by Julie Cohen
She walked past Romily again and back down into the flat. She heard Romily coming after her; she was puffing a bit and her footsteps were heavy.
‘Let me get this straight,’ she said. ‘You think you’re going to give me the baby?’
‘I don’t have to give him to you. He already belongs to you. Where do you want me to put these? Posie’s room, or your room?’
‘There’s no space in either.’
‘You’ll have to work that out.’ She leaned the cot sides against the kitchen cabinets and started for the door again. Romily was blocking her way.
‘Stop it,’ Romily said. ‘I don’t want all this stuff.’
‘I have no use for it. I don’t want to look at it any more.’
‘Claire, I am carrying this baby for you.’
‘No, you’re not!’ cried Claire. ‘You’re carrying it for Ben, because you love him! And he loves the baby, and he loves you. I’m giving you what you want, Romily. I’m giving you what you’ve always wanted. Don’t you understand?’
Romily’s eyes widened. The colour drained, all at once, out of her face.
‘Oh, shit,’ she said.
Claire wasn’t sure how she’d been expecting Romily to react when she handed over all of her own dreams. But this wasn’t quite it.
‘Romily?’
‘I think my waters just broke.’
‘The baby isn’t due for three more weeks!’
‘Tell that to him. There’s definitely something going on down there.’ Romily abandoned the doorway and headed for the loo. At the threshold, she paused and held on to the doorframe.
‘Are you okay?’ There was a dark stain on the back of Romily’s tracksuit bottoms. Claire hurried after her and put her hand on her shoulder. Romily’s eyes were closed and she looked as if she were concentrating hard.
‘That’s a contraction there,’ she gasped.
‘Are you sure?’
‘They’re hard to mistake.’
‘Do we need to ring the hospital? Are they regular and frequent?’
‘I’ve only had the one, though I’m starting to wonder about that backache.’ Romily straightened up and went into the loo. Claire stood outside the door, fretting.
‘Are you all right?’ she called.
‘Don’t panic,’ said Romily through the door. ‘Though my waters have definitely broken. Wow.’
‘We need to time the contractions. Then we’ll know if it’s right to go to the hospital or not.’ Claire looked down at her wrist, but she wasn’t wearing her watch. She went into the bedroom (bed unmade, dressing-gown on the floor) and picked up Romily’s alarm clock. When had the last contraction been? Thirty seconds ago? Two minutes?
‘We’ll start timing from the next one,’ she called. Romily didn’t reply. ‘Romily? Romily?’ Claire began knocking on the door.
Romily opened it. She was wearing a pair of pyjama trousers that looked as if they’d come from the bottom of the laundry basket. She smiled at Claire and took Claire’s hand. Her hand was very warm. ‘The baby’s on his way.’
‘You mean right this minute?’ Claire’s voice rose to a squeak.
‘No. But he’s on his way to being born. It’s pretty incredible.’
Claire breathed deeply. ‘Okay. Okay – well, that’s great. We’ll keep calm, and time the contractions, and when they’re every five minutes—’
Romily’s hand tightened on hers, so hard it hurt. Her eyes were wide this time, her face frozen.
‘Breathe,’ Claire said. ‘Breathe through it, Romily.’
Romily let out a great whoosh of air through her mouth, and then sucked another in through her nose.
‘That’s it. Good girl. Well done.’ After what felt like an eternity, Romily’s grip loosened. ‘That was less than five minutes since the last one.’
‘Posie was born pretty quickly, once I got going. Maybe we should forget about ringing first and just go to the hospital.’
‘Okay. Good idea. I’ll drive. Do you have a bag?’
‘No. It’s okay. I don’t think I’ll be staying there long.’
Claire took a string bag off the door handle of Posie’s room. It appeared to have Posie’s PE kit in it. She emptied it onto the floor. ‘I’ll grab some clothes for the baby and a spare outfit for you. And a toothbrush and a hairbrush. Sit down, I’ll only be a minute.’
‘You weren’t quite expecting this, were you?’ Romily went into the front room while Claire ransacked her drawers for some clothes. When she emerged a few moments later, Romily was on all fours on the floor with her head under the coffee table.
