[prompt: 'cheat' 15/2/2019]

I answered the soft knock at the door and was more than a little taken aback by our visitor - an almost comic figure in other circumstances. She wore her best black dress [not a 'little black dress' - sexy, alluring, cleverly understated... no. This was an eminently sensible warm winter dress]; her short blonde hair ruffled in the wind swirling around the balcony; her large and beautiful blue eyes stood out starkly and wetly from a face almost as white as Mum's sheets on the clothesline. The red rims spoke of many tears of pain and fear already shed.

Through quivering lips and the shakiest of voices, she said, "I don't think I want to go through with this now." As I gathered her into my arms, I couldn't suppress a smile over her shoulder at Kanute, despite my sympathetic murmurings. He said my thoughts out loud. "It's about nine months too late now, sweetheart." And we had a 'group hug' as his arms went round us both and he spoke again, "No cheating allowed on this one. You're in for the long haul, lovey."

Two years since our weddings? Really? Two years since Judy had been our bridesmaid and then tied the knot herself a week later? When we both moved far from home and family with our husband's quite different work commitments, we found ourselves with flats in the same large apartment block... and clung to each other like long-lost sisters.

Solemnly we decided the time had come to start a family. Only one problem - she became pregnant within a couple of months, and I never did. Nevertheless, we enjoyed those months together with a passion for all things maternity and baby - with Judy sharing far more than most expectant mums, due to the many lonely hours while her hubby was on long overnight shifts demanded by his air-force career.

At this time last century, pre-natal gender reveals were not fashionable [or available to the hoi-polloi like us] and Judy and I spent many long hours most happily 'agonising' over appropriate names for either sex. Today I have no memory of potential boys' names, but girl's names linger forever. Especially where and when it came to the final, irrevocable choice - at the movies.

We had longed to see 'Dr. Zhivago' with the gorgeous Omar Sharif in his prime and knew our men wouldn't appreciate all the 'blubbing' that would be required [we'd seen a preview and judged it a 'large handbag-fulla tissues' movie]. The two incredibly beautiful ladies of the story were named Lara and Tonia - and opinions wobbled back and forth as we fell in love with each of them as surely as the good Doctor had. But Judy made her choice - and even I, her second-best friend - [think the little dog of her childhood came first - or the rocking horse her dearest Grandfather made for her?] - was kept in the dark until the fateful day.

Even in the extremity of labour, nothing was revealed until she let me briefly hold her darling daughter - TONIA!