“No, of course. I’ll call her. Thank you for letting me know. I’m sorry my phone was off. I had to silence it during filming, and I forgot to turn it back on again.”
“Understandable. All going well, I assume?”
“So far. It’s busier than I expected.”
“Well, let’s hope Zara can hold out for a day and save you the trip. Beth doing back-up for you?”
“Yes, but I wanted to make sure all my mums had met her at least once before they went into delivery and all felt comfortable with the change. I don’t like them to feel panicked.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Talk soon.” After ending the call, Jess scrolled through her messages, seeing that Zara, the mum possibly in labour, had rung earlier that day. She hit call, squeezing the space between her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. Hopefully, everything had calmed down.
Zara’s husband answered, sounding boyishly excited. “Hello! Glad you called. Things are starting to happen here.”
“What’s going on?” Jess asked, switching into midwife mode, her sixth sense again warning her this wasn’t a falselabour. Zara was a small woman in her third pregnancy. It was only her 37th week, but Jess had suspected she might not last until full-term this time.
“Contractions for a few hours now. Zara, being Zara, insists on carrying on as if nothing’s happening. She’s been cooking in bulk like we’re heading into an apocalypse. But something’s happening!”
Jess liked the Bishops. She’d been with Zara and her husband, James, for all three pregnancies, and they were one of her favourite couples to work with.
“How far apart?” Jess asked.
“I don’t know. Pretty irregular. Is that right, Zar? She says they’re not close.”
“Anything else? Any bleeding?”
“No, all good. She’s just cruising along.”
“Okay. That sounds good. We’ve still got time then. Carry on like you are and check in if anything changes, okay? I promise my phone will be on.”
“Thanks, Jess. We’ll keep in touch. Hopefully this is it!”
James hung up, and Jess checked her phone to make sure there weren’t any other urgent messages. There was a cute cat meme from her best friend Poppy, but nothing else. Dave’s stream of increasingly abusive texts had stopped for now. Perhaps he’d finally got the message and moved on. She probably should have explained rather than ghosting him, but what could she say? There was no way he was genuinely in love. It was manipulation, and any back and forth always made the drama drag on longer.
Jess called Beth, her backup midwife, talking her through each client and making sure everything was in place for them,and then updated her manager. If Zara went today or tomorrow, she’d have to go in. The Bishops hadn’t met the back-up midwife and she’d feel guilty leaving them with a stranger, especially when they’d had all their babies under her care. But the first stage of labour could last for hours. Zara’s last two pregnancies had really long labours, both over 30 hours. She’d likely last until tomorrow.
Flicking through her clients one by one, Jess called each of them to briefly confirm their meetings with Beth and reassure them. She’d worked with Beth for several years and knew they’d be in capable hands. By the time all her calls were done, it was ten minutes until two. Not enough time for lunch, but she was used to coffee-only lunches. Some days were so busy at the hospital she wouldn’t eat anything more substantial than a chocolate bar until she got home. Jess headed for the kitchen, silently thanking whichever kitchen fairy placed a decent coffee machine on set. She made herself a double-shot latte and joined the rest of the crew as they made their way back to the set.
FOUR HOURS LATER, JESS SLUMPED INTO A CHAIRin the writers’ room. The cast and crew were on a ten-minute toilet break and then, in an hour, they’d be breaking for dinner. She hadn’t realised how equally boring and draining filming would be. There was so much repetition. Retake after retake. But, at the same time, never a chance to catch her breath. Even standing at the side, watching the scenes play out, Jess was always ‘on’. Constantly focused to ensure she wasn’t missing anything. Was it realistic? Did the fake-pregnant women respond the way actual women would? What about the doctors and nurses? Were there any historical or medical inaccuracies?
The anchor of doubt in her stomach hadn’t lifted. If anything, it had sunk deeper. None of this felt natural and now, reflecting on her morning, she was sure she’d completely stuffed it up. Jess placed her head in her hands, making the most of the moment’s silence.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she absently removed it, flipping it over to look at the screen. Zara Bishop was calling. Jess instantly straightened her back and shifted forward onto the edge of the chair.
“Zara, how are you?”
Instead of Zara, it was her husband James on the other end. “She’s having them about five minutes apart now,” he said, sounding far less excited than before, a hint of panic in his voice.
“Three!” Zara yelled in the background.
“Zara says three now,” James repeated. “And, uh…” The phone hung silent for a beat, then James was back again, more animated now. “Her waters just broke!”
Jess did the mental calculations. The Bishops were a twenty-five minute drive from the hospital, and she was a good thirty minutes away herself.
“You guys know the drill. Time to head to the hospital. I’ll meet you there.”
Hanging up, she slouched against the chair’s soft leather back for a second. No food, except a slice of cold pizza, and barely any sleep for days. All the coffee in the world was not going to be enough to face a long drive and, potentially, hours of labour.
Why had she gone out on the town instead of getting organised the night before filming? Another reason to get her life in order. At 28, she was definitely getting too old for the party-girl lifestyle. And deep down, she knew it was only aresponse to her upbringing. Trying to be the opposite of her mother, submissively sitting around at home waiting on a man like he was her god.
