by Julia Blake
A gasp, a sigh, an agonised groan of pain; it choked into hoarse rattling pants coming from the other side of the vast double bed. Cautiously, I tiptoed across, holding my breath in dread of what I might find.
Mimi, crouched on the floor amongst blood splattered bed clothes, back arched, mouth open in an animalistic wail of pain and despair. Quickly, I knelt beside her, touched her shoulder, felt the clamminess of her skin through the thin silk of her sheer white nightgown.
‘Mimi! Oh my god, what’s happened, what is it?’ Even as the words left my mouth I realised how stupid they were, it’s obvious what’s happened, even I with my limited knowledge of such things can see she’s in labour. I looked around the empty bedroom, my mind shying away from the thought of the empty Hall all around us, completely devoid of people, of help.
‘No-o-o-o!’ the scream is dragged from a body wrenched reluctantly into another contraction, she clutched at me, dragged me down to her level. Perfectly manicured nails ripped and tore at my flesh, her eyes, wild and crazed, looked right through me. I can do nothing but watch and wait, as Mimi battled it, screaming, flailing in its throes, before she beat it, it passed from her and a faint gleam of recognition entered her eyes. ‘Eve?’ she gasped. ‘Help me, something’s wrong, please, get help.’
‘Alright,’ I readily agreed and prised her fingers from my arms.
‘No, don’t leave me,’ she cried in sudden panic, and I felt the adrenalin fuelled strength of her as she gripped me tightly. ‘Oh shit, oh no, here it comes again...’ her head dropped, an incomprehensible stream of French poured from her mouth as another contraction ripped into her and I am powerless to help in any way. It passed. Desperately, I fumbled in my bag for my phone, seeing with relief the signal was strong, with shaking fingers dialled 999.
‘I need an ambulance quickly,’ I gasped. ‘The baby’s coming, she’s in so much pain, there’s blood, so much blood! You must help her. What? Oh yes, the address...’ I gathered my wits enough to give them our location amid Mimi’s earth shattering screams.
‘I have to push,’ she suddenly yelled and grabbed at me, sending the phone spinning from my hand. I crawled after it, hearing the faint tinny ‘hello, hello?’ of the emergency operator.
‘What do I do?’ I demanded, voice high and panicky, ‘She wants to push.’
‘We need to know if the baby’s head is there,’ stated the calmly reassuring voice on the other end. ‘Is it possible you could take a little look?’
‘Erm, ok,’ I gulped nervously. ‘I’ll have to put the phone down for a minute, please... please don’t go away.’
‘I’ll hold on,’ she promised.
Carefully, I crawled back to Mimi, crouched on all fours like a dog, her head hanging, ragged pants being ripped from her poor straining body. ‘Mimi,’ gently I pushed her to the ground, tried to roll her onto her back. She fought me, hissing and snarling like a cornered wild cat, then suddenly seemed to simply give in and laid still, her stomach sticking up obscenely into the air.
Trying not to think about what I’m actually doing, I lifted her long satin nightgown, recoiling as a fresh gush of blood pulsed from between her legs, drenching and staining the already soaked bedclothes. I parted her legs, wincing at the raw and bloodied state, a rush of sympathy flooding over me. She would hate this, I know, that elegant, beautifully sophisticated woman I’d laughed with last night, would detest this degradation, this stripping away of any vestige of dignity.
There’s so much blood it’s hard to see anything else. Quickly, I sprinted to the en suite, snatched up all the towels I could find, wadding one and gently patting it between her legs, frowning at the painfully swollen vulva underneath. I grabbed the phone.
‘I’ve looked,’ I gasped. ‘It’s really swollen down there, but it doesn’t look...’ the word springs to mind courtesy of endless episodes of Casualty and ER. ‘Dilated at all, and there’s certainly no sign of the baby’s head. In fact,’ I frowned again, trying to look closer as Mimi screamed and bucked up off the floor. ‘All I can see is what looks like bits of raw liver coming out of her, and blood, lots of blood, there’s just so much blood. Please, tell me what to do?’
By now I’m sobbing, clutching the phone as if I’m drowning and it’s my only lifeline. On the floor Mimi rolled onto her side, doubling up and clutching at her abdomen, screaming and shouting she has to push, that she must push.
