What Lies Between Us(35)

I recoil at her reference to their relationship. ‘Do you have a telephone number for him?’

‘No.’

‘Then I don’t think we have time for me to find him. And I don’t want to leave you alone.’

She isn’t as convinced as I am. ‘Should we call an ambulance?’ she says, and her body folds in on itself as the latest wave of contractions plough through her.

‘We can do this, you and me, together,’ I assure her. It isn’t the answer she’s expecting. On the surface I appear calm, but underneath I’m frantic because I don’t know what to do. My fifteen-year-old daughter is pregnant for the second time but I can’t nip it in the bud with illegally obtained medications as I did before. This baby is on its way.

I need to get a hold of myself, take control and do what’s best for Nina. And it isn’t calling for an ambulance. I don’t want to bring undue attention to our lives. If Social Services become involved, their questions might be too much for her to cope with. Undue stress might lead to catastrophic repercussions and they could take her away from me. I have too much to hide.

So there is only one thing I can do. I will deliver my grandchild myself. I assisted in bringing babies into the world during my midwife training and although it was under supervision, I doubt much has changed procedurally over the last sixteen years. Only if there are any complications and Nina’s health is at risk will I call for help.

She looks at me and she’s so scared right now. I need to get over my shock and reassure her. ‘I promise you that we can get through this. Have I ever lied to you?’ She shakes her head and I thank God she doesn’t know the truth. I move towards the door and hear her panicked voice.

‘Where are you going? Please don’t leave me,’ she pleads, and the fact that she needs me so desperately makes me feel overcome with emotion.

‘I’ll be back really soon, I need to get a few things together,’ I say.

I stand at the top of the stairs with my hand over my mouth, trying not to let her hear me as I break down. What kind of mother am I to let this happen for a second time? And not to have noticed her condition until it’s gone this far? This is all Alistair’s fault. Given the chance I’d kill him with my own bare hands for the mess he has made of our lives.

I return to her room as quickly as I can, making several journeys carrying clean towels and sheets, bowls of water containing diluted antiseptic and sterilised scissors. Then I prepare myself and the room for what is to arrive.

As the hours pass, I stroke Nina’s hair like I did when she was a little girl and she was poorly. I reassure her that everything is going to be okay even though I know that from the moment this baby appears, her life is going to be far from that.

‘I’m frightened of what’ll happen,’ she says.

‘It’s going to be all right. I’m here.’

‘No, I mean when the baby’s born. I’ve been reading about the condition, about the estroprosencephaly. I’ve seen pictures of what she’ll look like.’

‘She?’

‘I think it’s a girl. It’s what Jon wants.’

‘Let’s not worry about what she looks like now,’ I say, but it’s only natural that Nina is terrified.

‘I don’t think I can watch her . . . die.’

I don’t know what the right thing to say to her is. ‘Okay,’ is all I can manage. ‘I’ll be with her.’

‘Promise me.’

‘I promise.’

In between her contractions, Nina offers me a glimpse of a life I have been shut out of for so long. She explains how she met Hunter and how she wasn’t aware she was pregnant until it was too late to do anything about it. She reveals how she kept the pregnancy secret from me, that her boyfriend can’t wait to become a father, but how it will break his heart when he discovers the baby’s deformities. She expresses her guilt for the way she has behaved. I forgive her everything.

Evening moves into night-time and then to early morning until finally, I know the baby is imminent. And soon after it begins to crown, it’s only a matter of minutes before I am holding my grandchild in my arms. Now that Nina’s hard work is complete, I take charge.

‘Is it a girl?’ she asks as I cut the baby’s umbilical cord with scissors smeared in antiseptic Savlon and clamp it with the plastic clip I use to seal freezer bags. After so much pain, Nina is now almost motionless, too scared to sit up and see the face of her child.

‘Yes it is,’ I reply.

‘And is she . . .’

‘I need to leave the room, darling,’ I reply, wrapping the child in a warm blanket I’d kept on the radiator and heading for the door. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘She’s not making any noise,’ Nina says quietly. ‘Can I see her?’

‘It’s best that you don’t,’ I reply, and close the door behind me.

I hurry down the stairs. I don’t want to wound Nina any more than she’s been hurt already. But not allowing her to see her baby has to be for the best. This is the most difficult decision I have ever made and now I must stick to it, for Nina’s sake.

I leave my grandchild alone in the basement, then return to help Nina deliver the placenta and place it in a washing-up bowl to throw out. I check her tear and considering her age, she has been fortunate. It’s small and she hasn’t ripped any muscles, so it should heal by itself. Nina isn’t crying, in fact she is not expressing any emotion at all. I give her two tablets and a glass of water and wait for her to swallow them.