A mother and her young son are feedingthe ducks on the lack and we stand behind them for a moment and watch.The mother turns round and you smile. She...returns your smile and makes aremark about the weather and the number of ducks in the park at this timeof year. You say something back to her, but I look away, avoiding eyecontact. I give a discreet tug at your arm, not wanting to be drawn intoa conversation. "We have to go," you say to her. The boy looksdisappointed. I suppress a niggle of. I need her to believe that we can make this place a home for the baby. Nathaniel planned for every possible outcome. We could live the rest of our natural lives here and be quite happy, or at least, I could. As for Grace, I don’t think she agrees. Besides, I know this is no place for a young child. If the rest of the pack were here, maybe, but a child deserves better than growing up below ground in a mine. Eventually, we’ll have to leave. But, I entertain the idea that we don’t. Eventually,. More

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