A Familiar Stranger. Caroline Anderson

it was too late to do anything. Regardless, she’s quite determined not to go to hospital. She threatened to sue me if I called the ambulance.’

      ‘And you listened?’

      He grinned. ‘I always listen when people talk about suing me!’ The grin faded, and he reached for another biscuit, snapping it in half and dunking it in his tea thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know, Janna, she’s not due for two weeks, and the baby’s head doesn’t seem that big. I’m almost tempted to let her try.’

      ‘Finn!’

      ‘I know, but maybe she’s right, Janna. She’s much more relaxed and comfortable at home, and with proper management and support she might well be fine.’

      ‘And if she’s not?’

      He shrugged. ‘It’s academic, because the damn girl won’t go in, anyway. And, whatever we think, it’s her decision. We can only advise.’

      Janna sighed. ‘What does Fergus think now?’

      Finn laughed. ‘He’s talking about how he’s going to spend the life insurance.’

      Janna was scandalised. ‘How can you both joke about it, Finn? She could die—certainly the baby could!’

      ‘Aye, well, perhaps. But I think it’s unlikely. I’m sure we’d get her in before that if we could really convince her there was a problem.’

      Janna rolled her eyes. ‘Brilliant.’

      He grinned again, that wicked grin she had fallen in love with at the age of two or thereabouts—probably younger. Think of it as a challenge,’ he said cheerfully. ‘How’s your midwifery?’

      ‘Fine, as far as it goes, but I’m not Jesus. There’s a limit to my talents.’

      His big hand came across the table and cupped hers reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, Janna, she’ll be fine. We’ll get her through.’

      Six hours later Janna was beginning to doubt Finn’s confidence and her own sanity. Lindsay was struggling, Fergus was frantic, and Janna was worried to death.

      Finn, on the other hand, was quietly encouraging, and still taking a positive attitude in the face of Lindsay’s stubborn determination.

      ‘I can do it—I know I can,’ she muttered, but the pain and effort were beginning to exhaust her.

      Janna was worried because the pressure of the baby’s head was causing bruising and soft tissue swelling, which was only serving to obstruct her labour further.

      She took Finn on one side.

      ‘That baby has to come out soon or it won’t come out at all! She’s not going to manage without forceps, Finn.’

      ‘Yes, she will,’ he said calmly. ‘We’ll get her up and moving again.’

      ‘Finn, she’s beyond that,’ Janna reasoned.

      ‘No. The baby’s not distressed yet, and Lindsay’s still determined. We’ll have that baby out in less than half an hour, Janna, I promise.’

      ‘And if you don’t?’

      ‘I’ll use the forceps.’

      Their eyes locked. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, like a wild fawn he had nursed one spring, Janna felt her tension ease. She could trust him. More importantly, Lindsay could trust him. He would never do anything to harm her.

      Janna nodded. ‘OK,’ she agreed, and together they went back into the bedroom. Lindsay was dozing and Fergus was sitting on the edge of the bed holding her hand, his eyes closed. As they approached he lifted his head and looked at them.

      ‘Well?’

      ‘We need to get her up, Fergus. She’s not going to get anywhere like that,’ Finn told him.

      ‘She’s exhausted.’

      ‘She’ll do. Lindsay?’

      Her eyelids fluttered and she looked blearily at Finn. ‘Come back tomorrow,’ she slurred. ‘Too tired now.’

      ‘No, you’re not. Come on, I want you walking around.’

      ‘Can’t,’ she mumbled.

      Finn didn’t bother to argue. He pulled back the covers, slipped an arm round her waist and hauled her to her feet.

      ‘Finn, no,’ she moaned, sagging back.

      ‘Do you want the forceps or the helicopter?’ he threatened gently.

      She bit her lip, straightened her legs and stood up again. ‘I’ll walk,’ she said, and, leaning her weight on him and Janna, she trailed slowly up and down the bedroom, pausing after a few moments for a contraction.

      ‘I want to push,’ she told him.

      ‘Not yet. Come on, let gravity help you.’

      ‘I can’t!’ she cried out, reaching for her husband, and he put his arms round her and glared at Finn.

      ‘Let her lie down!’

      ‘No,’ Finn said calmly. ‘She has to stand and keep moving as long as possible. We could do with some encouragement, Fergus,’ he added, the gentle admonishment bringing a slight flush to his old friend’s cheeks.

      Still, it did the trick. Fergus encouraged, Finn and Janna supported, and together they walked her round and round through several more contractions.

      Then Janna knelt on the floor and examined Lindsay, who was finding walking difficult by now because the head, against all odds, was finally descending.

      Unfortunately the baby’s heartbeat was also dropping with each contraction, and only picking up to a limited extent afterwards. That worried Janna, and she met Finn’s eyes with a troubled look.

      ‘We need to move a bit quicker,’ she said economically. ‘The head’s well down now, but she’ll have to hang and squat to get the maximum pelvic capacity,’ Janna told him, and so they led her back to the bed, sat Fergus on the side, with Lindsay facing him between his legs and hanging round his neck, and together Finn and Janna directed her pushing and breathing until the baby’s head was crowning at the entrance to the birth canal. Please, God, let us be in time, Janna prayed.

      The perineal skin, already damaged by the two previous difficult deliveries, was beginning to look hopelessly overstretched, but still it held, delaying the birth.

      ‘Do you want the scissors?’ Janna asked Finn softly, but he shook his head.

      ‘No.’

      ‘She’ll tear,’ Janna warned in an undertone.

      ‘Quite likely,’ Finn said calmly, but there wasn’t time to wait and do a nice, tidy episiotomy with the scissors. Using his big fingers to brace her perineum, he waited for the next contraction, ordered Lindsay to push gently with her mouth open, to soften the power of the push, and caught the baby’s head with his other hand, rendering Janna not only redundant but speechless.

      Not only had Lindsay not needed forceps, but she wouldn’t need stitches either, and the baby, if the yelling was anything to go by, was fine.

      Her eyes prickling, Janna supported the baby as Finn turned Lindsay and sat her on the floor between Fergus’s feet, and then she handed the little girl to her exhausted but ecstatic mother. She held the baby to her breast, and immediately the crying stopped, replaced by the steady, rhythmic sound of suckling.

      ‘I said I could do it,’ Lindsay told them victoriously, and Finn, the tension gone, sat back on his heels and sighed.

      ‘Don’t ever—ever!—pull a stunt like that again, Lindsay,’ Finn warned. ‘You came that close to losing her.’ He held up his finger and thumb a fraction apart, and Fergus shuddered.

      ‘Don’t. Lindsay, you are a stubborn, stupid woman, and I’m