The Collected Short Stories of Roald Dahl Volume 1 Read online

  "Listen!" Mrs Taylor said, interrupting him. "I think the baby's crying."

  Albert glanced up from his reading. Sure enough, a lusty yelling noise was coming from the bedroom above.

  "She must be hungry," he said.

  His wife looked at the clock. "Good gracious me!" she cried, jumping up. "It's past her time again already! You mix the feed, Albert, quickly, while I bring her down! But hurry! I don't want to keep her waiting."

  In half a minute, Mrs Taylor was back, carrying the screaming infant in her arms. She was flustered now, still quite unaccustomed to the ghastly nonstop racket that a healthy baby makes when it wants its food. "Do be quick, Albert!" she called, settling herself in the armchair and arranging the child on her lap. "Please hurry!"

  Albert entered from the kitchen and handed her the bottle of warm milk. "It's just right," he said. "You don't have to test it."

  She hitched the baby's head a little higher in the crook of her arm, then pushed the rubber teat straight into the wide-open yelling mouth. The baby grabbed the teat and began to suck. The yelling stopped. Mrs Taylor relaxed.

  "Oh, Albert, isn't she lovely?"

  "She's terrific, Mabel-thanks to royal jelly."

  "Now, dear, I don't want to hear another word about that nasty stuff. It frightens me to death."

  "You're making a big mistake," he said.

  "We'll see about that."

  The baby went on sucking the bottle.

  "I do believe she's going to finish the whole lot again, Albert."

  "I'm sure she is," he said.

  And a few minutes later, the milk was all gone.

  "Oh, what a good girl you are!" Mrs Taylor cried, as very gently she started to withdraw the nipple. The baby sensed what she was doing and sucked harder, trying to hold on. The woman gave a quick little tug, and plop, out it came.

  "Waa! Waa! Waa! Waa! Waa!" the baby yelled.

  "Nasty old wind," Mrs Taylor said, hoisting the child on to her shoulder and patting its back.

  It belched twice in quick succession.

  "There you are, my darling, you'll be all right now."

  For a few seconds, the yelling stopped. Then it started again.

  "Keep belching her," Albert said. "She's drunk it too quick."

  His wife lifted the baby back on to her shoulder. She rubbed its spine. She changed it from one shoulder to the other. She laid it on its stomach on her lap. She sat it up on her knee. But it didn't belch again, and the yelling became louder and more insistent every minute.

  "Good for the lungs," Albert Taylor said, grinning. "That's the way they exercise their lungs, Mabel, did you know that?"

  "There, there, there," the wife said, kissing it all over the face. "There, there, there."

  They waited another five minutes, but not for one moment did the screaming stop.

  "Change the nappy," Albert said. "It's got a wet nappy, that's all it is." He fetched a clean one from the kitchen, and Mrs Taylor took the old one off and put the new one on.

  This made no difference at all.

  "Waa! Waa! Waa! Waa! Waa!" the baby yelled.

  "You didn't stick the safety pin through the skin, did you, Mabel?"

  "Of course I didn't," she said, feeling under the nappy with her fingers to make sure.

  The parents sat opposite one another in their armchairs, smiling nervously, watching the baby on the mother's lap, waiting for it to tire and stop screaming.

  "You know what?" Albert Taylor said at last.

  "I'll bet she's still hungry. I'll bet all she wants is another swig at that bottle. How about me fetching her an extra lot?"

  "I don't think we ought to do that, Albert."

  "It'll do her good," he said, getting up from his chair. "I'm going to warm her up a second helping."

  He went into the kitchen, and was away several minutes. "When he returned he was holding a bottle brimful of milk.

  "I made her a double," he announced. "Eight ounces. Just in case."

  "Albert! Are you mad? Don't you know it's just as bad to overfeed as it is to underfeed?"

  "You don't have to give her the lot, Mabel. You can stop any time you like. Go on," he said, standing over her. "Give her a drink."

  Mrs Taylor began to tease the baby's upper lip with the end of the nipple. The tiny mouth closed like a trap over the rubber teat and suddenly there was silence in the room. The baby's whole body relaxed and a look of absolute bliss came over its face as it started to drink.

  "There you are, Mabel! "What did I tell you?"

  The woman didn't answer.

  "She's ravenous, that's what she is. Just look at her suck."

  Mrs Taylor was watching the level of the milk in the bottle: It was dropping fast, and before long three or four ounces out of the eight had disappeared.

  "There," she said. "That'!! do."

  "You can't pull it away now, Mabel."

  "Yes, dear. I must."

  "Go on, woman. Give her the rest and stop fussing."

  "But Albert.

  "She's famished, can't you see that? Go on, my beauty," he said. "You finish that bottle."

  "I don't like it, Albert," the wife said, but she didn't pull the bottle away.

  "She's making up for lost time, Mabel, that's a!1 she's doing."

  Five minutes later the bottle was empty. Slowly, Mrs Taylor withdrew the nipple, and this time there was no protest from the baby, no sound at a!!. It! ay peacefully on the mother's lap, the eyes glazed with contentment, the mouth half-open, the lips smeared with milk.

  "Twelve whole ounces, Mabel!" Albert Taylor said. "Three times the normal amount! Isn't that amazing!"

  The woman was staring down at the baby. And now the old anxious tight-lipped look of the frightened mother was slowly returning to her face.

  "What's the matter with you?" Albert asked. "You're not worried by that, are you? You can't expect her to get back to normal on a lousy four ounces, don't be ridiculous."

  "Come here, Albert," she said.

  "What?"

  "I said come here."

  He went over and stood beside her.

  "Take a good look and tell me if you see anything different."

  He peered closely at the baby. "She seems bigger, Mabel, if that's what you mean. Bigger and fatter."

  "Hold her," she ordered. "Go on, pick her up."

  He reached out and lifted the baby up off the mother's lap. "Good God!" he cried. "She weighs a ton!"

  "Exactly."

  "Now isn't that marvellous!" he cried, beaming. "I'll bet she must be back to normal already!"

  "It frightens me, Albert. It's too quick."

  "Nonsense, woman."

  "It's that disgusting jelly that's done it," she said. "I hate the stuff."

  "There's nothing disgusting about royal jelly," he answered, indignant.

  "Don't be a fool, Albert! You think it's normal for a child to start putting on weight at this speed?"

  "You're never satisfied!" he cried. "You're scared stiff when she's losing and now you're absolutely terrified because she's gaining! What's the matter with you, Mabel?"

  The woman got up from her chair with the baby in her arms and started towards the door. "All I can say is," she said, "it's lucky I'm here to see you don't give her any more of it, that's all I can say." She went out, and Albert watched her through the open door as she crossed the hail to the foot of the stairs and started to ascend, and when she reached the third or fourth step she suddenly stopped and stood quite still for several seconds as though remembering something. Then she turned and came down again rather quickly and re-entered the room.

  "Albert," she said.

  "Yes?"

  "I assume there wasn't any royal jelly in this last feed we've just given her?"

  "I don't see why you should assume that, Mabel."

  "Albert!"

  "What's wrong?" he asked, soft and innocent.

  "How dare you!" she cried.

  Albert Taylor's great bear