‘Oh, not again, I don’t … I can’t,’ Tara sank to the floor, her body consumed by an invisible, agonising force.

‘Try and stand,’ Connie said, taking her hand. ‘Trust me, it’s better.’ Connie held Tara up, encouraging her to push down on her forearms for support. Tara rocked back and forth, huffing and whimpering through it with her eyes closed. ‘OK, we can work on your breathing but you’re standing at least.’

The double doors of the ward swung open and a midwife wearing light blue coveralls marched in.

‘How are we doing, ladies? I’m sorry we had to put you in together but I’ve never seen so many babies want to come in one night before. Lucky I didn’t have New Year’s Eve plans, hey?’ the midwife chuckled.

‘They’re all after the prize money,’ said Connie. ‘This one claims she didn’t even know about it.’

Tara’s pain had passed, her eyes were glazed over and she was staring off towards the window. Connie watched her; she knew that feeling – she’d been in labour for four days last time.

‘Oh, you didn’t hear?’ said the midwife. ‘The London News went and offered a cheque to the first nineties baby born in the city. We’re all desperate for someone from Hampstead Hospital to be the first. Though the paper must have more money than they know what to do with, if you ask me.’

‘Fifty thousand pounds,’ said Connie.

What Connie couldn’t do with fifty thousand pounds. She could pay back Bill’s parents the money they’d loaned them. They could rent a bigger place. She could even buy the baby some clothes of its own – clothes that hadn’t already been worn by three older cousins and a brother. She couldn’t get her hopes up. There were thousands of other women all over London probably thinking the same thing.

‘It’s sponsored by some nappy brand. I think you get free nappies for life too,’ said the midwife.

‘She’s definitely going to cross her legs till midnight now,’ Connie laughed, but the laugh turned into panting as another wave of pain rolled down into her belly.

‘Right, hop up onto the bed, Mrs Hamilton,’ the midwife said to Tara. ‘I need to see how far along you are.’ She drew a cubicle curtain around the bed and pulled on some rubber gloves. A few minutes later she stepped away from the bed and shook her head. ‘You’re not having the baby tonight at this rate, you’re still only six centimetres. You need to get moving, get walking up and down.’

‘That’s what I told her,’ Connie shouted through the partition.

‘But how much longer?’ Tara whimpered. ‘I’m so tired, I just need to sleep.’

An alarm rang out in the corridor. The midwife quickly pulled off her gloves and washed her hands at the sink.