217 Babel Street | St. Nicholas' Church, Blackthorn Sands (18 years ago)
“No, it wasn’t Harry’s. It happened years before we met – he’s Catholic, incidentally, Reverend, though not so Catholic you’d notice. The truth is, he fell in love with me before he knew the details. Perhaps I made sure he did. He had a taxi in those days, too. I was practically his first fare. The Abertawe Prison. He never asked. He waited for me to tell him in my own time. We have Sophie now, by the way. She’s eighteen months, and such a good baby. She smiles a lot. She even sleeps. We’re trying for another, and I’d love that. But sometimes, I see him thinking it too. It’s a day-dreamy look that crosses his face. Imagine if it were just us two again. Weren’t we happy? Wasn’t it lovely being that close? You see, we were closer than most because of all that history, all the trust it required of both of us. But it would have been wrong not to have children, wouldn’t it, Reverend? It would have been, well, odd, I suppose, even though I was already 40. Years ago, when the judge asked if I felt remorse, I was still stupid with the shock. I said, if things were the same, I’d do it all over again; I’d have no choice. And it was the most beautiful church in Swansea. All white inside with pillars and a high ceiling. A big church. Lovely grounds. Wealthy parishioners. I thought, they’ll fall over themselves wanting to help."