'I'm on the telephone.'

'Martin.'

'I know ... try to stay calm, they said, and an ambulance is on its way. Right. Stay calm. Christ almighty, how do they expect people to stay calm? What, sorry, I'll ask her. They want to know how many minutes apart.'

'Not many.'

'She says not many that's not good, is it? Yes, I'm staying bloody calm, but to be honest it's not very easy. Can you hurry up, please. Tell them to hurry up.'

Dear God. This isn't like I remember with Jack and Archie. This is so much stronger, more brutal. I can't get my breath back. Something must be wrong.

'The ambulance will be here in a minute. They say you've got to keep talking to me. What's happening now?'

'I'm washing out the kitchen cupboards. What do you bloody think is ... happening?'

I'm making weird grunting noises now; I can hear myself, and I can't stop. God in heaven, please let the baby be all right.

'Shall I boil some water?'

'What?'

'Boil some water, get towels, anything like that?'

'Martin.'

'Yes.'

'Shut up.'

'Okay.'

'Oh God.'

'Martin?'

'Yes.'

'You're so not helping.'

'Sorry. Okay. Stay calm. Breathe. Are you breathing?'

'Yes, Martin, I'm breathing.'

'Good. That's good ... Oh God ...'

'Oh thank God. The ambulance has arrived; they're pulling up outside. Just hang on, I'll go and get... hang on, okay?'

Jesus. Where does he think I'm going to go?

There are two ambulance men standing in the kitchen now, while I'm crouching by the fridge making involuntary noises. Damn. I wish I'd washed the kitchen floor. There's all sorts down the side of the fridge; it's really embarrassing. If only I wasn't such a slut it would be sparkling clean. If I can just ...

Christ, here comes another one.

I'm doing my grunting thing again, as the ambulance men start unzipping their nylon bags.

'You stay where you are. Bob, go and get the other bag. Thought you'd start without us, did you, love? Where are you off to then?'

Martin is halfway out of the kitchen door.

'I'll just be outside, Jo, okay?'

The ambulance men exchange glances.

Actually, I think I recognise one of them; he's the same one who took Mr Pallfrey in, the one who predicted I'd go into labour on the High Street. Great.

'It's going to be fine, love. Let's just have a look, shall we? Can you move a little bit?'

I grip on to his arm.

'Right, I'll take that as a no then, shall I? Thought I recognised you you're the lady who was with the gent who took a tumble, aren't you? The one with the dog. Dave will be so annoyed it's his day off. He loves it when we get home births.'

Home births? Jesus fucking Christ, why won't anyone believe me? This is not going to be a home birth.

I'm crying now, and I want to punch somebody. This is so unfair. I had my slot booked and everything. I've packed my bloody hospital bag.

I am not having this baby here and that's final.

'You're all right, love, it's going to be fine. If you could let go of my arm for a minute we can try to get you more comfy.'

Comfy. That sounds good. Although unless he's got a sledgehammer or an anaesthetic in one of those bags I've got a horrible feeling we're way past comfy. God in heaven, here we go again. This is so much stronger than with Jack. The epidural was wearing off by the time I had him, but it was nothing like this. This can't be right. Something terrible is happening.

'Okay, let's set up for a delivery, Bob. Get the kit in, would you?'

'No. I'm not. Not here. I'm having a Caesarean.'

'I don't think so, sweetheart.'

'I bloody am.'

'Right, okay, you are, love, and you're doing fine. Just let's get you kneeling over a bit so I can have a quick look. Can you do that for me? No need to stand up, but it's a bit tricky for me to help you with you like that. Can you do that for me, poppet?'

Great. I'm about to give birth with someone calling me poppet.

'Don't.'

'Sorry?'

'Don't. Call me. Poppet.'

He grins.

'Sorry. My wife hates it too. You're doing so well. Here, hold Bob's arm he does weight training. Grip as hard as you like.'

Bob gives him a Look, but takes hold of my hand and squeezes.

