Page 113 of Wedding Crasher

‘Careful, it’s slippery out here.’

Together they negotiated the snowy pathway. Another contraction hit as they reached Emily’s Nissan Micra.

‘That’s it sweetheart, you’re doing great.’

Gabe held her up as her fingers squeezed his hard enough to snap the bones.

‘Has anyone called Tom?’ he muttered over his shoulder to Cecilia.

‘Answerphone,’ she whispered back, with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

Gabe thrust Emily’s bag at Cecilia as she climbed into the back of the car. ‘Emily’s mobile is in there. Keep trying. Tell him to meet us at the hospital.’

He glanced at Emily, who he’d finally managed to manoeuvre into the passenger seat in between contractions.

‘And tell him he’d better make it quick.’

Marla and Jonny collapsed into the car in a fit of euphoric giggles.

‘That was inspired,’ Jonny said, as his phone started to jingle out a Christmas version of ‘YMCA’.

‘You are a walking, talking cliché,’ Marla laughed as she turned the key in the ignition, then gasped as the clock glowed neon-blue on the dashboard.

‘We’re going to have to step on it if the County Hotel are going to get their glitter balls,’ she said, as Jonny hung up the phone.

He shook his head. ‘Forget about the glitter balls. That was your mother. Emily’s gone into labour at the chapel.’

‘Oh my God! With just my mother for company?’

Marla gripped the wheel in horror at the idea of her mother as a midwife. She couldn’t imagine anyone less competent. Jonny laid a hand over hers on the gear stick as she threw the car into reverse.

‘Wait. They’re not at the chapel anymore. They’re on their way to the hospital.’

‘In the name of all that is holy, tell me my mother isn’t driving.’

Marla could barely breathe. Her mother couldn’t drive on the left if her life depended on it, let alone the lives of Emily and her unborn child.

‘Your mother isn’t driving.’

She sagged with relief and flicked on the wipers to clear the fresh snow from the windscreen. ‘Who is then?’

Jonny pursed his lips and rubbed his hands together with excitement.

‘Angel Gabriel.’

Gabe pushed Emily’s Micra as hard as he dared through the snowy lanes towards the hospital. He was well aware that every four minutes had become more like every two minutes, and Cecilia’s constant nasal chatter from the back seat was doing more to hype Emily up than calm her down.

Emily bent double as a particularly sharp contraction took grip of her. Concentrating hard on the pattern of the floor mat in an effort to tune out Cecilia’s voice, she noticed a brown envelope slide out from beneath the seat as Gabe went around a corner. Picking it up as the pain eased, she recognised it straight away. Brown. Official. Medical. It was the envelope that the snotty doctor’s receptionist had given her all those months back. Peeling open the top, she saw the words ‘semen analysis results’ and shoved it back inside again.No way.She didn’t want to read it now, or ever. All of the major players in the drama knew their roles, and the uncertainty was the key to keeping everyone in their place. Maybe one day, much further down the road, the time would arise when the facts needed to be known, but that day wasn’t today. Today was the day that she was going to give birth, and she and Tom had a lifetime of love ready to welcome this precious child into their hearts and their homes. Ripping the letter into shreds as she straightened up, Emily opened the window and hurled the pieces out into the snowstorm.

‘Whoa! Are you too hot?’ Gabe said, concerned.

Emily wound the window up and closed the icy blast out, watching the slips of paper disappear. ‘Sorry. I just needed some air.’

At last the lights of the hospital loomed into view through the swipes of the windscreen wipers, and Gabe screeched to a halt outside Maternity. He dashed inside to grab a wheelchair from the foyer, then dashed back and flung Emily’s door open.

‘Ready?’

She nodded with a wince of pain and held her arms out to him.

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