Chapters (82)
- Cover
- Dedication
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
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- About the Author
- Books by Lisa Stone
- About the Publisher
Jan was about to go outside into the warm sunshine when a sharp pain shot across her abdomen and lower back. Trying to catch her breath, she grabbed the door to steady herself and waited for it to pass. Whatever was that? Not chronic indigestion, not that bad, and it was too early for labour. She still had another nine weeks to go. Perhaps she should phone Anne for advice?
The pain struck again, tearing through her like a red-hot knife, making her cry out. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She held onto the door and prayed it would pass. A moment later she felt a gush of warm fluid as her waters broke.
Oh no, please, no. Panic gripped her. She was going into labour early. What should she do? She needed Chris. She had to call him now. Where was her phone? She turned and saw it on the sofa. Letting go of the door, she made her way across the room. Another contraction took hold and she froze, paralysed with pain until it had passed. No one had told her it would be this bad, and it wasn’t supposed to be happening yet. She’d been told first babies were often late, not early.
She needed to sit down – her legs felt weak – but her jeans were sopping wet. Beyond caring, she lowered herself onto the sofa and then called Chris. It went through to his voicemail. Shit! She tried again. He was at work but checked his phone regularly. She tried one more time with the same result and then, unable to keep the desperation from her voice, left a message. ‘Chris! I think I’m in labour! Come quickly, please. I’ll call Anne, but I need you here.’
She braced herself as another contraction took hold and tried to remember her deep breathing. It didn’t help, but eventually the pain eased. Surely the contractions were coming too regularly for the first stage of labour? Fumbling with her phone, she called Anne.
It rang and rang. Please answer, please. Don’t leave me here all alone. I might die.
It continued ringing and then mercifully Anne answered.
‘You have to come back straight away,’ Jan cried. ‘I’m in labour. The contractions are coming every minute.’
‘Are you sure? That’s too soon. Have you timed them?’
‘No. But I don’t need a bloody clock to know! I’m in agony and my waters have broken. I’m scared, Anne. Please come. Chris isn’t picking up. Please … I’m …’ But the sentence vanished into a cry as another contraction took hold.