I know what you’re thinking: any sensible woman in my place would have tipped off her husband by now. Err . . . just thought I would mention that, you know, I’m probably going into labour. Having our actual child here. No biggie. Just when you’ve got a minute to spare, love, okay?

  Of course, in hindsight, this is exactly what I should have done. I should have staggered down into the café, red-faced and growling, and bellowed, ‘Clear the room! This is an emergency!’ before Ed whisked me away to the hospital. That would indeed have been the sane thing to do.

  The problem was, I wasn’t fully using my ‘motherhood’ brain at this point. I was still in café-owner mode, thinking what a disaster it would be if Ed was called away now, when he was the only person able to cook steak and chips for the punters. I was thinking about all those hungry customers. The chaos that would ensue if we did a flit. I was thinking that Ruby Woodward’s birthday dinner would be ruined, and that Betty might never speak to me again if I mucked up her anniversary night.

  No, I told myself. Business first, baby second, as far as tonight was concerned. The minute they stopped serving down there, I would call Ed and we would make our move. Sounds like you’re a way off yet, my mum had said. I just had to hope she was right.

  The next few hours passed in a strange, surreal blur. I paced around. I lay down. I did my kneeling and leaning over the coffee-table thing. I watched the clock, but my contractions were still ten or twelve minutes apart. This could go on for days yet, I thought, remembering my mum’s thirty-six-hour labour marathon and viewing her with a whole new respect. (Thirty-six hours of this! My mum was hardcore. Why had she not been made President of the Entire World for such a feat of stamina?)

  When it got to nine o’clock I rang the midwifery team, just to let them know things had started. As luck would have it, Maria was on duty that evening.

  ‘Hello, Evie, how exciting,’ she said. ‘Have those waters broken yet?’

  ‘Not yet,’ I replied. Another reason not to venture down to the café, I told myself. Imagine the health-and-safety nightmare I could cause! I pictured my waters breaking with the force and volume of a tidal wave, splashing diners and their plates of food. The horror of such a scene almost made me want to giggle. The café would be closed down in a heartbeat, before you could even say the words ‘childbirth emergency’.

  ‘Okay, well, keep me up to date,’ she said. ‘Try to rest while you can, in the meantime. You could be in for a long night.’

  At long last it was eleven o’clock, and the final groups of customers were leaving the café, laughing loudly to one another as they straggled down the front steps. Thank goodness. I had made it! I was almost faint with relief at the thought that I had waited long enough, and that finally I could tell Ed the news and we could be on our way to hospital. The thought of his face – excited, nervous, perhaps a little bit scared, too – made me feel better straight away.

  I was just bracing myself to move across the room – this had become a daunting prospect – when I heard Ed’s voice: ‘Won’t be long!’ followed by the bang of the back door. I froze in horror, filled with panic. What? I thought. Won’t be long? Where was he going? Another contraction came and I found myself making the growling noise more loudly. Actually, it had become more of a bellowing moo, like no other sound I had ever made before. It was like being possessed. ‘Nnnnggggh,’ I mooed in despair. ‘NNNNGGGGHHH.’

  The contraction passed, leaving me panting and weak. It was only then that I worked out what was going on. Of course. Ed always gave Josh and Tilly a lift home after Friday and Saturday evening shifts, to save them walking in the dark. Josh was local, but Tilly lived in the next village, a good twenty minutes away by car, even at this time of night. Oh, great. So now I had even longer to wait!

  I fumbled for my phone. I had to tell Ed to hurry up. The pain was starting to get really full-on. I had lost track of how often the contractions were coming now, but they were sweeping in all the time, each one bigger and more powerful than the last. So much for my birth plan and my hopes for no pain. Ha! It wasn’t working out quite as well as I had hoped.

  I found Ed’s number and pressed Call, hoping he would pull over when he saw that it was me ringing, rather than let it go to voicemail. It rang and rang until I heard his pre-recorded message, and I groaned in dismay. The signal in Carrawen was often bad. His phone might not even have rung, for all I knew. ‘Hi, it’s me,’ I panted down the line. ‘The baby’s coming. Just hurry straight back, will you? As fast as you can. See you soon. Hurry!’

