THIRTY MINUTES LATER, the baby was still going strong. His three nephews had long since decamped upstairs, taking the latest film with them. He could make out the title music booming down the stairs as a block on baby-nephew noise.
Rafferty bounced the baby up and down. He gurgled at him. Made faces at him. Shifted him from one arm to the other. Nothing shut him up.
He decided the child must be hungry and heated one of the prepared bottles. But when he tried to feed him, his great-nephew spurned his offer with indignant fury.
Nappy changing was equally unsuccessful – at least from Rafferty’s point of view – though the baby would certainly have pleased the visiting nurse and the advertiser’s currently proclaiming the containment properties of their eco-friendly Terrys. Perhaps if Raffert
