 |  |
|
|
|
 |
|
 |
|
Listeners' Fantasies |
 |
|
|
|
 |
|
The Changeling
By Aileen
 Emma has more in common with her mother than she realises, in this story contributed to the Fantasy Archers topic of The Archers message board.
The Grundy baby was crying again.
Never in all her years of experience as a nurse in the maternity ward and adjoining nursery had Sister Matilda come across such a nervous, distraught child. The strange thing was that the other nurses didn't seem to notice, but this was due to their lack of experience, of course.
She looked at her watch; just one hour till she was due to go off duty. It was still quite a long time till the early morning feed.
She decided to give the whinging baby a bottle of good old gripe water - so much better than the modern fandangled stuff. With brisk determination she picked the child up and carried him into the little tea kitchen behind the nursery to administer the healing potion. He was so astounded that he immediately stopped shrieking.
***
"All clear!" Claire whispered to herself as she opened the door to the nursery as quietly as she possibly could. She looked quickly around her in the dimly lit room, took in the lines of cots with their tiny slumbering contents, desperately scanning the names. She found her baby in the back row near the window, stirring slightly in his sleep, dreaming perhaps.
On a sudden impulse she scooped him up into her arms and gazed down at his little screwed-up face. He wasn't brown, in fact his face was quite pale against the dark frame of his hair. She reached for his tiny hand, and he grasped her finger. She was mesmerized. She remembered someone telling her that black babies were pale at first and attained their dark pigmentation slowly in the days following the birth. She tried to remember Rob's ebony skin but pushed the image away.
Suddenly an exhilarating idea formed in her head. She could just go away with the baby, leave the hospital… take him home. It was so simple; he was hers, wasn't he? She clasped him tightly to her body and walked purposefully towards the door.
"What was that?" She thought she heard footsteps outside. She stood trembling in the corner and was overwhelmed with the reality of what she was about to do. With a jolt she came down to earth. Of course she couldn't do it. She couldn't look after him. She wanted to go back to college - start a new life. Her baby needed parents to look after him properly. She listened again, but all was quiet. Carefully she placed the tiny bundle in the empty cot and stooped to kiss the top of his head. Then she ran for it - blindly - back to her ward.
***
Emma had to know for sure. She had been lying awake for two or three hours trying to remember the baby's face. After the birth she hadn't dared take a proper look, what with Will there and everything. He hadn't said anything, of course, but he was pretty groggy after spending all those hours holding her hand, stroking her back and counting between all the contractions. The birth had been pretty gruelling. She shuddered again at the thought.
Carefully she opened the nursery door and looked around, taking in all the cots. Like Claire she scanned the names - "Grundy". She found the cot right at the front and the baby sleeping peacefully. She braced herself and, taking him cautiously into her arms, inspected his tiny features. No resemblance! Relief flooded over her, as she contemplated his squashed little nose, dark arched eyebrows and his amazing shock of black hair. Was it as black as that yesterday? It was rather striking. Of course she had dark hair, too. She cradled him closer to her, smiling happily to herself, her one big worry appeased for the moment.
"Mrs Grundy?" Nurse Laura was standing in the doorway holding a baby, looking at Emma with blank astonishment.
"Oh… I just… I wanted to see if my baby was all right." Emma lowered the child gently into the cot. The nurse approached and read the name label. "Yes, well, off to bed again, then. We'll be bringing the babies for their feed soon. You're not supposed to come in here, you know?"
Nurse Laura was new at Borchester General and found the wards sadly wanting in discipline. She'd just found Sister half-asleep in the kitchen with a baby in her arms administering gripe water, if you please. She'd then been told to put the now sleeping Grundy baby back in its cot! Well! Here was the Grundy baby fast asleep in his mother's arms beside the cot. So who was the child she was holding? She walked briskly from cot to cot, till she found the empty one at the window and laid the sleeping form inside. That's the child who's being given up for adoption, she registered and shook her head in disapproval.
A week later
Susan had been waiting feverishly for the new little family to come back from the hospital. She'd been at the Casa whatsit - she could never remember that foreign name - all afternoon, making sure that Will had got everything just right for the baby's homecoming. Her first grandchild! She couldn't help feeling excited, even though she wished they'd waited a bit longer. Now, she'd got everything ready to make the tea fresh for when they arrived. She'd prepared a lovely little spread with all Emma's old favourites: a fabulous Victoria sponge - the Horrobin recipe, of course. Emma had to eat well now she was breast-feeding - she needed her calories.
