Penny had very first dared talk about motherhood after Bridges had celebrated its second birthday. She had overcome the darkest period of her life, made a total success of her dream business, and gone upstairs to her flat and cried and cried and cried, because somehow it wasn’t enough. It felt anti-feminist, in a weird way, to say she needed something beyond work. She’d sent Clementine a voice note that said, ‘I want to come upstairs after my shift and for my child to be there. To be doing all this for a reason. I want kids, Clementine. Like … now. I just feel so sad! I don’t want it to be just me! I want a family!’ It was with unending gratitude that Clementine had been so kind in her response, and never once made Penny feel ridiculous for thinking about doing it alone.

But all of that was before Francesco. It was too soon to know if he changed things, but Penny felt a small notion that it might. She wanted to ask him, just in theory, but what exactly would she say? Hey, Francesco? I know I met you twenty minutes ago but just trying to get a read on how you’d feel about being a daddy, except I’ve already fertilized my eggs so it wouldn’t really be ‘yours’, and it’s too dangerous to come off my hormone medication so I wouldn’t actually be the one getting pregnant. What’s your timeframe on that? Maybe within the year? Is this a do-able scenario for you? No pressure.

‘I didn’t mean to blindside you,’ Clementine said. ‘I honestly thought you knew this is what I’d been thinking about for ages. I wanted to tell you now, today, because then I’m gone again and it’s not exactly the kind of thing you say over a Personal Podcast, is it? But I’ve honestly been thinking about this ever since you said you wanted to be a mum. Rima and me, we’ve discussed this at least once a month for a year. I couldn’t take away the cancer for you, but I can help with this.’

Neither spoke. The fountain sprayed and the sun shone and they sat and sat.

‘They’re my embryos,’ Penny said, eventually.

‘They’re your embryos,’ said Clementine, before shaking her head. ‘Sorry. I keep repeating everything that you say. I’m just trying to let you know that I hear you.’

The pair observed a pregnant mother pushing a toddler in a pram, talking to him about the ducks he could see and laughing as he mispronounced the word ‘walking’: They wokking, mama! They wokking!