‘Yes. Yes.’ Hugh got to his feet, and raced into the house, and Verity turned her eyes to Pippa. ‘I don’t like you,’ she said, taking Pippa’s hand. ‘And you don’t like me. But we need to get your baby safely into the world for my brother’s sake. OK?’

Pippa nodded, her face bright red, her forehead shining with sweat. ‘OK.’

Five minutes later, Hugh raced out of the house with a handful of towels, some scissors, a blanket, a pillow wedged under his arm. ‘Here you go, sweetheart,’ he said, putting the pillow under Pippa’s head. ‘Now what?’

‘Christ! I need to push,’ Pippa cried. She released Verity’s hand, grabbed her forehead with both hands, and squeezed her eyes together. ‘God my head, my head hurts too. Why does it hurt so bad?’ She stared up at Hugh. ‘Oh God.’

The midday sun pounded down on them, scorching Verity’s shoulders as she dragged off Pippa’s underwear, and folded the woman’s legs at her knees so her floral dress fell about her thighs. ‘The head’s almost here,’ Verity cried, her stomach churning with nausea. ‘Pretty sure you need to push again, Pippa.’

‘And breathe too, Pippa,’ Hugh cried. ‘Slow, deep breaths.’

‘Which? Which, Hugh? Breathe or push?’

‘Both. Breathe and push.’ He dropped to his knees near her head, and took hold of her hand.

‘The head’s out, Pippa,’ Verity said, peering between the woman’s legs. ‘Your baby is about to be born. You’re doing great.’

‘I don’t know. What? I don’t know.’ Pippa sounded confused. Was struggling to get her words out. ‘My head, my head,’ she cried.

The baby slid into the world, and let out a cry, and, with shaking fingers, Verity cut the slippery cord, and wrapped the child in a large grey beach towel. ‘You need to push again, Pippa. You need to push out the placenta.’ She was about to pass the child to Pippa, when the woman’s eyes rolled into her head. ‘Pippa? Pippa, are you OK?’

Tears rolled down Pippa’s cheeks. Her muscles twitched. She was trying to speak, but it was clear she couldn’t form any words.

‘What the hell is happening?’ Hugh cried, grabbing both her hands. He swiped a look at Verity. ‘V, help her, please. What’s happening?’

‘I don’t know how, Hugh. She looks like she’s having some kind of stroke or seizure.’

‘Where’s the ambulance, for Christ’s sake?’ His face streamed with tears.

‘They’re not coming, Hugh.’ She was surprised how calm she sounded.

‘What?’

‘The phone line is down.’

‘Christ! Why the hell didn’t you say, Verity?’

‘I didn’t want to worry you.’

‘For God’s sake.’ Colour had drained from his cheeks, his eyes red from tears. ‘She’s so still. What’s wrong with her? What’s wrong, Pippa? Pippa?’