the bed. It had been Kate’s turn to wake Finola and give her breakfast today, but Kate had forgotten and Finola could not yet walk downstairs: she could only yell. ‘Hush, hush, je te donnerai ton petit-déjeuner ,’ said Anatole, scooping up the child, who was tiny for her eighteen months. ‘I thought Kate had taken you back upstairs, you see, darling. There, hush.’ She let herself relax and be carried downstairs.
Finola could not be left in the kitchen if no one had the time to watch her, for she was at an age when she put everythingsmall enough into her mouth and clambered over everything large enough. In her own room there was nothing to endanger her, so she was sometimes left there for fairly long periods. In the intervals, two or three people at once would play with her, talk to her and cuddle her. There was not enough money to pay a nanny, although shortly after Finola’s return it had been decided that she needed one.
Anatole put her in her high chair in the kitchen and started smashing eggs for her breakfast.
‘Do you realise that Liza was just upstairs and she didn’t even go to see whether there was anything wrong with the child? That bitch Kate didn’t feed her,’ said Anatole to Jenny.
‘I can get her breakfast,’ said Jenny. ‘You go off. It doesn’t matter if I’m late for school; they don’t even notice me being late any more, I’m late so often.’
‘She’s not going to have to eat your scrambled eggs after she’s had no food since yesterday, my dear Jenny,’ said Anatole, slamming the saucepan down on the stove.
Jenny sighed. ‘Anatole, why don’t you tell Liza that she’s a lazy pig instead of shouting about her to me?’
‘What good did telling Liza ever do? She just looks dreamily through you. You know that perfectly well.’
Finola started to whimper. ‘Pick her up,’ said Anatole. ‘I shouldn’t be shouting, it upsets her.’
‘I suppose she thinks it’s her who’s made you angry,’ said Jenny. ‘God, it must be terrible to be a baby. Can’t walk, can’t talk, can’t read, can’t even feed themselves or control their bodies at all.’
‘Finola is past that stage, thank goodness,’ said Anatole, but he was frowning at Jenny and cooking with less vigour than before.
‘Yes, but she’s still pretty helpless. And she still doesn’t talk at all, though she understands everything. Why is it that everyone thinks it’s terrible when someone is paralysed when they’re grown up, and yet we don’t think it’s awful for a baby to be like that.’
‘It is a normal condition which one grows out of, you know,’ said Anatole.
‘Yes, but it doesn’t seem like that to the baby, does it? And that’s one’s first experience,’ mused Jenny, ‘everyone beingso much bigger than you, so powerful, so strange, and you able to do absolutely nothing. I bet we don’t remember being a baby simply because the experience was so ghastly that we’ve cut it out of our minds.’
‘But if you are loved …’ said Anatole, slowly ladling the eggs on to a plate for Finola while Jenny held the child closely and allowed her to pull her hair.
‘That can make things better, obviously. But all the love in the world can’t make you able to do things for yourself if you’re a baby.’
‘So independence is worth more than love?’ said Anatole.
‘I think so,’ said Jenny, ‘certainly in such an extreme case.’
‘An extreme case?’ said Anatole. ‘Jenny, I must go. I shall have to waste money on a bus if I’m to get there within half an hour of the right time. Can you feed her?’
‘Of course,’ said Jenny. ‘It’s quicker to walk nowadays, the buses are so irregular.’
‘Well, I shall just have to try my luck.’
Anatole borrowed Augustus’s overcoat, which was considerably less shabby than his own, and a hat belonging to a cousin of Clementina’s who was currently staying at Bramham Gardens.
He took a very crowded bus from Earl’s Court to
Finola could not be left in the kitchen if no one had the time to watch her, for she was at an age when she put everythingsmall enough into her mouth and clambered over everything large enough. In her own room there was nothing to endanger her, so she was sometimes left there for fairly long periods. In the intervals, two or three people at once would play with her, talk to her and cuddle her. There was not enough money to pay a nanny, although shortly after Finola’s return it had been decided that she needed one.
Anatole put her in her high chair in the kitchen and started smashing eggs for her breakfast.
‘Do you realise that Liza was just upstairs and she didn’t even go to see whether there was anything wrong with the child? That bitch Kate didn’t feed her,’ said Anatole to Jenny.
‘I can get her breakfast,’ said Jenny. ‘You go off. It doesn’t matter if I’m late for school; they don’t even notice me being late any more, I’m late so often.’
‘She’s not going to have to eat your scrambled eggs after she’s had no food since yesterday, my dear Jenny,’ said Anatole, slamming the saucepan down on the stove.
Jenny sighed. ‘Anatole, why don’t you tell Liza that she’s a lazy pig instead of shouting about her to me?’
‘What good did telling Liza ever do? She just looks dreamily through you. You know that perfectly well.’
Finola started to whimper. ‘Pick her up,’ said Anatole. ‘I shouldn’t be shouting, it upsets her.’
‘I suppose she thinks it’s her who’s made you angry,’ said Jenny. ‘God, it must be terrible to be a baby. Can’t walk, can’t talk, can’t read, can’t even feed themselves or control their bodies at all.’
‘Finola is past that stage, thank goodness,’ said Anatole, but he was frowning at Jenny and cooking with less vigour than before.
‘Yes, but she’s still pretty helpless. And she still doesn’t talk at all, though she understands everything. Why is it that everyone thinks it’s terrible when someone is paralysed when they’re grown up, and yet we don’t think it’s awful for a baby to be like that.’
‘It is a normal condition which one grows out of, you know,’ said Anatole.
‘Yes, but it doesn’t seem like that to the baby, does it? And that’s one’s first experience,’ mused Jenny, ‘everyone beingso much bigger than you, so powerful, so strange, and you able to do absolutely nothing. I bet we don’t remember being a baby simply because the experience was so ghastly that we’ve cut it out of our minds.’
‘But if you are loved …’ said Anatole, slowly ladling the eggs on to a plate for Finola while Jenny held the child closely and allowed her to pull her hair.
‘That can make things better, obviously. But all the love in the world can’t make you able to do things for yourself if you’re a baby.’
‘So independence is worth more than love?’ said Anatole.
‘I think so,’ said Jenny, ‘certainly in such an extreme case.’
‘An extreme case?’ said Anatole. ‘Jenny, I must go. I shall have to waste money on a bus if I’m to get there within half an hour of the right time. Can you feed her?’
‘Of course,’ said Jenny. ‘It’s quicker to walk nowadays, the buses are so irregular.’
‘Well, I shall just have to try my luck.’
Anatole borrowed Augustus’s overcoat, which was considerably less shabby than his own, and a hat belonging to a cousin of Clementina’s who was currently staying at Bramham Gardens.
He took a very crowded bus from Earl’s Court to
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