'You're doing grand. Is that another one starting?'

Starting? The last one hasn't finished yet. Bloody hell, I'm frantically trying to remember the classes I went to with Jack and Archie: breathe out and count, visualise a beautiful object, which is easier said than done when you're clinging on to your fridge. Well, bollocks to that. I want my Caesarean.

'I want. Caesarean.'

'I know. We'll sort that later, my darling.'

I nod, and put my chin down.

'Shall we get him back in for you, love?'

'Who?'

'His Lordship. He's outside, pacing up and down your back lawn. Fat lot of good he's doing out there when he should be in here helping you.'

I think Bob would probably like to be released from my gripping his arm.

'I'm. He's. Not.'

Oh sod it. I haven't got time for this.

'No.'

Actually, I think I might be dying.

There should be longer gaps between contractions. I remember with Jack thinking how strange it was: one minute you're clutching the gas and air and trying to go with it, like a huge wave coming towards you that you have to try to swim through, and not hold your breath, and then it's over and you're back to normal. Feeling nothing, chatting before the next one. Nick and I did the crossword and made up rude limericks and all sorts, but there's no time, there are no gaps this time. Something must be wrong.

No. I can do this. I know I can. I will do this.

'Try not to push yet, love I haven't got the sheet out.'

Try not to push? Is he mad?

'Can you, right, okay. Well, you just carry on that's it. Bob, pass me the ... I can see the head, lots of hair. That's it, hang on, pant can you pant for me? That's it. We need to slow down, just for a minute. Try to hang on, love.'

I can't see anything now, just blackness and stars, but that's probably because I've got my eyes shut. Everything's squeezing, every single bit of me. And then it's not. Someone is holding my shoulders, supporting me, and suddenly, for a second or two, I feel light and calm and everything stops.

I open my eyes and I look down. And there's a baby. A real baby, covered in blood, and I'm shaking. Like I'm freezing cold, but I'm not. She's moving. And opening her eyes. She's. Christ, it's a girl. She's a girl.

I'm crying now, and so is Bob, quietly, still holding my hand.

'Sorry, love. Gets me every time.'

Dave looks up.

'She's lovely. You did a grand job. Quickest I've ever seen, but you're fine and she is too. The midwife will be here any minute. You just stay where you are. Do you want to cut the cord?'

My hands are shaking, so he puts his hand over mine.

'There you go.'

He hands me the baby, wrapped in a green blanket.

The baby. My baby. She's looking at me, with those navy-blue newborn eyes, locked on to mine.

'Hello.' She moves her fingers. 'Hello, sweetheart.'

She's perfect. Absolutely perfect.

She's here. And she's safe. And it's all over. Thank God.

I'm so happy, so deep down happy I really don't know what to do with myself.

'The midwife will want to check you over but I'm pretty sure she'll be happy for you to stay here, if you'd like to. Or we can take you into hospital. Let's wait and see what she says. Bob, put the kettle on. Handy us being in the kitchen, isn't it? Get your husband back in now, shall we, love?'

'Sorry?'

'Tower of strength he's been out in the bloody garden. Oh, sorry, I didn't mean '

'He's not my husband.'

'Right, sorry, your partner. He'll want to see the baby, won't he?'

Martin has briefly appeared at the kitchen window, and made a choking noise before he disappeared again.

Bob's smiling.

'He looked pretty pleased. Give him a minute and then I'll go and get him. Takes a bit of getting over, seeing the woman you love going through something like this. Took me weeks with my wife. There, that'll be the midwife. I'll go and let her in.'

She's very impressed.

'Let's get you upstairs and pop you into bed, shall we, my love?'

I try to stand up.

'Actually, could I stay here a bit longer?'

She smiles.

'Come on, chaps. Help her up the stairs, would you; this woman deserves a nice comfy bed. And a medal.'

I'm lying looking at the baby. She's so like Jack, I can't get over it.