There was once a woman who had long in vain wished for a child.
– RAPUNZEL
‘Lorna Miller?’
I want to stand up, but I can’t move.
My sister Dee gives my shoulder an urgent shake.
‘Come on, Lorna,’ she hisses. ‘You’re here now. Too late to back out.’
‘Ms Miller?’ The registrar calls again, looking over the room of couples and their new-born bundles. It’s very beige in here. I suppose people don’t want too many stimulating colours when they’re registering births. It might wake the babies.
My bony legs, bare in denim cut-offs, stick to the fake leather seating. Like they’re glued.
It’s warm today. Warmer, I’m told, than usual for the UK this time of year. And it’s spring here. A time of new beginnings.
Dee loses her patience. ‘Miller,’ she says, standing. ‘Lorna Miller. That’s us.’
‘You’re