The Night Before Dawn
When Emilys contractions began, the clock read a quarter to three. The flat was steeped in damp half-light; outside, a fine rain fell, painting blurred reflections on the pavement under the streetlamps. James had risen from the sofa before herhe hadnt slept all night, fidgeting on the kitchen chair, now checking the hospital bag by the door, now peering through the window. Emily lay on her side, pressing a palm to her belly, counting the seconds between waves of pain: seven minutes, then six and a half. She tried to recall the breathing exercises from the videoinhale through the nose, exhale through the mouthbut it came out uneven.
“Already?” James called from the hallway, his voice muffled behind the half-closed bedroom door.
“Seems so” She eased herself onto the edge of the bed, feeling the cold floor beneath her bare feet. “The contractions are closer together.”
Theyd prepared for this moment all month: bought a large navy bag for the hospital, packed everything from the printed checklistpassport, NHS card, maternity notes, spare nightdress, phone charger, even a chocolate bar “just in case.” Yet now even that order felt fragile. James fretted by the wardrobe, sifting through folders of documents.
“Passports here NHS card Got it Wheres the maternity notes? Did you take them yesterday?” His words came fast and quiet, as if afraid to wake the neighbours through the wall.
Emily heaved herself up and shuffled to the bathroomshe needed at least to wash her face. The room smelled of soap and slightly damp towels. In the mirror stared a woman with dark circles under her eyes and tangled hair.
“Should we call a cab now?” James called from the corridor.
“Yes Just check the bag again”
They were both young: Emily twenty-seven, James just past 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 combined kitchen-lounge and a bedroom overlooking the high street. Every corner spoke of change: the cot already assembled in the corner, piled with folded blankets; beside it, a box of toys from friends.
James booked a taxi through the appthe familiar yellow icon appeared on his phone almost instantly.
“Cars ten minutes away”
He tried to sound calm, but his fingers trembled over the screen.
Emily pulled a hoodie over her nightdress and hunted for her phone chargerthe battery showed eighteen percent. She shoved the cable into her coat pocket, along with a face toweljust in case for the ride.
The hallway smelled of shoes and the faint damp of Jamess jacketdried after yesterdays walk.
As they gathered their things, the contractions grew sharper, closer. Emily avoided glancing at the clockbetter to count breaths and focus on the road ahead.
They stepped into the stairwell five minutes early: the dim light cast a pale glow by the lift, where a draught rose from below. The stairs were chilly; Emily tightened her coat and clutched the folder of documents.
Outside, the air was damp and cool even for May: raindrops slid from the awning above the door, the few passersby hurrying along the pavement, huddling into coats or tugging hoods lower.
Cars in the courtyard were parked haphazardly; somewhere in the distance, an engine grumbledsomeone warming up before a night shift. The taxi was already five minutes late; the dot on the map crawledthe driver clearly winding through side streets.
James checked his phone every half-minute:
“Says two minutes. But hes taking a detour Roadworks, maybe?”
Emily leaned on the railing, willing her shoulders to relax. She suddenly remembered the chocolatedug into the side pocket of the bagstill there. A small comfort amid the chaos.
At last, headlights rounded the corner: a white Vauxhall slowed and stopped neatly by the steps. The driver stepped outa man in his mid-forties with tired eyes and a short beard. He opened the door swiftly and helped Emily settle in with their things.
“Evening! Maternity ward? Got it. Seatbelts on, please.”
His voice was brisk but quiet; his movements efficient. James slid in beside Emily; the door thudded shutinside, the scent of fresh air mingled with coffee from a thermos by the handbrake.
They hit a snag straight away: roadworks ahead, emergency lights glowing as crews relaid tarmac under sparse lamps. The driver turned up the satnav:
“Promised theyd finish by midnight. Well cut through the side streets.”
Then Emily rememberedthe maternity notes.
“Stop! I forgot the notes! They wont admit me without them!”
James paled.
“Ill run back! Were close!”
The driver glanced in the mirror.
“Easy. How longll it take? Ill waitplenty of time yet.”
James bolted from the car, splashing through puddles. Four minutes later, he returned breathlessnotes in hand, keys too: hed left them in the lock and had to dash back. The driver waited silently. As James slumped back into his seat, the man nodded.
“All set? Rightoff we go.”
Emily clutched the documents, another contraction seizing hershe breathed through gritted teeth. The car inched past the works; through fogged glass, neon signs of late-night chemists blurred.
The cab was tense and quietjust the satnav murmuring detours, the heater humming.
After a while, the driver spoke.
“Got three kids myself. First one came at night tooonly we walked to the hospital. Snow up to our knees. Made for a good story later.”
He smiled faintly.
“No need to fret. Just keep hold of each otherthats what matters.”
For the first time in half an hour, Emily felt a sliver of calmhis steady tone steadier than any online advice. She glanced at Jameshe managed a thin smile too.
They reached the hospital just before five. The rain had softened to a lazy patter. James spotted the first pale streak of dawn. The driver pulled up carefully, avoiding puddles. Two ambulances stood nearby, but there was space to unload.
“Here we are,” he said, twisting in his seat. “Ill carry the bagdont worry.”
Emily straightened with effort, gripping the folder. James leapt out first, guiding her elbow as she stepped onto wet tarmac. Another contraction hitshe paused, breathing slow. The driver hoisted the bag and strode ahead.
“Mind the stepslippery,” he tossed over his shoulder. His voice held the ease of a man whod seen it all, yet never grown numb to it.
The entrance loomeddamp earth from flower beds, the sharp tang of antiseptic. Under the awning, droplets plinked onto sleeves and cheeks. James scanned the empty courtyardjust a nurse behind glass and two uniformed men by the far wall.
The driver set down the bag, then faltered, suddenly awkward. He shrugged.
“Well Best of luck. Just rememberyouve got each other. Restll sort itself.”
James wanted to speak, but words stuck. Instead, he gripped the mans handa firm, wordless thanks. Emily nodded, offering a faint, flustered smile.
“Thank you Really.”
“Ah, think nothing of it.” He waved it off, already retreating. “Youll be grand.”
The hospital doors creaked opena nurse eyed them, brisk.
“Come in. Documents ready? Fathers must wait here unless its urgent. Got your folder?”
Emily nodded, passing it through. The bag was taken next. James lingered under the awningrain drumming his hood, unnoticed.
“Wait here. Well call if needed,” the nurse added from inside.
Emily turned oncemet Jamess gaze through the glass. A weak thumbs-up, a fleeting smile. Then she was led away; the door sighed shut.
Alone under the paling sky, James barely registered the damp seeping into his collar. He checked his phonetwo percent left. Hed need to find a socket soon.
The cabbie didnt leave at oncefiddling inside, flicking on lights. Their eyes met briefly through the windowa silent exchange.
James raised a thumbsimple, grateful. The driver nodded, offered a tired grin, and pulled away.
As the car vanished, the street felt oddly hollow. For a moment, only rain on iron and the distant hum of the waking city remained.
James waited. Through the glass, Emily sat at reception, filling formscalmer now, the nights tension ebbing with the rain.
For the first time, lightness touched himlike surfacing after holding his breath underwater. Theyd made it: documents, timing, Emily safe. Only morning lay ahead.
The sky brightened, pearly with dawn; the air smelled clean. James inhaled deeplyjust because.
For now, anything seemed possible.
Time crawled. James paced the path outside, resisting the urge to check his dying phone.
Then, an hour and a half later, it buzzed. Emily
