12
Caroline awoke the next morning with a now-familiar roiling sensation in the pit of her stomach. The nausea came and went and could largely be managed, but sometimes the queasiness made its intentions quite clear. She opened the door of the ensuite bathroom, fell to her knees and vomited into the toilet. It had been a couple of weeks since she’d felt this bad, but she’d been expecting it to return. She could almost set her clock by it — the constant reminder that things didn’t always go as planned.
Ten minutes later, once the spell had passed, she got herself washed and dressed and made her way downstairs. Mark was waiting in the kitchen for her.
‘Boys, why don’t you nip through to the playroom for a bit? You can even watch some telly if you like. Special treat.’
Caroline knew immed
