Baby. Scilly Isles 8. Written by Richard Alan Gardham transcribed by Angela Gardham.

Ann was pregnant. Everyone showed gentle attention to her. She always smiles, smiling away radiant and happy in the child carrying stage. I’m sure she came floating by the islands on a cloud and came down a ladder of happiness to have her child here. They couldn’t get any accommodation so they were living in a tent. She’d just smile. “Aren’t you afraid of having your baby in a tent?” “There’s thousands of women have babies in tents so why not me?” She started to get enormous. The pub was packed, jammed. There she was, among all the bustle and shoving trying to get to the bar; the singing swaying crowds with her enormous belly, smiling away, out of this world. Around her were the noises of flirters, hustlers, drunks, semi drunks and all the useless chatter of the intellectual mumbling; it was as though she had an army of body guards that wouldn’t allow any elbow or slightest arm to go within an arm’s length of her.

Alan, her husband looked calm about it but I don’t think he was that calm. “When is it due Ann?” “Anytime.” “Well, don’t you think it’s a bit daft being in here?” She just smiles and smiles and smiles. I wonder where she came from? Her skin glowed with its lovely freckles dabbling her and her red hair glittering like red gold. The belly did eventually disappear. It was a lovely baby. Then after a time they quietly disappeared. All sorts of ridiculous addresses came through messengers but to me she could have no other address baring Hallow Hill.