Shelagh knew that scream, that unmistakable cry of pain, anguish, and fear of the unknown. Only one thing caused a woman to make that sound.
"Angie!" Shelagh called as she threw herself out of bed, fumbling to find her slippers and dressing gown as she ran, "Angie!"
"Mum!" returned a scream from the bathroom.
As Shelagh entered the bathroom the sight that greeted her made her breath catch in her throat. Angela's pretty face was contorted in pain, tears were streaming down her face and she was bent double over the side of the bath, her hands white from gripping the sides as a contraction surged through her body.
"Mum!" Angela screamed through the last of the contraction.
Shelagh ran to her daughter and held her hand.
"Breathe, Angie, breathe," Shelagh soothed, rubbing Angela's back as she did so.
The contraction passed and Angela panted to regain her breath, "what's happening Mum?" she wailed.
"You're in labour," Shelagh said plainly, unsure of which emotion she felt the most.
"But I can't be," Angela protested, "it's not time."
"When did you start getting contractions?" Shelagh asked.
"I thought they were just Braxton Hicks," Angela began.
"When?" Shelagh asked again.
"Yesterday morning, little ones, then they really started hurting just before I went to bed last night."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't think it was the real thing, so I just took some painkillers."
"Oh Angie," Shelagh gasped.
"I'm sor…oh!" Angela squeaked as she felt a warm gush cascade down her legs and splash onto the floor around her feet.
Topaz blue met emerald green, terror and fear flashed between them. Shelagh's heart raced. The balance between maternal concern and midwife practicality teetered on its counterpoint. Her thoughts flickered and danced for a moment, before they were interrupted by movement behind her.
"Oh my goodness," a sleepy Jules gasped as the realisation of what had awoken her dawned.
"Jules, I need your help," Shelagh said, her mind suddenly clear and focused, "get me some towels from the airing cupboard and a bowl of hot water. And then, underneath the stairs, you'll find a large leather case. Take anything metal out of it and sterilise them in boiling water or some Milton, yes, use Milton, I sure there is some left under the kitchen sink. Once they're sterilised, don't touch them, but bring them and the case up here, as fast as you can."
"Uh, um, right," Jules stammered as she disappeared across the landing. She returned moments later with a pile of towels, before sprinting down the stairs.
Shelagh took a cloth from under the sink and began to wipe the floor dry. Rinsing it out, she then said,
"Angie, I need to examine you."
"What!" Angela gasped, shifting backwards away from her mother, "no, I don't want you to, I want to go to hospital."
"Angie, I don't think we're going to have that much time," Shelagh continued, "if you've been having strong contractions for," she paused and looked at her watch, "the best part of eight hours, and smaller ones for twelve more, you could be very close to delivery. This is important Angie, please, let me help you."
At that moment another contraction began to course through Angela's body. This time she could not remain standing, but slid to the floor, her whole body contorted. She let out another piercing scream and gripped her mother's hand so tightly that Shelagh felt her knuckles click.
"Aaaah, Mummy, it hurts, owwwwwww," she screamed.
From downstairs in the kitchen, the sound of Angela's screams reverberated inside Jules' head, frightening her. After a bit of a search, she had found the leather case under the stairs and, rifling through, had found a collection of rather old-fashioned looking medical instruments. As she looked at the things in her hands, she wondered what on earth Shelagh would do with half of them, but then remembered Shelagh's last words, "as fast as you can." Everything metal was soon in Milton and the hot tap running.
Angela's contraction past and she began to breathe deeply. Shelagh looked at her watch. There had been less than five minutes between the two contractions. She swallowed a lump in her throat.
"Angie, please, let me examine you, it's important."
Angela gave a slight squeak and shuffled slightly so that Shelagh could reach her more easily. Scrubbing up as best as she could in the bathroom sink Shelagh, slowly and gently, began to examine her daughter. Angela tensed in a combination of awkwardness and anxiety, unable to look at her mother.
"Try and relax Angie," Shelagh soothed.
"That's easy for you to say," Angela replied, a nervous smile across her face, "you're not the one with her mother's hand up her, oooh."
"The more you tense up, the more it will hurt," Shelagh said, "take some deep breaths."
Angela obliged and Shelagh continued with the examination. The cervix was fully dilated and, yes, Shelagh breathed a sigh of relief, the baby's head was the presenting part. A breech she could deal with, had she felt anything else, she shuddered at the thought.
"Angie, on your next contraction, I want you to push as hard as you can."
"Already?"
"Yes sweetheart, you're fully dilated. It's nearly time to meet your baby."
At that moment Jules arrived with the washing up bowl filled with hot water and the leather case, before disappearing again. Shelagh removed a pinnard from the case and pressed it against Angela's abdomen. The foetal heartbeat thundered in her ears. 120 beats a minute, and steady. All seemed well.
"Is the baby alright?" Angela asked, "Are they alright?" she asked more urgently when Shelagh did not instantly answer.
"Baby's fine Angie," Shelagh replied, replacing the pinnard in the case, "don't you worry."
Jules returned a moment later with the metal instruments still soaking in the tub of Milton. She handed them to Shelagh and was about to bid a hasty retreat when Angela began to moan as the beginnings of another contraction began to surge through her body. Jules was frozen to the spot, unable to move.
"Jules, help me!" Angela screamed.
"Wh-wh, how," Jules began to stammer.
"Hold my hand, please," Angela gasped before her words turned into another ear-splitting scream.
