Walking through tape, feet in plastic covering, avoiding cracked steps, Sally entered the open door of the Victorian terraced. Eyes smarting, thick bleach air catching her throat, she headed towards the kitchen, thankful windows were ajar, yet covering her face with her hand.
“All yours, Doctor,” the policemen passed her in the corridor, “not a pretty site, I’m afraid.”
She glanced round the kitchen. Everything spotless. Except the body, a woman possibly in her early thirties, clothes in disarray, cuts, bruises, blood everywhere and, Sally determined, pregnant, full term. Immediately she fell to her knees. Is baby alive or, more likely dead?
Marian Green, mother of nine, grandmother of twenty-five, great grandmother of five, home school mum, teacher in school, for the last nine years, writer. She’s had articles, stories, flash fiction and poetry published in magazines online and in hard copy and is now completing the final edits for her memoir.