A wave of sorrow rushed over Grace. This was all going wrong. First the ungainly race to the hospital with a man she barely knew. Then no sign of Charles – where was he? And now the ignominy of a baby that wouldn’t be born. She knew little of the birth process other than her own very narrow experience with Hector, but she understood what forceps were and what that would mean for her straining and punished body. If she had thought it would do any good at all, she would have burst into tears, strangers around her or no. But then another contraction snatched her away from the moment and cut into her, sharp as a blade.

‘Pant,’ said the young midwife, who looked almost as panicked as Grace felt. ‘Don’t push! Just pant until the doctor gets here.’

The door opened wide and colder air rushed into the room.

‘Now then,’ said a new voice, male and authoritative with public school vowels not dissimilar to Grace’s own. ‘Baby is being troublesome, I understand. Well, we need to show him or her who is in charge here.’

Grace wanted to say that actually, the baby did appear to be in charge, but the pain prevented her from doing anything but groan. She lay as still as she could whilst the doctor examined her. She knew that he was a doctor and had seen it all before, but that didn’t make it any less horrible.

‘You’re going to need an episiotomy so that we can get Baby out,’ he said. ‘You understand what that is? Nurse – can you explain?’

It was as if it was beneath the doctor to discuss the more savage parts of what he was about to do. The first midwife, now looking more pink in the cheeks than before, leant down to talk to Grace eye to eye.

‘It looks like Baby has got itself a little bit jammed, so we need to help it to come out. Doctor here will use the forceps to grasp hold of its head. Gently,’ she added. ‘Don’t worry. But to do that we’re going to have to make a little snip to let your perineum open a bit wider.’

Grace felt every muscle tense now, and not just those she was using to push out this baby. A cut? They were going to cut her. Where was Charles? He would stop this. He wouldn’t let them butcher her like this. But on her own, what could she do?

Her thought process was blocked by another pain. She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could stand. The gas and air made no difference to the agony that wracked her body each time it tried to expel her baby.

‘Please do something,’ she said weakly.