Crowded Marriage

by Catherine Alliott

  “No!” I shrank away. “No, God, I haven’t a clue, but shouldn’t we wait? Shouldn’t she—you know—cross her legs or something, until the ambulance gets here?”

  “What, and cut off the oxygen supply and damage the baby? That’s about the most dangerous thing you can do. No, if this baby’s coming, it’s coming, and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it. Look,” he stood back a moment to let me see, “she’s fully dilated and the head’s engaged. You can see it crowning.”

  I conquered my qualms and crouched down to where…oh…my…God! I clapped both hands over my mouth. A dark head was crowning—I could see hair! Black hair!

  “Oh, Hannah!” I gave an involuntary sob and rushed round to seize her hand. She was blowing hard now, her face livid, eyes popping. “I can see it, it’s a baby, a real baby!”

  “Well, I certainly hope it’s a baby,” said Pat, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and crouching down to take up his position again. “I’d hate to think what else she could have up there. What about getting me some water?”

  “Oh! God, yes, water! Hot?”

  “Yep, and some towels.”

  “Towels!” I yelped, running into the bathroom, glad of something to do. I knew I was on the verge of panicking. “Towels, towels,” I muttered, pulling them from the rail with shaking hands. “Keep calm, keep calm.”

  “No, from the cupboard,” he snapped, as I ran in with them trailing on the floor. “They’ve got to be absolutely clean.”

  “Clean towels, clean towels,” I agreed, fleeing back, spinning around the bathroom, then flinging a cupboard door wide. Oh, deep joy—a pile of sage-green towels was stacked neatly on a shelf.

  “Hot water from the tap?” I yelled.

  “That’ll do, in a bowl.”

  All I could find was a child’s potty. “Best I could do,” I muttered, coming back with it sloshing everywhere.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, I can’t use that. Just get back here and hold her hand.”

  “Hold hand, hold hand.”

  “AARRAGGGH!” Hannah shrieked as I ran to her side. She gripped my fingers so tight I thought my knuckles would break, and her head was right off the pillow now, eyes squeezed tight with pain and effort, as at that moment, Eddie came in. He stood there in the doorway, mouth open, blinking behind his spectacles.

  “What the…?”

  “She’s having a baby!” I screamed. “She’s giving birth!”

  Befuddled and mystified beyond belief, Eddie staggered in a few more steps. He took in his wife’s condition, looking her up and down in naked disbelief.

  “She can’t be,” he whispered.

  “I bloody am!” hollered Hannah, her face bright red and contorted with pain. “Look at me! I’m not doing this for attention!”

  “Oh my God. Oh…my…God!” Eddie’s face went through a myriad of emotions in the space of seconds: horror, disbelief, incredulity were all etched up there—then he settled on wonder. He came in unsteadily and sank down beside her, seizing her hand.

  “Oh, darling. Oh, my darling. But…but how?” His eyes were wide, uncomprehending. “How did it happen?”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure you had something to do with it!” she shrieked.

  “Oh, my precious. My angel!” He put her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers fiercely. “Does it hurt?”

  “Does it—” She attempted to treat this enquiry with the contempt it deserved but was thwarted by another contraction. “AARGH! SHIT! CHRIST!”

  “Push,” instructed Pat, crouching down at the sharp end again. “Go on, go with it this time.”

  “Yes, and breathe,” enjoined Eddie eagerly, bending over her and urging her on. “You must breathe, I’ve read that, and you must relax, not tense up, and—”

  “AND YOU CAN FUCK OFF!” she screeched, lashing out in fury with her fist, and catching Eddie, with her sizeable diamond engagement ring, squarely on the temple. His eyes bulged for a moment, pale and blue, his face lost all of its colour. Then, as blood spurted from his head, he staggered backwards, lost consciousness, and collapsed on the floor.

  “Christ! Eddie!” I leaped back in panic. “Pat, she’s knocked him out!”

  “Bugger.”

  Pat hesitated, torn between the two of them, then hastened round to put Eddie in the recovery position.

  “Nice timing, mate,” he muttered, throwing Eddie’s arm over his chest and slapping his face. “Nasty cut you’ve got there. Oi, Nurse, put a towel on it.” He threw one at me. “Staunch the flow.”

