Esther rolls her eyes, then heads to the door and leans her head out.
“Pam. We’ve got another one of Venetia’s wacky patients here. Can you page her? All right.” She draws her head back in. “We’re paging Venetia for you. I’ll just fill this in. So, your water broke at home?”
“Uh-huh.” I nod.
“Did the other midwife say how far you’d got?”
“Um…four centimeters,” I say at random.
“And you’re coping with the pain?”
“Fine, so far,” I say bravely.
“Well, now.” The midwife finishes writing. “I really must examine you, so if you pop up on the bed for me….”
“No!” I back away. “Don’t touch me! I only want Venetia!”
There’s a knock at the door and a woman pops her head round it. “Esther? Can you come?”
“We’re busy today.” Esther sighs and hangs the chart on the end of the bed. “I’ll be back. And Venetia should be here soon. Sorry about this.”
“That’s all right,” I say, trying to hide my relief. “Thanks!”
The door closes behind her and I sink back on the bed. For a few minutes nothing happens, and I start to flick through the TV channels. I’m just wondering whether they have any DVDs for hire, when there’s another knock at the door.
It has to be Venetia this time. I grab the breakup bag, struggle to my feet, and take a deep breath to prepare myself.
“Come in!”
The door opens and a girl of about twenty, in a midwife uniform, looks in. She’s got blond wispy hair tied back and looks very apprehensive.
“Um, hi,” she says. “My name’s Paula and I’m a student midwife. Would you mind if I come and observe you in the early stages of labor for a while? I’d be really, really grateful.”
Oh, for God’s sake. I’m about to say “No, go away.” But she looks so shy and nervous, I can’t bring myself to. After all, I can always get rid of her when Venetia arrives.
“Sure.” I wave an arm. “Come on in. My name’s Becky.”
“Hi there.” She smiles shyly as she tiptoes in and sits down on a chair in the corner.
For a minute or two neither of us says anything. I’ve flopped back on the pillows and am staring at the ceiling, trying to hide my frustration. Here I am, all ready for a confrontation, and there’s no one to confront. If Venetia doesn’t show in the next five minutes, I’ll just go.
“You seem very…serene.” Paula looks up from scribbling on her notepad. “Do you have any particular coping mechanisms for the pain?”
Oh, right. I’m supposed to be in labor. I’d better put on a show or she’ll have nothing to write down.
“Absolutely.” I nod. “I’ll just move around a bit, actually. I find that really helps.” I get up and walk around the bed, swinging my arms back and forth in a businesslike way. Then I rock my hips around a few times, and do a stretch I once learned in Yoga-lates.
“Wow,” says Paula, impressed. “You’re very mobile.”
“I’ve done yoga,” I say with a modest little glow. “I think I’ll have a Kit Kat now. Just to keep my energy levels up.”
“Good idea.” Paula nods. As I reach for my bag I can see her writing down “Eats Kit Kat,” on her notes, and underneath, “Using yoga for pain relief.” She riffles back in her file, then looks up sympathetically. “During contractions, where’s most of the pain focused?”
“Er…just…around,” I say vaguely, munching on my Kit Kat. “Kind of here…and here…” I gesture at my body. “It’s hard to explain.”
“You seem amazingly calm, Becky.” Paula is gazing at me as I check my teeth in my hand mirror for Kit Kat crumbs. “I’ve never seen a laboring woman with such self-control!”
“Well, I’m a Scientologist,” I can’t resist saying. “So I’m trying to keep as quiet as possible, obviously.”
“A Scientologist!” Her eyes open wide. “That’s amazing.” Then she frowns in alarm. “Aren’t you supposed to be in total silence?”
“I’m the sort that’s allowed to talk,” I explain. “But not scream or anything.”
“Wow. You know, I’m not sure we’ve ever had a Scientologist in here before!” She looks quite animated. “Do you mind if I just tell a couple of my colleagues?”
“Go ahead!” I nod absently.