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who knows how she will cope, but I don’t judge. People have sex and contraceptive accidents can happen to anyone. They are part of life and there have been many times when I’ve wished one had happened to me.
    â€˜Can Mum stay?’ Rosie asks as the woman with her introduces herself.
    â€˜If you’d like her to. Pull up another chair, Michelle.’ I’ve already read the notes, but I take another look. ‘So you’re nine weeks pregnant, Rosie?’
    â€˜I think so.’ She’s slim and has her hair in a sleek dark bob that suits her elfin features. ‘I’m not sure exactly, but I’ve missed my period twice. The first time I thought it was due to stress – I’ve been doing my mocks.’
    â€˜She’s supposed to be doing her exams in May,’ her mother says.
    â€˜There’s no reason why you can’t carry on as planned,’ I say, keeping my focus on Rosie. ‘When you have your scan, we can check the baby’s healthy and see if the measurements tie in with your dates.’
    â€˜I’m living with my parents for now.’ Rosie bites her lip when I ask about her home address.
    â€˜What do you mean, for now?’ her mother says.
    â€˜You know Dad’s threatening to kick me out.’
    â€˜Of course he isn’t. He’s upset, that’s all. He’ll come round. I’ll make sure he does, anyway.’
    â€˜Are you planning to continue with your studies when the baby comes?’ I ask tentatively.
    â€˜No,’ Rosie says at the same time as her mother says, ‘Yes, of course you are, and I’ll look after the little one while you go to uni.’
    â€˜Mum, it’s my baby. I’m going to look after it.’ Rosie strokes her flat belly. Her complexion is pale beneath a layer of orange foundation and fake tan and her eyes are dark with exhaustion and mascara. She’s wearing a top which reveals more than a hint of bra strap, and a pair of the shortest shorts I’ve ever seen over a pair of thick tights, and wedges.
    â€˜You’ll soon discover you can’t do everything,’ her mother says. ‘You think this will be so easy.’
    Rosie rolls her eyes. ‘You managed to look after a baby.’
    â€˜I know, but it was different for me. I was a lot older and I was married.’
    â€˜Don’t keep going on about how I’m going to bea single parent. It’s happened. I’m pregnant and I’m going to have this baby and I’m not going to let you hijack it. Get over it.’ Rosie stares resentfully at the floor.
    I don’t say anything, but I think I understand both Rosie’s determination to stand on her own two feet, and her mum’s disappointment and concern for her daughter’s future.
    I check Rosie’s blood pressure and take a blood sample.
    â€˜I want a homebirth,’ she announces when I’m filling in the request form for the lab.
    â€˜It’s a little early to think about that,’ I point out.
    â€˜I have thought about it, and I don’t want to go to hospital. I hate hospitals. And I’ve read up on it on the Internet and I’m entitled to a homebirth as long as it’s safe for the baby.’
    She knows her own mind, I think good-humouredly as I suggest we get on with testing the urine sample she’s brought in with her, and do a physical examination.
    â€˜Mum, I want you to wait outside now,’ she says firmly.
    â€˜I want to be here. You shouldn’t have to go through any of this on your own.’
    â€˜I’m not on my own. I have Zara here. Please, this is private.’ She pauses. ‘I haven’t taken my clothes off in front of you since I was three. Go away!’
    Reluctantly, Michelle gathers up the coats and bag and leaves the room.
    Rosie breathes a sigh of relief. ‘OMG, she drives me mad,’ she groans.
    â€˜She wants the best for you and the