Chapter 5
‘Guess what?’ Alec was on the phone, excitement mounting in his voice. ‘It’s been confirmed. Multiplier not only increases herb yields by a factor of three, it seems to affect the meat yield as well!’
‘Meat yield?’ Lisa, feeding Sebastian his lunch, had no idea what Alec was so fired up about.
‘Has the effect of making cows produce calves with quicker growth rates, and they go on to become bigger beef cattle.’
‘Really?’
‘And the ewes produce lambs with bigger yields on both wool and meat, though that’s almost too much of a good thing.’
Sebastian made a stab at the food on his plate. Lisa steered his spoon into the mashed potato while holding the phone in her left hand. ‘It is?’
‘People think it’s mutton, not lamb.’
‘Of course.’
Lisa heaped a few pieces of carrot into Seb’s mouth, then let him feed himself. The new baby was due in a couple of weeks, and could be early. Seb would need to do as much for himself as possible. ‘You’re going to have a baby brother soon,’ she cooed at him. ‘Won’t that be lovely? Then you can play with him.’
‘Bother,’ Seb said dutifully.
Lisa laughed. Bother was right even if he didn’t know it.
‘Lisa? You there? OK if I bring Frank round?’ Alec was asking her. ‘We need to go over some figures and our place is quieter than theirs - at least for the time being,’ he added, not altogether jocularly.
‘He’ll have to take pot luck.’
‘I’ll pick up some scrumpy,’ Alec chortled down the phone. ‘By the time we get round to the meal he won’t know the difference.’
Lisa marvelled again at Alec’s confidence. He was the newcomer. Frank’s family had lived in Somerset for generations, all experts at cider making - and sampling.
‘You mean you won’t,’ she teased him, telling herself she’d take a couple of gallon jars to Meg’s and have them filled. ‘I’ll get supplies in for you,’ she told him. ‘See you later.’
She slid the phone back in its charger and turned to Seb. ‘Janus,’ she said. ‘Your little brother’s going to be called Janus.’
The twenty-month-old looked at her and suddenly spat potato all over the table, at the same time knocking off his mug of apple juice.
‘Seb!’ Lisa caught herself shouting, ‘that’s a horrid thing to do.’
‘Another helping? Sure you’re feeling all right?’ Alec asked his wife. ‘You don’t normally eat that much.’
‘I’m simply ravenous,’ Lisa explained. ‘The business of eating for two, I suppose.’
‘You look rather uncomfortable.’ Alec’s forehead furrowed into deep slits as he peered at Lisa, then poured more cider for Frank. ‘Quite a bit bigger than last time. I could have sworn you’ve billowed out since we started the meal.’ He walked towards his wife and stared at her. ‘You can hardly reach the table. I thought this was supposed to be another tiddler?’
Though larger than with her first child Lisa had, until recently, remained remarkably trim. The angular look had softened to a gentle roundness, a hint, even, of plumpness. But she was still small and dainty. Fragile wrists gave away a delicate bone-structure and the bump of baby, though evidently there, had been by no means massive. Until two weeks ago. That’s when she’d noticed an extraordinary increase in her appetite, a sort of greed she couldn’t control. She’d eaten constantly, watching herself expand to quite unprecedented proportions.
‘The muscles aren’t as tight as the first time,’ Lisa explained. A languorous calm, a feeling of composure, made her sound plausible. ‘I expect it just shows more.’
Alec looked at her pensively but made no further comment. She smiled, covering the curious sensations now evident in her body by pointing to her husband’s favourite pudding - crème caramel. ‘More for you?’
He laughed and passed his plate. ‘I suppose you must be OK if you’re up to thinking about feeding me!’
‘What about you, Frank?’
‘Good grub, that.’ He smiled as he handed her his plate.
Though the baby wasn’t due for a fortnight Lisa was prepared for an earlier delivery. None of the antenatal checks had shown signs of anything other than a single baby, but Lisa stuck to her original conviction. Twins, she knew, were often premature.
‘My carrycot’s a mess,’ she’d insisted to Meg, watching her stack her baby equipment to give to Cancer Relief. ‘Could I possibly use one of yours?’
‘Yer can have both on they, if yer want!’ Meg had said, looking at her sharply. ‘Us won’t be having no more. Six be enough young ’uns for anyone. Be yer still thinking about twins?’
‘Mr Parslow ruled out any possibility,’ she’d said, annoyed at Meg’s quick interpretation.
‘But yer won’t be taking chances,’ Meg had concluded for her. ‘Parslow may be a specialist, but him be a man. And yer be bigger this time. Us can hardly credit it.’
