He blew out a breath. ‘Sorry.’ Nodded at her. ‘I’ll ring you. Promise.’
She nodded back, beaming, embarrassed at how touched she felt and how elated. Her nerves alight, dancing on tiptoe and her wrist stinging like hell.
Cheryl felt another contraction start, the dull cramp growing tighter as it built, a band around her belly and her back. She blew out, leaning forward and pressing the hot water bottle close.
Milo, with his Dalmatian doggy hot water bottle, mimicked her, frowning and hissing.
‘Look at him!’ Vinia laughed. ‘Still got belly ache, Milo?’ He nodded. Then as Cheryl’s contraction ebbed away, he turned back to the TV where Wallace and Gromit were after the Were-Rabbit.
‘Forty seconds.’ Vinia was timing her.
‘How long since the last?’
‘Four minutes. Should we call?’
‘When I had Milo it was like this for ages. If they get any longer, maybe then.’
Vinia went back to flicking through the free newspaper. Cheryl paced about the living room, her hands at the hollow of her back.
‘Hey, we could get a dog,’ Vinia said.
‘No way! Nutjob! With two kids-’
‘This one’s good with children. Listen.’ Vinia read it out: ‘Bess is a reliable and friendly dog with a lovely nature and is ready for rehoming-’
‘Oh!’ Cheryl winced and clutched the top of the sofa.
‘Another?’
Cheryl nodded; too busy riding the pain to say anything. It lasted longer, she was sure. It hurt more. ‘Call now,’ she said.
Babies didn’t pay attention to shifts, Fiona had learnt that way back when she’d first done her training. And with some labours she would carry on working after her shift had finished because the continuity mattered to her, to the mother, to a successful outcome. She anticipated tonight was shaping up like that. Cheryl Williamson was booked in under the domino scheme: she would spend the first stage of labour at home then transfer to hospital for the delivery and third stage and be discharged within hours if there were no complications. For someone like Cheryl, with another child at home, it meant less disruption and for the hospital it meant a bed freed up for a woman who might need more medical assistance.
The housemate, Vinia, opened the door. Fiona had met her once, wanting to make sure that Cheryl would have some support in the days after the birth. Fiona had been seeing Cheryl for the last two months, ever since she’d returned to her role working in the community. And, boy, was she glad to be back. The first few days had felt like a trial, a test. Was she tempting fate coming back here, was she trying to induce a panic attack? She had to prove to herself that what Joe had said was true: she was not a target and she would not let the fear define her. True, her world was a harsher place since the murder: the experience had left her raw – as if someone had peeled back a protective layer to expose her vulnerability, to expose everybody’s vulnerability. The sense of security she’d had before was gone forever. The death and then the trial had changed her, as they had so many others. There was no way back. Only forward.
She always thought of Danny Macateer when she drove past the recreation ground but these days there was no splintering of confidence or shortness of breath, just sadness, an ache that the boy had died. Sorrow soft inside.
‘How’s she doing?’ Fiona asked Vinia.
‘Fine but they’re speeding up. She’s upstairs now, needed the loo.’
They went up to Cheryl’s room. Milo was lying on the floor, flying a toy plane around with one hand.
‘Okay, mister,’ Vinia said. ‘Bedtime.’
Milo got to his feet, stared at Fiona.
‘Hello,’ she said, ‘remember me? That’s a lovely plane. You flying off to bed now?’
He nodded and Vinia took him out. Fiona put her bag down and Cheryl came in.
‘How are you?’ Fiona asked.
‘Okay.’
‘Any show?’
‘Yes. And the pains are getting closer.’
‘Okay,’ said Fiona. ‘You pop on the bed and I’ll do your temp and BP, then if that’s all right with you I’ll do an exam, see where you’re up to.’
‘Thanks. Ooh!’ Cheryl’s face changed, shutting down as she focused on a fresh contraction.
Fiona placed her hand on the top of Cheryl’s bump and timed the contraction. Cheryl grasped her other hand, squeezing it tight. The girl was breathing well, steadily, moaning softly.
‘That’s it,’ said Fiona, ‘that’s good. Eighty seconds.’ Substantial. ‘How long since the last one?’
‘Not long. Three minutes?’ Cheryl said.
Fiona handed her a thermometer and asked her to place it under her arm, then she checked her blood pressure. Both were fine.
‘We’ll have a listen to the baby.’ She got out her sonic aid and placed it low on Cheryl’s abdomen. The baby had been fully engaged for the last three weeks so Fiona was pretty sure where she’d find the heartbeat. The whooshing of the womb and the galloping sound of the heartbeat echoed in the room.
Cheryl smiled. ‘So fast,’ she said.
Fiona nodded. ‘Your waters haven’t gone?’
‘No.’
‘Great. Can you lie back for me?’ Fiona put on her apron and snapped on the thin gloves. She used some gel to lubricate her fingers then bent to examine Cheryl. With a little spike of surprise she realized that the rim of the cervix was thin, almost fully effaced, and as she gently spread her fingers she estimated it was about nine centimetres dilated. It wouldn’t be long till second stage. ‘Nine centimetres,’ she told Cheryl. ‘We should take you in straight away. Is Vinia staying here with Milo?’
‘Yes.’
‘And Jeri?’
‘He should be here any time, he got the train.’
‘You might want to tell him to go straight to St Mary’s.’
‘Ooh!’ Cheryl bent over, another contraction sweeping through her, her fist balled on her knees, face contorted.
‘Breathe through it, that’s good.’
When the pain left Cheryl said she needed to wee again and Fiona gave her a stick to use so she could check her urine. Fiona texted Owen telling him she would be late home and asking him to make sure Ziggy got a walk.
She was about to ring Despatch for the ambulance car when Cheryl called out from the bathroom. Fiona went to her. Cheryl was standing clinging to the wash basin, the spatter of liquid pooling at her feet. ‘It’s my waters,’ she said. ‘I think the baby’s coming. Aah!’ She gasped and her legs trembled.
‘Okay, darling,’ Fiona said, ‘just breathe, that’s lovely. You’re doing really well. I’m just going to have a look.’
Fiona got to her knees and lifted Cheryl’s nightdress: what she saw confirmed every instinct. ‘Okay, the baby’s in a hurry so we’ll stay here. I’ve some things in the car, I’ll bring those. We’ll be fine.’
Vinia came out on to the landing. ‘Cheryl?’
‘Can you find some spare sheets and towels, the older the better,’ Fiona asked her.
‘She having the baby here?’ Vinia looked appalled.
‘Yep. Just wait with her while I fetch my things.’
Fiona called one of the other midwives on the rota and asked her to come, then set about preparing for the delivery. Vinia helped her cover the floor and the bed with plastic sheeting then old sheets and covers. She checked the room temperature and Vinia organized the baby things, pulling them out of the bag Cheryl had packed for the hospital.
Cheryl stood swaying, holding on to the footboard of the bed. ‘I want to push,’ she said. She began to moan: long, deep sounds.
‘Just let it come, Cheryl, try and open up, try and relax, good girl.’
Fiona turned to Vinia. ‘Rub her back, low down.’
Three more contractions and the head was crowning. Cheryl was crying, tears dripping down her face. ‘Good girl,’ Fiona reassured her, ‘you’re doing brilliantly, really good. Won’t be long now and the baby’ll be here. Have you got any names?’