Grace, generally as cool as a mountain stream when under pressure, started to feel a little anxious. What had the midwife said about premature babies? How early was dangerously early? She couldn’t remember, but surely just over three weeks wasn’t anything to worry about. Babies were always popping out before their time. Still . . .

And where was Charles today? Not here, she thought, her rising anxiety masking the underlying irritation. With any luck he would be rehearsing in Newcastle. She struggled to get her brain to focus on anything other than the muscles tightening and relaxing across her abdomen. She hadn’t paid that much attention to his movements just yet because it was too soon. It was too soon!

By the time Grace reached the house, panic was starting to get the better of her. After a rather haphazard check on her watch she reckoned that the contractions were coming about every six minutes. That was all right. She just had to keep moving. She made her way to the office where the phone numbers for Charles at work were pinned to the notice board. It was hard to catch her breath now, and she needed to move more slowly than her sense of urgency required. The baby’s head was dropping; she could almost feel it between her legs, making her waddle even worse than before.

Her heart was beating far too fast. Was it bad for the baby, all this fear? Grace made a conscious effort to slow her breathing although it was hard when the contractions kept pinching at her muscles. With shaking hands she located the number for the rehearsal rooms, picked up the phone and dialled.

‘Come on, come on,’ she said into the receiver, but no one answered. Where were they all? Why was no one picking up? They might be in the middle of the rehearsal but there was always someone around in the office. After letting it ring more than thirty times, Grace gave up. She would go upstairs, throw some things into a bag and find Mrs Finn.

Mrs Finn, the nanny, was just backing out of Hector’s room as Grace came puffing up the stairs clutching the banister. As she approached, another contraction pulled at the muscles across her womb and she had to stop and take deep breaths through her open mouth until the pain subsided.

‘Oh, ma’am,’ said Mrs Finn as she saw her and immediately worked out what was going on. ‘Hospital?’

Grace could feel tears stinging her eyes. Suddenly it all felt too much. She didn’t even want another baby, her irrational brain told her. Not today, anyway. Not until Charles was here and their plans could all run smoothly.