‘It’s money.’ Said the doctor, gesturing to the coins which
were now gushing from Peter’s wife.
Helen, for her part, had put aside the pained expression
which had dominated her face for the majority of her labour and now looked
vexed as still more coins of differing sizes flowed from her. The bulkhead of
the child (now presumed to be entirely composed of money) had at least taken
the shape of a baby’s head but had quickly given way to a formless stream of
bronze, silver and gold pieces.
Outside the room midwives were gathering, discussing – they had,
it was agreed, never seen anything like this before. Peter and the Doctor took
this opportunity to allow the midwives and their piqued interest to keep an eye
on the situation whilst they sloped off to the canteen for a coffee.
‘Have you ever seen anything like this before?’ Peter asked
the Doctor, whilst sipping a mocha.
‘No, I have never seen anything like this before.’ Revealed
the Doctor, candidly.
When they returned to the maternity ward, the rattling of
change-on-change action could still be heard as more coins fell onto the
already sizeable pile at the foot of the bed. Peter considered briefly the
dimensions of his Helen’s womb. Many of the midwives had lost interest and
returned to duties elsewhere, but one remained and delightedly informed Peter:
‘None of your child is legal tender.’
Peter’s face fell and he lowered himself into a crouch in
order to scrutinise his child, coin by coin. The midwife was right: the majority
of Peter and Helen’s child was composed of old European currency – centimes,
lire, drachma – with an odd smattering of pre-decimal British currency –
sixpence, halfpennies.
The Doctor fetched a broom as Helen birthed another shilling.
