Red Bones (Shetland Quartet 3)

breathing and they’d keep him in the resussitaire for a while. Besides, Anna was exhausted and she needed the rest. In the morning they’d bring the baby through to her and help her to feed him. There was no reason why they shouldn’t both be home in a couple of days.
    She slept fitfully, drifting in and out. The doctor had given her more painkillers and her dreams were very vivid. Once, waking suddenly, she wondered if this was what it would be like to be on drugs. At university she’d never been tempted down that route. It was always important to her to be in control.
    She was aware of Ronald beside her. A couple of times she heard him talking on his mobile. She thought the conversations would be with his parents. She started to tell him that he shouldn’t be using a phone in the hospital, but lethargy overcame her and the words didn’t come out properly.
    She woke when it got light and felt much more herself again, a little bruised and battered, but alert. Ronald was fast asleep on the chair in the corner, his head back, his mouth open, snoring loudly. A midwife appeared.
    ‘How’s my baby?’ Anna found it hard to believe now that there was a baby, that she hadn’t imagined the whole experience of giving birth. She felt quite disconnected from the evening before.
    ‘I’ll bring him through to you. He’s doing very well now, breathing normally on his own.’
    Ronald stirred in his chair and woke too. He looked like his father with the stubble of beard on his chin, his eyes slightly vacant from sleep.
    The baby was lying in a plastic box that reminded Anna of a fish tank. He was lying on his back. His skin had a faint yellow tinge; Anna had read the books and knew that was normal. He had a downy covering of dark hair and there was a pink mark on each side of his head.
    ‘Don’t worry about that,’ the midwife said. She assumed she could guess what Anna was thinking. ‘It’s because of the forceps delivery. It’ll go in a couple of days.’ She scooped the baby up, wrapped him in a blanket and handed him to Anna. Anna looked down at a tiny, perfect ear.
    ‘Shall we have a go at feeding him?’
    Ronald was properly awake now. He sat on the bed next to Anna on the opposite side to the midwife. He held out his finger and watched the baby grip it.
    The midwife was showing Anna the best way to feed the baby. ‘Put a pillow on your lap like this and hold his head with this hand and guide him to your nipple like this . . .’ Anna, usually so competent in practical matters, felt clumsy and inadequate. Then the baby latched on to her and began to suck and she could feel the pull of it down through her belly.
    ‘There you are,’ the midwife said. ‘You’re a natural. If everything goes well there’s no reason you shouldn’t be home tomorrow.’
    When the woman had gone they continued to sit on the bed and look at the baby. He fell suddenly fast asleep and Ronald lifted him carefully and put him back in the plastic cot. Anna had been given a room of her own with a view across the grey houses to the sea. They drafted the notice they would place in the Shetland Times :
    To Ronald and Anna Clouston on March 20th, a son, James Andrew. First grandchild to Andrew and Jacobina Clouston of Lindby, Whalsay, and James and Catherine Brown of Hereford, England.
     
    The timing of James’s birth had been planned, as everything in Anna’s life was planned. She thought spring was the perfect time to bring a baby into the world and Whalsay would be a wonderful place to bring up a child. The process had been more painful and messy than she’d imagined, but now that was over and there was no reason why their family life shouldn’t run smoothly.
    Ronald couldn’t keep his eyes off his son. She should have guessed he might be a doting father.
    ‘Why don’t you get off home?’ she said. ‘Get a shower and a change of clothes. Everyone will want to hear the news.’
    ‘I might do that.’ She could tell he wasn’t comfortable in the hospital. ‘But should I come and visit you tonight?’
    ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s such a long drive, and then the time on the ferry. You’ll need to be in first thing in the morning to take us home.’ She thought she’d welcome some time alone with her son. She smiled as she imagined Ronald doing the grand tour of the island, full of news about the birth and his son. He’d have to visit all his relatives, repeating the tale of how her waters burst while they were shopping