She leapt up and pulled the covers off him, jumping out of the bed and laughing as he clutched on to the sheet.

‘Better get up,’ she grinned.

He threw a pillow at her, but she caught it and held her finger to her lips, turning to the pouch stand. The legs of the base were the only part of the stand outside the incubator; inside it their pouch was gently supported by the soft shoulders and central padded shelf. They’d chosen a pale blue for the stand itself – it toned so nicely with the mauve of their pouch – and the transparent incubator was almost like a bubble in the way it refracted the light. She could see little rainbows on its surface as she moved her head from side to side. Then she slid the front panels open and felt the warmth on her skin, just enough to mimic the closeness of a human body, as she reached in to gently stroke the curve of their child. The shape of the pouch really was beautiful, like a painting or something, the way it rested there just like when she or Kaz were wearing it. She could imagine nutrients flowing from the nutrient bag, down the matching mauve tube cover, through the feed and into the pouch itself, giving baby Will everything he needed. The pouch was more than a painting – it was like a beautiful living sculpture that you could touch, that you could hug. And outside the incubator it actually shared heat with the person carrying it. She loved that idea, the transfer of warmth between them.

‘Good morning, baby Will,’ she said, kissing the pouch, feeling it softly flex beneath the pressure of her lips. She’d put it on soon, so he’d feel the heat of her body, hear the beat of her pulse on the morning of his birth. ‘We love you,’ she whispered, as close as she could get. ‘We’ll see you soon.’

There were no more natural-birth adverts on the radio. Eva listened all morning, and while there were radio plays and music and adverts for furniture sales and Christmas trees, there was nothing about FullLife. Nothing, for hours. From the serenity of the broadcasting, you’d think there was nothing new going on in the world.