  Another contraction came, bigger and stronger, and I clung to the coffee table, groaning and mooing, the sound coming from deep within me. Oh, God. Everyone had told me that first babies took forever to arrive. Ha! I had a horrible feeling that baby Walnut was in a hurry to make an appearance.

  I rocked my hips from side to side, then felt a sudden gush as my waters broke all over the floor. I roared as the contraction took hold, no longer sure what I was doing. I felt scared and panicky. What if Ed didn’t come back for ages? What if I had left it too late? I didn’t want to be here all on my own. This was turning into a complete disaster!

  Then came a knock at the door. ‘Is . . . is everything all right?’ came a tentative voice. It was Helen. Helen! I had forgotten about her. She must still have been clearing up downstairs as Ed went off with the other two.

  ‘The baby’s coming,’ I panted. I was aware that I was kneeling in a puddle of my own making, that I was scarlet-faced and unkempt, clinging to the coffee table as if it were a life-raft. ‘Help me,’ I groaned. ‘Please. I’m really frightened.’

  Helen hesitated, looking very much as if she wanted to turn and make a run for it. For a horrible second I thought she was going to do just that, and I opened my mouth, ready to beg her to stay. Then she came closer, still wary, but in the room at least. ‘Does Ed know?’

  ‘I can’t get hold of him. I—’ I broke off because another contraction had come surging in, sucking the words right out of me. I gritted my teeth and moaned, sweat pouring down my back. ‘Nnnngggghhhh,’ I groaned. I was pretty sure that less than five minutes had passed since the last contraction. ‘Nnnnrrrggghhh.’

  ‘Right. Okay. Let me call an ambulance then. I’ll go with you to the hospital,’ Helen said, taking charge. ‘Ed can meet us there, if need be. Where’s your phone?’

  ‘Here,’ I said weakly. The contraction petered out and I put my head back on the coffee table, feeling spent. My God, this was an ordeal and a half. Did women really put up with this for hours on end? And why did anyone ever suffer it twice? This was it for me, I decided. Walnut, you’re an only child, mate. And you can count yourself lucky that I’m going through with this at all.

  I dimly heard a squelching sound and realised it was Helen walking on the carpet, which had been made soggy by my waters breaking. Could I feel any more embarrassed? There was no dignity to be had in childbirth. Not a single shred. ‘Sorry about this,’ I mumbled, shutting my eyes.

  ‘Don’t you worry,’ Helen said. ‘I’ll get you sorted out. We’ll be fine.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Helen

  Helen rang the ambulance and then Evie’s midwife, trying to sound in control, although inside she was an utter stew of nerves. Of all the people to be doing this, she was surely the worst possible woman for the job. She had been tempted to bolt, not wanting to play any part in Evie’s childbirth dramas. It was just too hurtful. Too much like salt in the wound. But then again, Evie was so pale and sweaty and scared that only a monster could have walked away.

  ‘An ambulance is coming,’ Helen said at the end of the call. ‘They’ll be about twenty minutes, okay? I only have my bike here, otherwise I would take you myself. Your midwife said she would see you at the hospital, and to ring if you need anything else. But I’ll stay with you in the meantime. Have you had any pain relief? Can I get you anything?’

  Evie gave a hollow laugh at the words ‘pain relief’. ‘All we have here is some ancient Lemsip and indigestion tablets,’ she said limply. Her eyes were glassy, as if her mind was elsewhere. ‘Oh, God. Twenty minutes? Did you say twenty minutes? I don’t think I can wait that long. This is horrible. It’s really, really awful.’

  ‘How about a hot-water bottle? That might be nice on your back,’ Helen said. She got up, but Evie grabbed at her hand.

  ‘No! Please, just stay here. Stay with me. Another one’s coming.’

  Her whole body went tense as the contraction hit. Her eyes bulged and she gave a loud, guttural bellow of pain. She squeezed Helen’s hand so tightly that her knuckles blanched, and Helen’s bones were crushed together beneath the skin. Feeling helpless, Helen used her other hand to rub Evie’s back in slow circles, wishing there was more she could do.

  ‘Try not to worry,’ she said, as she sifted through her brain, trying to dredge up every childbirth article she had ever read for words of encouragement. Fortunately for Evie, Helen had read a lot of magazines. ‘If the baby’s coming fast – like this one – it just means that everything is working fine, okay?’ she remembered. ‘Your body knows exactly what to do. Keep breathing. I’m here. It’s all going to be fine.’