‘Under no circumstances let her push,’ ordered the voice. ‘It could seriously harm the baby and her. If you say she’s not dilated at all and there’s no sign of the baby’s head, then she absolutely must not push.’
‘Alright, but what shall I do?’
‘If you can, you need to angle her onto her left side and support the right buttock with pillows, then you need to elevate the legs in some way, can you do that?’
‘Yes,’ I gasped and gently manhandled Mimi into position. She fought me again, but so feebly this time I realised her strength was almost completely depleted. I wedged pillows under her right buttock cheek, some far away part of my mind registered how trim and compact she was and how small she seemed, to be labouring to pass such a huge obstacle. Finally, I piled pillows under her ankles, tried to raise her feet as much as possible and then crawled up to lay beside her, the phone still clutched in my clammy grasp. Mimi clawed at me, her face drawn and haggard, her lips stretched back over her teeth in a grimace of absolute agony.
‘She’s in position,’ I shouted down the phone, heart pounding with adrenalin and fear.
‘Right, now I want you to help her breathe, encourage her to breathe with the pain, pant with her if that helps, short little pants.’
‘I want to push!’ screamed Mimi again, and I cried out at the perfect crescent moon of cuts her elegantly manicured nails left on my arm.
‘No,’ I yelled. ‘Don’t push, you have to breathe into the pain,’ a further stream of rapid French was the only response as another contraction seized her by the throat and shook her. ‘Pant!’ I shouted, putting my face close to hers and panting for all I was worth. Her eyes were glazed and blank and I wondered if she could even hear, let alone understand.
‘Like this, Mimi,’ I encouraged. ‘Pant, pant!’
‘Fuck off!’ she screamed in perfect English.
‘Where’s the ambulance?’ I pleaded down the phone. ‘Please, where is it? She can’t take much more of this... oh shit!’ I shrieked in alarm as blood gushed out of her, bright red and flecked with raw, glistening lumps of flesh. ‘She’s bleeding to death!’ I screamed in terror. ‘Oh fuck, oh shit! Where’s the fucking ambulance?’
‘It’s on its way,’ she reassured me, but a black wave of panic crashed over my head as the awful possibility dawned Mimi could die, that she could actually bleed to death right in front of me and there would be nothing I could do to help her. Then, I heard it, the sound of a siren as the ambulance tore through the gates, raced up the driveway and scrunched to a halt, gravel spurting from beneath its wheels.
‘They’re here,’ I cried out in relief. ‘Oh, thank god, they’re here!’ I rushed to the door, crossed the landing and threw up the heavy sash of a window which I could see overlooked the driveway.
‘Up here!’ I screamed.
One of the paramedics, tall and competent looking in his green coverall, looked up, shading his eyes from the sun. ‘How do we get in, love?’ his voice is calm and steadying. I felt my panic abating. Mimi will be alright, they’re here, with their boxes of medical miracles and their life saving drugs.
‘Drive round the back,’ I ordered them. ‘The kitchen door is unlocked, then up the stairs, I’ll come to meet you.’ I rushed back to Mimi. She’s lying so still, so quiet. For a split second a wild fear gripped that in my brief absence she’d died. I hear her draw a ragged breath. My chest hurts as I finally released the lungful of air I hadn’t even realised I’d been h
olding.
‘The ambulance is here, Mimi,’ I said. ‘You’ll be alright now, the ambulance is here.’ She gives no sign she has even heard. Gently, I knelt beside her, stroked the hair back from her face, and patted her cheek reassuringly. ‘I’m just going to show them the way, Mimi; I’ll be right back, ok?’ She moaned slightly, and I ran from the room, nearly tumbling down the stairs in my haste to get the paramedics.
They entered that room of blood and suffering, took one look, then hastily and competently fastened her to a chair-like contraption and carried her downstairs. Her sharp little cries of distress bounced off the walls as they manoeuvred her through the doors, round the corners and out into the bright sunshine. I blinked stupidly in the glare; I’d forgotten it was such a gorgeous sunny day. Somehow, in that dark and gloomy room, helping Mimi fight for life, it’d felt like the middle of the night.
