MISGI INGS

re e er the last ti e ade HEART thud against ri s

could even be as nice as my fictional kind. They might not even wander round at night carrying pitchforks and torches.”

He wraps his arm over my shoulder. “Let’s go and test that theory in the pub.”

We climb the steps up to the seafront. Drizzle starts to fall as we cross the road. A real little old lady appears. I can’t help but gasp as she smiles at us.

“Hello. What nasty weather. They say it’ll clear up later, the sun will come out.”

“Doesn’t it always?” Tim replies in his usual affable tones.

I frown at the dog trundling in her wake as she walks by. It’s a Labrador,

I glance at her hands. It would have been like shaking hands with a teddy bear. “She has the same gloves as well.” “Sometimes the things you imagine do come true,” Tim says. “I thought you’d learned by now. When was the last time I had to talk you past a million doubts?” “I have no idea,” I reply, playing along. I do remember, of course, the last time misgivings like this had turned my stomach into slush and made my heart thud against my ribs.

“But Sophie and Jack do call you Mum now,” Tim reminds me. “Sophie’s always hugging you. Jack won’t sleep until you read him a story at night. They love you.