“You never made that call. You never canceled the New York wedding.”
“I’ll make it later,” I say. “Go on. Go with the midwife.”
“Make it now.”
“Now?” I stare at her.
“If you don’t make it now, you’ll never make it! I know you, Bex.”
“Suze, don’t be stupid! You’re about to have a baby! Let’s get our priorities right, shall we?”
“I’ll have the baby when you’ve made the call!” says Suze obstinately. “Oh!” Her face suddenly twists. “It’s starting again.”
“OK,” says the midwife calmly. “Now, breathe… try to relax…”
“I can’t relax! Not until she cancels the wedding! Otherwise she’ll just put it off again! I know her!”
“I won’t!”
“You will, Bex! You’ve already dithered for months!”
“Is he a bad sort, then?” says the midwife. “You should listen to your friend,” she adds to me. “She sounds like she knows what she’s talking about.”
“Friends can always tell the wrong ’uns,” agrees the woman in the pink dressing gown.
“He’s not a wrong ’un!” I retort indignantly. “Suze, please! Calm down! Go with the nurse! Get some drugs!”
“Make the call,” she replies, her face contorted. “Then I’ll go.” She looks up. “Go on! Make the call!”
“If you want this baby born safely,” says the midwife to me, “I’d make the call.”
“Make the call, love!” chimes in the woman in the pink dressing gown.
“OK! OK!” I scrabble for the mobile phone and punch in the number. “I’m calling. Now go, Suze!”
“Not until I’ve heard you say the words!”
“Breathe through the pain…”
“Hello!” chirps Robyn in my ear. “Is that wedding bells I hear?”
“There’s no one there,” I say, looking up.
“Then leave a message,” says Suze through gritted teeth.
“Another deep breath now…”
“Your call is so important to me…”
“Go on, Bex!”
“Yes!” I feel a tremor of alarm. “Is Suze all right?”
“She’s fine, but her contractions are intensifying now, and we’re still waiting for the anesthetist to arrive… and she’s saying she’d like to try using”—she looks at me puzzledly—“is it… a canoe?”
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
I can’t even begin to… to…