The rest was a blur of pain and pulling, of red hot pokers and strange shapes looming in and out of view. She struggled against the pain. Nothing seemed to be happening and she no longer cared but Leithy stayed close at hand. ‘Come on, Netta, help us one more time – give us all you’ve got. I promise you, not long now… Use your pains!’ At least Peg had got that bit right.

*

It was getting light when Leithy drew back the heavy drapes to show a cornflower blue sky. ‘You’ve got a “wee scoot”. Look at him! A healthy boy. He weighs eight pounds and nine ounces, no wonder you had a struggle to push him out!’

The midwife placed a warm towel-wrapped bundle in her arms and Netta peered down at the wrinkled pink face, the screwed up eyes and shock of thick dark hair. It felt like silk, an old man’s face on a black satin pillow. The odours of warm towels and baby powder would always remind her of that precious time.

‘Is he real?’ She smiled with disbelief.

‘Aye, a perfect specimen, a real bobby dazzler. Well done!’

‘He’s dark like his father… was.’

‘Well, he’s certainly not a Nichol. I sent a message to Angus and Peg to let them know. No visitors for you the day until you’ve had a good long rest. We’ll just put him to the breast, shall we?’

‘Am I doing right? Peg doesn’t hold with the breast…’

The new mother struggled to raise herself and open the buttons of her nightdress. Leithy manoeuvred the bundle to the nipple. The baby struggled, sniffing blindly for the teat, latched on and began to suck away. ‘Ouch! Oh, my stomach – it’s collapsing! My insides hurt.’

‘There’s not much for him yet but what there is will keep him strong. Colostrum is full of goodness,’ urged Leithy. ‘Keep going. It’s nature’s way of closing the womb too.’

‘I’m not sure nature took its own course,’ Netta whispered suddenly exhausted by the effort and the tenderness of her whole body.

‘With a little help from Begg. You’re a slender lassie and he was a big bull calf. You were lucky we didn’t have to open you. We’ve stitched you up nicely but bed rest for you now, my lady. We want everything ship-shape down below for the next time.’

‘Next time? Never! Now I know why no one tells you anything – you wouldn ’t believe it if they did.’ Yet a few minutes later mother and son were lying together, looking out over the Bay, safe and well. As she looked down on that black hair there was a strange feeling of excitement surging through her body. Bump was real at last. Nothing had prepared Netta for this moment.

Oh, Rae! He’s perfect. I’ll never be lonely again, she thought.

On The Tenth Day, 1945