‘I have given Freddie his first feed, ma’am,’ she said.
‘And I am sure it went well,’ I replied brightly, hoping to dispel any forthcoming doom and gloom.
Becky’s lips pursed. ‘Not exactly,’ she said. ‘He bit my tit—and not just once.’
My mouth hung open. ‘Bit you? But how is that possible? He doesn’t have any teeth!’
‘He ground his gums together. It was quite painful.’
‘I ... I am very sorry,’ I stammered. ‘That is naughty of him. Butperhaps this is quite normal behaviour, and he will settle down once he gets used to you?’
Becky lifted her chin. ‘I ain’t never had a baby bite my tit before. I ain’t sure I want to expose my tits to him again. I now see why you wanted to employ my services so your own tits remained unbitten.’
Oh no, this is not good! She sounds like she is ready to pack her bags.I looked over at Jane, who seemed to be struggling not to laugh.
‘Help!’ I mouthed.
Jane straightened her face and said seriously, ‘Could he be teething perhaps? My mother said my youngest brother did that to her when he was feeding, but they gave him a wooden teething ring to chew on beforehand, and it seemed to help.’
Becky considered it. ‘He is very young for teeth to be coming through, but it is possible.’
‘I will talk to Max, and we will procure a teething ring immediately,’ I offered.
‘And perhaps, in the meantime, before the next feed, he could gnaw on a clean damp piece of cloth to ease his gums?’ Jane suggested.
Becky nodded. ‘All right, yes, we could try that.’
‘Rest assured, I will do everything in mypower to prevent my son from’—I took a deep breath—‘mauling your tits.’
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ said Becky solemnly. ‘You and your friend have been most kind and considerate. I will go and acquaint myself with your housekeeper and ask her for a clean cloth.’
Becky took her leave, and when she had gone, Jane looked at me and smirked. She opened her mouth to say something, but I growled, ‘Don’t you dare!’ She snapped it shut and returned to her writing, a grin spreading across her face.
***
To my astonishment, Max produced a teething ring that very day, a fancy silver one.
‘It was my own when I was a baby,’ he said.
‘Gracious, why on earth do you still have it? Do you gnaw on it when you are feeling anxious?’
‘Of course not. Don’t be silly, dearest,’ he replied. ‘I have a small trunk full of my baby things in the attic. Mother gave them to me when I moved in.’
‘This is the first I’ve heard you mentionit. What else is in there?’
‘Oh, nothing too much,’ he said dismissively.
But I insisted on him bringing the trunk down as there were probably other things that we could be using.
Max seemed a bit embarrassed but dutifully did as I requested. When I retired to our chamber that night, there was a sizeable wooden trunk resting on the bed, and he was nowhere in sight. ‘Small trunk? I think not!’ I muttered.
Assuming he had left it there for me to go through the things, I lifted the latch. My eyes widened when I saw what was inside. Wrapped in tissue paper and packed neatly in layers was a veritable treasure trove of clothing. It was like a baby shop in a box!
Carefully, I unwrapped the top item and discovered a tiny blue jacket embroidered with yellow ducks. It came with matching woollen breeches and little leather shoes. I could scarcely believe that tall, strapping Max had once worn this. He must have looked utterly adorable. I couldn’t wait to dress Freddie in it when he was older.
With some enthusiastic unwrapping, I soon had all the clothing in a neat pile on the bed. At the bottom of the trunk, I discovered some wooden toys, another silver teething ring (slightly bitten), and a rattle.
‘Will any of it do?’ said a voice behind me, and I turned to find Max standing in the doorway, looking sheepish. ‘The clothing is mostly hand-me-downs from my brothers, but it should still be suitable for when Freddie’s breeched.’
