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Back Under a Dark Cloud Save as PDF
Chapters (77)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Prologue
  4. Part 1
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. Part 2
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. Part 3
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. Acknowledgements
  74. Next in Series
  75. Canelo Crime
  76. About the Author
  77. Also by Louisa Scarr

The man smiles indulgently. ‘First floor, maternity unit. Florence Portal House. That way,’ he points.

Robin sets off at a run.

50

The contractions started in the middle of the night. At first, they were no more than strong period pains, a dull ache in her stomach, but they woke Liv, her heart beating faster in response. She waited, lying there in the dark, and for a while there was nothing. She closed her eyes. Then another came. She glanced at the clock, memorising the time. It was too early. It couldn’t be happening. Not now.

But when her waters broke at five a.m., there was no kidding herself any more.

She put in a call to her midwife, calmly telling her what was happening.

‘Contractions are ten minutes apart,’ she said. The midwife was gentle and reassuring.

‘You’re a long way off yet, love. Keep walking around, get some food. Call me back when they’re every five minutes.’

Liv kept track, diligently monitoring the time. She paced her kitchen, waiting until the next contraction came and she couldn’t do anything but stand, leaning against the counter, trying to breathe the way she was told to.

I can do this, she repeated, like a mantra. I can. She knows she’s been through a lot worse, but this is new. The fear: it’s not just for her, but for the tiny boy inside.

She has no birth partner. She’d debated it, in the early days, but who could she have asked? Even if they had been good candidates for the job, her mother and her sister were both dead. She has friends, but nobody she could ask to do this. Nobody she would trust by her side.

No. She would do it alone. She’d survived this far. She would do it again.

But the pain was growing. She tried watching some television but she was restless, unable to concentrate. She sat on the sodding gym ball, like someone recommended, but it was no good. Nothing helped. She managed some food, eating toast in small, manageable bites as the wave of the contractions became longer and harder. Her hand hovered close to her phone. Desperate to call her midwife. Wanting to be close to the doctors and nurses who could make sure everything was okay.

Then, when the last cramp caused her to grit her teeth and cry out, she made the call.

‘Now,’ the midwife confirmed. ‘Come in now.’

The taxi driver didn’t waste any time. He didn’t want this woman giving birth in his cab. He helped her through the double doors, carrying her bag, holding her arm in the corridor as she doubled over, her legs weak.