  The contraction seemed to subside again and Evie pushed her hair out of her eyes. ‘Thank you, Helen,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I’m so glad you’re here. And that thing you’re doing on my back is lovely.’

  ‘Good. You’re doing really well. Ed will be back soon, and the ambulance will be here, too.’ Helen glanced at her watch, praying that this was true. She was trying to act calm, but if it came to having to deliver a baby on her own, she wasn’t sure she could cope.

  ‘You won’t leave me, will you? You won’t go? I know we haven’t got on, but please help me out until someone comes. Please, I’m actually begging you.’

  The fear in her words caught Helen off guard and she felt like a terrible person for ever having thought of doing a runner. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she said quietly. ‘Although I will put the kettle on for a hot-water bottle. Is that okay? I think it might help a bit. I’ll come straight back, I promise.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Evie said, resting her head on her arms and shutting her eyes.

  Helen hurried through to the kitchen and filled the kettle. There was a calendar up on the wall, on which Evie had charted the weeks of the pregnancy and had drawn a smiley face beside her due date. A large fruit bowl was piled high with apples, oranges and grapes. There was a pile of baby bibs on the small, round table, along with some white knitted bootees and a soft little hat. Up on the wall were black-and-white scan pictures, and there was a list of possible names, in both Evie’s and Ed’s handwriting.

  Tears pricked Helen’s eyes suddenly as she set the kettle to boil. I know we haven’t got on, Evie had said just now, but that was only because Helen had taken against her on sight. She had put up a brick wall, shunning Evie’s attempts at conversation, freezing her out. Unfairly, she realised now, with a lump in her throat. The only crime Evie had committed was to be heavily pregnant when she, Helen, had not been able to get that far. But Evie seemed a nice enough person. She was sure to be a good mother. It wasn’t her fault that Helen and Paul were struggling to have a baby themselves.

  Helen looked under the sink and in drawers, in search of a hot-water bottle, and at last found one in a cupboard. Before she could fill it, though, there came the sound of a vehicle outside, shortly followed by a thunderous knocking from downstairs. ‘It’s the ambulance!’ she cried. ‘Sit tight, I’ll just let them in.’

  Relief surged through her as she led the paramedics upstairs. Thank goodness people who knew what they were doing had arrived. ‘Hello, Evie, I’m Andrea, and this is Graham,’ the first paramedic said. ‘Is this another contraction coming? All right, darling, hold my hand – that’s it. Graham, can you get the gas and air? Here we are, lovey, have a suck on this. It’ll make you feel much better.’

  Helen went to fill the hot-water bottle while the contraction came and went. The whole evening was starting to feel a bit surreal. She fired off a quick text to Paul, who would be wondering why she hadn’t cycled home yet. My boss is giving birth! Might need to go to hosp with her. Don’t wait up. x

  Paul rang back at once. ‘Is everything all right? Are you sure you’re up to this, Hels?’

  She loved him for that – for thinking straight away of her feelings. ‘Yes,’ she replied, swallowing back her emotions. ‘I’m actually fine. Kind of freaked out at first, but fine now. The paramedics have arrived, so at least it’s not just me any more. There’s no sign of Ed yet, but I’ll keep you up to date, okay?’

  She went back into the living room with the hot-water bottle. Andrea had just examined Evie and was shaking her head. ‘You’re not going anywhere, darling. You’re fully dilated now. The baby will be here very soon. Tell me if you feel like pushing, okay?’

  Evie looked alarmed. ‘I don’t want to have the baby without Ed,’ she groaned. ‘Where’s Ed?’

  Through the window Helen noticed a pair of yellow headlights sweeping down the hill at some speed. ‘I think he’s just arriving,’ she said, and pressed the hot-water bottle to Evie’s back. ‘Hold on, Evie. Just hold on!’

  Chapter Twelve

  Evie

  Ed burst through the door moments later, and I swear I have never been more relieved to see another human being in my entire life. ‘Evie!’ he shouted. ‘Christ, darling, are you all right?’

