by Liz Byrski
Mike leaned over and patted her enormous belly. ‘Not long now, babe. Have a rest, put your feet up for five minutes before they get here.’
Across the room on the window seat, Caro could see Fran deep in conversation with Lenore; she looked as though she was enjoying herself. Maybe now was the time to give her the other present, the present that was either going to be absolutely perfect or totally misunderstood. Caro took a deep breath; if she was going to do it she might as well do it now.
‘Hang on, Mikey,’ she said, pushing him gently away. ‘Gotta do something urgent.’ And she went up the four steps from the living room through the passage to the bedroom and returned almost immediately with a small package wrapped in pink tissue. She crouched down on her haunches beside Fran.
‘Sit here, Caro,’ Lenore Bannister said, making space for her on the seat.
Caro shook her head. ‘No thanks, I’m fine. Been practising this position at antenatal classes.’ She held out the package to Fran. ‘This is for you, Mum.’
Fran looked at her in surprise. ‘But you already gave me a present,’ she said, ‘these gorgeous earrings.’ And she put her hand up to touch her silver and amber birthday present.
‘It’s a different sort of present,’ Caro said, nervous now as Fran tore open the tissue paper and looked in confusion at the grubby, discoloured contents.
‘Whatever is it?’ she asked, touching the frayed fabric that had stiffened with age and wear.
Caro waited, desperate for her mother to recognise it. Fran put the tissue aside, staring at the gift in confusion as it started to unravel.
‘It’s the ribbon,’ Fran gasped, looking up at Caro. ‘The barrier ribbon from your old bedroom.’
Caro nodded. ‘I don’t need it anymore.’
Fran shook her head and swallowed hard, turning the ribbon over in her hands, watching as it dropped into a scruffy coil. ‘This is the very best birthday present ever.’
Caro nodded, speechless with emotion and flooded with relief that she had got it right. She braced herself to stand, putting her hand on Fran’s knee, but as she pushed down she felt a warm gush of liquid between her legs, followed swiftly by a sudden intense contraction that made her cry out with pain.
‘Oh my god,’ she said, abandoning her attempt to stand and lowering herself carefully to the floor. ‘I think my waters have broken, Mum, help! Where’s Mike?’
Someone turned off the music and David, who had been watching from the kitchen, ran through to the bathroom, where Mike had headed a few moments earlier. Caro let out a bellow of pain and thrust herself back against the window seat as she tried to breathe. Fran slipped onto the floor beside her and took her hand.
‘Hang on, darl,’ she said, ‘Mike’ll be here in a minute.’
Caro was incoherent with the pain.
‘Caro, you might be more comfortable on your hands and knees,’ Lenore suggested, kneeling beside her. ‘It’ll take the pressure off your back.’ Caro nodded, grim-faced, and with Fran and Lenore’s help twisted around onto her knees.
‘Is this the first pain?’ Fran asked as Caro began to relax.
‘I’ve had pains on and off all day, but nothing like this.’
Fran and Lenore looked at each other. ‘She’s in labour, isn’t she?’
Lenore nodded. ‘And if she’s been getting mild contractions all day – ’
‘She could be well on the way,’ Fran cut in.
When she thought about it later, Fran realised she had never seen a room clear so quickly. One minute everyone was laughing, talking, drinking and dancing, and the next minute the crowd seemed to evaporate. People slipped away to the bedroom and returned clutching their coats and bags, called out their goodnights from the doorway and disappeared into the storm, anxious to escape the drama that was about to unfold. Only Bonnie and Sylvia, Irene and Hamish, Lila and Lenore remained.
‘Where’s Mike?’ Fran asked, looking around desperately for someone who knew what to do.
‘Mike’s passed out on the bathroom floor,’ Hamish announced from the top of steps by the passage. ‘He seems to have had rather too much to drink. David’s trying to bring him round, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.’
‘Christ!’ Caro hissed between her teeth. ‘Isn’t that bloody typical? And my midwife’s in Noosa till Wednesday.’
‘Perhaps we’d best just put you in the car and get you to hospital,’ Fran suggested. ‘I’ll come with you and David can drive.’
‘Those contractions are coming pretty close together,’ Lenore said. ‘Can you start timing them, Sylvia? Fran, I don’t think this girl’s going anywhere in a car. She needs an ambulance, but they’ll have to hurry up.’