Jules looked at Shelagh for reassurance, not feeling secure enough to comply with Angela's request. But the look Shelagh returned settled her mind and she sat beside Angela on the floor, grimacing as she dug her fingernails into her palm.
"That's it Angie, keep going, keep going," Shelagh reassured, allowing Angela to lean against her. Jules' spare arm had found its way around Angela's back. She steadied herself as she felt Angela's thin shoulders twist against her.
The contraction passed and Angela slumped against the side of the bath, gasping for air, sweat, running in beads off her forehead and soaking the roots of her hair. Shelagh examined her again.
"The head is beginning to crown Angie, on the next contraction I want lots of little, gentle pushes, baby's head needs to be born slowly."
"I can't do this Mum," Angela moaned, "I can't, I've got nothing, nothing left."
"Yes you can Angela," Jules soothed, mopping Angela's brow with a towel, "you're nearly there."
"Just a few more pushes Angie," Shelagh reassured, "my brave girl."
They did not have to wait for long. A contraction, the most powerful yet, began to course through Angela's body.
"Little pushes, little pushes, that's it, that's it, oh, well done Angie. The head is born Angie," Shelagh added as Angela's cries of pain subsided.
"I, I, can't," Angela panted.
"You're nearly there," Shelagh told her daughter, stroking her hand as she did so, "you just need one more, really, really big push."
"One last step," Jules murmured into Angela's ear, "on that journey you set out on."
Angela turned and looked at Jules, their eyes meeting, exchanging glances of mutual understanding. Small smiles curled the corners of each of their lips.
"Come on, that's it, keep pushing, keeping pushing," Shelagh encouraged as Angela's next contraction began. Angela pushed with all her might, crying out and gripping Jules' hands so tightly that Jules was wincing and biting her lip to stop herself adding to the cacophony. Angela gave one, final push, and slumped onto her back on the floor, panting for breath.
"Oh Angie," Shelagh whispered.
A deadly quiet descended the room, only the sound of ragged breathing could be heard.
"Is it?" Jules whispered.
"Why isn't it crying?" Angela asked, "Mum," the panic rising in her voice, "Mum!"
Shelagh picked up the tiny, blue-tinged little boy, wrapped him in a towel and began to rub his back.
"Come on little one," she urged, "please, come on."
"Mum," Angela pleaded.
"You've got a little boy," Shelagh replied, "he's a little thing, I'm trying to help him breathe."
"What's wrong with him?"
"He just needs some help," Shelagh continued, trying to remain calm, but could feel the panic rising inside her, "come on," she pleaded, rocking the baby gently.
Tears began to stream down Angela's face as she watched her mother and her son, Jules felt her begin to tremble in her arms. After what seemed an eternity, the little, towel wrapped bundle gave a spluttered cough and began to whimper. Three large sighs of relief were breathed.
"He's alright, my baby's alright?" Angela asked.
"He's fine," Shelagh replied, handing the now lustily crying baby to her daughter, "congratulations," she added, tears of pride and joy meandering down her cheeks.
"Hello little one," Angela cooed, "I'm your Mummy, and this is your Grandma, and this is Jules, a very special friend. And soon, we'll meet Granddad."
"How has Patrick managed to sleep through this?" Jules asked, grinning.
"Dad could sleep through a hurricane," Angela giggled, "will you get him Mum?"
"Let's get the placenta delivered first, then we'll clean you up, there is such thing as being ready for visitors," Shelagh added knowingly.
Twenty minutes later, the placenta was delivered and Shelagh had helped Angela to wash and change into a clean nightdress. She and Jules then helped Angela onto her bed, before Shelagh disappeared into her room to fetch Patrick. Patrick shuffled in on his crutches and his old, tired face suddenly began to shine as a broad grin spread across it.
"I've got a little boy, Daddy," Angela beamed.
"A grandson!"
"Yes."
"Have you got a name for him yet?" Shelagh asked.
"Christopher," Angela replied without a moment's hesitation, "Christopher Raphael." She paused and looked between Christopher, her parents and Jules before continuing. "Fr Benjamin has lots of books, hundreds and hundreds of them. I found one about the saints, their stories, what they did. I went on a long journey to find out who I truly am, a question I only received an answer to, when I finally returned home. I am a Turner. I am your daughter, and now, I'm a mother. This little one came to me on that journey; he guided me home, kept me on the right path, back to where I truly belong. That is why he is called Christopher, the patron saint of travellers. But, I couldn't have got home without help. I knew that Angela meant angel, and Ben's book told me about the archangels, Michael, Gabriel and Raphael. Raphael is God's helper, and God certainly sent his helpers to me, without Jules, and Ben, I wouldn't be here now. They are angels, and so is he. This, everybody, is Christopher Raphael Turner."
Tears were streaming down Patrick, Shelagh and Jules' faces, none of them able to speak. Angela then reached into the top drawer of her bedside table and pulled out a tiny white nightdress. Slowly and carefully, she dressed Christopher in it, then held him out for Shelagh to hold.
"He's beautiful Angie," Shelagh whispered, pangs of maternal pride bubbling inside her.
"He's wonderful, just like his mother," Patrick concurred, balancing on one crutch and stroking his grandson with his other hand.
"The perfect end to a long journey?" Jules asked.
Angela nodded and smiled before replying, "One journey may have ended here tonight, but another, I feel, is only just beginning."
A/N
This story is devoted to all my friends, family, acquaintances, and, in the case of the staff at the London, former colleagues in a number of healthcare establishments, whose personalities, quirks and stories inspired all the characters you have met here. Thank you, to all of you, for your continued support for my writing, it has been much appreciated.