Within twenty minutes, her child was comatose in her arms. Hana swaddled her up and lingered by the pram, tempted to lay her there instead of the cot. She nodded to herself and relented, covering Phoenix with blankets and fastening her reins to prevent accident. “Your brother managed to fall out of his pram when he wasn’t much older than you. I still don’t know how he sat himself up and ended up face first on the carpet.” Hana remembered the awful scene of tears and recriminations. Vik, as always dealt passively with her hysterics and his son’s screams.
Hana collected the washing from the laundry and ran to the communal washing line to hang it, leaving the front door open so she could see the pram, but worrying about Phoenix anyway. Running up the front steps with the empty basket she fel
