It was six in the morning. Taylor's alarm clock went off, making her jump under the thick and warm sheets. She grumbled and turned it off, pressing a button in its back. Then, she rubbed her sleepy eyes and got up.

Very silently, she opened the door of her wardrobe and picked up her dark green suit, which she had to wear when working. She took one of her white blouses from a hanger, and then opened the hidden drawers of her wardrobe, picking up knickers, clean tights and a bra. She walked out of the bedroom, heading for the bathroom.

Once there, she carefully laid her clothes on the chair in the corner, drowsily removing her night-gown and knickers. She stood in the bathtub, pulling the curtain behind her. Then she turned on the tap, letting hot water pour all over her tired body.

For a moment, she got lost in her thoughts. As she had her head tilting backwards and her eyes shut, she slowly looked down, lowering her chin. Her unwinded arms bent and her fingertips made their way to her stomach. Her palms gently stroked the skin of her stomach, as if she feared that she would be too fragile. She blinked a little, the corner of her lips making them stretch into a shy grin.

She was pregnant. The young woman who used to spend her evenings either alone in her old flat in Whitechapel or either in clubs with her childhood friend Suzy. The young woman who was terrified at the idea of loving anybody. The young woman who was wild and free. The young woman who was almost penniless. The young woman who had never left London until she met this other young man. The young woman who befriended this man. The young woman who fell in love with this same mane. The young woman who was loved by this man. The young woman who married this man.

Taylor Taylor... She was no more. Never would she have had a child. Never would she have moved in with her dearest one. Never would she have found a proper job. And though some of those things happened when she still was Taylor Taylor, she felt as if this sudden maturity already belonged to Taylor Deacon.

She was another person now. She had left her past dead behind her. And all those great changes occurred when Elenore died. In a certain way, Taylor felt relieved that her sister passed away. When she thought about it, Elenore was the very last element of her torn family, and therefore, her painful past. Although she did not have a clue about Terry's passing before John read the article about Elenore, she knew that as all the persons she met and loved more or less – more less than anything else – she could finally make a fresh start.

And the least we could say was that she did.

Taylor turned off the tap and dried herself, immediately putting on her underwear and making her roll-on deodorant slip on the skin of her armpits. Then, she sat on the chair where her clothes were, and put on her tights, then her full suit. She stood up and opened the cabinet above the sink, taking out her hairbrush.

She thoughtfully detangled her long blond hair, staring at the tiles. She combed her hair into a flawless bun, applied some makeup, and left the bathroom after she hanged her burgundy towel to the towelrail.

John blinked a little, slowly waking up. When he looked all around him, the bedroom was still plunged into darkness. Patting the spot next to him, he guessed that Taylor had woken up for work. He heard some muffled noises in the kitchen and got up. He took a quick look at Taylor's alarm clock: it was half past six.

He drowsily crossed the corridor, wearing only his yellow shorts. He scratched the back of his head and yawned. When he reached the kitchen, he saw Taylor sitting at the table, petting Malo with one hand, holding a cup of coffee in the other, and reading a random magazine at the same time. She looked all relaxed, though she had light dark circles under her eyes.

John got in, causing Taylor to look up. Her face lit up, and she waited for him to get closer to kiss his lips tenderly. She lovingly stroked his cheek and drank a sip of coffee. He stood next to her, being sleepy like he had never been.

“Good morning, darling” she whispered. “How comes that you woke up this early? Did I disturb your sleep?”

“Not at all. I guess it's the jet lag.”

“Oh, I see. You should go back to bed, unless you have something important planned for today, such as a band meeting, or I don't know.”

“No, I have only free time until we get back on tour.”

“Oh, cool! I'll have a day off this week, perhaps we'll do something, what do you think? We could go to the cinema, or something like that.”

“Sure.”

“But for now, I think you should go back to bed.”

“Nah, I won't fall asleep if I do.”

Taylor shrugged with a pout, drinking her coffee again. John nonchalantly walked up to the work surface, beside which was a hot coffee pot. He took out a cup from a cabinet and filled it with the hot dark beverage, scratching his back. Once he got his cup, he went up to the table, sitting in front of Taylor; he briefly petted Malo, giving her a soft kiss on the head.

Taylor closed the magazine she was reading and stretched out her arm to throw it on the sideboard. Then, she coughed lightly and leant on her elbows on the table. She smiled at John and yawned briefly, covering her lipstick-coloured mouth with the back of her hand. She emptied her cup and looked at her watch.

“Oh shit, I must go now.”

“Have a lot of groups, today?”

“Mainly pupils. I hate showing things to pupils, they're not listening at all.”

“Get used to it, you'll have a future pupil in nine months.”

“Yeah, yeah, stop pulling my leg!” she chuckled.

She took her cup and washed it in the sink, putting it aside, upside down, so it would dry all by itself. Then, she grabbed a box in a corner, in which she had all her pills. She prepared a glass of cool water and took her daily doses of painkillers, anti-inflammatory agents,... Suddenly, she frowned and rummaged through the box. John was looking at her with a quizzical expression.

“Shit, my box of painkillers is almost empty, I won't have enough for tomorrow! And you can only buy them with a prescription at a chemist's. Goddammit, I won't have time today!”

She sighed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. She elegantly put her hand on her hip, tilting it lightly. Then, she frowned a bit more and turned to John.

“My dear? If you have some time today, could you please go to Doctor Maylor's surgery and ask him for a new prescription? He knows I take them. I'll just leave you the box, so he will know what pills I mean.”

“Sure, darling. I'll go in the morning or early in the afternoon.”

“Thank you so much, John. Oh, and can you go to the chemist's to take my pills after that? I'll pay you back for it.”

“Alright.”

John smiled at her widely. She could count on him. Even though she knew that, she always felt like she had to ask, whether John would not mind if it was asked like a command.

Taylor looked again at her watch and jumped as she heard the toaster leap behind her. She spun round and took the four foasters she had put in, and brought three to John.

“Have those for breakfast, I won't have time.”

She kept one and quickly covered it with butter, before handing the butter and the knife to John. She took a bite in the foaster and quickly kissed John's forehead.

“I'm late. Have a nice day, my love, and thank you for the pills.”

“It's alright. Good luck for today.”

“Thanks!”

Taylor quickly put on her shoes, the jacket of her suit, took her handbag, her keys, and she was gone.