Connie and Tara laboured together for four hours.

Tara’s husband, John, came back to the hospital, but Tara said he could wait outside until she was further along.

‘I just need Connie,’ she told the midwife.

Private rooms freed up but Tara didn’t want to move. When Bill finally made it to the hospital, Connie said he too should wait in reception until he was called for.

‘So let me get this shipshape,’ said the midwife, ‘you want both your husbands to wait in reception because you’re being each other’s birthing partners?’

Connie and Tara both nodded.

By half past eleven they were both ready to push.

‘Right, it’s time to get you into the delivery rooms,’ ordered the midwives, finally insisting it was time for the women to separate. Connie and Tara were loaded onto beds and wheeled from the ward. They clasped hands one last time.

‘Good luck,’ Connie said, her voice hoarse.

‘Thank you,’ mouthed Tara.

‘Well, I’ve got bets on one of you two having this nineties baby,’ said the midwife pushing Connie’s bed.

‘There’s no one else in this hospital even close,’ said the midwife pushing Tara.

As Connie was wheeled into the delivery room, she saw Bill sitting in a chair waiting for her. He stood up and folded the newspaper he had been reading.

‘You took your time, woman, I been waiting ages,’ he said.

‘I’m not doing this around your convenience, Bill,’ Connie snarled. ‘I’ll come when I’m good and ready.’

Bill sat down again, smacking his lips shut.

Connie pushed for half an hour. It took every ounce of energy she had left and she was past the point of talking. At one point Bill stood, checked his watch, grimaced and said, ‘If you could just hold it in another couple of minutes love, it’s only two minutes to go till midnight.’

Connie let out an ear-splitting, guttural scream, like a pterodactyl defending her young from a predator. The two midwives both jumped and Bill promptly returned to his chair, where he sat with his shoulders hunched, fingers intertwined and two thumbs rapidly circling around each other.

‘I can see the head,’ said one of the midwives.

The pressure became unbearable. Just as Connie thought she might burst at the seams, release.

‘Here it comes,’ said the midwife, ‘oh, a precious baby girl.’

Everyone else in the room was silent, listening for the new arrival to make a noise, to take its first breath. A cry, an angry wail, there it was, and then through the thin hospital walls the sound of another baby wailing in unison.

‘Is she OK?’ Connie said, urgently searching the midwives’ faces for reassurance.

‘She’s perfect,’ said one, wrapping the baby in a towel and laying her carefully on Connie’s chest.