Chapter 8
9.50 a.m.
David stared down at the words on the first page. He heard the thumping of his heart; hope fuelled its force, leaving the blood pounding in his ears. The writing was intelligent-looking, stroked onto the paper from a fountain pen. But it was as recognisable to him as that image of his wife in white when the bus rolled away. Julia’s beautiful and delicate script lay in front of him.
Dear Baby,
You are nothing more than a seahorse swimming in a tiny puddle at the moment. But I love you. You are my secret. My own precious piece of life that I do not quite want to share with anyone. Not yet. You are a miracle sprung from ancient alchemy and I do not want to reveal its secrets – not yet. You are in a magic bubble and nothing must break the spell.
I wonder what you look
