Cry Baby Cry (bp coyle)

Your heart would go out to them. They are hardly more than children themselves and with a baby that looks to be mere days old.

They took one of my rooms this morning, the smallest one in the house and then the boy went out looking for work.

I brought some tea and bread to the wee lass at lunchtime. She was like child pretending to suckle a doll. I tried to chat a bit but she had not much to say so I left her be. When the boy returned he asked if they could have dinner in their room so I took up two large bowls of soup for them..

The baby had a restless night, constantly crying and fretting. Nobody could sleep.

At half past five old Mrs Murphy hammered on my door.

‘Can ye not do something?’ she demanded. ‘I have to be up for work soon and the noise is driving me demented.’

‘Babies cry!’ I wanted to snap at her, but honestly I was becoming concerned myself. There was no reply when I tapped quietly so I eased the door open.

And there was the baby alone, parents packed and gone.

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