Imagine yourself sitting on a train heading for London, pondering your fate about being an infertile woman whose ex-husband's new lady ln his life has just sent you a 12 week scan photo of their soon-to-be progeny. (Gentlemen readers must temporarily identify as female at this point to appreciate the irony of the situation!)
Suddenly your thoughts are rudely interrupted by a very attractive blonde with a cute baby in tow sitting down across the table and getting into conversation. Her phone persistently demands an answer and she asks you to mind the lovely kid while she gets the call in a quieter part of the train just as it pulls into the last station before London.
So far so good, but as the train pulls away from the station you see to your horror the kid's Mum back on the platform heading for the exit... Could she be rushing to the nearest A&E to get treatment for those ugly bruises on her arms she tried to conceal from your sight?
Pause for a much-needed gulp of air then read on to discover happens next.
Suddenly your thoughts are rudely interrupted by a very attractive blonde with a cute baby in tow sitting down across the table and getting into conversation. Her phone persistently demands an answer and she asks you to mind the lovely kid while she gets the call in a quieter part of the train just as it pulls into the last station before London.
So far so good, but as the train pulls away from the station you see to your horror the kid's Mum back on the platform heading for the exit... Could she be rushing to the nearest A&E to get treatment for those ugly bruises on her arms she tried to conceal from your sight?
Pause for a much-needed gulp of air then read on to discover happens next.