I look along the endless line, squinting in the sunshine. I’m twenty-nine years old. I can go anywhere. Do anything. Be anyone I like. “There’s no rush,” I say at last, and reach up to kiss him again.

I’ve taken over the guest room wardrobe too- plus, I’ve arranged all my shoes on the bookshelves on the landing. (I put the books in boxes. No one ever read them. anyway.)

Youth is still where you left it, and that’s where it should stay. Anything that was worth taking on life’s journey, you’ll already have taken with you.

We both gaze down at my swollen tummy for a while. I still can’t quite get my head round the fact that there’s a baby inside my body. Which has got to come out… somehow.

OK, let’s not go there. There’s still time for them to invent something.

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