It took less than two minutes for her to realise that everything was far from fine. Less than two minutes for another pain to tear through her body, this time so severe that she was unable to breathe or cry out. She dropped to her knees, closed her eyes and forced herself not to panic.
She was fairly sure that she was in labour.
Fairly sure?
If she hadn’t been so frightened, she would have laughed. She was a midwife, for goodness’ sake. And she didn’t even know whether she was in labour.
Phone.
She needed to get to the phone.
Trying to be calm and rational, she waited for the pain to fade and then staggered over to Jake’s phone, only to discover that the line was dead.
Realising that she was going to have to do this on her own, she grabbed some cushions from the sofa and settled herself on the floor to await the next pain.
It would be all right, she told herself, rubbing a hand over her stomach and feeling the tightening against her hand. This time when the pain came she was ready for it and she closed her eyes and breathed the way she’d taught countless pregnant women to breathe in the antenatal classes she’d run.
The pain thundered through her, relentless in its intensity, and she suddenly knew why women were encouraged to have someone with them when they gave birth. You needed someone on the outside. You needed someone who was one step removed from what was happening. You needed love and support—
‘Miranda?’
Her eyes flew open and she saw Jake standing in the doorway. His dark hair was dusted with snow and a long coat emphasised his powerful physique. A rush of cold air blew into the room before he closed the door firmly.
‘Labour…’ she gasped, and then closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on her breathing as another pain hit.
‘How far apart?’ He was on his knees beside her, his hands freezing as they slid over her abdomen, feeling the contraction. ‘When did it start?’
She had to wait for the pain to fade before she could speak. ‘Not long ago. And hardly any time apart. I think it’s coming, Jake. I know it’s a month early, but I’m definitely in labour.’
‘You should have called me.’
‘Phone not working.’ She closed her eyes as she felt another pain hit and then swell to almost unbearable levels before fading back again. But this time she wasn’t on her own. This time she felt a strong arm round her shoulders as Jake held her and praised her.
The moment the pain had passed he reached for the phone and then cursed softly and slammed it down again. ‘The line must be dead and I’ve got no signal on my mobile.’
She looked at him with fear in her eyes. ‘Jake…’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ He shrugged his broad shoulders out of his coat. ‘How do you feel about a home birth?’
‘Nervous?’
‘That’s not very flattering.’ He teased her as he stripped off his jumper and pushed up his sleeves. ‘I’m an obstetrician. This is my territory.’
‘No, it isn’t.’ She closed her eyes and shifted her position, ready for the next pain. ‘You deal with complications. This is supposed to be a normal birth. You obstetricians don’t know anything about normal births.’
‘Well, I’m sure I’ll struggle through and if it all seems a bit bewilderingly normal, I’ll just have to turn it round and deliver it as a breech.’
Despite the pain, she managed a laugh. ‘You’re mad, do you know that?’
‘Relax, Miranda. Everything is going to be fine.’ He stroked her hair away from her face with a gentle hand and then switched into consultant mode. ‘Another contraction?’ He took her hand and eased her into a better position, talking to her gently until the wave of pain receded. Then he tried both phones again and shook his head. ‘Nothing. Miranda, I think I’d better examine you. I need to know how many centimetres dilated you are. If this baby is about to arrive, I need to boil kettles and do all the other useless and pointless things they do in the movies.
’
It was impossible to panic in the face of his humour and confidence.
‘You can’t examine me, it’s too embarrassing. Oh, Jake…’ She screwed up her face and sobbed with pain. ‘Is it supposed to feel like this? It’s agony.’ Another pain hit and she was hit by a wave of nausea. ‘I feel sick…’
He reached for a decorative ceramic bowl and placed it in front of her. ‘Don’t worry about it, just keep breathing.’ His voice was calm and steady. ‘Miranda, I think you’re in transition.’