So what that Holly Bhattacharyya was the first woman to give birth using the pouch. So what that Rosie was her granddaughter. If it hadn’t been them, it would have been others. This idolising of a perfectly ordinary – and unusually wealthy – family was nothing but a lack of imagination on the part of the human race. No, he didn’t much care about Holly Bhattacharyya, who he was fairly convinced was smirking at him, or her innocent, open-faced granddaughter. What he cared about was more out of reach now than ever. Six years. He hadn’t seen her for six years. That was longer than the time they’d been together.

‘Would you like to tell me about your wedding?’ he said to Rosie, since it seemed totally impersonal and, as such, would probably get a long and detailed response.

He let his mind wander as she described walking down the aisle hand in hand with Kaz – stupid name – and something to do with the music, which sounded like a kind of reggae fusion so far as he could tell. His research had told him that Rosie was only twenty, but he had forgotten how young twenty could be. She was giggly. The colours of the wedding flowers were inspired by Mexico, apparently, where they’d been on their gap year before getting married. The press hadn’t been invited to the big day, thank God, or he would have had to endure the wedding itself as well. He couldn’t understand why anyone would want to go through with it. After hundreds of years of obligatory marriage society finally gives people the choice not to bind themselves to one another for life and what do they do? He glanced up, and there they were – Holly Bhattacharyya’s piercing eyes fixed on him.

Rosie had finished about the wedding now, and was standing up, stroking the pouch. ‘Next year we’re both going to uni, of course,’ she said. ‘Part time, here in London. We just love it here.’ She paused. ‘It’s great, isn’t it, the way universities offer childcare and stuff? It’s like, there’s no need to choose between …’

Piotr closed his eyes, just for a second. Pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead as she chattered away.

‘… and we’ll be able to really relate, you know, be friends with Will, as well as parents. Do you want to meet Kaz now?’ And without waiting for a reply she was skipping her way out of the room to fetch her husband. Well, not skipping, obviously.