GOD-EATERThe day was idyllic:
The late-day sun in a cloudless sky, colouring the backyard golden. Air scented with flowers, the garden brilliant, handsomely manicured. Gathered with their friends on the lawn, seated beneath the balmy shade of the umbrella awning overhanging the round patio table.
At the centre of their attention was the crib, with its special cargo.
“It’s a caul,” she was quick to explain as she pulled the sun-warmed wool blanket back with a gentle hand for their friends to see. “It’s called a caul but don’t worry: he’s a normal little baby, through and through. Some babies are born with them, and they disappear not long after. Our doctor explained it. It’s rare, but nothing very unusual. He’s absolutely normal.”
“No, of course not, Barb. It never even occurred to me.