  But then I was into another contraction and could only moo at him, boggle-eyed, gripping Andrea’s hand. ‘NNNNNNGGGGHHHH,’ I roared. ‘GRRRAAAGGGHHHH. I want an epidural,’ I yelled as the clenching sensation passed once more. ‘Give me drugs. Give me everything you’ve got. Please!’

  I dimly heard Andrea saying that she could not give me an epidural, and that the gas and air were the only pain relief they had right now. But I tuned out because all of a sudden something else was happening. A new, alarming feeling. ‘I think I want to push,’ I cried and grabbed hold of Ed, who was crouching beside me. ‘I think I want to . . . RRRRAAAAAGGGHHHH!’

  I’ll spare you the rest. I’m not sure the world needs to hear the full blow-by-blow account or all the shouting. There was quite a lot of outrageous swearing and bellowing, and a very shameful moment when I bawled at top volume that I was never – repeat never – going to have sex again. I was in the throes of agony, so I can’t be certain, but I am pretty sure I heard the paramedics trying not to laugh behind my back. Fair enough. I was glad when I realised that Helen must have slipped away without having to witness that particular moment.

  Anyway, much as I would love to pretend I was a trooper and grimly stoic, that I kept my dignity throughout and barely broke sweat, it didn’t quite happen like that. But, frankly, as soon as the baby came out and I heard Ed say, ‘It’s a boy. Evie, we’ve got a little boy!’ I no longer cared about anything else anyway. We had done it! I had done it! Forget the stupid birth plan. Forget all my ideas. Right there in our flat was our chubby pink son – our Beach Café baby! – who had decided to be born his way, thank you very much. Just like Morwenna and her brother before him!

  I gazed speechlessly at the baby as Andrea checked him over, my heart flooding with a huge tide of emotions. He had the most gorgeous dark-blue eyes, with a shock of wild black hair, just like me. All his little fingers and toes were present and correct, as was the most scrumptious peachy bottom you ever saw. And yes, I thought, as he scrunched up his face in a howl. He most definitely had good lungs.

  I was euphoric. I was raw and bloodied and shocked at what had just happened, but the top note to my mood was pure joy. Intense, bubbling, can-you-believe-it? joy. Graham cleared things up around us and put the kettle on again, while Andrea showed Ed how to cut the cord and checked over our new arrival. Our boy. Our son! Then Andrea passed him to me and I was able to hold him properly for the very first time. This was it. Here he was. I felt utterly overwhelmed with love.

  I put my cheek against his and he stopped crying almost at once, and began making snuffling noises like a tiny truffling pig. ‘Hello, baby,’ I said, kissing the end of his teeny upturned nose, and marvelling at the softness of his skin. ‘Hello, little one. I’m your mummy.’ I smiled down at him and then up at Ed. ‘We’re a family,’ I said, like the big soppy muppet I was. And then I was crying a bit and hugging Ed, and trying not to squash our newborn infant. And the world felt like the most incredible place.

  After the best cup of tea of my life, thanks to Graham, Andrea cleaned up the baby and showed me how to put a nappy on him. Then – hooray! – lovely Maria arrived with her midwife’s bag of tricks. She had found out from the hospital that we had never made it there in time, and came to check the baby for herself (and me, too) and to see how we were doing. She showed me how to put the baby to my breast, and I gasped at the strange tingling sensation as he sucked hungrily.

  ‘Now there’s a boy with a healthy appetite,’ Maria said, stroking his cheek. ‘Well done, Evie. He’s beautiful.’

  Once she was sure everything was as it should be, she left, as did Graham and Andrea. And then it was just the three of us. I couldn’t quite believe we had been left in charge of a real-life baby. It was like they thought we were responsible adults or something. The very idea was alarming. What if I broke him?

  ‘Well,’ said Ed, putting his arm around us both. ‘I guess this is it, for the next eighteen years. Welcome to parenthood.’

  I leaned against him. It was half-past one in the morning, and so quiet that I could hear the sea rushing in up the beach. It felt as if the rest of the world was asleep, as if we were the only people still awake. ‘We really have to think of a name for him now,’ I said, drinking in the sight of our baby dozing in my arms. ‘I was wondering about Joe, after my aunt, but he doesn’t look like a Joe, does he?’

 

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