The night before dawn, when Eleanors contractions began, the clock read threetoquartertothree. In the flat a damp gloom hung heavy; a fine rain fell outside, and the street lamps smeared blurred halos on the cobblestones. James rose from the settee before herhe had been up most of the night, perched on a kitchen stool, halfchecking the bag by the door, halfpeering out the window. Eleanor lay on her side, hand pressed to her belly, counting the seconds between the waves of pain: seven minutes, then six and a half. She tried to recall the breathing pattern from the videoinhale through the nose, exhale through the mouthbut her rhythm faltered.
Are you sure? James called from the hallway, his voice muted behind the bedroom door.
It looks like it, she said softly, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed and feeling the cold floor beneath her bare feet. The contractions are getting more frequent.
All month they had prepared for this moment: they bought a large navy maternity bag, packed everything listed on the hospitals checklistpassport, NHS maternity card, spare nightgown, phone charger, even a chocolate bar just in case. Yet now that order seemed fragile. James fidgeted by the wardrobe, riffling through folders of documents.
My passport heres the NHS card wheres the maternity card? Didnt you grab it yesterday? he whispered hurriedly, as if fearing to wake the neighbours through the thin walls.
Eleanor pushed herself up and shuffled to the bathroomshe needed at least a splash of water. The room smelled of soap and damp towels. In the mirror she saw a woman with dark circles and dishevelled hair.
Shall we call a cab now? James called from the corridor.
Lets but doublecheck the bag first, she replied.
They were both young: Eleanor was twentyseven, James just over thirty. He worked as a design engineer at a local factory, she taught English at a primary school before her maternity leave. Their flat was tiny: a kitchenliving area and a bedroom overlooking the High Street. Every corner hinted at the change ahead a baby cot already assembled in the corner, a stack of diapers beside it, a box of toys from friends.
James ordered a taxi through an app; a familiar yellow icon flashed on his phone almost instantly.
The car will be there in ten minutes, the screen read.
He tried to keep his voice steady, though his fingers trembled over the screen.
Eleanor pulled a hoodie over her nightdress and fumbled for the phone charger; the battery indicator lingered at eighteen per cent. She slipped the cable into her jacket pocket along with a face toweljust in case it would be useful on the road.
The entrance hall smelled of scuffed shoes and the damp coat James had hung to dry after yesterdays walk.
As they gathered their things, the contractions grew more palpable and a little more frequent. Eleanor avoided looking at the clock, focusing instead on slow breaths and the road ahead.
They stepped out into the stairwell five minutes before the appointed time; the dim emergency light cast a pale pool by the lift, a cold draft rising from below. The stairwell was chilly; Eleanor pulled her coat tighter around her and clutched the folder of papers to her chest.
Outside, the air was crisp and damp even for May; rain beads traced the awning above the door, and a few hurried pedestrians scurried past, huddling in coats or pulling their hoods lower.
Cars were haphazardly parked in the courtyard; somewhere distant the thud of an engine rumbled, as if someone was warming it up for a night shift. The taxi lingered, its position on the map inching forward slowly the driver seemed to be looping between back streets or navigating an obstacle.
James checked his phone every halfminute, his nerves taut.
A text pinged: Two minutes. Yet the driver was still circling an extra block. Maybe roadworks? James muttered.
Eleanor leaned against the balustrade of the landing, trying to relax her shoulders. She remembered the chocolate bar, reached into the side pocket of the bag, and felt its familiar wrapper. It was a small comfort amid the chaos.
At last the headlights appeared around the corner: a white Ford slowed before the entrance and halted precisely at the foot of the stairs. The drivera man of about fortyfive with a tired face and a trimmed beardslid the rear door open and helped Eleanor into the seat, luggage in tow.
Good evening! Maternity ward? Got it. Buckle up, please, he called cheerfully, not too loud. His movements were efficient, not hurried.
James settled beside Eleanor behind the driver; the door slammed a touch louder than usual. Inside the car a fresh breeze mingled with the lingering scent of coffee from a thermos perched near the handbrake.
They merged onto the road and were immediately caught in a minor jam; ahead, flashing lights marked a crew repaving the lane under the pale glow of street lamps. The driver turned the navigation up a notch.
Look at that They promised to finish by midnight. Well have to swerve through the side alley, he announced.
Suddenly Eleanor remembered the NHS card.
Stop! Ive left the card at home! They wont admit me without it! she exclaimed.
James went pale.
Ill run back! Were close! he said.
The driver glanced in the rearview mirror.
Take your time. Ill wait, weve got minutes still left, he replied.
