But no sign of Diana Hunter. No glad Mr. and Mrs. Hunter of Dingly Crescent, nor of the Panorama Penthouse, nor Siddhartha Close, nor any other street. No hamlet, croft, village or town, no mansion nor mud hut resounds to her first outraged howl. No hospital boasts her arrival in desktop-published news, no local paper carries a picture of the joyous day, no cards go out. No flowers are sent, no bouquets of nappies and baby clothes.