  “Oh God—is he still breathing?” I crouched over him, putting my ear to his heart. “I can’t hear him breathing! Is he dead?”

  “Of course he’s not dead. His chest is moving. Just keep the towel there.”

  “WHAT…ABOUT…ME?” roared my sister murderously, rising massively on her elbows from the bed, like a sea monster from the depths, as, at that moment, the door flew open. Piers and his mother stood there in the doorway, bugeyed with amazement as they took in the scene.

  “What the…?” began Piers, inadequately.

  “Hannah’s having a baby and she’s knocked her husband out for being oversolicitous,” Pat explained patiently, hastening away from Eddie to resume his position between Hannah’s knees. “Now unless you’re going to make yourselves useful, I suggest you disappear. She doesn’t want an audience, and if there are any unhelpful comments, she’ll probably knock you out as well. Yes, that’s it,” he encouraged suddenly. “Good girl, it’s coming!”

  “Good grief!” Piers yelped, as at that moment, like something out of a French farce, another door opened, this one in the far corner of the room, which appeared to lead to a dark green dressing room. Alex and Eleanor stood there, gaping with amazement.

  Alex’s jaw dropped as he regarded his sister-in-law on the bed. “Bleeding Ada!” he gasped. In times of real crisis my husband reverted right back to prep school. “She’s having a baby!” He gaped in astonishment, then turned on me, horrified. “Imogen!”

  “Well, it wasn’t my fault!” I squeaked. “I didn’t impregnate her. Blame Eddie! Actually, don’t, Hannah’s already done that. Oh, Hannah, it’s coming, it’s coming!” I sobbed, fists clenched, torn between seeing it come out and holding her hand.

  “But shouldn’t she be in hospital?” blabbered Piers. “The bedcover…this is the Tudor Room!”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Piers, it’s too late for that. Can’t you see it’s coming?” snapped Eleanor, hastening to Hannah’s other side.

  It was. As Hannah bore down with one final, mighty, primeval moan that seemed to come from a long way away, from way back in time, and gave a last, vein-busting push, suddenly the whole head appeared, bright red and covered in black hair, swiftly followed by a slippery little body, slimy like a seal, covered in mucus.

  “Oh!” we all gasped as Pat caught it expertly in his hands. There was a moment of complete silence, then:

  “It’s a boy,” he said, gazing down at it in wonder.

  In the gasps of shock and amazement that followed, Pat somehow managed to cut the cord, clean the baby up a bit, wrap him in a towel, move around the bed, and hand him carefully, tenderly, to his mother.

  Hannah, her hair soaking wet and plastered to her head, struggled to raise herself on to her elbows, to sit up and take the baby in her arms. As I flew to help her, propping her up with pillows, she gazed down in disbelief.

  “A boy,” she breathed. “I’ve got a baby boy.”

  Tears fled down my cheeks as I looked into her astonished face.

  “Oh, Hannah!” I gasped.

  In another moment, we heard footsteps pounding up the stairs.

  My mother’s voice rang out, “Up here—she’s up here somewhere. Quick!”

  At the double, the ambulance crew arrived, bursting into the room in their plastic yellow jackets, complete with stretcher and equipment, followed by my mother. They stopped, stood stock-still for a moment as they took in the scene: the mother and baby on the b
ed like a modern-day nativity scene; the unconscious man beside her, bleeding into a towel like the passion of Christ; the assembled multitude. The first ambulance man gaped around the room bemused. He took off his cap and scratched his head.

  “Which one’s got the burst appendix, then?”

  ***

  Later, much later, as I said to Mum that evening, in the hospital cafeteria, it was ironic that in the end it was Eddie who needed the stretcher to the ambulance. Hannah was one the one who had walked down the stairs—slightly hypnotically perhaps—with her baby in her arms, past Dad and Dawn standing wide-eyed and bereft of speech in the hall, past Rufus and Theo, who paused in their game of marbles on the front steps, past Vera raking leaves in the drive, across the gravel sweep and into the waiting ambulance. Eddie told me later that as they’d driven off and were en route to the hospital, he’d come round, and was deemed well enough by the ambulance crew to sit up and hold the baby. Thus, this brand-new family trundled off to Milton Keynes General with stars in their eyes and wonder in their hearts, Mum and I following on behind in the car.

