The nurse from reception was walking past. She halted. “Okay,” she said. “I’m on my break. I’ll sit here for a bit.”

“Oh, I can’t,” said Carmen. “Not your break.”

“Yeah yeah yeah. On you go. Five minutes, okay?”

“Okay!” said Carmen. “Guys, don’t bother the nice nurse, okay?”

“Well, I have some questions,” said Pippa, moving closer to the nice nurse, but Carmen had already disappeared.

THE LITTLE ROOM was full of monitors and beeping machines. There was nobody else there. Sofia lifted up her head as Carmen entered.

“You’re by yourself?” said Carmen.

“They come and check you,” said Sofia. “They have the machines on centralized—”

But it was no good. She couldn’t keep it up. She burst into floods of tears. Carmen was there, and Sofia grabbed her hand once more as another set of contractions racked her.

“It’s too late for the epidural,” she sobbed. “I always have an epidural. That stops you feeling anything.”

“Can’t they give you anything else?”

Sofia shook her head. “I’m too far along. I’ve never done this before. Not without . . . all the drugs.”

She cried in fear and pain, and Carmen leaned over and hugged her fiercely.

“It’s too early!” said Sofia. “I had everything planned! Federico would get extra leave when he finished this long trip so he could come home at the last minute and—”

“You are the fiercest, bravest, most amazing person I know,” she whispered into her sister’s ear. “You are going to kick the arse out of this. And the nurses are going to kick the arse out of Federico, so you should probably tell them it was your idea.”

Sofia smiled weakly as a nurse came in to check on her.

“You are just about ready to go,” the nurse said, reading the printout, then, to Carmen’s surprise although she knew it really shouldn’t have been, sticking her arm up her sister.

“I’ve never . . . I’ve never done this without an epidural before. Is it too late for a C-section?” said Sofia.

“Are you kidding?” said the nurse. “Squeeze it out now and you’ll be home for breakfast. Have us chop you open and you’ll be laid up for a fortnight. Also it’s Christmas. Are you a hundred percent certain your late-night surgeon won’t have been at the sherry?”

“I am 99.999 percent legally certain,” said Sofia through gritted teeth.

“Well, up to you.”

“Come on,” said Carmen. “You can do it.”

“Are those your kids in the waiting room? Are you guys married?”

“Sisters,” said the women at the same moment, squeezing hands.

“Are they killing each other?” said Carmen. “I’ll be back.”

“But I’m not having this baby without an epidural,” Sofia was saying in a wobbly version of her stern in-court voice. “I can’t. I’m telling you I can’t . . . aaaaargh!”