Hello, she said, crying herself. Hello.

And there were more contractions and more stuff came out – The placenta? she thought vaguely – and after a few minutes she reached for a towel and wiped the baby clean. She took the peg and the scissors and cut the cord and that was when she saw that it was a boy.

She had a son.

She wrapped him in the towel and held him against her chest. She studied him. He was asleep, his body moving up and down against her as he breathed. He had fine, black hair and ten fingers and ten toes and he was so fragile but so perfect.

After a while she felt her eyes closing. She didn’t dare sleep with him in her bed; she was terrified she would crush him, so she clothed him and placed him in the basket the man had brought. By the time she got her head back on her pillow and closed her eyes, she was asleep.

3

She woke and was immediately alert. She looked at Seb. He was very still and she felt the beginnings of panic. Was he even alive? She watched for signs of movement, his chest going up and down.

There it was. The tiniest, tenderest lift of his narrow puppy-skin breast. He was alive.

Seb’s peaceful expression changed to a pained one, and there was a gurgling sound. Maggie looked at him in alarm; seconds later his peaceful expression was back, but there was a faint smell coming from him.

His first poo, she thought. First feeding, first sleep. Motherhood is a series of firsts.

There was a pile of nappies by the basket. She leaned over and picked one up. She moved slowly; when she had the nappy, she sat up and stripped Seb naked, taking care not to pinch him or twist him or do anything which might cause him pain.

God, she loved him already. It was amazing.

The stuff that had come from him was green and sticky and it took her ages to wipe it from his scrawny legs and buttocks – scrawny legs and buttocks that were the cutest things she had ever seen – and then to fold him into his nappy. She threw the old one into the corner of the room and held him to her chest, rocking him in her arms. She smelled his head. She’d held a few babies before and he had the same new-born baby smell. How was it possible they all smelled the same? Seb was in a room in the man’s basement, yet he smelled like every other baby in the world.

It was a miracle. Seb was a miracle. The whole damn thing was a miracle.

She heard the scraping sound, and froze.

She didn’t want him here, not now. It would ruin the perfection.

But the door handle turned, and the door swung open.

4