‘Romily!’
Romily raised her head. ‘It’s okay. I’m looking for my keys. But this position also feels pretty good.’ She held up her hand. ‘Got ’em. And my phone.’
‘We can ring the hospital while we’re on our way,’ Claire said, and went to the front door, which was still open.
‘And Ben.’
‘And Ben.’ Claire swallowed. ‘And Posie,’ she said more brightly. ‘She’ll want to know that little Thing is on his way, won’t she?’
Romily slowly got to her feet. ‘Claire,’ she said. ‘We have a lot to talk about.’
‘Afterwards. Right now we have to get you safely to hospital. Come on.’ She started out through the front door, holding out her hand to help Romily up the steps.
Romily didn’t follow. ‘I think I need some help with my shoes.’ She was in her stockinged feet.
‘Of course,’ Claire said, and came back inside. Romily pointed to a pair of trainers near the sofa and Claire helped slide them on to her feet.
‘I never wanted to hurt you,’ Romily said to her when she stood up.
‘Let’s go.’
When they got to Claire’s car, though, and Claire opened the door for her, she realized that it was still packed full of furniture. There was hardly room for the string bag, let alone a thirty-seven-weeks-pregnant woman in labour.
‘We can take my car,’ said Romily, and then she had to stand still and hold on to the car roof, weathering another contraction. Droplets of rain clung to her hair. ‘If it starts,’ she said when she’d finished. ‘The electrics are a little temperamental in the damp.’
‘The traffic,’ Claire said, remembering. ‘It’s chock-a-block because of the shopping centre. I don’t think driving is such a good idea after all.’
‘The hospital is less than a mile away.’
‘I think we’d be taking a chance of you giving birth in the car. It would be much quicker to walk.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea either. I don’t fancy having this baby on the pavement.’
‘Right. Let’s go inside where it’s dry and warm, and let’s ring the hospital after all. Maybe they can send an ambulance.’
Inside, Claire helped Romily off with her trainers again and then Romily got back into her position on the rug, on all fours. While Romily rang the hospital, Claire boiled the kettle. She didn’t precisely know whether tea would help in this situation, but she didn’t have many other ideas. Plus, weren’t you supposed to have boiling water on hand if you had to deliver a baby at home?
There was probably a section about this in one of the baby books she’d given Romily. She scanned the bookshelves while listening to the conversation Romily was having. ‘Every five minutes, if not more frequent. Yes, it’s my second delivery. The first was really quick. No, no complications at all. Well, we would, except the traffic is so bad that we’re afraid … Oh. Okay then, that’s great. Yes, I’ve got my … my friend with me. All right. All right, yes. Okay. Yes. Yes.’ She repeated her address, and put down the phone. ‘They said they can send an ambulance, but then as it’s a second delivery and it appears to be low-risk they thought it might be quicker just to send a community midwife over on foot.’
The last word came out as ‘foooot’ as another contraction hit.
‘Breathe,’ said Claire, and she abandoned her search for the book to put her hand on Romily’s
back and soothe her through it.
‘Ring Ben,’ Romily panted. ‘He needs to know.’
Claire was very aware, as she selected Ben’s number on her own phone, that she hadn’t rung it in what felt like a very long time. She listened as it rang and rang.
‘He’s not answering,’ she said. ‘Do you know where he is?’
Romily shook her head. Claire left a message telling him the essentials. As Romily rang Jarvis, Claire made tea, trying not to listen, but she did notice how Romily spoke with Jarvis in a kind of shorthand, as if they knew each other well. She herself spoke that way with Ben, sometimes, when they were working together on something around the house. Claire could tell when Posie came on the line because Romily’s voice became light and cheerful, though she wrapped up the conversation quickly and hung up before the next contraction started.
‘She thinks it’s incredibly cool that I might give birth in our living room,’ Romily said when she’d caught her breath. ‘She asked if I couldn’t hold on a little while so they could get back from London first.’
