She had recognisedme. She knew I was male. But she hadn't been fazed to see me in a dressand heels, showing off my pretty legs, wearing make-up and a ...ar fromboyish hairstyle. On the contrary she had seemed pleased to see me. Wasshe pleased to see me as a person, or was she pleased to see me dressedas a girl? I hoped it might be both. I remembered what we had done onour dates. What would it have been like if I had been the one wearing askirt? I imagined her watching me walking along. Maybe she. She probably sensed something was wrong. The complete lack of anysort of cry made that obvious. I hoped I was doing the right thing. Iwanted her to hold a happy pink gurgling baby, not see flashes of alifeless blue one.But if she dies...Did I know what to do? Not really. I was relying on instinct morethan memory. Meg had done a session with us one morning onresuscitation of the newborn. But when I needed to recall what Ilearnt, I felt abandoned."Alex!" Kristi shouts my name again."We?re right. More

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