‘Just put me on one of the wards,’ Ada insisted as Sister Mary Paul and Matron guided her along the hospital corridor. Aghast, the old nun exclaimed, ‘You need a bit of privacy.’

At this point Ada didn’t care if she gave birth in the garden – all she wanted was to lie down and work her way through the contractions that had taken a grip of her body.

‘We can use the bed in the doctor’s office,’ Matron suggested. ‘It’s been freshly made up.’

Before getting into bed, Ada removed her clothes, exchanging them for a hospital nightdress.

‘Oh, that’s better,’ she murmured thankfully, as she stretched out and relaxed on the cool clean sheets. ‘I’m so relieved to be here.’

‘You’re in safe hands,’ Sister Mary Paul assured her beloved Ada. ‘Matron and I can handle this together.’

Knowing the kind old nun would not be able to endure the gruesome business of childbirth, Ada offered her an excuse to leave.

‘You’ll be needed in the kitchen, Sister.’

‘Theresa’s there, holding the fort; somebody has to, after that Sister Mann abandoned her post,’ Mary Paul quietly seethed. ‘What a day – three babies in a row and not enough midwives to go around.’

When Ada’s stomach tightened hard as a drum, she turned to Sister Mary Paul. ‘Please, can you time my next contraction? I just want to concentrate on my breathing.’

Mary Paul nodded as she studied her wristwatch. Remembering how well young Josie had done only that morning, Ada was determined to follow her example. Taking in deep breaths, she rolled with the pain, then exhaled as the contraction receded. Knowing there would be hours to go, Ada tried to conserve her energy for the last stages of labour, which she knew better than anybody were physically the most demanding of all. As the evening wore on, Matron took over from Sister Mary Paul, who was dead on her feet from fatigue.

‘I’ll pop back later with a cup of cocoa,’ the old nun promised, as she bent to kiss Ada on the forehead. ‘Take care, dearest girl,’ she whispered.

Luckily Matron had arranged that Sister Mary Paul would swap places with Sister Theresa.

Delighted to see her old friend, Ada grinned. ‘I seem to have had every nun in the Home sitting with me this evening,’ she joked.

‘There’s a queue of us wanting to help – I wouldn’t be surprised if the Reverend Mother turned up next,’ Theresa replied with a warm smile.

Theresa was splendidly attentive: offering sips of water, stroking Ada’s back, cooling her forehead with a damp flannel, even encouraging her to walk about the room if she felt like it. And in between the ever quickening contractions, they talked of old times, when Theresa, formerly a resident, had been in labour herself.

‘It seems like another lifetime ago, before I took Holy Orders,’ she said.