Hannibal

'Hannibal . . Hannibal?. . .You can't call him that.' Hilda shrieked
in horror and immediately the startled baby opened round periwinkle
blue eyes. The angelic pursed lips parted and he started wailing
extremely loudly. His twin sister, in a scenario that was to be
repeated throughout their childhood, followed his lead a minute later.
Their screaming started off all the babies nearby. The ensuing tumult
in the maternity ward took quite a while to subdue as the Perspex cots
rocked with the noise and fury within. Mothers and their visitors
glowered at Hilda for causing the rumpus.

'Really, Mum. Just look what you've done.' Peggy was tired and
irritation made her snap at Hilda.

Hilda was abject. 'Sorry, sorry, sorry. But you just can't call him
Hannibal. If I'd known that stupid toy would make you think of a Roman
general, I'd have bought a fluffy duck. I only took the elephant
because it was blue . . .'

Mark, Peggy's partner, grinned. 'She'd just have called him Donald if
you'd brought a duck.'

Hilda shot him a look of sheer contempt. He had picked up his son, who
was already fast asleep again. His sister was lying contentedly in
Peggy's arms, wide blue eyes still open, seemingly gazing at
Hilda.

'That's your granny, Charmaine. You just have to ignore her. She gets a
bit carried away with things.'

'I do not. What do you mean Charmaine? I thought she was going to be
Helen.' Hilda was silent for a few minutes, going over in her mind all
the possible futures for little Charmaine. 'To get back to her brother,
of course I remember Hannibal and the elephants going over the Alps. I
can't remember why, but I'll get a book out of the library. And what
about 'Silence of the Lambs'? Have you thought of that? People might
think he was called after that Hannibal.' Mark and Peggy were silent
and three pairs of eyes regarded Hilda solemnly.

Hilda was getting agitated in spite of herself, her new auburn rinse
toning not too well with the colour in her cheeks.

Peggy tried to put her point of view. 'Mum, relax. That's nothing to do
with it. That was a character in fiction, not a real person.'

'Yes a pretty nasty character.' Hilda didn't want to nag, but she
couldn't let them make such a mistake. How could they think of calling
such a sweet little baby after Hannibal the Cannibal?

Fortunately visiting time was over at that point, and Hilda left
quickly to let Mark and Peggy have a few moments together. Hilda was
annoyed that things had gone as they did. Didn't they realise how
important children's names were? Hilda had no doubt that they would not
like their names. Charmaine was a pretty name of course, but you always
had to think how it would be if it was shortened. Charmy or just Char,
Mai or even Mangy. By the time Mark caught up with her she had worried
herself to a standstill. He tried to mollify her realising she was
genuinely concerned

'Hilda, we're just considering all the options just now. Perhaps we'll
stick with Hannibal and Charmaine but maybe we'll think of something
better.'

Hilda was quieter than usual all the way home in the car. Mark
recognised that she was struggling with some inner demons so left
immediately, refusing her offer of coffee. After all, he had a nursery
to paint. He wanted to get the elephants done tonight, marching round
the walls. Perhaps he might put in a few Alps while he was at it.

The next day, Hilda took a walk in the park. What happened there made
her realise that she was right about her grandson's name. She was
sitting quietly minding her own business when a dog came up to her.
Hilda had never seen anything so repulsive. It was a large brown
bulldog. Its bullet head was wreathed in folds of flesh and it slavered
down its bandy front legs. It snuffled towards her feet. She wasn't
afraid just repulsed. The dog was muzzled after all. She was
contemplating the horrible sight when the owner called the dog to
heel.

'Hannibal, Hannibal. Come here boy. Where's Mummy's little love then?
Come to Mummy, Hannibal.'

Hilda couldn't wait to tell Peggy. Surely that would end it. No one
would want to call their precious baby after such an animal. Hilda knew
she was being illogical, but perhaps she could use Hannibal the bulldog
as a lever in her campaign.

She had called her own children by sensible no-nonsense names. Not that
it had been appreciated. She had called her daughter Margaret, but
Margaret had called herself Margaretha while at school, and had been
variously Meg, Maggi, or Peg since. As Mark called her Peggy, perhaps
that name was here to stay.

The next day Mark phoned to tell her he was going to pick up his family
and would she like to come. Everything was forgotten in the rush to the
hospital and the stately journey home.

'Don't wake them up.' Peggy was still tired. She wondered how she was
going to cope with the twins at home. Mark tried hard not to jerk the
car, but he had to go round corners and before long both children were
yelling, little fists waving in the air.

Hilda took control. 'Just get us home, Mark. Don't you worry about a
thing, Peggy. I'll be there to help you. We'll look after whatshisname
and his sister together till you get your strength back.'

'Ha. That'll be when they can vote no doubt.' Peggy was very tired and
rather petulant.
'If you take Hannah, Hilda, I'll take Charles.' Mark handed the pink
bundle over and stretched over for the blue one.

Hilda was overjoyed. Her campaign had paid off. She had personal
knowledge of the problems caused by inappropriate names. When she
herself had been a defenceless infant she had been saddled with
Hildegarde Marianne Eglantine. Now if she'd had a granny with her best
interests at heart . . .