‘You’ve had nine months to get ready. Little Gregg is coming, whether you like it or not.’

‘We’re not naming our son after a bloody sausage roll.’ I grit my teeth, shuffling out of the front door.

‘Better than after a boy wizard who had a pet owl,’ he smiles. Another contraction grips me and I want to wipe the smile off his stupid face. I want to cover his stupid face with kisses.

We’re having a baby!

At the hospital we’re settled in our room and introduced to Helen, our midwife. She reads my birth plan, smiles and tells me to just ask if I change my mind about drugs.

‘I’ll come and check on you in a bit,’ she says.

‘Wait. What? You can’t leave me.’ Panic is thick and heavy in the room – mine, Adam’s.

‘You’ve got a while yet, don’t worry. Press the buzzer if you need anything.’ And then she is gone.

‘We’ll be okay,’ Adam says uncertainly. ‘I’ve got something for you.’

He rummages through his rucksack and brings out a Tupperware of sandwiches and cartons of my favourite pineapple juice. He roots around again and I hope he doesn’t pull out a camera, but when he turns back to me, he has a purple velvet pouch in his hand. Inside, a silver pram charm dangles from a delicate chain.

‘The charm was handmade by the little shop by the cove in Alircia. I bought it the morning after you told me you were pregnant.’

The day of the yacht accident. I’m too overcome to speak.

Worried, he carries on talking, ‘I had seen the charms when I bought the love lock. When you told me we were having a baby, I knew I had to go back and get a baby-themed one. Give it to you when little one decided to make an appearance. Do you like it?’

I nod, the lump in my throat still keeping my words contained, but I like it. I like it very much.

The night seems endless. Oliver’s words sometimes drift into my mind that the subconscious can stretch time. That thirty minutes can feel like an eternity but still, I am exhausted, wracked with pain. My head is swimming from the gas and air I have been sucking on. I’d refused all other drugs, knowing they can slow down the process and I’m longing for the labour to be over. The fear that Oliver might bring me back before I have met my child leads me to grip Adam’s fingers tightly, grit my teeth and push.

‘Not yet,’ Adam says. ‘The midwife says…’