‘And I couldn’t resist the dummy that makes the baby look like they’ve got a gold grill.’
‘A what?’ Sidney said.
‘You know, like a rapper?’ said Bronagh. ‘A whole front row of gilded choppers.’
‘I thought nurses were supposed to be against dummies and bottle-feeding and all that?’
‘Oh, pish. As long as you don’t fill the bottle with Fanta, you’re grand.’
‘I don’t really need a bunch of new stuff,’ said Sidney. ‘I kept a few of the boys’ clothes, for reasons of both supersition and sentiment, and there’s a thriving market in secondhand baby gear round here.’
‘So you wouldn’t be keen for the infant pillow that looks like a giant pair of stuffed hands?’
‘How about a nice set of Mothercare onesies? In purple or yellow or some other non gender-specific colour?’
‘Are you not going to find out before the day?’
Bronagh sounded disappointed.
‘I’m convinced it’s a girl,’ Sidney told her. ‘And I’ve always wanted to know if I have any vestige of psychic power.’
‘A granddaughter,’ said Bronagh, wistfully. ‘Wouldn’t that be lovely?’
‘I will refuse to treat her any differently from the boys,’ Sidney chided. ‘So Douglas better be prepared to make yeast rockets with everyone.’
‘Will you be OK to put us up in February, for the birth? We could stay with Vic in his new digs, if that suits you better?’
‘Vic’s agreed to that?’
‘Not yet,’ said Bronagh. ‘But you know how much he adores us.’
‘The farm sold for a cracking price,’ Sidney said. ‘He paid off his debts as well as the fine, and even had a fair chunk left.’
‘I know! He should watch out.’
‘Why?’
‘The gold diggers will come flocking,’ Bronagh asserted. ‘And you know what a babe in the woods Vic is. Next phone call, I’ll make him swear not to go on any dates until we get there, so I can vet the candidates.’
‘No dates for nearly six months? Seems a bit harsh.’
‘Better safe than sorry,’ said Bronagh, cheerfully. ‘Some folk out there are madder than a box of frogs!’