‘Right,’ Caro murmured, breathing easier now. ‘Yes, an ambulance please, and quick.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Fran said, struggling to her feet. Sylvia and Lila dragged some cushions off the chairs and Lenore pushed them under Caro’s knees and hands as she let out another roar of pain.
‘One and a half minutes,’ Sylvia said, and the women looked at each other in dismay.
‘There’s a long delay with the ambulance,’ Fran called from the kitchen. ‘Lots of accidents because of the storm. I’ve told them it’s an emergency but they’re asking if anyone here has ever delivered a baby.’
‘I have,’ Irene said.
‘Oh don’t be silly, Mum,’ Bonnie snapped. ‘She said delivered a baby, not had one.’
‘I know that, Bonnie,’ Irene said, giving her a steely look.
‘So have I,’ Lila said.
Fran was holding the phone away from her ear. ‘You mean – ’ she began.
‘Yes, dear,’ Irene said. ‘Lila and I can probably cope if necessary,’ and she took the phone from her. ‘I’ll have a word with the ambulance people. Can you get me a pen and something to write on?’
‘Mike’s come round but he’s very drunk and throwing up,’ Bonnie said, returning from the bathroom. David and Hamish are pouring cold water on him.’
‘The ambulance will be at least forty-five minutes,’ Irene said, hanging up the phone, ‘and I don’t think Caro’s going to last that long.’
Lila got to her feet. ‘Come on then, Irene, you and I better scrub up.’
‘Shit,’ Caro said, ‘I don’t believe this is happening. Gran, are you sure you know what to do?’
Lila got down on her hands and knees again and put her hand on Caro’s cheek. ‘Course I do, darling. Irene and I are old hands at this.’
Caro let out a sigh that ended as a groan. ‘I suppose it’s better than a drunk and unconscious doctor. Use our bathroom, there’s lots of clean towels in the linen press. And shouldn’t someone boil some water?’
‘Absolutely,’ Irene said. ‘Fran, come over here and sit with Caro. Bonnie, don’t just stand around there, start boiling, the kettle, large saucepans, anything you can find, and rustle up some coffee for Mike. Sylvia and Lenore, I want you to find every pillow and cushion you can get your hands on, stack them around Caro, cover them with sheets and towels, try to make a comfortable space for her.’
‘D’you think they know what they’re doing?’ Bonnie hissed at Sylvia.
‘Well, I think they know more than we do, and they’re the best we’ve got in the circumstances,’ Sylvia replied. ‘Come on, Lenore, let’s get those big cushions off the settee in the other room.’
‘How long since you did this, Lila?’ Irene asked as they stood side by side washing their hands and arms in the ensuite bathroom.
‘Donkey’s years,’ Lila said. ‘Just after the war. What about you?’
‘Nineteen fifty-five, my neighbour went into labour in her kitchen,’ Irene said, drying her hands. ‘But I think we’d best not mention how long it’s been. How confident are you?’
Lila turned off the tap and took the towel, looking at Irene in the mirror. ‘Not at all, but she’s my granddaughter, Mike’s useless, and you and I are all that’s left.’
‘Exactly, and however nervou
s we feel we need to look confident. Now, do you think we should keep her off her back and on her hands and knees if that’s comfortable for her?’
Caro rocked back and forth, trying to relax between contractions. With any luck, she thought, Mike would be there in a minute. She allowed her weight to sink against the pile of cushions, and when the pain gripped her again she yelled out at the agonising pressure bearing down on her.
‘Push,’ she yelled. ‘I have to push!’
‘No, Caro – no, not yet,’ Irene cried as she and Lila struggled down onto the floor. ‘Don’t push yet, pant.’
Caro panted, remembering the classes and how it had all seemed so easy then. As the pain eased she lurched sideways again, bracing herself for the next onslaught.
‘I think she’s nearly there, Irene,’ Lila said, twisting around awkwardly to get a pillow under her own knees. ‘But she mustn’t push just yet.’
Irene crawled across the sheets and cushions to look Caro in the eye.
‘Okay now, Caro, it’s going to be fine. Lila and I can look after you, but you must listen to us. Remember your breathing and don’t push until we tell you. Someone get a clean flannel and wipe Caro’s face.’
‘Are you sure it’s okay?’ Fran asked, gripping her mother’s arm.
