“You seem very…serene.” Paula looks up from scribbling on her notepad. “Do you have any particular coping mechanisms for the pain?”

Oh, right. I’m supposed to be in labor. I’d better put on a show or she’ll have nothing to write down.

“Absolutely.” I nod. “I’ll just move around a bit, actually. I find that really helps.” I get up and walk around the bed, swinging my arms back and forth in a businesslike way. Then I rock my hips around a few times, and do a stretch I once learned in Yoga-lates.

“Wow,” says Paula, impressed. “You’re very mobile.”

“I’ve done yoga,” I say with a modest little glow. “I think I’ll have a Kit Kat now. Just to keep my energy levels up.”

“Good idea.” Paula nods. As I reach for my bag I can see her writing down “Eats Kit Kat,” on her notes, and underneath, “Using yoga for pain relief.” She riffles back in her file, then looks up sympathetically. “During contractions, where’s most of the pain focused?”

“Er…just…around,” I say vaguely, munching on my Kit Kat. “Kind of here…and here…” I gesture at my body. “It’s hard to explain.”

“You seem amazingly calm, Becky.” Paula is gazing at me as I check my teeth in my hand mirror for Kit Kat crumbs. “I’ve never seen a laboring woman with such self-control!”

“Well, I’m a Scientologist,” I can’t resist saying. “So I’m trying to keep as quiet as possible, obviously.”

“A Scientologist!” Her eyes open wide. “That’s amazing.” Then she frowns in alarm. “Aren’t you supposed to be in total silence?”

“I’m the sort that’s allowed to talk,” I explain. “But not scream or anything.”

“Wow. You know, I’m not sure we’ve ever had a Scientologist in here before!” She looks quite animated. “Do you mind if I just tell a couple of my colleagues?”

“Go ahead!” I nod absently.

As she hurries out, I crumple up my Kit Kat wrapper and throw it in the bin, frustrated. This is stupid. Venetia’s not coming, is she? They’re never going to page her. And I’m not even in the mood for seeing her anymore. I think I’ll go home.

“She’s in here!” The door is flung open and a whole crowd of young midwives floods into the room, led by Paula. “This is Rebecca Brandon,” she addresses the group in an undertone. “She’s four centimeters dilated and is using yoga to help deal with the pain. Because she’s a Scientologist she’s keeping very quiet and calm. You’d barely know she was having contractions!”

They’re all gawping at me as though I’m an extinct animal. I’m almost sorry to let them down.

“Actually, I think it might be a false alarm.” I pick up my bag and shrug on my coat. “I’m going home now. Thanks very much for all your help—”

“You can’t go home!” says Paula with a little laugh. She consults my chart and nods. “I thought so. Rebecca, your water has broken. You’ll run the risk of infection!” She pulls off my coat and takes my bag. “You’re staying here till that baby’s out!”

“Oh,” I say, stymied.

What do I do now? Should I tell them I made up that my water has broken?

No. They’ll think I’m a total loony. What I’ll do is wait till they leave me alone and then sneak out. Yes. Good plan.

“She could be in transition,” one of the student midwives is saying knowledgeably to another. “They often want to go home at that stage. They get quite irrational.”

“Rebecca, you really need to put on a hospital gown.” Paula is surveying me with anxiety. “The baby could be well on the way. How are the contractions feeling? Are they coming quicker? Can I examine you?”

“She’s requested minimal monitoring and examination,” chips in another student midwife, looking at my chart. “She wants everything natural. I think we should get a senior midwife in here, Paula.”

“No, don’t!” I say hurriedly. “I mean…I’d like to be left alone for a while. If that’s OK.”

“You’re very stoic, Rebecca,” says Paula, resting a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. “But we can’t leave you alone! You don’t even have a birth partner!”

“I’ll be fine, honestly.” I try to sound casual. “Just for a few minutes. It’s…it’s part of my beliefs. The woman in labor needs to be on her own every hour to say a special chant.”

Go on. I’m willing them silently. Just leave me alone….

“Well, I guess we should respect your beliefs,” Paula says uncertainly. “OK. We’ll pop out for a while, but if you feel anything moving on, just press the buzzer.”

“I will! Thanks!”

The door closes and I subside in relief. Thank God. I’m out of this place as soon as the coast is clear. I grab my bag and coat and open the door a chink — but two midwives are still standing right by the door. Hastily I close it again, trying not to make any noise. I’ll have to wait a few moments more. They’re bound to move away soon, and I’ll make a dash for it.

I can’t believe I’m in this situation. I should never have said I was in labor, I should never have pretended my water had broken. God, it’s a lesson. I am never doing that again, ever.

