Lily ignores her, which is the worst response I could have asked for. Even Lily, who goes out of her way to avoid the merest whisper of cluckiness, has the mother gene. The gene I suspect I didn’t inherit because my mother didn’t have it to pass down. Oh, God, what have I done?

Leanne is frowning at me.

Once again, I force myself to smile. “What happens now?”

She considers me for a second, her face serious. “Actually, I was going to suggest your friends leave us to the next bit. You may not want them around while we get the placenta out. Also, you have a small tear, so I’ll need to get the registrar to stitch you up.”

“Oh, we can stay,” says Emma.

“No,” I say, already wishing my friends were out of the room. “You guys go. I’d rather there wasn’t an audience.”

“You sure?” asks Mags.

“Absolutely.”

Lily comes over and leans down to give me the baby.

“Do you think you could keep holding her?” I mutter. “Just till I’m sorted here.”

There’s a long moment of uncomfortable silence and I know everyone is judging me. What mother wants her child taken away from her seconds after birth?

“Good idea,” announces Leanne. “Now, Trish, delivering the placenta is like delivering a baby, only less intense. You still need to push it out.”

Is she serious? No one told me about this part.

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” says Lily, cuddling the baby to her chest. “You sure I should take her?”

I nod without looking at anyone and my three friends leave the room, Lily last of all. There’s a sharp twinge in my chest as the door closes behind them.

“Right, Trish, I’m going to press on your uterus while you push out the placenta. Ready?”

“Ready,” I say flatly.

*

Less than half an hour later, I have four stitches in the increasingly painful, swollen area between my legs and I’m finally able to cover up with a sheet. Leanne has popped out to let my friends know I’m doing fine and to check on the baby again, leaving me alone at last.

Resting my head against the pillow, I turn to look out of the window. The maternity ward is on the sixth floor and although it’s getting dark, I can just make out the sea in the distance. I’d love to go to the beach right now. Float in the water on my back. Feel weightless and free.

Leanne returns and pulls up a chair beside my head. She leans back and crosses her arms.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

I drag my eyes away from the window and look at my hands clasped together on top of the sheet. “Wrung out.”

“Totally understandable. In fact, new mothers go through all sorts of crazy emotions after they give birth.”