"No," he said tonelessly. It didn't seem to faze him. She supposed he'd been through one or two himself, though it wasn't quite the same as her own experience. "When was this?"

"A few weeks after we split."

This got a small reaction from him, a slight look of shock. "You and me? Why didn't you tell me?"

She sighed and looked off at an old gray running shoe revealed by the thaw on somebody's lawn. "I thought you'd react badly. I thought you might tell me to reconsider."

He thought about it for a moment as they walked. "I couldn't have handled a kid. Imagine me as a dad. I can barely tie my own shoelaces."

"I think you'd do all right," she said, smiling in spite of herself. "I don't know about back then... Not that I want kids."

"Not with me, anyway."

"We never worked together. We had fun, but we'd kill each other if we lived under the same roof."

"We seem to be doing pretty okay now."

"With Aunt Norma and Ruby as referees."

He laughed. "Fair point."

She gathered her thoughts. She had a lot to say and wasn't sure quite how to start, despite having gone over it again and again in her mind. "Martin, I'm not sure why Laura wanted me there and I wish like hell I never agreed to stay. But I'm glad that I was there. The midwives, your mother's friends, they're responsible for that little girl's death."

"You think?"

"The baby came out breeched. I told them it was dangerous to deliver. They should have listened. They should have delayed the delivery and gotten her medical treatment as soon as possible. Any midwife worth her salt would have done that. For the safety of the mother as much as the child."

"But it's a small island," Martin said. "It would have taken hours to get her to the nearest hospital by ferry. Maybe less if they were able to get a helicopter—"

"There's a doctor right here on the island, Martin." Her face flushed with righteous fury. "A retired obstetrician. I found him on the internet yesterday. He owns a pig farm on the north end of the island."

"A pig farm?"

"Those dotty old bitches could've called him. Retired or not, he could have helped. He could have performed an emergency C-section. Anything. But they didn't. It was almost like they were determined to watch that baby die."

"That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"Martin, I was there. It was bizarre. Like a pantomime. Like they'd done it a hundred times before."

"Haven't they? Sinjin said everyone born in Barrows Bay was delivered by those ladies. He was, his wife was—those two friends of my mom's who came over on Sunday said I was, too."

The comment derailed her. She tried to backtrack, tried to remember where she was headed with all of this. The pigs, she reminded herself. Dr. Mulligan. "I'm going to talk to him," she said.