Good evening - (or morning if you like, given that it's 2:30am and while I combine writing, smoking and watching People Like Us - call me classy!)

First off, thank you to you all who've reviewed thus far, you are all fantastic human beings and I love you all, and each one of your reviews make me stupidly happy. (Although all your praise is really putting the pressure on!)

If you would be good enough to carry on reviewing I'd be very grateful! I hope you enjoy this latest instalment - I will warn you that it does include a bit of swearing - so if you really don't like swearing then I'd skip the opening section if I were you.

Read and enjoy!

"Holy mother of God – this baby is trying to kill me! I can't do this any more … I've changed my mind, I don't want him any more."

"It's a bit late in the day for that Lisa, now trust me, you're going to be fine. I know it's hurting but we're on the home straight now."

"How do you know? Have you got kids?"

"No … not yet …"

"Then how the fuck would you know? Get me some fucking epidurals!"

"OK Lisa, it's too late for an epidural now – you're too far along, keep going with the gas and air for now, and I want you to take some nice deep breaths for me. Lisa … Lisa look at me, you are going to get through this, but you need to calm down because it's not good for your baby. Look, hold onto your boyfriend's hand, squeeze it hard, and take some deep breaths."

"Oh fuck you! I just need this baby to get out!" With a guttural roar, the pregnant woman bent forward on all forwards and cried, her perplexed boyfriend looked terrified. He tried to hold her hand but she shook him off, and then made a grab for his wrist, digging her nails into the thin skin on the inside of his wrist he gritted his teeth. "This is what you've done to me Chris – you are never coming near me again!"

"Lisa," Interrupted Shelagh, emerging from her bent double position at the end of the bed, "I need you to stop pushing for me, just stop a moment, now I can see baby's head, so on the next contraction I want you to give me a big push, right into your bottom. Try not so shout out, I want you to put all your energy into the push OK?"

"I can't do this Shelagh … Jesus Christ there a design fault here somewhere – why is it such a small hole?"

"Because motherhood is only for the strongest people, and Lisa, I know that you're strong enough to do this."

"You think?"

"I know."

"It's coming now …" the mother said through gritted teeth, bending down, Shelagh placed her hands at the baby's crowning head gently supporting it for when it came out, with a deep loud breath from the head of the bed, the head began to slowly emerge from the birth canal.

"Nice long deep push now Lisa, you're doing so well, I've got the baby's head out now." Peering around the woman's side she gave a reassuring smile, "That's the first part over! Well done, you are so so close to the end now. Now – next contraction, we're going to have the shoulders out and from there it's easy, baby should then just slide out. Just tell me when your next contraction's coming and very soon you'll have your baby."

"What does he look like?"

"Umm … he looks like a newborn baby, a bit squashed – but other whys fine. Ok – are you ready?"

"Yup … this is it!"

"Deep breath and nice long deep push for me Lisa." Holding the baby's head in one hand, and using the other to support the emerging shoulders, Shelagh carefully extracted the baby from its small safe cocoon inside it's mother and out into the bright lights of the delivery suit. Waiting for the baby to make its first cry out, and, with a smile she lifted the tiny child up, allowing Lisa to turn over and lie down on her back before she gently carried the baby up and rested him on his mothers chest.

"He's beautiful – Chris look at him, he's perfect." In Shelagh's experience no parent ever looked at their newborn baby and declared what an ugly beast it was, even when they were covered in gore, squashed, and lopsided from the forceps every parent looked at their newborn baby and thought that they were the most beautiful creature ever to grace the planet. "I am so sorry – for everything I said to you Shelagh, you were wonderful. I'm sorry!"

"Oh it's alright – I've had far far worse said to me in the past! Part of the job description. Chris, do you want to cut the umbilical cord?"

"No! Jesus no – I might hurt him …"

"You won't hurt him, I'm just going to clamp it and then you can cut it, but only if you want to."

"Go on babe? Do it – after all that you might not have another chance."

"OK – what do I do?"

"Here you go, here's the scissors, just go ahead and cut away."

"Like this …?"

"Yep – you're doing fine, there we are. He's free, well done both of you, well done."

Running a hand along the rail of clothes in her wardrobe Shelagh put the toothbrush into her mouth to free both her hands for the task ahead. She wasn't the kind of girl who had stacks of clothes, reams of shoes and an outfit for every occasion, but she hoped that somewhere over the years she would have acquired something suitable. Were jeans and a t-shirt too casual? Or were they just right? Should she look like she had grabbed something off the back of a chair? Or should she look like she had thought it through? And did it matter? Flicking through the collection of blouses and t-shirts and tops and dresses her fingers fell on a tunic she had never worn, her sister had persuaded her to buy it a few years back and it'd never quite fitted the bill. It was navy, not too long, ¾ length sleeves perhaps it was right. Sitting down on her bed she tossed the top to one side and leant behind her to pick up Bernadette, who was asleep on one of the pillows on her bed.

