New Years Eve, 1992. Asleep on the sofa, Buster
asleep in his bed. Five minutes before midnight, the door opens, Bobbe
comes through the door and sits in my lap to wish me a happy new year.
I enter her and the new year at the same time. We conceive Max, our fifth
and final child. The saga continues.
I still don’t know whose life this is, only
that I’m the one who has been compelled to live it in the first person.
I am the first to have been led by this particular life. And hopefully
the last. See you next book.
