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with iron-rich supplements, and uncensored optimism. Some of the squealing down the phone expressed that, but not their hope. He still feels ashamed that he did not do enough to accommodate their seeing it. Taken a bloody day off. Gone out of his way. But there was plenty of time, went the rationale, close to a year of congratulations and microscopic study to come from the immediate family.
    â€˜Let’s stretch it out a bit, the victory lap,’ Claud suggested at the time, not worried about holding back until amnio results and first scans, just wary of the weight of attention, and the likely threat of intrusion. She saw a similar display of the diplomatic back and forth that preceded their wedding, the collection of cells, its rooting inside her, acting as a reminder that family obligations were inescapable. His family, inexorable.
    Relaying the news by phone or skype to Kolkata, where aunts, uncles, and layabout cousins would most likely crowd around, effectively erasing all notions of privacy, did not faze him, for there was some comfort knowing that Ma and Puppa now expected his every emotional extreme to be delivered via phone lines. Whatever was not revealed would be passed on at a later date by Hari, a compulsive, unrepentant gossip.
    There was freedom in allowing them to hear the faintest marital spat as the state-of-the-art broadband line hissed and crackled, like bone-dry kindling being used to fire up a plus-size cauldron.
    â€˜We are happy with whatever you want to do, so long as you make this baby a child of God, any God,’ they said, a week ago, fourteen days after the news had been broken. Broken, like it was a product launch, or international event.
    â€˜Health and happiness are already accounted for. There is no excuse for a deficiency of either in this day and age. But spiritual plans must be consciously put into place. The child will lack a dimension in life if it lives without a God, any God.’
    â€˜Like Aishwarya Rai? I hear they worship her in some parts of London.’
    â€˜Don’t make a joke of this, Amal. We’re being serious.’
    â€˜I know, Ma. This is something we’ll look into. There’s plenty of time.’
    â€˜Look into? This is not the scouts or girl guides, Amal. These things have to be decided from the outset.’
    â€˜Ma, Puppa, we will definitely not run away from this. Leave it to me to handle Amal.’
    They argued about it later, long after parental fears were eased in Kolkata and the speakerphone, shredded with effort, finally cut out. It was the only time during the twenty-one days that they raised their voices with one another over conflicting plans for the collection of cells.
    â€˜Our baby should have dual teaching, not just made into a Hindu,’ Claud begins. ‘They haven’t got a right to put pressure on us this early. It’s precisely why I wanted to keep a lid on things for as long as possible. To avoid this kind of hoopla.’
    What she means is, Liz and Sam and no one else. He wants to shout at her simple-mindedness, this stupid, protectionist woman he has married.
    â€˜This is all rubbish as far as I’m concerned, ’Mal. Neither of us have any interest in God, for a start. We’re a pair of healthy, rational atheists who wanted to get married in a great building. Same as everyone else our age.’
    â€˜Who said anything about raising him a Hindu? Didn’t you hear them? One God, any God.’
    â€˜Read between the lines, Amal. Are you really that stupid? This is about you becoming a Christian. It’s their way of getting back at me.’
    â€˜That’s not true, Claud. Ma and Puppa aren’t like that and you know it. It hacks me off that you even said it. They have no issue with me being baptized. If anything I think they’re pleased that I’m actually showing an interest in religion.’
    â€˜Not theirs, though. They’d rather you followed