The hours with Vera are blissfully quiet. Henry is such a good little boy, hardly making any fuss as his mother and I catch up.

He’s on my lap, snoring soft baby-snores. Vera smiles at us fondly, then raises her eyes to mine. I’m startled to find them glistening with tears.

“I wish… I wish this could have been possible for us, Rose,” she whispers quietly.

Suddenly, I find myself unable to speak, so I nod and reach for her hand. We sit in silence for a while, each of us lost in ‘what might have been and if only’.