James bolted out, splashing through puddles as he raced back up the steps. Four minutes later he returned, breathless, the card clutched in his hand along with the key ring he had forgotten them in the lock and had to climb the stairwell again. The driver gave a brief nod.
All set? Lets go, he said.
Eleanor pressed the documents to her chest as a fresh contraction hit, stronger than before. She tried to breathe evenly through clenched teeth. The car crawled past the roadworks; through the fogged window she could see wet signs for 24hour chemists and the occasional silhouette of pedestrians under umbrellas.
Silence filled the cabin, broken only by the navigations occasional rerouting prompts and the soft crackle of the heater warming the windshield.
After a few minutes the driver broke the quiet.
Ive got three kids One was born at night, we walked to the hospital in kneedeep snow. Still a story we laugh about, he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. Dont worry too early Keep your papers close and hold each others hands tight.
Eleanor felt a small easing of her tension; the strangers calm tone soothed more than any online forum or support group. She glanced at James, who returned her with a barely visible smile.
They arrived at St. Marys Maternity Hospital just before five in the morning. The rain still drummed, now more languid, tapping the roof of the car. James was the first to spot a pale band of light on the horizon as the city began to glow with the first blush of dawn. The driver turned into the hospitals dropoff lane, stopping where the puddles were shallowest. Two ambulances idled nearby, but a clear space remained for a quick alight.
Here we are! the driver announced, turning to face them. Ill help with the bag, dont worry.
Eleanor struggled to straighten, hand clutching her belly, folder of papers gripped tightly. James was the first out, catching her elbow and ushering her onto the slick pavement. A fresh contraction hit with such force that she had to pause and take a couple of slow breaths. The driver seized the blue maternity bag and stepped forward.
Watch your step, its slippery, he called over his shoulder. His voice carried the familiarity of someone who had seen this scenario many times, yet it still felt like a new chapter in the life of a bustling city.
At the hospital entrance the air smelled of damp earth, flowering beds, and antiseptic. Rainwater ran down the awning, occasionally splashing onto sleeves and cheeks. James looked around; the lobby was empty save for a nightshift nurse behind a glass door and a pair of doctors near the far wall.
The driver placed the bag beside Eleanor, straightened up, and then hesitated, a hint of embarrassment in his posture.
Well good luck to you both. Remember each other, and everything else will fall into place, he said.
James tried to speak, but words lodged in his throat too much had accumulated through the night. He simply clasped the drivers hand firmly, gratitude evident in the grip. Eleanor gave a shy smile and whispered, Thank you truly.
No trouble at all, the driver replied, turning away, his gaze flickering to the car as he walked back. All will be fine!
The hospital doors creaked open; the night nurse peeked out, assessed the scene with a swift glance, and waved them in.
Come in! Have your papers ready Men arent allowed inside unless its an emergency. Got your folder?
Eleanor nodded, handing the folder through the halfopened door. James lingered under the awning, rain pattering on his hood, barely noticing it.
Stand by. If you need anything, well call, the nurse called from within.
Eleanor turned briefly, her eyes meeting Jamess through the glass. She raised a hand, palm up, a faint smile a silent its all right. Then she was led down the corridor, the door closing softly behind her.
James stood alone beneath the morning sky. The drizzle softened, soaking into his collar but no longer irksome. He glanced at his phone; the battery lingered at a few percent he would need to find a socket later.
The driver didnt leave immediately; he fiddled with the cars interior, turned the lights on, and looked through the side window at James. Their eyes met again, brief, wordless. In that silence lay more support than any lengthy speech could offer.
James gave a thumbsup, a simple thank you. The driver nodded, offered a weary, wide grin, and finally rolled away.
As the car vanished around the bend, the street seemed unusually empty. For a heartbeat the only sounds were rain droplets hitting the metal awning and the distant hum of a city waking behind the houses.
James lingered by the shelter, watching the nurses desk inside where Eleanor sat, filling out forms. Her face appeared calmer; the tension of the night seemed to dissolve with the rain.
He realized, for the first time that night, a lightness within himselfas if he had been holding his breath underwater and now could finally surface. They had made it in time, the documents were in order, Eleanor was in capable hands, and a new day lay ahead.
The sky above the city blossomed into a pearlescent dawn; the fresh air carried the scent of rainwashed streets. James inhaled deeply, simply, without any particular aim.
In that moment, anything felt possible.
Time stretched slowly for James; he paced the path around the hospital, avoiding his phone screen so as not to drain its last few percent.
About an hour and a half after Eleanor entered, Jamess phone buzzed in his pocket. It was her voice.
Congratulations, youre a dad now. Weve welcomed a strong little boy, 3pounds10ounces, alls well!