Looking round in startled surprise, I scrambled into the back of the ambulance with Mimi and one of the paramedics. Huddled in a corner, instinctively trying to stay out of his way, I watched as he placed a clear mask over her face, expertly inserted a needle into her arm. I had no idea what he was doing, but trusted it was the right thing. Mimi’s eyes flickered open, for almost the first time she appeared lucid.
‘Eve?’ she murmured drowsily. ‘Where’s Andrew? I want Andrew, please, get him for me, please,’ tears trickled down her face and I slid forward, grasping her hand.
‘Of course I’ll get him for you,’ I reassured. She smiled with relief, a knowing look sliding into her eyes.
‘Darling,’ she muttered, eyes rolling back up into her head. ‘I love what you’ve done with your eyes,’ then she was gone, back into another contraction. The paramedic looked at me.
‘Is Andrew her husband?’ he asked and I nodded, swiping at tears which had suddenly welled. ‘He really needs to get to the hospital,’ he commented. I nodded again, my mind frantically racing as I wondered how on earth I could get in touch with him.
Suddenly, I remembered the sheet of numbers Annaliese had given me, which I’d transferred that morning into my bag. Quickly, I dragged it out and scanned the numbers, the Hall; well I knew there was no one there so it was pointless phoning that number. Annaliese’s mobile, with shaking fingers I dialled and went straight to voice mail. Trying to stay calm, I left a message and then dialled the last number on the page, Scott’s mobile.
‘Hello,’ the speed with which he answered shocked me and I gaped at the phone, unable to speak. ‘Hello?’ he repeated, his tone tinged with annoyance.
‘Scott,’ I gasped. ‘It’s Eve!’
‘Eve? Oh, hi, is everything ok?’
‘No, no it’s not, can you get hold of Andrew? I’m with Mimi we’re in an ambulance on our way to hospital the baby’s coming and something’s not right she’s bleeding so much I had to look for the baby’s head only it wasn’t there and I’m really scared and Mimi’s in so much pain and she wants Andrew and I didn’t know his number so I thought you might!’
I throw all the information at him in one breathless sound bite, my voice getting quicker and shriller the further into the story I went. There was a split second of silence when I’d finished, as though his brain was translating and assimilating my words, then he spoke, his voice calm and steady. ‘Ok, Andrew’s actually in the shop at the moment, so I’ll bring him straight to the hospital, we’ll meet you there in about ten minutes.’
‘Thank you,’ I gabbled, relief nearly making me incoherent. ‘Thank you, I’ll see you soon,’ he hung up without another comment.
We reached the hospital. Mimi was wheeled down endless corridors, where a doctor met the paramedics, her white coat automatically instilling trust and confidence. Then they took Mimi away through double doors and I was left in the waiting room, not knowing what to do, worried sick about her, feeling by not going with her I was somehow letting her down. A few moments later, a nurse came out to take details from me, information which I struggled to give, not knowing Mimi’s address or even her surname. ‘Her husband’s on his way,’ I said. My voice quavered, and the nurse looked sympathetic.
‘I expect this has all been a bit of a shock, hasn’t it?’ she stated, her voice calming, soothing.
‘Yes,’ I agreed, clutching at the strap of my handbag. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it before. Will Mimi be alright? What’s happening?’
‘She’s suffering from a condition called placenta praevia,’ explained the nurse, seeing my blank look expanded patiently. ‘It’s a condition where the placenta is lying across the neck of the cervix blocking the baby’s way out. Your friend is being prepped for a caesarean section, the anaesthetic has taken effect so she’s no longer in pain, but she was asking for her husband.’
‘He’ll be here...’ I promised again. At that moment, the doors burst open and Andrew, closely followed by Scott, dashed into the room, his expression concerned, his red hair intense next to the unnaturally drained pallor of his face.
‘My wife?’ he gasped to the nurse.
‘Follow me,’ she ordered, and led him through the double doors.
Left alone, Scott and I gazed at each other, his expression concerned and curious. Under his coolly level regard I gradually, almost imperceptibly, felt the tightly wound spring of adrenalin begin to uncoil. I’d done it. I’d looked after Mimi, got her to hospital and managed to get her husband, my role was over. I no longer had to keep it all together. I suddenly gulped. Shaking as the enormity of the experience finally hit and delayed reaction kicked in.