"What do you think Bernadette? What do you think of that top that Molly made me get? Yay or Nay? What should I wear with it do you think? How about those jeans? Hmmm – good choice Lady B!" Throwing her toothbrush onto the bedside table she hopped up and rootled through her underwear drawer – before pausing and wondering if it was over thinking if she tried to wear a matching bra and knickers. A time check told her that she needed to get a move on, having got home after the night shift she had meant to have a quick 4 hour nap and get up with a few hours to kill – but tiredness had over taken her and she had woken far later than intended. So her plans for a leisurely time getting ready had turned into the quickest shower in history and a mad dash for the bowling alley that hosted the laser-quest centre. Despite her fears about being late, she was locking up her bicycle when Patrick's car pulled up into the car park. She unclipped her helmet and shook her hair out, running a nervous hand through it to smooth it out.

"Hi Tim, Patrick. looking forward to your party?"

"Yeah! Everyone's coming – it's going to be great. Thanks for coming, are you going to play?"

"No no – my aim's terrible, I'm just here to keep your Dad company." distracted by the arrival of another car Tim darted off to see one of his friends, turning to Patrick, Shelagh smiled. "So I made it – if you still need the company."

"Always! Some of this lot are total bores, that man in that car there – he's an accountant, at his son's birthday I was treated to a two hour lecture on trade tax, I didn't know that there was even that much to know about trade tax! Shall we go in? Tim," He called behind himself. "Come inside once the others have arrived yeah? Good lad."

"I like your top."

"I didn't think men noticed that sort of thing?"

"I was married for 10 years, I was well trained."

"What was she like – if you don't mind me asking."

"No at all, Clair was lovely, I mean she was just nice – couldn't ever be rude to anyone, which actually made her quite hard to live with sometimes. The endlessly sympathy and understanding meant that trying to argue was incredibly hard work. Ha – I suppose it was being a primary school teacher, she spent so much time finger painting and sorting out who stole who's Pokémon cards that she became incapable of ever being really annoyed. She would have liked you – same sense of humour I think. You know … people think that once a loved one's gone that it gets better but it never really does, it all just gets buried under other emotions, it's like being a recovering alcoholic, however long it's been, however much of your day you don't think about it all it takes is a glimpse of a bottle of beer and it occupies every part of your brain … a perfume they used to wear, a book they loved – even just seeing a television program they watched once and suddenly you can't stop thinking about them. At first I wished that it'd been me in the car when it crashed – not her, because it would have been easier to have died than live without her. I still haven't changed the pillowcase – I used to be able to smell her shampoo on it, not anymore but I still haven't got the heart to change it … I'm sorry – I don't know why I'm telling you all this."

"It's alright – I don't mind, sometimes it's good to talk things through. I didn't think I'd ever fall in love, not after my last boyfriend. The smell of his aftershave still makes me feel sick, which is unfortunate – it's a pretty common one, the number of times I've wanted to douse fathers to be down with Febreeze! He was a drinker, but I always knew that – I thought he was great. I thought he loved me, I thought he was a nice guy – he was an artist, looking for someone to pay the rent, cook him food and have sex with him. And I was foolish enough to go along with it all, he seemed so bohemian and different and I could never quite believe that he had picked me, of course he hadn't picked me, he had about three other girls on the go at the time."

"Didn't?"

"Sorry?"

"You said that you – didn't think that you'd ever fall in love since your ex …"

"Did I?"

"You did – did you mean to?"

"Yes – I think I did."

Patrick gently closed his sons door and turning towards the airing cupboard he felt around until he found a clean pillow case, he smoothed it out against his stomach and carefully walked over to his own bedroom. The window was open and the air was cool in the room, carefully he stepped over to Clair's side of the bed, taking a deep breath he looked over at her photograph on his side,

"I hope you think I'm doing the right thing. I think I am, I think it's time for me to do this, don't you?" taking a deep breath, and like ripping off a plaster he quickly took the pillow case off of the pillow and replaced it with the fresh one. Unsure of what to do, he held onto the old one, he sat down onto the edge of the bed and balling the pillowcase up against his lap he closed his eyes and thought of Clair and then he thought of Shelagh and he knew that he had done the right thing. With a small smile he folded up the pillow case and placed it carefully into the washing basket next to his wardrobe.

"I did the right thing Clair, I know I did. Goodnight love."