Of course it had to be Emily to go into labour in the middle of a blizzard. She still had three weeks until her due date; if everything had gone as planned, perhaps the storm would have cleared, the cold would have settled, and she could have made her way to the maternity ward in Oxford. But no, the decision had been madenot by her, but by the little one inside whod decided he couldnt wait, shut in and restless, utterly unmoved by the sixth day of unending snow.
In weather like this, no car could possibly reach their remote Cotswolds village. The roads were buried, snowdrifts up to the waistventuring out meant risking getting swallowed by the whiteness. The snow kept on falling, thick and endless, as if someone in the sky had upended a flour sack. Looking out the window, the hedgerows and fields were blanketed in white, flakes spinning and swirling in the gale. Anyone forced to step outside found it impossible to keep their eyes open: the wind whipped sharp and cold, stinging the face, pushing snow into every crevice.
And so, in the heart of the storm, Emilys son decided to be born.
Shed felt uneasy since morning. First, a dull ache in her back, then exhaustion so heavy she wanted to collapse, never quite comfortable whether sitting or standing. Her mother-in-law Ruth noticed her restless pacing.
Emily, are you planning to have that baby right now? Ruth asked, her voice both worried and wry. Youre all over the place.
Im not sure, Mum, Emily muttered, fear in her voice. Somethings not right. I can feel it.
Lets have a look at your bump. Ruth, hardly expert in these mattersthese days, childbirth was in the hands of midwives and doctors, far removed from her own timelaid a tentative hand on Emilys stomach. In Ruths youth, every village had a few wise women to help with births; now, only Mary, who lived down the lane, remained.
I reckon hes dropped, Em. Looks like the little ones on his way.
But its too soon! How can it be time already?
Its not for us to decide, love. These things are in Gods hands.
Emilys eyes filled with tears. This was her first baby, and she was frightened, uncertain what to expect, with no one to explain. Ruth herself had given birth only once, two decades past, and remembered nothing useful.
Ill fetch Mary, Ruth announced, bustling about. Here, lets put this kettle on. If it boils over, just turn it off. If youre up to it, gather some towels and sheetsyou know where they are. But dont overdo it. When I had Michael, Mary told me to keep moving, walk around, breathe deep; it helped everything along. Right, Ill nip by your mums place next door too, see if she can come. Hang in there, love. Mary knows her stuff: women used to come from all around for her help.
With that, she pulled her coat tightly around her, grabbed the broomstick to steady herself in the drifts, and braved the blizzard.
Emily was left alone. The fear intensified. What if the baby came before anyone returned? What if Ruth never made it through the snow? Surely her mother would comebut what if she couldnt? She didnt know what to do, except to walk and try to breatheeven when the pain clutched her sides so fiercely it stopped her breath.
How she wished Michael were here, to steady her, to tell her she could do it, to simply be beside her if anything happened. But the storm had cut them off; he was stranded in London, roads and railways closed. He had no idea how close he was to meeting his child.
Her mother, Alice, burst through the porch, snow coating her boots and coat.
Emily! Darling! Ruth told meare you really in labour?
Yes, Mum, Emily whispered.
Alright, sweetheart, let me make you a drink. Ive brought some dried fruit, Ill make a hot compote. Lets boil the kettle, keep you warm.
An hour later, Ruth returned, Mary the midwife bundled beside her. Mary was old and wiry, her sharp eyes missing nothing. She looked Emily up and down, then nodded.
Shell have the baby by morning, Mary declared.
By morning? Emily gasped. But its not even midday. This only started aching properly last night.
That was just the beginning, love. The bodys getting ready. Now the real works begun. Not far to go, but dont rush itby dawn youll have your baby. Ill just pop back home for a while.
Please stay, Emily begged, the fear too much. PleaseId feel safer with you here.
Marys weathered face softened. She had welcomed hundreds of babies into the world.
Alright, Ill stay for now. Babies come quicker when their mum feels safe.