‘Do you think,’ said Claire, pushing the mug of tea towards Romily, ‘that you can hold on for a little while? At least until the midwife gets here?’ The contractions were rapidly getting closer together, and she could tell they were stronger, too. She had no idea if this was the correct thing or not. It all seemed incredibly fast.
‘I don’t know.’
‘I’m not sure what to do,’ said Claire. ‘It’s— maybe I should get the bed ready.’
‘I think I’d prefer the floor in here. That mattress is so lumpy. I’ve cursed it a million times in the past few months. It probably doesn’t have very good vibes.’
‘Okay. You stay right there. Do whatever you need to, to make yourself comfortable.’ Claire pushed the coffee table up against the far wall, clearing the centre of the room. The Christmas tree had to be pushed back too. With her foot, she shoved whatever else movable she could find underneath the sofa: Posie’s shoes, Romily’s handbag, several books and jumpers and Jemima, the stuffed tiger. Then she went to the bathroom airing cupboard and came back with armfuls of bed linen and towels.
‘Do you have anything like a plastic tablecloth?’
Romily, who was grimacing and breathing deeply, nodded her head at a kitchen cabinet. Claire found an oilskin pouch on a shelf. Inside, carefully rolled, was a heavy, high-quality picnic blanket, lined on one side with oilskin.
‘My dad’s fishing blanket,’ Romily gasped. ‘He wouldn’t mind.’
Claire spread it out over the carpet, and then layered sheets and duvet covers and towels over the top. ‘Okay,’ she said doubtfully. ‘That should do it, I think.’
‘Thank you, Claire. Thank you. I know I don’t deserve to have you helping me, but I’m glad you’re here.’
‘I’m glad I am!’ said Claire, although she was anything but. ‘It would be horrible if you were on your own. Do you know— have you seen Ben?’
‘He came over for a little while last night to fill me in on what was going on.’ Romily got to her feet, holding her belly with one hand and her back with the other. ‘He didn’t tell me what he was doing today.’
‘Well, I hope he’s not in a car, or else he’ll never get here in time,’ Claire said briskly. She put her arm around Romily’s shoulders and guided her to the nest she’d made on the floor. ‘What do you think would help you? Do you want a shoulder rub or a back massage? Is there any particular music you’d like playing? Do you have your birth plan here?’
‘I never got around to making a birth plan.’ Abruptly, Romily doubled over and screamed.
Claire held on to her. ‘You’re doing fine,’ she murmured, ‘absolutely fine, just keep breathing, keep on breathing.’
Romily looked up at her, panting, her face red and her hair hanging over it. ‘Probably just as well I didn’t make a birth plan,’ she said. She began tugging down her pyjama bottoms.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Taking off my trousers because I really, really want to push now.’
‘You can’t push yet! The midwife isn’t here!’
‘Tell that to the baby. Can you help me with these?’
Claire dropped to her knees and pulled off Romily’s pyjamas. ‘But you know what to do, right? You’ve had a baby before. And you’ve gone to those NCT classes too, right?’
‘I didn’t go to them. I didn’t want to go alone.’
‘But I don’t know how to do this!’
‘It’ll be okay. Can you help me with my knickers?’
‘There’s a book! One of those books I gave you, they have a chapter on what to do in an emergency!’ Claire tried to jump to her feet to find it, but Romily grabbed her hand and held tight.
‘You can do it, Claire. You will figure it out.’ She took Claire’s other hand and looked her straight in the eyes. ‘I can’t think of a single person who I would rather have helping me right now than you.’
‘But I don’t—’
‘I trust you,’ said Romily. ‘I trust you more than anyone else I know.’
She held Claire’s gaze. A clock ticked, loud and slow. At any moment there would be another contraction but, right now, it was calm. The baby was waiting.
Romily was waiting.
‘All right,’ Claire said. ‘I’ll try.’
Romily grinned. Her face was sweaty. ‘Good. Now help me take off my pants.’
‘You’re going to be fine,’ Claire said as she pulled Romily’s pants down for her. They were damp and there was a smell, not unpleasant, slightly sweet and acidic.
‘Amniotic fluid,’ Romily told her. ‘It’s not wee. At least I don’t think so. There’s a lot going on down there, so it’s difficult to tell. Argh!’
