The One Winter Collection. Rebecca Winters

if we do? You know me and kit furniture—it always ends up with screws left over and one side wonkier than the other. And look what it says! If it’s facing upward, head for hospital because...’

      ‘There’s no need to think like that,’ she snapped. ‘We need to stay positive. That means calm, Rob.’ And she thought back, remembering. ‘Forget the kit furniture analogy. Yes, you’re a terrible carpenter but as a first time dad you were great. You are great. You need to be like you were with me, every step of the way. No matter how terrified I was, you were there saying how brave I was, how well I was doing, and you sounded so calm, so sure...’

      ‘I wasn’t in the least sure. I was a mess.’

      ‘So you’re a good actor. Put the act on again.’

      ‘This isn’t you we’re talking about. Jules, I could do it when I had to.’

      ‘Then you have to now.’ She took a long, hard look at the diagrams, committing them to memory. Hoping to heaven she wouldn’t need them. ‘Amina has us. Rob, together we can do this.’

      ‘Okay.’ He took a deep breath while he literally squared his shoulders. ‘If you say so, maybe we can.’ Then suddenly he tugged her to him and hugged her, hard, and gave her a swift firm kiss. ‘Maybe that’s what I’ve been saying all along. Apart we’re floundering. Together we might...’

      ‘Be able to have a baby? Do you have those towels warming?’ The kiss had left her flustered, but she regrouped fast.

      ‘Yes, ma’am.’

      ‘I’ll need sterilised scissors.’

      ‘I already thought of that. They’re in a pot on the barbecue. So all we need is one baby.’ He cupped her chin and smiled down at her. ‘Okay, Dr McDowell, do you have your dot-point plan ready? I hope you do because we’re in your hands.’

      * * *

      Breech births were supposed to be long. Weren’t they? Surely they were supposed to take longer than normal labours, but no one seemed to have told Amina’s baby that. When Rob and Julie returned to her room she was mid-contraction and one look at her told them both that this was some contraction. Surely a contraction shouldn’t be as all-consuming if it was early labour.

      Henry and Danny were looking appalled but Henry was looking even more appalled than his son. He’d fainted at Danny’s birth, but then refugees did it tough, Rob thought, and who knew what the circumstances had been? Today he’d literally walked through fire to reach his family. He must be past exhaustion. He’d cut him some slack—and, besides, if Henry left with Danny, it would be Henry who’d have to explain childbirth to his son.

      He put his hand on Henry’s shoulder and gripped, hard.

      ‘We can do this, mate,’ he said. ‘At least, Julie can and I’m here to assist. Julie suggested I take Danny into the living room and turn on a movie. If it’s okay with Amina, how about you take my place? We have a pile of kids’ movies. Pick a loud, exciting one and watch it until you both go to sleep. Hug Luka and know everything’s okay. Danny, your mama’s about to have a baby and she needs to be able to yell a bit while she does. It’s okay, honest, most mamas yell when they have babies. So if you hear yelling, don’t you worry. Snuggle up with your papa and Luka, and when you wake up in the morning I reckon your mama will have a baby to show you. Is that okay, Henry?’

      ‘I’ll stay,’ Henry quavered. ‘If you want me to, Amina...’

      ‘Leave,’ Amina ordered, easing back from the contraction enough to manage a weak smile at her husband and then her son. ‘It’s okay, sweetheart,’ she told Danny. ‘This baby has to push its way out and I have to squeeze and squeeze and it’s easier for me if I can yell when I squeeze. Papa’s going to show you a movie and Julie and Rob are going to stay with me to take care of the baby when it’s born.’

      ‘Can I come back and see it—when it’s born?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘And will it be a boy?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ Amina told him. ‘But, Danny, take your papa away because I have to squeeze again and Papa doesn’t like yelling. You look after Papa, okay?’

      ‘And watch a movie?’

      ‘Yes,’ Amina managed through gritted teeth. Julie got behind Henry and practically propelled him and his son through the door and closed it behind them, and it was just as well because Amina was true to her word.

      She yelled.

      * * *

      Hands off. Do not interfere unless you have to. That was the mantra the little book extolled and that was fine by Julie because there didn’t seem to be an alternative.

      She and Rob both washed, scrupulously on Julie’s part, the way she’d seen it done on television. Rob looked at her with her arms held out, dripping, and gave a rueful chuckle. ‘Waiting for a nurse to apply latex gloves?’

      ‘The only gloves I have are the ones I use for the washing-up. I’m dripping dry,’ she retorted and then another contraction hit and any thought of chuckling went out of the window.

      ‘Hey,’ Rob said, hauling a chair up by Amina’s bedside. ‘It’s okay. Yell as much as you want. We’re used to it. You should have heard Julie when she had the twins. I’d imagine you could have heard her in Sri Lanka.’

      ‘But...but she knows...what to do? Your Julie?’

      ‘My Julie knows what to do,’ Rob told her, taking her hand. ‘My Julie’s awesome.’

      And how was a woman to react to that? Julie felt her eyes well, but then Rob went on.

      ‘My Julie’s also efficient. She’ll help you get through this faster than anyone I know. And if there’s any mucking around she’ll know who to sue. She’s a fearsome woman, my Julie, so let’s just put ourselves in her hands, Amina, love, and get this baby born.’

      Which meant there was no time for welling eyes, no time for emotion. There was a baby to deliver.

      * * *

      By unspoken agreement, Rob stayed by Amina’s side and did what a more together Henry should have done, while Julie stayed at the business end of the bed.

      The instructions in her little booklet played over and over in her head, giving her a clear plan of action. How close? Julie had no clue. She couldn’t see the baby yet but, with the power of these contractions, it surely wouldn’t be long before she did.

      She felt useless, but at the other end of the bed Rob was a lot more help.

      ‘Come on, Amina, you can do this. Every contraction brings your baby closer. You’re being terrific. Did anyone ever teach you how to breathe? You do it like this between contractions...’ And he proceeded to demonstrate puffing as he’d learned years before in Julie’s antenatal classes. ‘It really works. Julie said so.’

      Julie had said no such thing, she thought. She’d said a whole lot of things during her long labour but she couldn’t remember saying anything complimentary about anything.

      And Amina was in a similar mood. When Rob waited until the next contraction passed and then encouraged Amina to puff again, he got told where he could put his puffing.

      ‘And it’s breech,’ she gasped. ‘Julie doesn’t know about breech.’

      ‘Julie knows everything,’ Rob declared. ‘Memory like a bull elephant, my Julie. Tell us the King of Spain in 1703, Jules.’

      ‘Philip Five,’ Julie said absently.

      ‘Name a deadly mushroom?’

      ‘Conocybe? Death caps? How many do you want?’

      ‘And tell me what’s different about breech?’

      ‘I might have to do a little rotating as