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appears bemused.
    ‘Deadly.’ I say fixing him with a smile. He cocks his head to one side and folds his arms across his chest.
    ‘You’ve never mentioned it before.’
    ‘It hasn’t been something I’ve thought of until now.’ It is my turn to cross my arms now, mirroring him. ‘I suppose in the back of my mind I just thought it would happen one day and there was no need to mention it.’
    Charlie nods but says nothing.
    ‘You aren’t exactly getting any younger and I’m a good age, so yes, why not now?’
    I don’t know if I’m trying to convince him or myself. He inches closer to me on the sofa and puts his arm around my shoulders before kissing my hair.
    ‘Absolutely.’ He says and I am stunned. ‘But make me a promise. No pressure. Let’s not try too hard. Let nature take its course.’
    ‘OK,’ I say, pushing him onto his back, ‘but practice makes perfect.’
     
     

 
    March 16th
     
     
    Only a day has passed since we decided to try to get pregnant and, although I’m sure nothing has happened yet, I feel like a new woman. I’ve stopped taking the pill and keep finding my hand resting on my belly. I’m already mentally planning how I’ll rearrange the house when we need to make space for our baby, and all the things that will come with it.
    This new excitement has even meant I’ve started to write again. Life feels good and I’ve been able to shake off the discomfort of Ailene’s advent into my life.
    I haven’t spoken to her since I called the first time. There’s no point. If she wants to talk, she knows where I am. She made contact first, for fuck sake. That’s what really gets my goat. She came into my life uninvited and then just as I started to get my head around it, she dismissed me.
    Standing in the kitchen, I physically stop and promise myself I won’t get wound up. I have a new exciting chapter just around the corner and nothing is going to spoil it. Not the hail outside, the war in Syria, the extremist terror threat hanging over Europe like a cloud – none of it is going to impact on my happiness.
    I put the plates away in the cupboard and wipe my hands dry on a grubby tea towel. I fling it over the back of a chair before leaving the room.
    Today is a good day and I am going shopping.
    I think about leaving the house. There has been a break in the weather. The pavement is no longer pelted with hailstones. A grey sky blankets London reflecting the concrete streets. I look to the sky through the window, examining it with curiosity. Is snow in the air? It is so white, so clean and full of promise.
    In the background, I hear the hum of news. Normally the whining tones of the Sky newsreader float over me but today the sound is genuine and solemn. I can’t ignore it.
    Moving towards the voice, I feel my stomach flip.
    ‘The plane was flying at thirty two thousand feet… an airbus A230 has crashed…fell for eight minutes… flights cancelled… no known survivors… a very sad time says President…’
    And before I get a glimpse of wreckage on the screen, I decide to turn around and walk away.
    All it takes is a minute to change how you feel.
    Back in the kitchen, I stack more plates and sweep crumbs off the table onto the floor. The crumbs only remind me of the plane. That quick. Once it was a piece of toast now just crumbs discarded amongst the dust and debris that has collected on the tiles.
    Surely, life is not so fickle?
    I feel ill. I am consumed by the thought that I’m dying. I catch my breath and as quickly as the thought enters my brain it is gone, distracted by the infinite ringing of the house phone.
    I move towards the sound. Each step is more psychedelic than the next and I wonder if I am on the flight, falling, crumbling away.
    Somewhere in the distance, I hear a dog barking.
    Then I flood back into the moment and remember the phone.
    Holding my breath, I manage a whisper.
    ‘Hello…’ The taste of bile fills my mouth and the silence emphasises it.