‘Let me think about it,’ she said. ‘Something like that needs careful consideration. And we’ve got time, anyway, haven’t we?’

She always said things like that. Words that were supposed to fill the emptiness between us but had no meaning whatsoever.

Then she got pregnant. It was like a miracle that neither of us could really comprehend.

Why don’t you sit down, the nurse says, this may take a while. I shake my head and go over to the window. A man is standing under a tree, poking a stick into a pile of leaves. A young boy runs past him, laughing. The man pauses and just stands there, stick in one hand, the other buried in his trouser pocket. The branches above him sway in the wind. Suddenly it all happens very fast. She screams. Her voice sounds strange. She throws her head back and digs her fingers into the mattress. The midwife is working with both hands. Her shoulders rise and fall. Quick, she says, and the nurse runs out of the room. You’re doing well, says the midwife, you’re doing really well, just keep going. Oh God, she groans, oh God, oh God, oh God. I touch her sheet. Can I maybe, I say, and don’t know how to go on. She groans again, a long-­drawn-­out wail, rising and falling. My hand rests on the sheet like a lump of wood. The nurse comes back. There’s a doctor with her. He doesn’t say anything, just lets the nurse help him into the gloves, then goes over to the bed. Suddenly it’s hot in the room. The doctor and the midwife work shoulder to shoulder in silence. The midwife strokes her thumb across my wife’s cheek and whispers something in her ear. She touches her face as if that were completely natural, and probably it is. This might get unpleasant now, the doctor tells me, but you don’t have to stay. I try to meet her eyes. She closes them. Quick, he says, and rolls up his sleeves. The nurse grabs my shoulders and pushes me out of the room. This is no place for men, she says, only doctors. She laughs and disappears again. There’s a couple sitting in the waiting area. They’re holding each other’s hands and looking at me. I go to the toilet and wash my face. I look in the mirror and feel ashamed. For a moment I can’t believe that this is me. I come out of the toilet. The couple have gone. I sit down, listen to the sounds and the screams coming from the room, and wait. Then it goes quiet. Nothing happens for a long time. Finally the door opens and the midwife is standing there. I’m so sorry, she says, but she didn’t need to say it. Later, she puts her hand on my arm. Do you want to see him? Yes, I say. He’s lying on a lime-­green pillow. His arms are stretched out to the sides. His face is tiny. There’s a streak of yellow slime on his temple. His eyes are hidden between deep folds of skin. I pick up the pillow for a moment. It’s much lighter than I expected. I look over at her. A thin strand of hair is stuck to her cheek, and a patch of sunlight trembles on her brow. She turns her head and looks out of the window.