‘Oh fuck,’ I heard myself gasp, my knees buckled and I slid down onto one of the primary coloured chairs. Scott sat beside me and took my hand. He said nothing, yet I felt his support and sympathy, was strengthened by it. For almost a full minute I shook quietly to myself; then took a deep breath, squared my shoulders and turned to face him.
‘Better now?’ he asked simply, and I nodded.
‘Yes, sorry about that, it was just... well, you know,’ he nodded thoughtfully, and I was grateful no further words were necessary.
‘Coffee?’ I marvelled at a man who could say so much in so few words, ‘Milk, sugar?’
‘Just milk please,’ he rose and strode off down the corridor. I took advantage of his absence to whip out my mirror and check my appearance, tutting at my deathly pallor, wide eyed stare and eyeliner smudged halfway down my face. I’d finished repairing the damage when Scott returned, two plastic cups in hand, one of which he handed to me. He sat and peered at my face.
‘That’s better,’ he commented, then frowned. ‘You do something different with your eyes?’
I flushed he’d noticed and buried my nose in my coffee, wincing as the scalding liquid burnt a large blister onto the end of my tongue. ‘It was lucky you could get hold of Andrew,’ I murmured into the silence. ‘You don’t know how relieved I was when you answered so quickly.’
‘Well, Andrew and I do work together,’ commented Scott. ‘So I usually know where he is during the day.’
‘Oh, do you work together?’ I asked curiously. ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘Why should you,’ he shrugged. ‘You’ve not known us very long.’
We drank our coffee in silence and I reflected on his words, thinking how right he was that although I felt I knew them intimately, in reality, I didn’t actually know them at all. I sipped cautiously, wondering what was happening to Mimi, hoping she was ok, feeling a kind of connection with her after all we’d been through together that day. I glanced at Scott, as he silently and competently drank his coffee, wondered what would happen next.
The doors to the waiting room opened. Annaliese entered, face concerned, closely followed by Robert and Caro. Scott and I stood and Annaliese simply held out her arms. Beginning to shake again, fighting down a ridiculous urge to bawl like a four year old, I crept into her embrace, let her soothe and pet me, strokin
g my hair and murmuring quiet reassurances. ‘Now then,’ she said, leading me back to the chairs, sitting us down. ‘Tell us everything.’
‘Well,’ I wiped my damp eyes, reflected I’d really picked a bad day to be more daring with my eye makeup. ‘I rang the doorbell and there was no answer, so I decided to walk round the back and try the kitchen door...’
‘What were you doing at the Hall in the first place?’ demanded Caro, her tone almost, but not quite, accusatory.
‘I came to return your shoes,’ I sniffed, fumbling in my bag and drawing out the tissue wrapped parcel. Annaliese smiled gently.
‘Bless you,’ she said. ‘I didn’t expect you to bring them back the next day, but go on, what happened next?’
‘I knocked on the kitchen door, but there was no answer there either, so, on the off chance, I tried the handle and was really surprised when the door opened.’
‘So you decided to waltz in did you?’ there’s no mistaking Caro’s implication now, and Annaliese shot a firm look in her direction.
‘Caro,’ she murmured.
‘I’m sorry,’ I gasped. ‘I wasn’t prying or anything, it was, well, I’d walked all the way from town, was absolutely desperate for the loo, didn’t think you’d mind if I used the downstairs one.’
‘Of course we don’t mind,’ Annaliese reassured, patting my hand. ‘Caro’s just being her usual, dear protective self.’
‘Then I heard screaming coming from upstairs, so I went to see what was wrong and found Mimi on the floor, and knew... knew she was in labour and the baby was coming, but she was in so much pain and there was blood... blood everywhere, I’m afraid it’s made a dreadful mess.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Annaliese said. ‘But how scary, for both of you, what did you do?’
‘Well, I phoned for an ambulance, the operator told me what to do and then the ambulance came. Luckily, I had the numbers in my bag, so I tried yours but just got voicemail.’