‘There isn’t any choice, Fran,’ Lenore cut in. ‘Caro’s probably been in labour all day and now this baby’s not waiting for Mike or an ambulance.’
‘Fran! Pull yourself together and breathe through it with her,’ Lila ordered. ‘She mustn’t push until we tell her.’
Caro let out a low groan that built to a roar as her body threatened to split open.
‘It’s crowning,’ Irene cried.’Pant, Caro, pant, it’s too soon to push yet. Just pant. You’re nearly there.’
‘Thank god it’s the right way round,’ Lila said. ‘That was definitely the head.’
The dark bulge slipped back and Caro breathed more easily again, waiting for the next contraction.
‘I think it sometimes helps to count, Caro,’ Irene said, and Fran, wiping the sweat from Caro’s face, began to count aloud and Caro followed her.
Mike appeared at the top of the steps, staggering between David and Hamish, his head and shirt soaking wet.
‘S’okay, babe,’ he managed. ‘I’m here, I’m here.’
‘No way,’ Caro panted. ‘You’re still pissed – stay right out of the way.’
‘Okay, Caro,’ Irene said, her hand gripping Caro’s ankle. ‘Now listen, take it gently. We mustn’t let it come too fast.’
‘Right,’ Mike called from across the room, ‘not too fast.’
‘Shut up,’ Caro growled, steeling herself for the next contraction. Fran rolled the flannel and held it out to her.
‘Bite on this if you need to.’
Caro felt a tiny lull in the pain and then it ripped through her again and she roared, a great crescendo of sound that seemed torn from unknown recesses of her body. The breathing lessons forgotten now, she groaned and ground her teeth on the flannel as she fought the overwhelming urge to push.
‘Next time, I think,’ Irene called. ‘Next time, Caro, you can push.’
Caro’s head rolled back and she threw out the flannel and grasped Fran’s arm, her nails biting into the soft flesh. ‘Oh my god,’ she cried, ‘I have to push …’
‘Yes, darling, push now,’ Lila yelled. ‘Go on, Caro, push now.’
And thrusting down on her lungs, her face clenched and purple, her legs and arms trembling, Caro pushed and pushed and pushed again, until, just as she thought she must burst or die, her muscles contracted a final agonising time and something warm and wet thrust itself out between her legs.
‘Good girl,’ Lila cried. ‘We’ve got the head.’ And Irene gently eased the cord over the baby’s head to free it. ‘Pant now, then next time, darling, push long and slow for the shoulders.’
‘Strong and steady,’ Irene agreed.
Caro pushed, growling deep in her chest with the effort, the promise of relief hovering close as the slippery body was freed in a final triumphant whoosh of moist warmth, and she heard a splutter and a cry, and the gasp as the other women caught their breath.
‘It’s a girl!’ Lila cried, cradling the baby. ‘A beautiful little girl.’
‘Well done, Caro,’ Irene said, sinking off her knees to sit on a pillow. ‘Well done, dear, splendid.’
Irene and Fran helped Caro to lean back against the cushions as Lila cleaned the mucus from the baby’s nose and mouth and laid her on Caro’s chest.
‘She’s so beautiful,’ Caro breathed. ‘Oh Mum, isn’t she beautiful!’
Fran took a warm towel from Bonnie and wrapped it gently around her granddaughter, leaning forward at the same time to kiss Caro’s cheek.
‘She’s gorgeous, darling, just gorgeous, and you were perfectly wonderful.’
The tiny red face crumpled and the baby let out another cry, a robust one this time, squeezing her eyes shut against the light.
‘She looks a bit cross,’ Caro said.
‘Not surprised,’ Lila said, touching the wrinkled forehead with her finger. ‘Bit of a shock arriving so fast in the middle of a party.’ And Sylvia helped her up off her knees and onto the window seat.
‘Is it all right – being so quick?’ Caro asked, suddenly anxious.
Mike, who had sobered up rapidly at the sight of his daughter being born on the other side of the room, searched his medical bag for sterile scissors, and sank down beside Caro, kissing her gently, stroking the baby’s head.
‘Of course it is,’ he said, ‘it’s brilliant. So sorry, babe, useless bastard. I love you,’ and he bent forward, kissing her first and then the baby. ‘She’s almost as beautiful as you. Can I sort out the cord and the placenta?’
