‘It’ll be a while yet,’ Anne said again, looking at Ian. ‘You can go if you have something you want to do and I’ll call you when it’s time.’

‘I’ll stay,’ he said, and sat in the chair on the other side of the bed. He took his wife’s hand and pressed it to his cheek.

Anne’s heart went out to them. They didn’t deserve this. Emma grimaced as another contraction took hold. Ian helped her keep the mask on her face as she breathed in the gas and air. Gradually the pethidine took effect and the pain became more manageable. Now all they could do was wait and let nature take its course.

Seated in the semi-darkness, Anne looked on as Ian held his wife’s hand and passed her the mask each time she needed Entonox. She wasn’t making much fuss, not really. The pethidine helped. The minutes ticked by as the contractions increased, and Anne stood and checked Emma’s vital signs again. They were as they should be. But a few minutes later Emma let out a piercing scream.

‘Raise the lights, please,’ she told Ian, standing. ‘I need to examine Emma.’

She quickly put on sterile gloves and lifted the bed cover. The baby was coming faster than she’d expected. The cervix was fully dilated. Emma screamed again.

‘Bring a towel quickly,’ Anne called to Ian. ‘It’s on its way.’

Ian rushed from his wife’s side, brought back a towel and watched as Anne placed it beneath Emma. Just in time. The baby’s head appeared. Emma screamed again, her cry so chilling and intense it seemed to come from the depths of her being, as if she were being torn apart.

‘Push, love,’ Anne said. ‘Take a deep breath and push.’

Emma gulped in the air, gave a long, hard push and screamed as the baby tumbled out.

‘Well done.’

‘Don’t look, Ian,’ Anne said.

But it was too late. He was still by her side, now staring at the baby, his expression a mixture of awe and horror.

‘Ian, go to your wife,’ Anne instructed.

He remained where he was.

‘Ian, now,’ she said more firmly. ‘Emma needs you.’

He turned, dazed, and went to her side. Enfolding her in his arms, they both wept openly.

Anne wiped the baby’s face free of mucus, cut and clamped the umbilical cord, then carried it to where the towels were. Wiping its body, she wrapped it in a fresh towel and placed the bundle on its side in the Moses basket facing away from them.

‘Is it alive?’ Ian asked.

‘No,’ Anne said.

‘Boy or girl?’ Emma asked between sobs.

‘Boy,’ Anne replied. ‘But you don’t want to see it.’

Emma’s sobs grew.