Yellow.

Harry + Iman, Picnic!

Iman tucks the phone between her shoulder and cheek, listening on as the little girl rambles about her fantastic day out to the botanical garden.

It is a highly animated talk and Myra does not sound like she's going to stop anytime soon. Iman draws her eyebrows together, wondering how many mini sandwiches will be enough for this afternoon.

She picks up the extra juice box and weighs her option. It is never enough.

"Mama, can you hear me?" Myra asks, loudly.

"I saw the pictures, your playsuit is so cute!" Iman chirps.

"It's the same one with Neesa, we match," the little girl giggles.

They laugh at their own inside joke as Iman digs her free into the baby outing bag and brings out one of Harry's stress toys. She rolls her eyes and sets it aside.

"My mum says we're going cinema tomorrow," Myra explains.

"I'm glad you're enjoying your holiday, baby," Iman exhales.

"I miss you all but it is so much fun here too," she explains.

"I know. You deserve all the fun," Iman smiles.

"Okay now, we will call you later," Myra is excited again.

"We're video calling in the evening, Daddy will cry if he doesn't see your face today," Iman reminds her.

They laugh as the call ends and Iman sets the phone aside.

Okay, back to organising and packing. The silent and much larger house has made this somewhat easier for her. She loves moments to herself to do certain activities.

Harry had mentioned feeding Neesa and watching cartoons, but by the sudden silence in Anne's house, she can tell they're fast asleep. It works. It is perfect.

A solid nap before their afternoon outing is great for her two babies. Iman stuffs the bag with the snacks and drinks. She gets out the bibs and dummy from the baby cabinet.

Someone walks into the kitchen and she doesn't bother turning to see.

"Are you returning to London or going down the road?" Anne chuckles.

"Might be both, you know," Iman chuckles, pen between her lips.

"You look stressed out," the older woman points out the obvious.

"I might be stressed," Iman gives a small smile.

"How can I help you?" Anne offers.

"We're already staying here for most of the summer, I can't ask for more," she puffs out.

Anne slowly shakes her head and observes Iman; sweatpants and oversized t-shirts have become her daily uniform, her curls are overly excited when they're not plaited, sometimes she hides to cry and the entire pressure of being a new mum is fully getting to her.

Anne moves closer and cups Iman's tensed shoulders, staring her in the deep brown eyes.

"You smell of baby," she points out.

"Baby vomit or poop?" Iman asks.

"Just baby," Anne laughs.

"Good, that's good. I'll spray a perfume before we head out," she shrugs.

"Is H being helpful at all?" the older woman frowns.

Iman pauses with her own frown.

"Yes, he's a great father and partner," she replies.