It doesn't take me long to get to Niamh's. She puts her finger to her lips as she lets me in.
"The baby is sleeping," she whispers. "Finally."
"Was it a tough night?"
She rolls her eyes. "That's the understatement of the century. It's easy for you. You get to go home at the end of the day."
"I offered to stay."
Niamh gestures to the room. "As if there’s space.”
"If you want me to take the baby one night so you can get some sleep, let me know." I'm reminded of how much I hate referring to him as ‘the baby’. "Did you get much sleep?"
"Some. Not enough. Why?"
"I thought we could talk about the baby's name."
Niamh sits on the bed. She stares at the baby sleeping peacefully in the Moses basket.
"Have you had any ideas?" I ask.
She shakes ahead.
I kneel on the floor close to her. "Niamh, are you okay? I'm worried about you."
"I'm tired and overwhelmed. I'll be fine."
"Maybe you should mention it to the midwife when she comes."
"She's already been. Besides, there's no need. I told you I'm fine."
"Niamh—"
"I'm fine," she snaps. "So is the baby. Despite being so fussy about food yesterday afternoon, he’s gaining weight. Perhaps you could feed him when he wakes up. He’s less fussy for you."
"Okay. But if you keep feeling down, promise me you'll talk to the midwife."
She waves a hand. "Fine. If it'll keep you happy."
"It will."
"Do you want a drink?"
I shake my head and move to sit in the chair. I take the rattle Rory made out of my pocket.
"What's that?" Niamh asks.
"A gift for the baby."
She narrows her eyes. "That must have cost you a pretty penny. It looks handmade."
"It was made by a friend of mine."
"The friend you're staying with?"
"Yes."
"Have I ever met this friend of yours?"