Claire was putting Romily’s clothes safely to one side but she dropped them and put her arms around Romily again, urging her to breathe through the contraction. Despite the pain, she realized, Romily was calm. There was nothing either of them could do to stop this birth happening. Every move they made was inevitable and necessary, exactly what needed to happen. The midwife might knock on the door at any moment; Ben might turn up, or Jarvis, or the postman. She couldn’t do anything to make those things happen or to prevent them. She needed to be right here, in the now, where she was.
Six years of Yoga for Fertility, every Wednesday night without fail, and she’d never lived in the now before this moment.
When the contraction was over, Romily arranged herself on the floor on all fours. ‘I need you behind me,’ she panted.
‘Right.’ Claire moved straight away, placing herself in position with her hands out as if she were trying to catch a ball. She stared. She wasn’t quite sure what she was seeing.
‘Romily,’ she said. ‘I think – I think I can see the top of his head.’
‘Is he bald?’
‘No.’
‘That’s good news.’
Claire couldn’t help it – she laughed. Romily, looking over her shoulder, laughed too, until she was overtaken mid-breath by another contraction.
A quick tap on the door. ‘Hello?’ called a female voice.
Claire looked rapidly from Romily, head down, pushing, the baby’s head emerging a little bit more, to the door, where she could see a silhouette in the glass panel.
‘Does someone need a midwife?’
Claire jumped up and rushed to the door. The woman waiting outside was young-looking, blonde, competently dressed in hospital scrubs covered by a mac. She carried a bag and her hair was tied back. ‘She’s about to have the baby,’ Claire said.
The midwife took in the room: the towels, the blankets, the furniture pushed aside, and Romily in the middle of it on all fours, pushing.
‘You’re not kidding,’ she said and, shedding her mac, went to the sink to wash her hands. She pulled on a pair of gloves from her bag. ‘What’s your name, love?’
‘Romily,’ said Claire. ‘Her name’s Romily and she’s having a baby boy.’
‘That’s wonderful. You’re doing a great job, Romily. I can see your baby already. Lovely to have him here at home.’
Romily came out of the contraction with a whoosh of air. ‘Claire,’ she gasped. She held out her hand.
‘Looks like you’re a brilliant coach,’ said the midwife. ‘Romily, my name is Harriet and I’m here to help you. Though it doesn’t seem like you need me at all, to be honest.’
‘Don’t you dare leave,’ Claire told the midwife, taking Romily’s hand. She crouched beside her, stroking her hair back from her face.
‘Don’t you dare leave,’ said Romily. ‘I need you.’
‘I won’t.’
‘I was alone when Posie was born. I was so lonely, Claire. I didn’t know what I was going to do at all. I didn’t know how to be a mother. I didn’t know you could learn it.’
‘Everything is going to be okay.’
‘Yes. Yes, it is. And everyone is going to be happy. I swear to you, Claire. Just don’t leave me.’
‘Go ahead and push, Romily, as hard as you can, when the contraction comes,’ said Harriet. ‘That’s it. Nice and steady, now. Have a little rest, you’re doing wonderfully.’
‘I didn’t mean to fall in love with him,’ Romily said. ‘I didn’t want to. You never would have known if you hadn’t found the letters. I wouldn’t have said anything.’
‘It’s okay,’ said Claire, rubbing her back.
‘It’s not okay. I like you so much. I used to be a little afraid of you, to be honest. You were so together, so beautiful.’
She screwed her eyes up and groaned, a deep uninhibited sound, and squeezed Claire’s hand so hard it hurt.
‘Good, Romily, good work, that’s the head delivered. He’s lovely. Just one more hard bit left to deliver the shoulders, and we’re all set. You’re doing my work for me today.’
Romily panted. She hung her head. Then she took a deep breath and looked at Claire.
‘This isn’t the hard bit,’ she said. ‘This isn’t the hard bit at all. But you’ll be good at it. Wait and see.’
‘Wait for the contraction, Romily, and go with it, and we’ll be nearly done.’
‘Wait and see,’ said Romily again.
