‘Oh, my Gawd,’ yelled Mrs Wilson, almost dropping the baby as she grabbed her stomach. ‘It’s started again. What’s happening, Sister?’

Danuta quickly took the furiously protesting baby from her, laid him in the cot and hurriedly examined her. ‘Mrs Wilson, I am thinking there is another baby.’

‘No! There can’t be!’ she yelled. ‘No one said nothing about two of them and—’ Her protests were cut short by a piercing shriek as she was assailed by a strong labour pain. ‘Oh, Gawd,’ she sobbed. ‘I don’t flaming believe this.’

Mr Wilson chose that moment to knock on the door and open it a crack. ‘I’ve got the water. What’s happening? Is Kate all right?’

‘Oh, I’m just fine and dandy,’ yelled Mrs Wilson. ‘What you flaming think’s going on?’

‘I don’t know. How can I if you won’t let me in?’ he shouted back.

Danuta saw a grey, worried face staring wide-eyed round the door. ‘Leave the bowl on the floor,’ she ordered, ‘and then leave. I cannot have you fainting.’

The bowl was placed on the floor by the bed, and with one terrified glance at his wife, Mr Wilson shot back out of the room and shut the door.

Danuta eyed the bowl, noting there was no steam rising from it. She quickly dipped her finger in and gave a cluck of annoyance. Mr Wilson had clearly needed to be told it should be warm water, for it was stone cold, and of no use at all.

She returned her attention to Mrs Wilson. ‘Now, you know the drill, Mrs Wilson,’ she said above the sound of the bawling baby in the cot. ‘Relax, relax and pant, don’t push. This one isn’t going to wait.’

With much yelling, swearing and groaning from Mrs Wilson, and to the accompaniment of the first baby’s demanding wails, the second baby’s head was crowned.

‘Stop pushing,’ ordered Danuta sharply. ‘The cord is round the neck.’

‘But it’ll be all right, won’t it?’

Danuta didn’t reply for she was concentrating on getting her fingers between the fragile neck and the pulsating cord. ‘Do not push,’ she said firmly. ‘You must just keep panting no matter how strong the urge is to push this baby out.’

Mrs Wilson sobbed and panted, the baby boy roared his displeasure from the cot, and Danuta fought to get purchase on the slippery cord which kept eluding her grip. Her pulse was racing and sweat was stinging her eyes as she finally managed to hook the cord over the baby’s head and away from danger. She searched for a pulse in the baby’s neck and felt nothing – it was in trouble.

‘Push now, Mrs Wilson. Push as hard as you like,’ she said quietly and with far more calm than she actually felt.

The underweight baby girl slid from her mother into Danuta’s hands and lay there as limp and waxen as a rag doll.

Danuta swiftly cleared the baby’s nose and mouth and tied off the cord, then began to rub the inert little body with a towel.