandwich, then hurried back to the bedroom clutching another bottle of milk as she heard her crying again. The baby took almost two ounces of milk this time, although she was a little sick just after. Then Cecily changed her diaper, and dressed her in the tiny cotton nightgown her mother had sent in the parcel from Bloomingdale’s over a year ago. Adding a knitted bonnet, Cecily chuckled at what her mother would think of the little black face encased inside it.
‘I’d love to see your eyes soon, baby,’ she said as she lifted her into the bassinet once more. After preparing another bottle just in case the baby woke in the night, and storing it in the refrigerator, Cecily locked up the house, turned out the lights and climbed into bed, having checked the baby was still breathing in the bassinet next to her.
She heard Wolfie whimpering outside the bedroom door, eager to be let in. Cecily could only smile at the thought that he wanted to protect his charge.
‘You stay there, boy, the baby’s fine in here with me. Goodnight.’ Switching off the bedside light, Cecily rested her head on the pillow. She remembered back to that conversation she’d first had with Bill when he’d asked her if Njala could come and stay. And how he’d been somewhat vague about exactly what would happen to the baby once Njala had given birth. When she thought about it rationally, Cecily supposed that there were few alternatives; Njala had been in hiding because it must not be known that she was pregnant, or her marriage would be cancelled and she would become an outcast. So had she known that her baby could never return with her...?
Help baby.
‘Oh Lord!’
Suddenly, it all made sense. That last day she’d gone to the camp, Njala hadn’t meant that Cecily should help with the birth, she’d meant exactly what she’d said.
