When the Bough Breaks by Connie Monk

rather it seemed yellow and tight across the bony structure of her face. There were crows’ nests around her sunken eyes, eyes with dark smudges under them. And her hands! As she raised one to wipe it across her mouth it registered on him as it never had before just how work-hardened and rough they were; that happy, energetic, glorious young girl he had fallen in love with had had soft hands, he remembered clearly how she had wiped the oil off them on the rag he had given her that day when her bicycle had broken.
    â€˜Kathie, dear Kathie, what have I done to you?’
    She made herself smile even though the effort made her eyes sting with hot tears. ‘You’ve given me a baby. It must be coming early. Oh . . . ooh.’ Frightened to breathe, she gripped his hands.
    â€˜Come out to the garden bench and I’ll pull your wellies off,’ he said gently. ‘Then upstairs we go.’
    By the time Nurse Cox pedalled up the track the feet of the offending wellies were standing in a bucket of water outside the back door, and Kathie was undressed and in bed, a bed in which Dennis had spread the mackintosh sheet they had in readiness. For Kathie it was hard to concentrate when she was consumed with pain, but somehow she’d managed to give Dennis instructions so that everything was ready for labour. She had no idea what to expect, but nothing less than labour could make her hurt like this. Would it get worse? She had been in the house when her mother had given birth to Algy and then to Lily, but she had had no idea that she’d been going through anything like this. And if her mother could bear it without making a fuss, then so could she. She tried to remember what the nurse had said on her one and only visit: when the contractions come, you have to push with all your might. She had imagined that when they talked about contractions it was something that came and then eased, but this just went on and on.
    â€˜Den,’ she breathed holding her hand towards him, ‘let me grip you.’ Then when he took her hands in his, with all her might she pushed, then pushed again.
    â€˜Here’s Nurse Cox,’ he said, thankfully, ‘I’ll go and bring her in. Kathie, you’ll be all right.’ It was meant to boost to her confidence but it sounded more like a plea.
    Kathie heard him greet the midwife.
    In the village Emily Cox was always known as nurse, but in truth for all her experience of bringing local babies into the world she had no qualifications. Dr Knight trusted her, the local women had faith in her, and hearing her voice gave Kathie hope.
    â€˜This little rascal keen to get into the world, is he? Now then, Mrs Hawthorne my dear, let’s take a peak at you.’ With one swift movement she threw back the bed covers, then hoisted up Kathie’s nightdress. ‘How often are you getting the contractions?’
    â€˜The pain doesn’t stop. My back . . . just goes on . . . on . . .’ Kathie bit her lip, ashamed at how near she was to losing control.
    With hands that were still cold from her cycle ride, Nurse Cox felt her patient’s hugely swollen stomach. ‘Um,’ she grunted, an uncertain sound. ‘Big load you’re carrying m’dear, no wonder your poor back is letting you know about it. I’ll pull the covers back over you – just want a word with your husband.’
    As if by magic Dennis appeared in the doorway from where he had been listening just out of sight.
    â€˜That lad of yours, can you get him to ride out again and see if he can get Dr Knight. The baby is in no position to get born; the head isn’t engaged. If it decides to try and push its way out we shall need forceps, it’ll be a job for the doctor.’ Then following Dennis to the head of the stairs, she said in a whisper, ‘There’s something here that worries me.’
    Half an hour later it was apparent there was something that worried Dr Knight