‘I don’t see how,’ she complained with a grimace. ‘This baby seems determined to stay where it is, and has been giving me gyp all bloody day.’

Danuta gently felt the woman’s hard, swollen belly to determine how the baby was lying and to give her some idea of how big it was and if the head was engaged. Satisfied that all seemed well, she listened to the baby’s heartbeat and then examined her internally.

‘Baby is well on the way,’ she said cheerfully. ‘And you’re almost fully dilated, so it shouldn’t be long now.’ She grinned at Mrs Wilson. ‘It feels as if you’ve got a real whopper in there.’

‘Tell me about it,’ the woman groaned. ‘It’s been like lugging a bag of coal about these past weeks.’ She tensed as she felt the onset of another labour pain. ‘Oh, Gawd, here we go again.’

Danuta took her hand and timed the contraction. ‘Do try and relax and breathe through the pain as you were taught at the clinic. It will help enormously, believe me.’

The woman eyed her belligerently, but calmed down and began to puff and blow as the pain swelled and finally ebbed.

‘When did the pains begin?’ asked Danuta. ‘And how far apart are they?’

‘My back’s been niggling all day, but it really started when I was scrubbing the front step and my waters broke. Bloody embarrassing it was, I tell you. The neighbours must have thought I’d wet myself.’ She gave a sigh and squirmed around in the tangled bed trying to get comfortable against the pillows. ‘They’re about five minutes apart at my reckoning, and getting more painful.’

Danuta thought it was probably closer to two minutes, but said nothing as she plumped the pillows and pulled off the blanket and eiderdown, leaving just a sheet to cover her as it was warm in the neat little room. She saw that the bottom sheet had already been replaced by a rubber one, the cot was ready, and a small, clean white sheet had been prepared to wrap the baby in. But there was no jug of water, or bowl to wash in.

‘You look very hot,’ she said. ‘Would you like me to sponge you down?’

‘Yeah, that would be nice,’ Mrs Wilson replied, pushing back her hair from her sweating face.

Danuta went to the door and called down for the husband to bring up a bowl and jug of warm water, and reached into her bag for a flannel, bar of soap and a small clean towel.

Minutes later, Mr Wilson duly arrived carrying the water. ‘Has she had it yet? Only I don’t know what to do about the kids’ tea.’

‘No, I bloody well haven’t had it yet,’ snapped his wife. ‘Go and get fish and bloody chips.’

‘It’s Sunday,’ he said with a hapless droop to his shoulders. ‘The chippy’s shut.’

Mrs Wilson glared at him and then began to groan as she was gripped by another contraction. ‘Sort him out, Sister. He’s driving me up the wall.’