The Night Before Dawn
When Emilys contractions started, the clock showed quarter to three. The flat was dim and dampa fine rain tapped against the window, and the streetlights cast blurred reflections on the wet pavement. James had been awake before her, restless on the kitchen chair, checking the hospital bag by the door, peering outside. Emily lay on her side, hand pressed to her stomach, counting the seconds between waves of painseven minutes, then six and a half. She tried to remember the breathing exercises from the videoinhale through the nose, exhale through the mouthbut it came out uneven.
*”Is it time?”* James called from the hallway, his voice muffledthe bedroom door was ajar.
*”I think so”* She carefully sat up, bare feet touching the cold floor. *”The contractions are closer now.”*
Theyd been preparing for this moment all monthpacked a large navy-blue hospital bag with everything from the checklist printed online. Passport, NHS card, maternity notes, a spare nightie, phone charger, even a chocolate bar *”just in case.”* But now, even that careful order felt shaky. James fussed by the wardrobe, shuffling through folders.
*”Got the passport The NHS card Here it is Where are the maternity notes? Did you take them yesterday?”* His words came fast, hushed, as if afraid to wake the neighbours.
Emily heaved herself up and headed to the bathroomshe needed to at least wash her face. The air smelled of soap and damp towels. The woman in the mirror had dark circles under her eyes and tousled hair.
*”Should we call a cab now?”* James called from the hall.
*”Yeah Just double-check the bag”*
They were both youngEmily twenty-seven, James just over thirty. He worked as a design engineer at the local factory, shed taught English at a secondary school before maternity leave. The flat was smalla kitchen-living room combo and a bedroom overlooking the high street. Everything hinted at change: the cot already assembled in the corner but stacked with baby blankets, a box of toys from friends beside it.
James booked a cab through the appthe familiar yellow icon appeared almost instantly.
*”Cars coming in ten minutes”* He tried to sound calm, but his fingers trembled over the screen.
Emily pulled a hoodie over her nightdress and hunted for her phone chargereighteen percent battery left. She stuffed the cable into her jacket pocket along with a face towel, *just in case.*
The hallway smelled of shoes and Jamess slightly damp jacketdrying from yesterdays walk.
As they got ready, the contractions grew stronger, more frequent. Emily avoided looking at the clockbetter to focus on breaths and the road ahead.
They stepped into the stairwell five minutes earlythe dim light cast a pale glow near the lift, where a draft crept up from below. The stairs were chilly; Emily tightened her jacket and clutched the folder of documents.
Outside, the air was damp and cool for Mayrain dripped from the awning, the odd passerby hurried along the pavement, hoods pulled low. Cars were parked haphazardly in the courtyard; somewhere in the distance, an engine grumbledsomeone warming up for a night shift. The cab was already five minutes late, the dot on the map moving sluggishlythe driver clearly taking a detour.
James checked his phone every thirty seconds:
*”Says two minutes But hes looping around the block. Roadworks, maybe?”*
Emily leaned against the railing, trying to relax her shoulders. She suddenly remembered the chocolate bardug into the side pocket of the bag just to feel something familiar in the chaos.
Finally, headlights rounded the cornera white Vauxhall slowed and pulled up neatly by the steps. The drivera man in his forties with tired eyes and a short beardhopped out, opening the back door and helping Emily in with their things.
*”Evening! Maternity ward? Got it. Seatbelts on, please.”* His voice was brisk but not loud, movements efficient but unhurried. James slid in beside Emily; the door shut louder than usualinside, the car smelled of fresh air and stale coffee from a thermos by the handbrake.
As they turned onto the main road, they hit a snagroadworks ahead, emergency lights flashing. The driver cranked up the sat-nav:
*”Typical Said theyd be done by midnight. Well cut through the side streets.”*
Then Emily gasped:
*”Stop! I forgot the maternity notestheyre still at home! They wont admit me without them!”*
James went pale:
*”Ill run backwere not far!”*
The driver glanced in the mirror:
*”Easy! How longll it take? Ill waitplenty of time yet.”*
James boltedsplashing through puddles, vanishing into the building. Four minutes later, he was back, breathlessnotes in hand, keys dangling from the door where hed left them. The driver just nodded:
*”All good? On we go, then.”*
Emily clutched the folder, another contraction hitting hardershe breathed through gritted teeth. The car crept past the roadworks; through fogged windows, neon signs of 24-hour chemists glowed.
The cab was quietjust the sat-navs occasional reroutes and the heaters soft hum.
Then the driver broke the silence:
*”Ive got three kids myself. First one came at night toohad to walk to the hospital in knee-deep snow. Makes for a good story, though.”* He smiled faintly. *”Dont fret yet. Just keep hold of each otherthats the main thing.”*
For the first time in hours, Emily felt a flicker of calmthe mans steady tone steadier than any online advice. She glanced at Jameshe managed a thin smile back.
They reached the hospital just before five. The rain had eased to a lazy patter. James spotted the first pale streak of dawn. The driver pulled up neatly by the entrancetwo ambulances nearby, but space to unload.
*”Here we are,”* he said, turning. *”Ill help with the bagno rush.”*
Emily straightened slowly, gripping the folder. James leapt out first, guiding her onto the wet tarmac. Another contraction hitshe paused, breathing deeply. The driver hoisted the bag, stepping ahead.
*”Watch your stepits slippery,”* he tossed over his shoulder, voice casual, as if this were just another night in the city.
The entrance smelled of wet earth from flower beds and something clinicalantiseptic mingling with rain. Under the awning, droplets splattered onto sleeves and cheeks. James scanned the areaonly a nurse behind glass and two uniformed men further off.
The driver set the bag down, then hesitated, suddenly awkward.
*”Right then Best of luck. Just dont forget each otherthe rest sorts itself.”*
James wanted to speak, but words stucktoo much had happened. Instead, he shook the mans handfirm, wordless thanks. Emily nodded, offering a tired smile:
*”Thank you Really.”*
*”Ah, dont mention it,”* he waved, already retreating. *”Youll be grand.”*
The hospital doors creaked opena nurse sized them up with a glance.
*”Come in. Documents ready? Men cant stay unless its urgent.”*
Emily handed over the folder. The bag followed. James stayed under the awning, rain drumming his hood.
*”Wait here. Well call if needed,”* the nurse added.
Emily glanced backthrough the glass, their eyes met. A weak thumbs-up, a fleeting smile. Then she was led away; the door swung shut.
Alone, James barely noticed the damp seeping into his collar. He checked his phonetwo percent left.
The cabbie didnt leave right awayfiddling inside, headlights on. Their eyes met again through the windowno words needed. James raised a thumb. The driver grinned tiredly, then drove off.
The street felt oddly empty then. Just the drip of rain on metal, the distant hum of the city waking.
James waited. Inside, Emily sat at reception, filling formsher face calmer now, the nights tension lifting.
For the first time, he breathed easylike surfacing after holding his breath underwater. Theyd made it: on time, documents in hand, Emily safe. Just a new morning ahead.
The sky paled to pearl; the air smelled clean after rain. James inhaled deeplyno reason, just because.
For a moment, anything seemed possible.
Time crawledhe paced the path outside, avoiding his phone to save the last shred of battery.
Then, an hour and a half later, it buzzed. Emily.
He answered fast.
*”Congratulations, Dadits a boy. Eight pounds, everythings perfect!”*
