The Hôpital Pitié Salpêtrière is significant for me not as the place where Princess Diana and Josephine Baker took their last breaths, but as the place where my son took his first. On that hot afternoon I walked around the gardens, head-giddy through lack of sleep and sheer excitement. Now I was linked to the ground I was walking on and not just a visitor. A part of my flesh and blood was now a kicking and screaming part of this country, and that helped me to feel I belonged by extention. I was glad that it had happened at this place, a part of the city I’ve learned to love, and which will always have significance for my son too.

I am not a religious person, but in the days that followed I often went and sat in the St Louis chapel. This massive structure, designed byLibéral Bruant (who was also the architect of Les Invalides) was built in 1675, and the thick stone walls brought me shelter from the heat and a quiet place to reflect on the immense change in my life. I even lit a candle, asking for my son to be as strong and handsome as these walls. At the time all was happiness and fear, and I gave no thought to what else these walls had seen.

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