My mother-in-law took one look at me and ordered me up to bed. “I told you it was too soon for you to be running around,” she said. “The only thing that can heal ribs is rest. Now, you go and lie down and I’ll bring you up some of the soup I’ve just made.” For once I allowed myself to be bossed like this. “Where is Liam?” I asked as I hauled myself up the stairs. “Has he been good?” “Like a little angel. He’s just fallen asleep, but Bridie’s been amusing him all morning, and you should hear him laughing and cooing. It delights the heart to hear such sounds. He needs company, now that he’s growing up. It’s time you gave him a little brother or sister and stopped running around with those women across the street.” “He’s only a year old,” I said. “That’s right. Eighteen months between babies is ideal, that’s what they always used to say, and you’re already running a bit late on that.” I almost asked why she was giving me advice on going forth and being fruitful when she had only managed to produce one child herself.