  “But why didn’t she know?” Mum insisted as she drank the second strong black coffee I’d ordered for her to bring her out of her shock. “I can’t believe she didn’t know she was pregnant.”

  “But, Mum, she’d been told she couldn’t have babies; told it was almost a physical impossibility, given her sticky tubes and Eddie’s dodgy sperm. It wouldn’t have occurred to her that she was.”

  “Yes, but she’d have missed a period!” she squeaked. I glanced nervously round the room as a few people looked across. Mum’s cup rattled forcefully in its saucer as she put it down. “Several!” she hissed.

  I leaned forward. “Mum, Hannah thought she was getting the menopause.”

  She sat back. Regarded me in horror. “Did she?”

  “Yes, because apparently you got yours early, so when her periods stopped, she just thought, oh well, this is it then. Early menopause, on top of everything else—terrific. And of course she was getting mood swings—”

  “All those pregnancy hormones—”

  “Exactly, and feeling tired and flushed—”

  “Or blooming, I suppose—”

  “Well, quite. And I suppose…” I hesitated, feeling disloyal, “well, if you’ve always been as big as she was…”

  “What’s a bit more on the tummy? And let’s face it, she was getting huge, but—oh God, it just didn’t occur to me.” She looked distressed. “I blame myself.”

  “Don’t,” I said, putting my hand over hers.

  “It could have been so dangerous. She could have been on a bus or something…”

  “Hannah doesn’t go on buses, and the point is, Mum, she was fine. Is fine. She’s had a baby, which is what she’s always wanted. It’s a dream come true for her and Eddie.”

  “Yes.” Her face softened as she looked at me. “Yes, it is, isn’t it? And thank God for that marvellous man. What was his name?”

  “Pat,” I said shortly, sinking into my coffee.

  “Pat. He was so capable, so level-headed. More help than those ambulance men, who seemed to want to bundle her off immediately and not clean her up. Did you see how he dealt with everything?”

  “Yes, well, he’s a vet, Mum. It sort of goes with the territory.”

  “Hardly,” she snorted. “He’s used to sheep and cows. No, I thought he was absolutely fantastic. And as for Piers—did you see his face? I thought he was going to pass out! Thought we’d have him carted away on a stretcher too!”

  “Yes, well, I don’t suppose we’ll be invited back next Saturday for a barbie,” I said wryly. “Can you imagine—oh, Piers, we’d love to come, but would you mind if another member of my family gave birth between the main course and pudding? Be surprised if he lets us stay on at the cottage,” I said gloomily.

  “Nonsense. Eleanor was sweet about it. Said there weren’t many people who could claim a baby born impromptu in the master bedroom; said she’d dine out on it for weeks.”

  Yes, she had been sweet. Had run around finding a clean nightdress and a toothbrush for Hannah to take to hospital and had shoed all the gawping men out of the room and given me a big hug: said how exciting it was. Terribly sweet.

  I cleared my throat. “Mum, you know when you went to get Eddie from the aviary?”

  “Yes?”

  “Was Alex there too?”

  “No, he and Eleanor went inside when the rest of them headed off there. She wanted to show him something upstairs. She’d redecorated one of the bedrooms, I think. In the west wing.”

  “Ah.”

  So that explained why they’d appeared through the dressingroom door. They’d obviously heard the shrieks and Eleanor had led them there via a different route. Yes, that was it. I swallowed.

  “And are you all right, my love?” Mum leaned across the table. She reached up and took my hand away from my throat. “Don’t do that. You’re scratching your neck to bits.”

  I put my hand back in my lap. She looked at me, concerned.

  “I know this has taken it out of everyone, but you’ve been unsettled all day. Is everything all right?”

  I smiled at her. Nodded my head. “Everything’s fine. Couldn’t be better. Come on, let’s go and see Hannah.”

  ***

  The doctor was just leaving Hannah’s bedside and swishing back the curtain when we got there, assuring Eddie that she was in very good shape. Eddie stammered his thanks, relieved, and hurried to resume his position by her pillow. He took his wife’s hand, seeming almost to swoon with love as he sat down and leaned over her, beaming broadly. Hannah looked tired.

