I found out that I was pregnant the day we took People's Bank in the Estcourt city-centre before the trip to Westgate a week ago. Martin had joked about it when he'd seen me heave my brains out the morning after we'd left in the stolen old BMW, which Martin had ominously obliged all the way from Ladysmith to Jo'burg over the weekend. He was the only one who could drive and had a license and it had happened several times during a getaway, upon being stopped by police, that a simple flash of Martin's dreamy emerald eyes and license got us away scot-free.