Emily didnt know those twinges were only a taste of what was to come. Soon she was gripped by pain so intense she could barely breathe, unable to lie down or walk, aware of nothing but its savage pulse.
Ruth and Alice fussed, not knowing how to help, wringing their hands with worry. Mary shooed them away to iron the linens, keep them occupied. As night crept in, Mary checked againfour fingers dilated, slow progress, but that was normal for a first baby. There was nothing left in Emily but exhaustion: she was spent, every moment heavy, her hair matted with sweat.
Eventually, the contractions fell quiet for a little while, just long enough for Emily to eat a bite, then Mary tucked her up in bed to gather what strength she could.
Outside, the storm only howled louder. At four in the morning, Emily woke in the pitch dark. Mary snored gently beside her.
God, please help, Emily whispered, turning her face to the cross above the bed. Let my baby come quickly.
The pain started fresh and terrible. Mary woke, checked: five fingers dilated. Still a way to go, nothing for it but to keep on.
By the time a pale sliver of light crept through the curtains, Emily was beyond herself, her nightgown cold and stuck to her skin, eyes glassy, hair tangled. Marys voice was steady.
Almost there, Emily. Hes right here, I promise.
Grandma, help me, please, Emily sobbed, almost delirious. Grandma, help me, please!
Emily, love, whats wrong? Alice darted to her side. Nobody here called Grandmaare you dreaming? She turned to Ruth. She calls her great-grandma Grandma, couldnt say granny as a child and it stuck ever sincefirst great-grandchild, Grandma Edith adored her.
Emily, I can see the head! Mary called. Now, sweetheart, just one morebig push, love, you can do it. Puff, puff, puff with me
Emilys cry ripped through the room, her effort all spent; again and again she bore down, gasping for breath, one final time
Grandma, help meI cant any more and with that, the baby slipped into Marys waiting hands.
Maybe hes the last Ill ever catch, Mary thought, smiling gently at the new life.
She placed the wriggling baby on Emilys chest. A boy, Emilya beautiful boy! Just look at him, your darling son. What a set of lungshell be a leader, that one, everyone will listen when he speaks.
Emily sobbed with joy, kissing his tiny fingers, marvelling that such a miracle had grown inside her. She ached for Michael, wishing he could see their perfect son now, the best in the whole world.
Arthur my little Arthur, she breathed.
Arthur? Ruth blinked. You said if it was a boy, youd name him Henry!
Hes not a Henry, Emily smiled, exhausted and radiant. Hes Arthur Michael.
Mary gathered her things, weary but fulfilled. Welcoming a new life was a joy, but it took all the strength she had these days. Shed have to brave the storm again to get home.
Emily and her baby boy drifted to sleep. Alice, exhausted, got ready to leave toothe first time shed left home in a day. She wrapped her scarf up, waved farewell, and stepped into the brightening world.
The blizzard was finally easing; snow was falling softly now, like sugar, and perhaps by tomorrow, the roads would open again. Maybe Michael could come home soon.
Nearly home, Alice paused. Ill pop in on Grandma Edith, bring her the newsshes in the old cottage at the end of the lane, ninety-three this summer. Lives alone, wont move in with us, gets by quietly and fiercely independent, but were always nearby to help.
She nudged open the creaking gate, saw Michaels shovel still by the hedgehe must have tried to visit yesterday. Brushed the steps clear, let herself in.
Grandma Edith! Its me, Alice! Just popping by to check youre alright! she called, stamping her boots to shake out the snow.
No answershe must be napping. Alice slipped off her boots and went inside.
Grandma Edith lay on her bed, hands folded over her chest, wearing a dress Alice had never seen before, her scarf crisp and white. Alice brushed away tears, gently closed her eyelids.
On the bedside table lay a photo of Emily, a small silver cross, and the stub of a candle.
Thank you, Grandma, Alice whispered. You helped her tonight. Emilys had a baby boynamed him Arthur, after you. But Im sure you already know.
She kissed Ediths lined cheekher last thank you.
