Can I dare to hope? The pain and misery of my failed pregnancy two years ago would be completely erased if I were now pregnant. I run my hands over my swollen belly and swear that it has grown considerably bigger in the past 24 hours. I’ve had a long time to come to this realisation but always held back because of what happened last time. This time, there must be no mistakes, no errors. When I waved Philip off on his ship at Greenwich, I was desolate and tearful, but this might bring him back to me in good time.
“You are considerably swollen there,” Dr Owen states, prodding my belly gently as I lay back on my bed.
“But is it pregnancy?”
“We can’t be absolutely sure,” Owen states, annoyingly. “How long since you last menstruated?”
“Six months.”
“Six months? Why haven’t you called me in
