‘Not since yesterday. I’ve messaged him every different way I can think of to say the baby’s coming. I’ve tried his parents, his closest friends. I know I’ve no right to ask, but it’s going to take Mum hours to get here from Cornwall.’
I squeezed my eyes shut, my antenatal teacher’s instinct fighting the resentment that she had the audacity to do this to me. ‘Haven’t you got a friend you can ask?’
‘If I did, would I be calling you?’ Silva broke off to let out a sharp hiss before carrying on. ‘I’ll pay you if you like, whatever the going rate is plus extra for a Friday night.’
I thought about the sorry state of my own address book and held off judgement.
‘I need to speak to my dad – he’s babysitting. If he’s okay with it, I can come and wait until your mum gets here. But you need to phone the midwife and let them know if you’re still aiming for a home birth.’
‘Thank you!’
She hung up, meaning I had to call her straight back to ask for her address.
Dad, however, wasn’t budging. ‘I have plans. I made that clear. Your responsibility is to your children, not Brayden’s partner.’
‘I know, but if it was any other of my clients then I’d help.’
‘Not if you had no childcare, you wouldn’t.’
‘Are you refusing to stay longer because you don’t want me to do this?’
‘I’m refusing to stay longer because I promised Janet that we would have time to get a good spot at the cinema. She thought it unwise that I took care of the children at all this evening, in case something like this happened.’
‘What do you mean, something like this? I don’t usually have random women phoning me begging me to be their stand-in birth partner because their partner has gone AWOL.’
‘Can’t your friend come and help?’
I glanced towards the kitchen, where Jonah had started tidying up, and decided now was as good a time as any.
‘My old friend is Jonah.’
There was a brief silence.
‘I thought it was the friend you met at the pub.’ Dad was straining to keep his voice calm.
‘That was him. It’s a long story, and I promise I’ll explain when I can, but, for completely unrelated reasons, he can’t look after the kids this evening.’
Another pause.
‘I need to leave at nine-thirty. I’m trusting you not to let me down, Libby.’
I daren’t reply to that loaded statement, reminding myself that Dad had enough going on. I reassured him I would find someone else, and hung up.
I called Toby, who answered with a photo of him holding a pint of beer in one hand and a shot in the other, surrounded by leering lads and empty glasses.
Next Nicky, who mercifully answered.
‘Please let this be an emergency that can get me out of here. A nice one, like a woman in labour by the side of the road and no available ambulances.’
‘How about a woman in labour with a home birth planned and a missing partner?’
‘Ooh, perfect. Tell me more.’
As soon as I mentioned who it was, and that she’d asked to hold my hand, Nicky interrupted.
‘No.’
‘But…’