  “Where’s the baby?” I asked as I sat down beside Eddie. “He’s got a bit of jaundice, so he’s under a light in the nursery,” she explained.

  “Ah.”

  “That’s quite normal,” said Mum quickly, sitting down too. “You were a bit jaundiced, Imogen.”

  “So was Rufus, actually. Oh, Hannah, how wonderful, a baby!” My eyes filled up again. I couldn’t help it.

  She smiled weakly, looked all in.

  “And the proud father.” Mum patted his arm. “How does it feel?”

  Eddie’s chest, which was skinny and bony—pigeon, even—seemed to swell to gargantuan proportions. “I can honestly say,” he began portentously, his glasses steaming up, “that aside from the day when Hannah agreed to marry me, this is the happiest, proudest day of my life. I feel—well, I feel I could do anything. Take on the world, slay dragons, scale mountains—with my beautiful wife and my newborn son beside me.”

  “Oh, Eddie!” It was no good, my eyes were brimming over now. “And have you got a name yet?”

  “Not yet. I’ve got millions—Eureka’s top of my list—but Hannah’s still thinking about it, aren’t you, darling?”

  Hannah gave a weak smile. She didn’t answer.

  “Would you like to see him?” Eddie asked eagerly.

  “Oh, please!” Mum and I groaned ecstatically.

  We stood up as one, and went to follow Eddie out of the room, when I glanced back at Hannah. Her head had rolled to one side, away from us. She was staring blankly out of the window.

  “I’ll catch you up,” I said quickly, as Mum and Eddie went on down the corridor. I hastened back to the bed and took her hand.

  “What’s wrong?” I said, sitting down again.

  “Nothing.”

  I regarded her anxiously. Her face was inscrutable. “Hannah, this is marvellous, isn’t it? The most fantastic thing that ever happened to you, surely?”

  “Of course.” Flatly.

  “And—and it doesn’t matter—”

  “What?” she interrupted sharply, her head coming back from the window. “Doesn’t matter that I was walking around for nine months with a baby inside me without the faintest idea?”

  “Of course not! God, it happens all the time, Hannah, much more than you think!”

  “Yes, to teenagers on sink estates, maybe, but not to s
omeone like me. Not a middle-aged woman, a parish councillor, a teacher, a pillar of the community—albeit a fat one. I feel such a fool!”

  Tears sprang from her eyes and slid sideways down her face on to her pillow. I was shocked.

  “Hannah, so what?” I shook her limp hand. Tried to shake some life into it. “So what? Surely it’s the outcome that matters, a healthy baby, a miracle baby, what you’ve always wanted! Just think of that: how you’ll be a proper family now, how it’ll change your life!”

  “But that’s just it,” she blurted out suddenly. “It will change my life, and I’m not sure I want that. Not sure I can cope!”

  I was stunned. My bossy, larger-than-life sister; domineering, slightly scary, always judgemental, who juggled Sea Scouts with teaching and cake-making for fêtes, and parish council committees—couldn’t cope?

  “He’s so tiny,” she whispered in a voice I didn’t recognise. “So fragile—I—I’m scared to touch him! Oh, Imo, I’m not sure I can do it!”

  I saw the fear in her eyes.

  “And Eddie,” she tumbled on, “Eddie’s brilliant. He’s just a natural, just picks him up and cuddles him—you should have seen him in the ambulance. It’s all so quick, so unexpected, and everyone expects me to be so thrilled and just adapt, but I’m not sure I can!”

  “Of course you can,” I said staunchly, horribly worried. “Have you fed him yet?”

  “No.” She turned her head away, back to the window. “He has to be under the light, you see. I’ve told the nurses to give him a bottle.”

  I nodded. “Right.” I swallowed. “Hannah—I—I’m sure this will all be fine. This is all hormones, you see, racing round your body, and—and the shock. You’ll be a brilliant mother, simply brilliant!”

  “Will I?” she said bitterly. “I’m not so sure.” She turned her head back from the window. Her eyes were dead. “I’m not sure I want him at all.”

  I stared at her, dumbfounded. I didn’t know what to say. At length, I took a deep breath.

  “Hannah, I’ll be back, OK? I’m just going to find Mum and Eddie, but I’ll be back.”