Everything was going well so far. Seb was safely tucked away in his cot, Alec was crunching figures with Frank, and what she was experiencing might well turn out to be a false alarm. But even if it were not she was determined to hold out until the last minute before calling in the medical profession. If she were to be two weeks early they might be disposed to rush her off to hospital. Lisa’s instincts called for a home delivery, her whole being screamed out for it. Something unusual was going on, she knew there was. And the only way she could remain in charge was to give birth in her own home.
Lisa felt some further movements in her womb; not really contractions, more like a lively infant turning inside her.
‘I’ll leave you two men to it,’ she excused herself as soon as they’d finished supper. ‘I’m feeling a bit tired.’
Alec looked up. ‘Positive you’re all right? Shall I give the midwife a ring?’
‘I’m fine, Alec; don’t fuss. I’ll just have an early night.’
‘Us’ll be doing the straightening up for yer.’ Frank smiled at her. ‘Don’t yer worry none.’
She saw Alec’s lips tighten but he started clearing the table amiably enough. She smiled her thanks and walked upstairs to her bedroom. That faint slither of worry she thought she’d subdued was beginning to insert itself into her mind again. Was she being pig-headed, risking the new life within her? If it were twins, and they were about to be born, they must be tiny to have escaped detection.
The turmoil in her belly seemed to have subsided, but not its size. Lisa, lying on her bed, patted her bump, feeling around its edges for the two sets of limbs she was convinced she’d find. Nothing, really. But Alec had a point. She was enormous, a Humpty Dumpty puffed out so much she could hardly keep her balance. That odd enveloping feeling of fullness which she didn’t remember from her first pregnancy was quite disturbing. She heaped cushions behind her back and to the sides to keep herself upright, then wrapped the duvet around herself.
A sudden lurch in her abdomen made her gasp. Her eyes grew round as she saw the bump move under the duvet. The thick down seemed to hoist itself up. A trick of the light, perhaps. She pushed the covering off, impatiently flinging it over to Alec’s side, and looked down at her belly. Visibly expanding now, like a gigantic balloon being blown up, it was still veiled by her large, encompassing nightdress. Mouth open, she watched the fabric straining at the seams.
The feeling of something biting into her suggested to Lisa that she was merely sitting on a fold of nightdress caught underneath her. Smiling at this simple explanation, she raised herself on her left elbow, lifted her buttocks up and pulled the nightie up under her armpits with her right hand. The effort required was tremendous, and Lisa lay back to catch her breath. She felt much more comfortable with nothing to restrain her body. She lay back thankfully, wondering whether she needed to get a larger maternity nightdress.
The trickle between her legs didn’t register right away. When she finally understood what was happening she found she couldn’t move. The trickle had become a steady stream. Horrified, Lisa watched a bright yellow fluid exuding out of her. It oozed out of her body, visibly diminishing the size of her belly.
The waters must have broken. She tried to reach an arm to the phone. It was as though she were held fast. A vice-like grip kept her rigid, her body unable to move, while the contents of her womb began to stir in earnest.
Lisa stared at her belly and gulped. It was expanding sideways, elongating into a huge rugby ball. She could feel the being within her struggling, his limbs pummelling her womb, stretching it. Appalled, she tried to call out. Her throat muscles seemed to have petrified. She saw the central bump under her abdominal wall elongate, then flatten. She felt a tearing, a sort of rending. Not painful, but it worried her. She was convinced there’d been some sort of change within her. Not the feeling of bearing down she remembered when in labour with Seb. More of a sudden widening, an odd sense of the bump changing shape.
With some surprise she now saw that her navel was slightly sunk in again - for all the world as though she now had two bumps instead of one. But her abdomen was quite still now. Had she dreamed that it had moved? Her muscles were under her control again.
Gently she slid her hands around herself. She fingered two solid protuberances, top and bottom. It felt as though there were two heads - she could swear there were two heads! A slight tingling within herself made her bold enough to explore further. Two sets of limbs! Twins after all, she thrilled. Those doctors…
The urge to urinate was suddenly overpowering. Gingerly raising herself up to a sitting position, she levered her legs carefully off the bed, planted her feet on the carpet, and stood up. She was appalled to feel liquid still trickling down her legs. Incontinent? Surely not. Nothing like that when she’d been big with Sebastian.
Hurriedly stuffing some tissues between her legs she waddled to the lavatory. A flow of liquid, rather more than she would have expected and still that curiously deep yellow colour, dribbled steadily out of her. Buttercup yellow - that did seem odd. Something strange, something remarkable, was happening within her. Yet she didn’t feel threatened or attacked. She was convinced she about to give birth to twins, and she awaited their arrival with eager anticipation.
Her sense of certainty was short-lived. The banal truth, that all that size was simply because she’d retained extra fluid, suddenly flashed across her mind. Her body had produced the hormones necessary for the birth; that’s all it was. That’s really what she’d been feeling. Not twins, but the baby changing position, being pushed down the birth canal. Naturally all that extra fluid would be draining out.
