Bianca had been unable to sleep. Tossing and turning, she had finally given up the ghost of trying and padded to her son's room, next door. Baby Cian lay on his stomach, his small, rounded rump in the air.

Bainca sighed and stood by the little cot, her eyes misting over.

Like a beached whale, she thought fondly and reached out to stroke his plump cheek. His lips parted, lost in some pleasant dream, Cian slept on, snoring slightly. Blissfully.

Bianca crossed to the window to ...