I went into labour at my husband’s funeral and my mother-in-law told me to call a taxi. Twelve days later the two of them were at my door asking for their grandchild.
PART 1 — THE RING
It did not build. It arrived, all at once, halfway through the second hymn, and I went down onto the carpet of that funeral parlour with both arms under a nine-month belly and a noise coming out of me I did not recognise.
Lilies. That smell is in everything now.
Tobias was eleven feet away in a mahogany box and he had been the only thing standing between me and that family for two years.
The funeral director had given me his wedding ring in a small envelope that morning and I had it in my fist because I had not been able to put it anywhere.
Eleanor came down the aisle.
And I had a flare of something stupid, because she has never liked me but she had just buried her son and I was carrying the last of him.
“Please.” I got hold of
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