Torchwood First Born Read Online Free PDF Page A

you're breastfeeding.
    You're not planning on doing that, are you, my love?'
    I was tempted to ask her for a can of Red Bull.
    When I left the shop, Sasha was standing, crouched over the pram, holding Anwen. It's that whole and-this-is-why-you-should-never-leave-your-baby moment. Startled, she flushed with guilt, but she didn't say anything. I couldn't say anything. There weren't words. We just stood, looking at each other.
    Sasha held Anwen to her, then steadily uncurled her.
    'She was crying,' she said simply, tears pouring down her hot cheeks as she babbled away. 'I was just passing, I just wanted to make sure she was all right...' She rested her down in the pram, tucking the blanket around her.
    Still speechless, I stared at Sasha. I reached forward, retucking the blanket. There was nothing wrong with the way that Sasha had done it, but I had to do it again for myself. I could sense the blood warming my face. I was just so angry and scared. I grabbed the pram and wheeled it around, striding back home.
    Sasha didn't say anything, just watched me go.
    I walked back up the hill, still furious with myself.
    A kid cycled past me - whose was it? A dark-haired teenager. All the kids in this village had lovely dark hair, the love children of The Beatles. Celtic pride. I guess it was a North Wales thing. All the children looked racehorse-handsome - or at least, they would do when they were a bit older. Another bicycle whizzed past - at first I thought it was the same kid, but then I realised it was a different colour of bike. Same hair, same school uniform. Rhys had come back from a walk one day and announced that all the kids here looked like brothers. I guess that's what happens in a small village. As I passed the stink thistles, a couple more bikes followed me up the hill at a distance. Like crows.
    I didn't care. I just wanted to get Anwen and me back inside and shut out the world.
    A couple of hours later, there was a knock at the caravan door. It took me a while to answer it - it's cumbersome getting up and going anywhere these days. The knock was repeated.
    Davydd was stood outside, shifting from left foot to right foot, from right foot to left foot. He looked stricken. I didn't want this. I really didn't want this.
    Not now. Actually, not ever.
    'Yeah?' I said.
    'It's about Sasha,' he said, hideously awkward.

    'I guessed,' I said. Truth to tell, the last thing I wanted a chat about. I was furious with her, but also cross with myself. I told myself that nice, normal, properly slept Gwen Cooper would have handled it better.
    'Can I come in?' His tone was definitely 'Can I stroke the kitten?'
    I pushed the door a bit wider. 'Sure, come on in.
    Rhys will be back any minute.'
    He stepped in, stamping his feet, shaking off his shoes and generally hovering. He looked guilty and nervous. In my police days he would have been a dead ringer for the chief suspect's best friend who'd turn up at the station to say 'What it is, see, is...'
    I put the kettle on to boil. This involved sticking one of those camping kettles on the feeble gas hob and waiting for it to defy the laws of physics and shriek like a hen-night. Of course, if you let it get that far it would invariably wake Anwen up, and I wanted her asleep for this. Between the two of us, we'd managed almost an entire hour without a feed or a murmur. How I longed for the day when I'd be able to plonk her in front of CBeebies while I had a nap. I tiptoed over the cold lino and reached down a couple of mugs and ferreted around for the coffee.
    So, too much caffeine was bad when breastfeeding, was it? Great. Thanks. How was I supposed to cope for a fortnight until someone said that actually not enough caffeine was bad for breastfeeding? I damned them all, spooned three heaps of instant into my mug and turned to confront Davydd. He really was just a chinless boy with a big nose and a whiff of cheap deodorant, nervously fingering the gold chain around his neck. There was the tiniest fuzz