She walks into the bedroom. Colin is lying on his back on top of the bedclothes. His abdomen looks huge to her, suddenly, a great dome, all blubber, she is sure, but it has grown anyway over the last six months. He has the tv remote in his hand and is gripping it so hard his knuckles are creamy white. The portable set on the dressing table is a babble of advertising.
“What s up?” She was going to say, but on seeing Colin s face realises. He is red, his breath is short and his face is loose with fear, the eyes helpless.
“It s starting, love.”
Daphne sits beside him. His whole body seems to clench and unclench like a fist. She puts her hand on his clammy forehead.
“Take it easy, love,” she says, “Just stay calm.”
“I feel funny in my tummy, Daph,” he says, “Love, I can feel it coming out. I
think my waters have broken.”
She notices a dark stain on the bed spreading out from between Colin s legs.
“I m scared, Daph, all this stuff s coming out.”
“Don t worry.”
“Can you stop it coming out, Love, get a towel or something.”
She goes to the bathroom, returns with a bath towel they were still paying the catalogue for.
“Open your legs, Love.”
He opens them. An unpleasant odour rises. Daphne presses the towel up against him.
“Shall I get the doctor, Colin?”
“No,” he says urgently, “No, please.”
“A midwife?”
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