The Good News

The list's still on the table, half of it crossed out — and it's Sunday morning with nothing on it at all, which honestly unnerves me more than the busy ones. Where do you want the first hour to go, because I've got no plan past coffee?

Eleven weeks, she said, and the blood test confirms it — that's the whole of it, word for word. And I'm already doing sums: the $640's gone by the twelfth, the invoices don't clear till the twentieth. So who do we tell first, because I want it to be your mum and I want to not be the one who blabs.