September 1 2002, just after half past nine in the morning, and our second son, Romeo, was born; a baby brother for Brooklyn. Their dad could still remember how he’d dreamed of having a baby brother when he was growing up with two sisters. You’d have to ask someone who knows more about these things than me why I’d always wanted another boy in the house for company: it’s bound to be more complicated than just needing a little ’un to go in goal in the back garden. It’s not as if I didn’t love Lynne and Joanne, after all. All I know for sure is that when we found out Romeo was a boy, I was delighted for Brooklyn and pleased, as well, for the little boy I used to be. I was a bit surprised by how strong those feelings were, to be honest. After Brooklyn was born and we’d started talking about more children, Victoria and I had expected a daughter would be next. And when Victoria got pregnant again, that was what Brooklyn had expected too. Victoria’s sister Louise, who we’re really close to and see all the time, has a little girl named Liberty.