After a little more time I check my watch. Three minutes have gone by. Maybe I’ll check the corridor again. I pick up my coat, but before I can creep forward, the door bursts open.

“Oh my God, Bex!” Suze bursts in in a flurry of blond hair and Miu Miu embroidered coat. “Are you OK? I came as soon as I heard….”

“Suze?” I stare at her, poleaxed. “What—”

“Your mum’s just coming,” she says breathlessly, throwing off her coat to reveal Danny’s “Yummy Mummy” T-shirt. “We were all together in a taxi when we got the news. Janice is getting some magazines and drinks and Kelly says she’s going to wait down in reception….”

“But how…”

I don’t understand. Is Suze psychic or something?

“I rang your mobile and the woman who answered told me it was the Cavendish ward.” Suze is babbling in excitement. “She said you’d left your phone in reception and you were in labor! We all freaked! So we told the taxi driver to turn round straightaway and I’ve canceled this dinner party we were throwing—” She stops abruptly as she notices my appearance. “Hey, Bex, why are you holding your coat? Is everything OK?”

“Rebecca’s doing great!” says Paula. She comes into the room and gently takes my coat out of my hands. “Four centimeters dilated already and she’s had no pain relief!”

“No pain relief?” Suze looks staggered. “Bex, I thought you were having an epidural!”

“Um…” I swallow hard.

“But she won’t put on a hospital gown for us,” adds Paula in reproof.

“Of course she won’t!” says Suze indignantly. “They’re revolting. Bex, didn’t you bring your bag? Don’t worry, I’ll go and buy you a T-shirt. And we need some music in here, and some candles maybe….” She looks around critically.

“Um…Suze…” My stomach is bunched with nerves. “Actually…”

“Knock, knock!” There’s a fresh voice at the door. “It’s Louisa here! Can we come in?”

Louisa? This can’t be happening. She’s the aromatherapist I hired for the birth. How the hell did she…

“Your mum’s been busy calling all the people on your list, just to make sure they knew!” Suze beams. “She’s so efficient! They’re all on their way.”

I can’t cope. Everything’s moving too quickly. Louisa has already got out some little vials of oils and is rubbing something orangey on the back of my neck. “There!” she says. “Does that feel good?”

“Lovely!” I manage.

“Becky!” Mum’s shrill voice is sounding from outside the room. “My darling!” She comes rushing in, clutching a bunch of flowers and a paper bag full of croissants. “Sit down! Take it easy! Where’s your epidural?”

“She’s managing without one!” says Suze. “Isn’t she amazing?”

“Without one?” Mum looks appalled.

“Becky’s using yoga and breathing techniques to cope with the pain,” says Paula proudly. “Aren’t you, Becky? She’s already four centimeters!”

“Love, don’t put yourself through it.” Mum grabs my arm, looking close to tears. “Accept the pain relief! Take the drugs.”

I feel like my tongue’s glued to the bottom of my mouth.

“Now, this is jasmine oil,” comes Louisa’s gentle voice in my ear. “I’ll rub it into your temples….”

“Becky?” Mum says anxiously. “Can you hear me?”

“Maybe she’s having a contraction!” exclaims Suze, grabbing my hand. “Bex, breathe….”

“You can do it, love!” Mum’s face is screwing up tighter and tighter, as though she’s in labor herself.

“Focus on the baby.” Paula’s eyes are gazing intently into mine. “Focus on that lovely baby of yours coming out into the world….”

“Look.” I finally find my voice. “I…the thing is, I’m not in labor….”

“Becky, you are.” Paula rests her hands on my shoulders.

“Bex, conserve your energy!” Suze shoves a straw into my mouth. “Have some Lucozade. Then you’ll feel better!” Helplessly I suck at the sickly drink, and then stop dead as I hear hurried footsteps approaching. I know those footsteps. The door swings open and this time it’s Luke, his face pale, his eyes dark and tense as he surveys the room.

“Thank God. Thank God I’m not too late….” He seems almost speechless as he comes toward me on the bed. “Becky, I love you so much…. I’m so proud of you….”

“Hi, Luke,” I say feebly.

Now what the fuck do I do?



The thing is, in a lot of ways this is the perfect birth.

It’s twenty minutes later and the room is full of people. Felicity the reflexologist has arrived and is manipulating my toes. Maria the homeopath is measuring out some pills for me to take. Louisa is arranging essential oil burners around the place.

I have Mum and Suze sitting on one side of me, with Luke on the other. I’ve got a flannel on my forehead and a water spray in my hand and I’m wearing a long baggy T-shirt which Suze and Mum basically manhandled me into. I’m relaxed, music is playing, I’m managing without an epidural….