'No looking at strangers.'

'No talking to strangers!' I say, desperately. 'You can look at strangers! In fact, you should, in case they're acting shifty!'

'How do I know if they're acting shifty?'

'I don't know! If they've got their hands in their pockets, or they're mumbling, or if they're carrying a knife. Use your mother's intuition.'

'Yes. Because usually I would approach strangers carrying knives. Maybe try and cuddle them.'

I give her a stern look. One that says, 'Don't be so silly.'

She sighs.

'So I should stare at strangers?'

'No!' I say, my head in my hands. 'Don't stare at them! That might aggravate them! Do not aggravate strangers! That can be Rule 3!'

She smiles, and walks towards me, to give me a reassuring hug. 'We'll be OK,' she says, rubbing her tummy.

'Mind your step,' I say, testily.

I stand at the window and watch her walk down the street. It's a bright, crisp day. There's grit on the pavement and no ice to be seen. I made sure she tied her shoelaces properly.

As she disappears around the corner without incident (she is lucky this time), I decide maybe there's the possibility I'm overthinking things. Maybe this'll calm down, this worrying. Maybe it just does after a while.

I call my mum for a catch-up, and tell her the mother of her future grandchild has just popped to the shops.

There is a sharp intake of breath.

'Why didn't you go with her?' she says, appalled, and I feel a little better.

FRANK

The last of the snow is gone and all that is left is the slush on my shoe.

It's still a mercilessly cold day, and the whole city shivers in a chill wind, so I am grateful and thankful and happy to be riding the underground, where the winds are warm and the carriage smells of fried chicken.

I'm heading into town to buy a new printer cartridge and my mind is elsewhere as the tube arrives at Holborn, but as I step off another man steps on and my mind is jolted.

I recognise him. It's Frank!

Frank, from where I used to work!

You know - Frank!

'Frank!' I say, turning.

The man turns to face me. He looks testy and like he's in a hurry, but it's Frank all right! Good old Frank! Good old Frank from where I used to work!

'It's Danny!' I say, and he smiles, and says, 'Oh! Yeah! How are you?'

And then there's the beep-beep-beep to let us know the doors will be closing any second, and I say, 'I'm good - and you?', which is a terrible mistake, because now Frank's faced with a tricky choice: does he just nod and then wave and say goodbye, or does he jump off the train and answer me properly?