A sudden knock at the door made her jump. Who could that be now?
"Can I come in?" Clarrie stood at the door, a big smile on her face. "I wanted to just - you know - welcome them home, and then I'll go again. I think they should be on their own at first with the baby, don't you."
"Do you?" Susan looked dismayed. "Well, I thought, as Emma's mother, you know, she might be glad of a little help at first, what with the baby being so new and all that!"
"I always thinks it's best to let them manage on their own. I mean it's different if they ask for help, but otherwise I wouldn't like to interfere."
The two grandmothers eyed each other with mutual disapproval. However nothing more could be said on this sensitive subject, as just at that moment Will's car drove up and stopped in front of the Casa. The two grannies came jostling outside to form a united front, just as Will was helping Emma out of the car, cradling the baby in a hand-crotcheted avocado shawl. The door was flung open and with much ooh-ing and aaah-ing Emma was escorted inside the house, where Susan then ran to put the kettle on. "He's very dark, isn't he? Look at that black hair!" Clarrie peered inside the shawl.
"That's from my family's side. My mother had lovely black hair and blue eyes - she was quite a beauty!" Susan was almost bursting with pride, as she filled the teapot.
"He's got blue eyes, too." said Emma protectively. "Don't wake him up, he isn't due for his feed for at least another hour."
"All babies have blue eyes at first." Clarrie was an authority on babies. "Why don't you put him down to sleep now, then you can have your tea."
"I'll put him in his cot for you." Susan rushed to take the baby from his mother's arms.
"I don't know if..." Poor Will couldn't get a word in edgeways and felt very uncomfortable with all these women fussing around. He was also rather surprised at his son's dark skin - in fact he thought the child seemed to be getting browner every day.
"Careful with him, Mum!" But Emma was secretly pleased to be able to sit down at the table with both arms free. She, too, had been musing at her son's unusual colouring. On the one hand he didn't look like Ed - and that was such a relief - but on the other hand he didn't look like Will, either. He didn't even look like her.
Amidst all these secret musings and contemplations, Susan was gloating over her grandchild. She took him to the window to get a better look, and then… nearly dropped him.
"Oh no! It's all going to come out now." Her legs almost gave way beneath her as she thought of her well-guarded secret. So it was true that it sometimes skipped a generation! For a moment she remembered that fateful day-trip to Liverpool 19 years ago.
Why, oh why did everything have to happen to her?
***
Oliver looked at the clock - 4.00 am. He suppressed a yawn and looked down again at the sleeping child in his arms. It hadn't finished its bottle. He removed it gently from the baby's mouth and surveyed it in the dim light of the nursery; he'd only drunk about 30 grams at the most. Anyway he was asleep now at last. Trouble was, the moment he was down in his cot, he was at it again, with the most piercing of screams.
Poor Caroline. He'd told her to have a lie-in. She hadn't slept properly since the baby had arrived. She hadn't reckoned with this! In fact neither of them had.
Oliver hadn't been able to believe his ears at first, when Caroline had suddenly expressed the wish to adopt a baby. They'd both decided to foster a child, a youngster in his teens, and then suddenly Caroline had heard from the authorities that there was a baby up for adoption at Borchester. There was no way he could talk her out of it. She was obsessed.
They'd rushed into the shops to choose the layout. She hadn't rested till the nursery had been decorated, swooning over wallpaper with rosebuds and teddy-bears. The house had become inundated with cuddly toys, musical chimes, brightly coloured pictures of giraffes and caterpillars.
Slowly he stood up and carried the sleeping baby to its cradle. Parting the blue muslin curtains he laid his newly acquired son carefully onto the waiting mattress and gingerly arranged the covers over the sweetly slumbering form. He took a small step backwards, gazing with disbelief at the angelic face. Suddenly its features contorted, and the tiny mouth gaped to produce an ear-piercing yell. The baby clenched its fists and waved them defiantly above its screwed-up little purple face, and for one fleeting moment Oliver was aware of an uncanny likeness to Ed Grundy.
More
Archers fantasies
Visit
the message board
<<Back
|
|
 | |  |
|
|
|
 |
|