‘Remember the second time can be very fast,’ the midwife had warned her more than once, and stressed it again at the last check-up. ‘I’d rather you called me for a false alarm than left it too late.’
‘Alec!’ Lisa cried out, standing in the corridor and walking over to the balustrade guarding the staircase. She could hear ripples of laughter interspersed with low rumbling tones. The men, no doubt, were finishing the cider, good-humoured, ripe with money and plans for investments.
She tried a few more calls. There was no response from downstairs. She lowered herself carefully down the stairs, clinging to the banisters, edging down step by step. She tried hard not to dislodge the contents of her womb in any way. Suppose she gave birth while she was walking down?
‘It’s started, Alec.’
She was standing by the open living-room door, hiding her dishabille behind it. Neither man heard her.
She opened and shut the door with a bang and tried again.
‘Alec! I think it’s started.’
‘I’ll be there in a minute,’ she heard him say. He thought she was calling him to come to bed, presumably.
‘The baby, Alec. I think he’s decided to be early!’
It was Frank who took the matter in hand. Alec had clearly had too much cider to hear, let alone take charge.
‘Best ring the midwife,’ he said at once, picking up his mobile and tapping the number in. ‘Meg did say as Susan Andrews be seeing to yer. Better’n they doctors, any time.’
Lisa forgot her nervousness about only wearing a nightdress in front of Frank and came into the room to slip down on an easy chair. The strain of standing was beginning to be too much for her.
‘No answer.’ Frank looked uncomfortably at Lisa. ‘Perhaps her be out on another case.’
The holidays, Lisa remembered now. Susan might already have left. ‘Oh, dear.’ Lisa felt panic rising. Had she made a terrible mistake, jeopardised the unborn by not ringing for help before? She forced herself into composure. ‘Susan did leave me another number,’ she told them, catching her breath as an unmistakable contraction began to shudder through her. ‘It’s on the fridge door, Alec. Under the big magnet.’
The calm exterior hid Lisa’s growing worry that she might lose the being stirring within her: the rhythmic thrusting life force which was now clearly demonstrating its intention to be born. Was she really about to give birth to twins? And had her stupid prejudices endangered their lives?
‘Right.’ Alec stood up and lurched towards the kitchen. He returned with the small card in his hand and tapped the number in.
‘Alec Wildmore here,’ she heard him say as she eased herself back into the chair. ‘I think my wife’s in labour. Can you come over right away? That’s right; Dr Gilmore’s patient. Susan Andrews left us your number. Directions? D’you know your way across the moors?’
‘Tell she to look out for me Landrover by t’Tin Bridge,’ Frank put in quickly. ‘I’ll lead she back. Don’t want she lost now.’
‘She’ll be there in twenty minutes,’ Alec told them, taking three attempts to click the phone back.
‘Us’d best let Meg know what be going on.’ Frank smiled at Lisa, tapping his phone. ‘No need ter worry none. Her’ll be round for young Seb first thing termorrer.’
‘I’ll help you up the stairs.’ Alec placed his arm behind Lisa and inched her up the wide staircase, along the corridor and to the guest room bed she’d already prepared.
‘Let me lift you up,’ Alec said anxiously as he eased her swollen body on to the mattress. Lisa lay back, feeling a deep contraction. The birth process was in full swing, there was no longer any doubt about it. She felt around her belly again. One large, round ball-shape at the top - she couldn’t mistake that. Was it really two babies, or was it that the one Parslow had seen on the scan hadn’t been lying right? A breach position, perhaps? That’s what he’d seen, and avoided telling her because it usually righted itself. Her heart began to flutter as she pulled the covering over herself.
‘Bit premature, aren’t you?’ Alec asked, concerned.
‘A little,’ Lisa found herself saying, breathing deep to sound serene and unflustered. ‘Two weeks is nothing either way. No need at all to fuss. Everything’s ready.’
The sound of the front door opening and crashing shut again alerted Lisa to the outside world. She could hear voices, then a heavy unrecognised tread climbing the stairs. Rita Connolly, presumably; the relief midwife.
‘Decided to make a start, have we?’ a raucous voice greeted her.
A large raw woman, Lisa noted with alarm. Not a bit like the bird-like Susan whose quick sure movements had always given her confidence. Rita stood stolid, panting with the exertion of climbing the stairs, looking for somewhere to put her bag. She settled for the bedside table, opened the bag wide and extracted a white overall and some surgical gloves. Lisa flinched as cold plastic-coated hands pressed roughly at her.
‘No mistaking the waters have broken; you’re in quite a state.’ Rita pushed herself upright again and regarded Lisa unsmilingly. ‘I’d better ring Doctor,’ she said, lugubrious and prim. ‘He’ll want to order the flying squad.’