Caro grinned at him. ‘Boofhead,’ she said. ‘Thank god for Gran and Irene.’ She held the baby closer, shivering with shock and exhaustion.
Fran, tears running down her cheeks, moved the edge of the towel to look again at the baby’s face.
‘Your granddaughter,’ Caro said with a smile. ‘Rebekah Frances – she shares a name and a birthday with her grandmother.’
TWENTY-FIVE
‘There you are, you see,’ Bonnie said as she drove up to the house. ‘Hamish is here. One o’clock in the morning – he must be staying the night.’ Irene and Hamish had left the party shortly after Rebekah’s birth, and it was almost three hours later when Bonnie and Sylvia had finished clearing away, washing up and restoring Caro and Mike’s house to order.
‘Mmm, so I see,’ Sylvia said, longing for her bed.
‘I suppose I’ll have to have it out with her, although I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do.’
‘Do? Why do you have to do anything?’
Bonnie switched off the engine and leaned back with a sigh of irritation. ‘I can’t just ignore it … it’s … it’s all wrong. I mean, Mum’s over eighty and Hamish is even older. It’s embarrassing, I have to put a stop to it.’
Sylvia woke up a bit and stared at her. ‘Sorry, not with you – what’s embarrassing?’
‘This thing with the two of them. I mean, it’s nice that they’re friends, but the rest of it … it’s so embarrassing.’ She twitched her shoulders.
‘Embarrassing for whom?’
‘Everyone …’
‘It’s not embarrassing for them, obviously,’ Sylvia said. ‘And it doesn’t embarrass me or Fran. If you mean you’re embarrassed by it, I’m not sure why – you like Hamish. Is it just that they’re sleeping together?’
Bonnie leaned her head back on the neck rest and closed her eyes, thankful for the darkness. ‘Well, of course,’ she said. ‘How would you feel if it was your mother?’
‘She’s dead,’ Sylvia said thoughtfully, ‘but I think I’d feel happy for her, if she had a friend who became her lover. I think it would be lovely for her, and it wouldn’t be any business of mine.’
Bonnie’s head snapped up. ‘But they’re
old, they should be over all that.’
Sylvia laughed out loud. ‘Oh Bonnie, really! Are you past it?’
‘No,’ Bonnie replied, affronted, ‘of course not, I’m just recovering from Jeff, but I’m twenty-five years younger than them.’
Sylvia smiled at her through the darkness. ‘And at what age do you think you’ll cross the line into too old?’
Bonnie hesitated. ‘Well … I don’t really know … but certainly before I’m eighty.’
Sylvia opened the door and got out of the car. The wild weather of a few hours earlier had subsided to stillness, leaving the air heavy with moisture, the garden a wreck of flattened plants, scattered twigs and branches ripped from the trees by the wind. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ she said, irritated now. ‘People go on being sexual until they die. It’s just that, like you, no one wants to acknowledge it.’ She slipped her key in the front door and walked into the dimly lit hall.
‘But she’s my mother, for god’s sake,’ Bonnie whispered, following her in and closing the front door.
Sylvia grabbed her by the wrist, drew her through into the kitchen and shut the door. ‘Okay, she’s your mother, but she’s much more too. She’s a woman with a mind and life of her own, Bonnie. She just delivered a baby – you didn’t think she was too old to do that.’
‘I did really – ’ Bonnie began but Sylvia cut her off.
‘If this was someone else’s mother you’d admire her. It’s like you not wanting her to go to Greece. That wasn’t about her, it was about you. You needing her to be your crutch, your standby now that’s Jeff’s gone. Don’t you see how selfish you’re being? This is not about Irene at all, it’s about you.’ She wanted to shake Bonnie for her blindness, her inability to see what she was doing.
‘Until you get out of this, Bon, you aren’t going to be able to move on,’ she said sharply. ‘Boatshed or not, you’re still trapped in your own neediness. I know it’s all been terribly hard for you but you can’t do this to Irene. You can’t keep trying to control her life because of your own neediness. We’re single women, Bonnie, you and I and Fran, we’re alone and we have to make ourselves be enough. Fran’s done it for years. She doesn’t co-opt her mother’s life or her kids’ lives. You and I have to learn to be like that, because until we do we’re going to be stuck in the past.’