Page 143 of Tears of Gold

Eli shakes his head. “You are utterly insane.”

“But you love me. Come on, before the next one comes.”

I breathe in deep. I’m in control. This will be amazing.

No. No. Like fuck will it be amazing. I can’t breathe and I can’t walk. I can see the hospital, but I can’t quite get there. The contractions are bowling me over like snowballs lost in an avalanche.

“Jesus Christ, my baby is going to be born in the street.” Eli palms his hair making it stick up at random angles. The man in the suit is so very far away I’ve almost forgotten he exists.

“No, no, now let’s not panic,” Miss Beesley starts but I screech and squat down on the floor.

My baby is going to be born on a London street.

A burning sensation stabs deep in my vagina.

Eli grabs his phone. “Sally!” He shouts above the roar of the passing cars. He turns and I don’t hear what else he says. The next thing I know he’s sprinting away in the direction of the hospital. Now I’m going to have my baby on a London street without my husband.

He’s back before I can straighten up from my next contraction. They are coming over me in waves, relentless and strong. He’s pushing a wheelchair which he launches me into with no ceremony before sprinting back off again. I hang on for dear life, one butt cheek raised because it hurts to sit down on both.

People are waiting as we come through the doors. They take the chair from him and push me towards the maternity department.

Dr Vernon is primed in blue scrubs. “Well, Faith. That was an entrance.”

“I know.” I can barely smile. It’s more of a grimace as another contraction makes me never want to have sex again.

“Right, let’s get you examined.”

I don’t even question it as I strip off my clothes and lay on the table. I’m sure in my hospital bag I have a lovely nightie to wear—who gives a fuck?

No one. No one has ever given a fuck about nighties while in childbirth.

“Okay, we need to go to the delivery room.”

“Already? No, I need some gas and air.”

“Too late.” She grins. “The baby is crowning. It’s time to push.”

“No, no, no, no. I have to get to ten centimetres or something. I know all about it, I read about it.”

She comes to my head and nods understandingly. Eli is gripping my hand like it’s him being stabbed in the vagina by a hot poker. “Faith, you are ten centimetres. Now, let’s get you introduced to your baby.”

I can’t believe it as they wheel me along. Eli and I stare at one another, both of us silent. Once they have me parked, he leans down and whispers in my ear, “You are amazing.”

I open my mouth to respond and instead just scream. Holy fuck. “No! Eli, no way. Just no fucking way.”

He chuckles as I swear loudly. “That’s my girl. Come on, sunshine.”

“Jesus, don’t you call me sunshine.”

There is no space between one searing contraction and another. Just this enormous building pressure. It pushes higher and higher until I no longer exist.

“I want gas and air,” I shout when I can catch a breath.

Dr Vernon calls back from where she’s positioned between my legs. “No time.”

Then it comes. The intense need to push.

“Push,” she calls. Eli grips my hand so tight and I bear down onto our joined fingers. I clutch them together so damn hard it’s a miracle I don’t rebreak my left hand. I can’t even feel the pain. There is no pain apart from the burning fire in between my legs.