The woman’s assumption that Lisa would simply do as she was told sent blood back into her brain. Something deep inside her insisted she had to stay at home to deliver. That way she’d be where she, or at least Alec, was in control. Every nerve in her body told her that.
‘From Bristol?’ she asked, panting between contractions coming at two minute intervals. ‘It’s rather far to go up there at this stage, isn’t it? What if the baby’s born?’
‘They’re very well set up to deal with that.’ Rita consulted a massive notebook which, it seemed to Lisa, must take up most of the space in her bag. ‘Little nipper’s on the early side; best to play safe.’ She rummaged in the bag and unearthed a biro. ‘Not to worry,’ she said, looking at Lisa with pursed lips. ‘Lots of older mothers have prems. You’ll be all right, I’m sure.’
‘As he’s a prem I’d rather he wasn’t born in an ambulance.’ Lisa stopped suddenly. The contractions were getting very close together.
‘This phone working?’ Without waiting for an answer Rita sat on the side of the bed. The unexpected dip slid Lisa towards the midwife, who got up rapidly. ‘Dr Witherton? Rita Connolly; I’m at Sedgemoor Court. Mrs Wildmore, the elderly prima gravida, yes. Pre-term, I’m afraid.’
Witherton! That meant Gilmore, too, had left for his holiday. These substitutes would be unlikely to take responsibility for a home confinement. Terror clutched at Lisa. The only way she could stay at home was to be quick about it, get it over with before their precious ambulance arrived. She gathered her strength together and began to push, bear down, and try to force the foetus in her birth canal to earlier delivery.
It seemed to work. No sooner had she started than her uterine muscles began to expel in earnest. She felt certain that the head must be almost about to be born.
‘How d’ye do.’
Lisa, immersed in what she was doing, looked up to see a man standing beside the midwife in the room.
‘One of Susan’s,’ the midwife trumpeted. ‘She went gallivanting off on holiday last night, so we’ll have to do the best we can without her!’ The voice suddenly dropped. ‘...Waters...deep yellow...could be...’
The doctor’s head, Lisa saw, was bent towards Rita. Surprised eyes were still on Lisa, and he parted his lips in a smile. ‘Roger Gilmore’s away till the week after next,’ he said gently to her. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Wildmore. You’re just going to have to put up with a pair of strangers, I’m afraid. I ought to just examine you.’
Examine, Lisa thought acidly, was rather a grand word. He moved her nightdress up and looked at her.
‘I won’t do an internal,’ he told her, stepping back almost instantly, ‘in case I precipitate things. But I’m not entirely satisfied. You’re rather early.’ The doctor paced gravely up and down the room.
‘Only two weeks,’ Lisa gritted through clenched teeth.
‘I really think you’ll be better off in hospital. They’ve got all mod cons in case we run up against a problem.’
A problem? What reason had he to think things might go wrong? Could he just tell by looking at her, or was there something in the notes? Why couldn’t he say exactly what he thought?
‘I’d much rather go ahead with a home birth,’ Lisa breathed through contractions. ‘That’s what I agreed with Dr Gilmore. I’ve got everything ready – ’
‘Prems often need expert attention,’ the doctor said.
‘It’s only two weeks – ’
‘There are some indications of foetal distress.’
Foetal distress. Is that what she’d been experiencing? A foetus desperately trying to fight his way out of her body? All Lisa’s instincts told her Witherton had got it wrong. The baby would be safer here than in some aseptic hospital. They’d pounce on any little defect there, insist on interfering. She wanted to be in charge, to be the judge of what to do for her own offspring.
‘I can’t take responsibility for his being born at home. I really do advise you to go to hospital. The flying squad is excellent, you know.’
‘I’ll take the risk,’ Lisa said curtly. ‘The contractions are coming very close together now.’
‘Foetal distress? I thought you wanted this baby?’ Alec had come into the room and right up to her, his flushed face near to hers.
‘The baby could be starved of oxygen. And if he dies it’s tantamount to murder,’ the doctor intoned in sepulchral tones, addressing Alec. ‘Do you want that on your conscience?’
‘We’d better do as he suggests, pet,’ Alec encouraged her. ‘I honestly think that that would be the best solution.’
‘It’s my body. I don’t want to go to hospital!’ Lisa cried out, clasping the sheets to her. She couldn’t think, she could only feel a terror at the thought of medical intervention.
‘He’s my son, too, Lisa. You heard what Dr Witherton said. He’s in distress. His brain might be deprived of oxygen...’
The contractions were powerful now, strong and painful. Even if she’d wanted to argue further, she hadn’t the energy.
Dr Witherton picked up his mobile. ‘You’ll be in excellent hands. They’re very well rigged out, you know. They’ll be able to cope if the baby needs special care.’
Wearily she realised there was nothing further she could do. Apart from pray, of course. Her hands around her swollen belly, Lisa caressed her bump, and folded her hands in an attitude of prayer.