When she entered the bedroom it was to see Amy lying amid rumpled covers, her knees up as she groaned horribly. It was a few moments before she could say, ‘Rose, oh, thank God. Thank God. I asked Him to help me and He’s sent you.’ As the contraction died down a little, she added, ‘The baby’s coming whether it’s time or not.’

Rose could see that for herself. When she felt the sheet under Amy it was soaked through; her waters had broken. ‘You’re going to be fine,’ she said firmly, ‘the baby too. Eight months isn’t that early, Amy. It might be a bit small but it’s going to be bonny and healthy, I promise you. Now just you concentrate on doing your bit and soon you’ll be holding your son or your daughter in your arms, all right?’

‘Where – where’s the midwife?’

‘She’s coming, she’ll be here any minute,’ said Rose, praying desperately that that was true. Amy had had so many miscarriages, so many fruitless births, this had to be different.

The next half-hour was traumatic. Frank appeared at some point with towels and hot water, took one horrified look at his wife and disappeared again.

Rose held Amy’s hand throughout, encouraging her friend, urging her on, telling her how wonderful she was and what a great mam she was going to be, and all the time secretly cursing the hapless midwife. By the time the birth was imminent and the baby’s head was showing Rose had resigned herself to the fact she would be delivering the child.

‘I can see its hair, lass,’ she said, as Amy sobbed that she couldn’t do this any more. ‘Just one more push and it’ll be out. Come on, there’s a good girl, just one more.’

When, in the next instant, Amy gave a long high scream and strained with all her might, the baby shot out from between her legs straight into Rose’s hands. For a moment Rose was too surprised to do anything and the baby seemed equally astonished, blinking in bewilderment before it started bawling. ‘It’s a boy, Amy, and he’s beautiful,’ she said. ‘Hark at him cry, lass. He’s all right, everything’s all right.’

She wrapped him in a towel and passed him to Amy, still with the umbilical cord attached, and it was in that moment that the midwife appeared, red-faced and breathless. ‘I’m sorry,’ she panted. ‘I’ve been at another birth but I came as soon as I could.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Amy, a blissful smile on her face as the tears ran down her cheeks. ‘I had my best friend with me and we did it together, didn’t we, lass?’

Rose nodded. In that moment she couldn’t speak.

Chapter Twenty-Eight