‘Apparently they’re very tube-like when they’re first born and their stomachs swell as the days go by. Now, let’s a have a drink or a cup of tea or something before the next feed.’
A few minutes later, Antony put a mug of hot chocolate in front of her. ‘It’s so much quicker with two,’ he said.
‘I can imagine.’ Fran sipped her hot chocolate. ‘How long were you doing it on your own?’
‘They arrived at eight this morning. I put off asking you for help as long as I could. And seriously, I wouldn’t have done that at all if I didn’t have to go away tomorrow. Although it’s only for a night,’ he added.
Fran managed not to gasp in horror at the prospect of being in sole charge of so many helpless little creatures. She turned the subject to something she knew about: food. ‘Have you eaten much today?’
‘A lot of toast. There’s more bread in the freezer.’
‘Why don’t I make us supper? We’ve got just over an hour before the next feed. There’ll be time.’
‘That would be amazing. Cooking has been the last thing on my mind. I’m not sure what there is …’
‘Don’tworry. I’ll find something.’ When Fran had used Antony’s kitchen to cook her pies, she discovered that there were good basic – and less basic – ingredients in his fridge. And if all else failed, she’d do omelettes.
An hour later she went quietly back into the sitting room to find Antony stretched out on one of the sofas, fast asleep. In between making supper (sausages and mash) she had prepared the boiling water, mixed up a double batch of milk and sterilised all the bottles. She reckoned they just had time to eat before the next feed.
She cleared her throat and, obligingly, Antony opened his eyes.
‘Let’s eat,’ she said. ‘The pups are already getting restless, thinking it’s time for their next meal.’
‘That’s amazing,’ said Antony, looking at the loaded tray and swinging his legs down to the floor.
She handed him a plate.
‘Would you like a glass of wine with it?’ he asked.
‘I’d kill for a glass of wine, but honestly? I think not while I’m in charge of puppies,’ Fran replied.
He laughed. ‘I’ll be in charge. You could have a glass.’
She shook her heard. ‘I’d rather have a cup of tea, frankly. I’ll make it afterwards.’
They didn’t speak, both appreciating the sausages, which had just the right combination ofmeat,fat, cereal and spice, and the creamy mashed potatoes.
‘That was heaven,’ said Antony when he’d finished. ‘Now I’m going to make tea.’
The puppies were stirring properly now so Fran measured milk into all the bottles. Then she went and washed her hands. The tea was waiting for her when she got back.
‘I should probably feed the pups before drinking the tea,’ she said, ‘but I’m afraid I’m going to look after myself first.’
‘Quite right,’ said Antony, having taken a sip of his own tea. ‘Now, shall we get started?’
And so it began again.
For the night shift, they took a sofa each, neither of them wanting to go to bed properly for less than two hours’ sleep. Although she had set her phone to wake her, Fran slept through an entire feed. This meant when she heard her phone alarm again, she’d had four hours’ sleep.
‘Antony!’ she reproached him as he came back into the room with the thermoses and milk. ‘You should have made sure I woke up!’
‘You’ve got to do a whole day and night on your own tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I thought I should let you miss a feed. Now, there’s more tea on the counter in the kitchen. Would you care to bring it through? And home-made shortbread that June made for us.’
Theydidn’t talk very much through the feed, mostly just commenting on how the individual puppies were doing. There was one, a bit smaller than the rest, who, though keen at first, tired quickly, that Fran took on as a challenge.
‘I’ll feed Betsy first,’ she said, ‘and then when she’s had a nap, after all the others have fed, I’ll do her again.’
‘You’re really into this, aren’t you?’ said Antony, stroking a tiny tummy with damp cotton wool.
