”I squeezed her again. “That’s right, you’re one of those old twentieth-century models.”“Hey!” She elbowed me in the ribs.“I’m just ...ayin’, all the sleek new twenty-first-century models come equipped with digital bio-clocks – no ticking, you know?”She laughed. “Don’t make me start questioning whether carrying on your genetic line is really a good idea, okay? Not now.”“Heavens no! I’ll behave, I promise. So, are we doing the fertility clinic route, or maybe the DIY thing with a coffee mug and a. 'Where the fuck am I?' and 'how long am I gonna be here?' she asked as she gestured around the room and at herself. 'I mean' she continued 'I know you did all this'. Then she asked a whole heap of questions like why we'd do something like that for someone like her, or what did we want."My father was astonished that she could possibly believe that we had an ulterior motive. 'Nothing' he said, 'absolutely nothing'. My father stood at the side of the bed near her and explained as best he could.. More

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