‘What is this place?’
‘Apart from somewhere dry, and hopefully warm, and with a lot more space than my back seat?’ Beckett peered through the windscreen. ‘New Life Community Church.’
‘What?’
‘Everyone welcome.’
‘I can’t give birth in a church,’ I groaned. ‘What am I going to do, spread out along a pew?’
‘It’s literally called New Life.’ He undid his seat belt. ‘Wait here and I’ll check it out.’
‘No!’
Beckett quickly reclosed the car door. ‘They’ll have an office or something. You can get comfortable until an ambulance arrives.’
‘Comfortable?’ I shook my head, grimacing. ‘I meant, no, I’m not waiting here. Help me out.’
‘Mary, it’s a blizzard. You’ll freeze, and there might not even be anyone there.’
‘Then we’ll break in! Besides, look at me.’ I waved vaguely at my sweat-soaked top. ‘I could do with cooling down. Help me out or I’ll climb out myself and probably slip over.’
His eyes met mine for a second, and he must have seen the fear behind my determined stare because he gave a small sigh before getting out of the car and opening the back door.
‘You need your coat on,’ he said, hair already glistening.
Ignoring him, I heaved myself out before the next contraction hit, leaving Beckett to grab the coat and hold it over my head as he used his free arm to grip what used to be my waist, edging us around the worst drifts towards a pair of double doors.
Everyone welcome, I reminded myself after Beckett tried the door, then rang the bell when it wouldn’t open.
It didn’t take long for the blurred outline of a person to appear on the other side of the fogged-up glass. It seemed a bold move to me, opening a locked door in a side-street off what wasn’t the most reputable area of the city, without ascertaining who was on the other side.
Maybe they were serious about the sign.
‘Hang on, hang on…’ The door flew open. ‘Oh. Can I help you? I thought you were Moses with our pizzas.’
A tiny, older woman wearing a rainbow-coloured jumper beamed at me, a millisecond before I fell against Beckett’s damp hoodie, clinging on to his upper arms as I buried my head in his chest and brayed like a donkey.
I wasn’t listening to whatever exchange happened between Beckett and the woman, but as soon as the pain eased they hustled me inside, down a corridor and through a side door into a small room with a kitchenette and living space with a large sofa.
My heart began to race, head swimming as the reality of what was happening briefly penetrated the fog of labour. I scanned the room, desperate for something to get me out of this.
Beckett immediately knelt in front of me. The woman had already disappeared.
‘Take some slow breaths.’ He took my hands, dark brown eyes fixed on mine, voice soft and steady. ‘Here, with me.’
For the next few moments, I did my best to suppress the rabid panic as I tried to copy Beckett’s slow, steady in and out.
Once I’d stopped whimpering, he gave a gentle nod. ‘It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re going to be all right.’
I nodded back, because right then I’d have crawled after him over the edge of a cliff.
‘Promise you won’t leave me.’
‘I promise. We’re going to do this.’
‘I don’t want to,’ I whispered.
He gave a wry smile, transforming his craggy features. ‘I don’t especially, either. But we will. Pretty soon you’re going to be holding your baby, feeling like a complete warrior.’
