Madina managed a short gasp of laughter and then yelped and pushed the baby’s arms out. Jem swapped her hold, taking the baby by his feet and lifting them in an attempt to deliver the head. It had sounded so simple in the practice guidelines. In reality, it was akin to wrestling a slimy fish with its upper third stuck in a vice, and the head was not for shifting. She threw Amira a “what the fuck now?” glance, and Amira knelt beside them, obviously none the wiser but welcome moral support.

“Shit. Uh, give me a little push?” Jem said, and felt the head slip as Madina bore down. “Go on, go on, that’s it. I’ve almost got him.” Employing a few manoeuvres that certainly weren’t in the manual, she managed to manipulate the baby free, lowering him onto the dry towel Amira held out and then rubbing him vigorously. She rocked back on her heels, shaking her head in amazement as the baby wailed and punched the air.

“Is he okay?” Madina asked. Tethered in position by the umbilical cord, she couldn’t yet turn to see him.

“There’s nothing wrong with his lungs, that’s for sure,” Jem said. She handed Amira a pair of scissors for the cord. “Are you doing the honours?”

Nodding, Amira picked up a couple of clamps, but then seemed to have second thoughts. “Will you show me?” she whispered. “I’ve never done it before.”

Jem sat by her side and took one of the clamps. “Course I will. It’s dead easy.”

Madina was watching everything over her shoulder, her gaze constantly coming to rest on her son as Amira cut the cord and swaddled him in a warm blanket. Finally able to move, she shuffled around until she was propped against the bed, and took hold of him. “He’s beautiful,” she said, busy counting fingers and toes.

“He is.” Jem stroked a tiny thumb and then started to laugh. “That’s the first water birth I’ve ever done.”

* * *

The song blasting from Rosie’s car radio almost overwhelmed the ring of her phone, until the Bluetooth kicked in and sent it through to hands-free. Spotting Jem’s name on the screen, she stopped singing mid-lyric.

“So much for taking my mind off things,” she said, and accepted the call.

“Hallo? Rosie?” Jem said, raising her voice above a rhythmic slosh of movement and her own laboured breaths.

Rosie pulled into a side street that wasn’t yet awash. “Hey, it’s me. Are you swimming?”

Jem huffed a wheezy chuckle. “Paddling, more like. I got stuck in Hearts Cross on a home birth. HART have just come out with a dinghy, but I need to get the RRV back to Darnton, so I’ll be late getting to yours. Is that okay?”