“So you’re the one who’s taken Mr Giles’s old place?” I start and swirl around. In the dooropening stands a tall man with black, curly hair, eyes the samecolour as freshly ploughed dirt and a proud, hooked nose. Wecertainly didn’t have men this handsome back at home. “You seem like a step up to me. Gileswas rude and played the tuba early in the morning.” He eyes mesuspiciously. “You don’t play the tuba, right?” “No… No, I do not.” “Fabio. How about I show you aroundsomeday?” He reaches out his hand to greet me. “I’d love to. I’ve never been toLondon before. And I am Alice.” I take his hand my sight flashes towhite. We stand in front of the church gates, Fabio and I. Him in adashing, black suit and me in my white dress which I’ve sewnmyself. The veil I wear is a family heirloom from Fabio’s mother.It is over a hundred years old. I have never been so happy. Here weare, at the very start of our life together. Today is our first dayas a family. Whatever happens. From now on, we have each other. “Amazing. Would you like a picture infront of that tree as well? Just the couple. Yes. Wonderful. Look ashappy and in love as you possibly can, please.” I look up at Fabio, past his eyes andinto his soul. It is swirls of ocean blue, olive green and brightyellow. His scent is that of strawberries and saffron mixed withmotor oil. His soul is the most beautiful soul I’ve ever seen.Strong and faithful, calm yet passionate. How I could be happy beforeI met him. I do not know. “I love you” he whisper and kiss me.I close my eyes and rest my head on his shoulder. When I open my eyes again I am in ahospital bed, perched up on a couple of pillows, and am trying toprocess what I just went through. I cradle a small bundle in my arms,unable to let go of who is inside. Oliver. I will never know thecolour of his eyes, I never got to hear him scream. I see teeny, tinyfingers that never got the chance to grip mine. My son. My beautifulson. He is bundled up in the quilt I began working on the same day Ifound out I was pregnant. He is surrounded by patches of blue andpink with clouds sewn on. I finished the last stitches last night,before this whole nightmare began. An indescribable pain tears myheart in two. How God can be so cruel, so evil, I do not know. I feel the bed sway when Fabio lays downnext to me on the bed. His strong arms cradle me, almost like Icradle our son. He holds on tight as if he fears I will disappearfrom him too. We rock slowly back and forth and let waves of griefcrash over us, taking turns comforting each other. “Does she have a name yet?” The nurse's face is shining with a brightsmile. I don’t remember if I’ve met her before. I’ve had way toomany nurses during the last forty-eight hours. I only throw her aglance before I look back down at my daughter. “Ellen. Her name is Ellen.” I cannot get enough of her. Bundled upin a new quilt - green and yellow this time - lays my beautiful,screaming daughter. That scream is the most beautiful sound I’veever heard. Fabio stands next to me, with a hand lightly resting onmy shoulder, beaming with pride. Pride over me and our daughter.My chest is bursting with all the love and joy I feel. I am exhausted, and my whole body aches.The fear I carried with me throughout the whole pregnancy isexchanged with gratitude and relief. Once again the bed sway whenFabio cuddles up next to me. He puts his arms around me and his bigcradles our daughter’s head. “You are amazing,” he whispers in myear.