Wandering Wombats (aka Bike) Part 571 by Angharad

I did pasta for dinner that night; everyone seemed to enjoy it, especially the girls, who spattered bolognaise sauce over anything and everything. Next time I think I’ll put it through the blender and make them suck it up with a straw.

Tom read them a bedtime story while I slaved over a spattered kitchen. I was just glad we’d eaten out there and not in the dining room. Simon was at his computer as I mopped floors and wiped down walls and furniture. No wonder the ‘Mericans eat out so much of the time.

I was glad Tom was back, at least I didn’t need to go and visit him, there was just Stella and Puddin’ and Henry to sort out now. I changed after finishing the kitchen and went off to see Stella, or more importantly, Puddin’.

I learned from Stella that she had been up to see the baby and fed her through the incubator. I wondered if she’d felt as excited as I did each time. It appeared she didn’t. Given that they were several rooms apart, and the birth had been a trifle traumatic, it didn’t entirely surprise me. For all I knew she had post natal depression–actually, I think she had prenatal depression, the post natal experience just confirmed her suspicions.

I went up to see Puddin’ and found a different nurse there. “Are you the one who visits her to lay hands on her?”

“I like to touch her, because I enjoy it and I think she needs it. Babies need to be touched or they grow up with all sorts of complexes.”

“You mean like a shopping complex?” she laughed at her own joke.

“No I mean, like inabilities to form relationships, to learn to trust others.”

“I think mine was funnier.”

“Yes, as a neo-natal nurse, you’d make a good comedienne. As a comedienne, you make a piss poor nurse.”

“I came top in my group.”

“At what? Telling jokes?”

“I thought healers were supposed to be nice people.”

“What a coincidence, I thought the same about nurses.”

“I’m a midwife.” She almost sneered this at me.

“So what?”

“So how do you heal her?”

“Heal her? I’m a biologist, I came to take her as a specimen.”

“Oh yes, very funny,” she chuckled.

“Can I see Desdemona?”

“If you like,” she shrugged her shoulders.

I walked to the incubator she had always been in, and she wasn’t there. There was a baby in there but it wasn’t her. “Where is she?”

“You know, I can’t quite remember.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like I said, I can’t recall where we put her, and as you aren’t the mother, there isn’t much you can do about it.”

“Is she still in the unit?”

“Maybe, why?”

“I’d have thought it was obvious.”

“Well I don’t always do the obvious, just like to keep people guessing.”

“So I see, inadequate as a child were you?” I asked.

“No, whatever made you think that?”

“It’s quite common amongst child abusers, having been abused themselves.”

“Oh, read some pop-psychology have we?”

“The self-help book of masturbation? Is that known to you?”

“Whatever makes you think that.”

“Because you seem like the sort of tosspot who’d have one,” I suggested.

“Nothing like getting down and personal.”

“I wouldn’t like to get down with you, no matter what the apparent advocate suggested, that song is so passé, these days.”

“Ooh, big words. It won’t make any difference you’re still supposed to be supervised at all times.

“Yeah so, I’m hardly going to run off with her now am I? Besides she’s in an alarmed incubator.”

“Do you know how we alarm them? We tell them you’re coming. Ha ha.”

“Can you show me which one she’s in?”

“Oh no, I’m much to busy for that.”

“Even if your colleague believes my visits have helped her?”

“She’s dead gullible.”

“You’re obviously not?”

“Duh?”

“She’s also quite personable, and you’re not.”

“We’re none of us perfect…”

“Do you know who’s baby this is?”

“Not yours.”

“No, it’s my sister in law’s.”

“So, who is she, Lady Muck?”

“Nearly right.”

“Um, Queen of Sheba?”

“No, Countess Stanebury.”

“Never heard of it or her.”

“Can I take your name?”

“What for?”

“I’m going to report you to the Chief Exec the next time he comes for dinner.”

“Yeah, sure; an’ who are you?”

“For your career? The Angel Of Death.”

“Bah, you can’t frighten me.”

“I know, you’re too stupid. You’re also in the wrong job.”

I walked past her and began looking at the rows of incubators, there were nine babies in the incubators, in three rows of three. I walked up and down them twice before alighting on Puddin’.

“Hello, little miracle baby,” I cooed to her and she stretched yawned and smiled.

I put my hand through the inserts and touched her finger. She immediately grabbed it and it felt stronger. I stood and closed my eyes trying to pour love into her little body. I thought I could see something in my mind’s eye, like a white light between us, flowing from me into Puddin’. I opened my eyes but could see nothing. Maybe it was just wishful thinking?

After about twenty minutes she let go and I knew it was okay to leave her. I decided to knit her a little dolly to cuddle. Normally, I’d have asked the nurse or midwife on the unit, but not the unpleasant hussy who was on tonight. I was seriously thinking, I would report her.

When I got home, I was incandescent with anger. I spoke with Simon and he agreed I should write to the head of the unit. He made some tea while I drafted a letter. It was short and sharp. He approved it, and all I needed was the name of the unit manager and I could send it.

“May I make a little suggestion?” he asked, at this time Tom had joined us and we discussed it with him too. Simon’s suggestion was interesting. “Why don’t I write the letter of complaint? That way, you get the benefit of my title.”

“I told her I was Stella’s sister in law.”

“She won’t remember that, besides you are to be Puddin’s godmother.”

“Yeah, I know.” I blushed, it still sat uneasy on me.

Tom agreed with Simon, “She is practically your sister in law.”

“We see each other as sisters, but I did make an inaccuracy in my statement to her.”

“So you can send in your original letter and see what happens, or you can send in one from Simon and guarantee it causes ructions.”

“I don’t like doing it, though, they should take as much notice of my letter.”

“You started the name dropping.”

“Okay, you send the letter, I’ll make some more bread.” I left my two conspirators conspiring to give a midwife a difficult delivery.