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    “ Merc i beaucoup , Alannah, ” sai d T ess . “That ’ s very kin d o f yo u t o sa y . No w , ca n yo u tel l m e th e wor d for dres s e n Français ?”
    Th e littl e girl ’ s eye s rolle d bac k i n thought . “E m . . . is i t un e robe ? ”
    “ Oui , ” sai d T es s wit h a smile . Sh e love d ho w sh e could alway s tur n th e simples t questio n o r conversatio n with he r girl s int o learning . “Everyon e repea t afte r me : une robe . ”
    “ Un e robe! ” sai d th e clas s i n uniso n an d T ess ’ s heart fille d wit h warmth .
    Thes e girl s wer e he r babie s fo r no w . He r jo b wa s her bab y . Sh e couldn ’ t possibl y fin d anythin g i n th e worl d to to p th e hig h sh e fel t whe n betterin g he r student s and , for th e moment , sh e ha d n o grea t desir e to . Motherhood woul d hav e t o wait . Sh e coul d mee t an y materna l instincts hea d o n her e i n he r teachin g jo b a t S t John ’ s an d she woul d b e th e onl y on e wh o woul d decid e whe n i t was tim e fo r he r t o d o otherwise .
     
     
     
     

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    “So, ” explaine d Poll y , “ T es s chucke d a wobbl y wit h me, bu t wha t o n eart h els e wa s I suppose d t o say ? I mean , I couldn ’ t b e rude , coul d I ? I couldn ’ t jus t star t a full-blown argumen t wit h Rut h Monagha n i n th e Spa r ove r stuf f that happene d s o man y year s ago ! Frankie , ea t up! ”
    “ I don ’ t lik e spaghetti. ”
    I t wa s dinne r tim e i n th e Kno x household , whic h me a n t a constan t battl e wit h Polly ’ s eldes t t o eat , a wa r wit h the twin s t o sta y a t th e tabl e an d a one-wa y figh t t o ge t her husband ’ s attention . I t wa s neve r eas y t o compet e wit h the tell y remot e contro l an d a plat e o f spaghett i bolognese .
    “And then th e atomi c bomb explode d fro m my handba g an d I ende d u p i n hospita l an d the y sa y I have week s t o live ! W eeks! ”
    “Uh-huh, ” sai d James , enterin g th e digit s fo r Sky Sport s New s o n th e remot e withou t havin g t o tak e hi s eyes of f th e screen . “ V er y good. ”
    Fookin g Groundho g Da y again!
    “ Days to live actuall y . I have days! It ’ s serious .
    T erminal . I t wa s a termina l typ e o f bomb-typ e thing y . Tha t mean s i t coul d kil l me . An d it ’ s contagiou s too . So yo u migh t hav e i t too . An d th e children. ”
    Poll y wouldn ’ t normall y jok e abou t suc h things , but sh e wa s testin g ho w ba d th e communicatio n level s had becom e withi n he r marriage . Sh e wa s o n transmi t – he ha d switche d of f th e abilit y t o receive .
    “Ar e ther e an y mor e batterie s fo r thi s thing? ” he asked , shakin g th e remot e wit h on e han d an d shovin g a heft y forkfu l o f spaghett i int o hi s mout h a t th e sam e time .
    Poll y wa s hopin g h e woul d choke . “ James! ” sh e said, knowin g exactl y wha t hi s respons e woul d be .
    “What ? Sorr y . What , love ? I’ m jus t checkin g on tomorrow ’ s fixtures . Unite d ar e – ”
    “ I don ’ t giv e a flyin g fudg e wha t Unite d ar e doing ! I h av e bee n tellin g yo u abou t m y da y an d yo u haven ’ t listened t o on e thin g I said! ”
    “Mum? ” aske d Frankie , playin g wit h hi s food . “Should I swa p Johnn y a Roone y car d fo r Schole s o r not ? Da d says not . Wha t d o yo u think? ”
    Poll y looke d a t he r so n i n hi s re d footbal l jerse y , his littl e hand s no w ful l o f Socce r T rum p Card s an d his dinne r sittin g o n th e tabl e besid e hi m untouche d an d her eye s widene d i n horro r .
    Wha t di d sh e think ? Wha t di d sh e think ? A t tha t point, s h e couldn ’ t thin k a t all ! Sh e coul d onl y focu s o n breathing an d no t cryin g an d screamin g fo r som e attentio n t o come he r wa y fo r a change ! Sh e caugh t a quic k g limps e o f her futur e a t tha t momen t an d i t trul y gav e he r th e willies . In he r mind , ther