Sylvia had thought her French was good enough to cope in most situations, but not, as it turned out, in this one. Never had she had the need for medical vocabulary before, and giving birth in a French-speaking city wasn’t exactly something she’d anticipated.

‘What the hell are they talking about?’

‘Something’s broken, I think. But I don’t really understand medical stuff,’ Evelyne said. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ve asked them to go and find someone who speaks English. I know they have some people here who do.’

Sylvia nodded. She was trying to keep calm, despite the shock of the warm blood that had soaked her dress and the pain in her abdomen. She thought of Jim, back home in London, without a clue of what was happening to her here. She saw his face when she told him she was going to Switzerland again, would sneak it in before she turned thirty-six weeks and couldn’t fly; how he bit his lip and tried so hard not to say anything. Guilt travelled through her body to the pit of her stomach. She’d call him when she knew more.

‘Madame Tallis.’ The doctor – she presumed he was a doctor – approached the bed. He looked at her from over the top of his glasses and she was reminded of the haughty glance of her own doctor, Greenham, back in London when she’d asked for an abortion. So long ago. ‘Your placenta has likely suffered an abruption. I don’t think it’s severe, but it may worsen so we should deliver right away, by caesarean section.’

Sylvia shook her head. ‘But it’s too early.’

‘You’re thirty-five weeks? Yes, it’s a bit early, but the baby is viable and I don’t want to risk him going into distress.’

She nodded. ‘My husband, he’s in England. Can we wait until he gets here?’

‘I’m afraid not. We want to prepare you straight away. Nurse Marty will get your husband’s number and make a call, but we mustn’t delay.’

He asked her to sign something and then left her bedside.

She blew out a long breath. ‘This is my fault,’ she said to Evelyne.

‘What are you talking about? Of course it’s not.’

‘I haven’t taken care of myself, or the baby. I’ve been too bloody selfish.’ She thought of the missed midwife appointments. The travelling. The insatiable desire to pack in everything while she could. ‘Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if I’d done what I was meant to. If I’d listened to Jim and calmed down a bit.’

‘Don’t you think like that. These things happen, however careful you are. You don’t have to treat yourself with kid gloves just because you’re pregnant. My friend Fabienne was working right up until the day her child was born and the baby was just fine.’