Free Foal's Bread by Gillian Mears Page B

wanted to swoop up. His one and only small-framed wife but oh, here the question was coming.
    â€˜So, wanna have your first hold, Rol?’ She was looking down at the bundle with such love that for a second, in amongst the pride and happiness, came a moment of despair.
    Would he be up to the task? It was as light as a little chook. At the feel of his longer, less certain arms it wrinkled up its face.
    â€˜She’ll wake up any minute now. Then you’ll hear there’s nothing wrong with its little lungs.’ Noah was sure that there, beneath the odour of smoky train carriage and however many hot dinners it had taken for the train to come so far, she could catch the true smell of her husband. If anything his eyes were bluer than ever due to the tan on his skin from being up north.
    â€˜Keep supporting her head.’ Reen had reached them first.
    He felt stupid, but also a stupid delight, standing on the platform like this.
    â€˜She’s the spittin image of her dadda.’ Ralda came huffing up to stand on the other side.
    â€˜Prettier than that, we hope,’ said Roley.
    Minna and Sept, the new Nanna and Pop, delayed down the platform speaking to the Withrows, also felt all proud and somehow softer, as if a baby in their midst had temporarily lent some of its downy, delicate reality to everyone on One Tree.
    â€˜So who’s me best girl now then, hey?’ Roley said, carefully handing her back to Noah. And again, just before the baby began to cry, the look flashing fantastic between them.
    â€˜Might go sit in the car. Give her bottle while you get your luggage.’
    â€˜So Dad’s bit bullet, hey? Got himself a car?’
    â€˜It’s a Ford. I put in a bit of my pay, you know,’ said Reenie. ‘That’s it over there. And Dad’s gunna teach me to drive.’
    Roley looked over to where his sister was gesturing and saw a yellowy-looking Ford with mudguards just the colour of a chocolate milkshake.
    The baby, secure in Noah’s lap as they all squeezed in, seemed to be looking over to him with eyes as blue as his own. There was an almost invisible forelock of hair. Impossible not to put out one finger for a stroke. His fingertip could hardly feel it, it was that silky.
    â€˜We started off shortening her to Elly,’ Reenie was telling him, ‘but somehow the next day when Noh said little Lainey, we all started calling her that.’
    â€˜And what day did she come?’
    â€˜Friday before last.’
    â€˜Is that right?’ he marvelled. ‘Reckon there’ll be a clipping of what I jumped on her birthday then. One of the luckiest days on a little pony I’d never rid before.’
    â€˜And me and Mum was pickin up car in Grafton.’ His father waited hopefully for the talk to move from the baby to the car, to his hope of a little tractor, but the number of women to men in the car meant that the story of Lainey’s arrival wasn’t over yet.
    â€˜Guess where Noey ended up havin her?’ said his mother with a triumphant note. ‘Same place I had Ral. But come faster. Ralda took three days and there was nowhere for Dad to get his dinner.’
    Roley felt their happiness flowing through him, thicker and of more substance than the winter light.
    â€˜It was up on the bloomin kitchen table for me.’ At last Noah had got a word in. ‘No flamin time to get to Hinley’s lyin-in home. No sirree. This little Lainey. She’d picked her day! She was coming, ready or no.’
    â€˜Just so lucky I was home for weekend,’ said Reenie. ‘Ral was all for still making the try. I said, “Don’t be ridiculous. What,” I said, “do you want Noey to give birth in the cart going across the Flagstaff?”’
    What would you know about it? Noah had wanted to flare at both her sisters-in-law when the pains began, because at first Ralda and Reenie had fussed around looking like they wouldn’t be