At Stan’s house she busied herself in the kitchen to try to take her mind off things, with moderate success. Most of the time she was preparing the ...eal – nothing fancy, just roast belly of pork with potatoes, carrots and broccoli – Stan was with her. He didn’t say a lot, that wasn’t his style she thought, but his presence helped. But whenever he had to leave her alone in the kitchen she felt down. She was just waiting for a phone call. They were cooking for three, as Anne wouldn’t have had. Fingers. Toes. Then she saw… She was sitting silently when her husband entered her bedroom. He strode in, his step that of a man many years younger than his real age. The nurse took the child from the mother. Gave the child to its father. He, as his wife had done, smiled into the deep soulful eyes. The Yokunisi noticed what his wife had seen. Without a word, he handed the baby to the nurse. Without a word, he left the room. His stride as he exited, however, displayed no youthfulness, betrayed. More

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