The morning after the birth of our fourth daughter, my husband bumped into a neighbour in our street and announced the news. Her response surprised him. “Are you very disappointed?” she asked.
Gary headed indoors and reported the news to me, whereupon we cackled with laughter and had another glass of champagne. The previous morning, I’d finished reading Little Women with one of my older daughters; I’d already had an excited inkling I was about to become Marmee, a mother of four girls, and now I’d been proved right.
