Chapter 12

Everything seemed to be fine. We'd been given a date of delivery in late July, so Helen quit work in early May. They were good to her and clubbed together to present her with a rather expensive buggy/cot/car seat system. We didn't have a car at that point, but I was considering getting one as I thought Helen would need it. The main exam season was starting; three to four weeks of a fairly heavy schedule for me. I wasn't delighted to be away from home this time.

It was Monday morning of the last week of May that my phone vibrated in my pocket; as it was Helen calling, I indicated to my colleague I was leaving the room and she nodded that she understood.

"Ted," and I could hear an undertone of fear in her quiet voice, "I'm bleeding ... and my stomach hurts."

"Okay, sweetheart. Have you called 999?"

"Yes, and they're on the way. Ted ... I'm scared."

"Sure, sweetheart, but you're brave, and you're going to be okay. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Ted ... the baby!"

"I know, sweetheart. Breathe deep and slow, and pray. I'll do the same, okay?"

I rang Information Processing and was put through to Linda. There was no hesitation in her voice. "Hand over to Jen, get yourself gone, and there'll be someone up there in five minutes. Tell Jen that, okay? And, Ted, I really hope it's okay for you both."

"Thanks, Linda, I appreciate that."

I did as I was told. The nearest hospital to our house is the Royal Hallamshire; the maternity care unit is the Jessop Wing, named after the former Jessop's hospital for women, now long gone, which in turn was named after its wealthy benefactor. However, for some reason Helen was taken to the Northern General Hospital maternity unit, five miles away on the other side of the city. I called a taxi, which, wonder of wonders, came within fifteen minutes. I texted Philippa to let her know her mother was in hospital, and that I was on my way there; she was not to rush over.

When I finally tracked Helen down, she was in treatment, or assessment or something. Whatever it was, I had nothing to do but pace, which I did for the better part of an hour. I then realised there was one other thing I could do. Going outside I called Greg Saunders. By a miracle of sorts, I got through to him first try and told him what little I knew.

"Would you like me to come?" He asked gently.

"That's very kind of you, but ... no, I don't think so. Perhaps later?"

"If you're willing, I'd like to anoint her, and pray for her – and you, for that matter."

"I think we'd like that. For now, I'm just waiting to find out what's going on."

"I will pray for you."

That touched me more than I would have expected; I was grateful, and said so before ringing off.

When I returned inside, I found I was noticeably calmer and was able to sit. Which I did for a further hour before a tired-looking doctor came to find me.

"Mr. Pearson? Your wife ... the good news is that she appears not to be in immediate danger, and the baby seems not to be distressed. However ... what do you know about the placenta?"

"As far as I know, it's the interface between mother and baby; the way the baby is nourished in the womb."

"That's pretty well it. Now, sometimes, the placenta separates partly or wholly from the wall of the uterus – the womb. We call that 'placental abruption', and it is potentially life-threatening to both mother and child. There are four grades, from zero which is asymptomatic, to three which is the most serious. Your wife, we believe, is grade one. There are symptoms, but with care we should be able to bring her to term and deliver a normal baby. We will be doing some more tests in case there are other complications."

"Such as?" I am not at all sure how I managed to keep my voice level.

"One could be placenta previa." He looked at me and, seeing my incomprehension, explained. "Sometimes the placenta attaches to the uterine wall close to, or over, the cervix, which prevents a normal delivery. This is, however, only a possibility at this point; we want to know if there might be a problem. You have an important job to do. She needs emotional support, she needs to be calm, and to relax; she must rest. Are there any other close relatives?"

"Her daughter, Philippa. She's twenty."

"What about spiritual support? Are you religious? Would you like to see a chaplain?"

"I've been in touch with the curate of our local church, who is a friend. We're not really church people."

"He will be able to visit more or less freely. Your visiting will be more limited, but if you have a word with Sister, it may be possible to be flexible, bearing in mind the importance of her mental state. You can see her now, for, say, ten minutes, to reassure her, then I suggest you go home. Perhaps you or her daughter would come back this evening for a short visit."

"Thanks, doctor."

Helen looked pale and frightened, as you might expect. I kissed her, pulled up a chair and sat holding her hand.

"The doctor says there's a good chance of both of you being fine. They're going to do some more tests, ultrasounds and so on to make sure they know if there's anything likely to be a problem, but you'll have to rest. Greg will come and see you later; he'd like to anoint you and pray for you, he said. I expect Philippa will come as well, later. Is there anything you need?"

She squeezed my hand. "I need you, darling. But failing that, a couple of nighties, toilette stuff, hair brush, something to read...

Greg visited after I left. Helen later said she was amazed at how good she felt as, and after, he prayed for her. Before Philippa visited I cued her about being calm and encouraging.

"You're probably really worried about her," I said, "I know I am, but we need to reassure her."

She nodded soberly. "I think I can do that. I'll take her things in. I'll take her palm-top and some sticks. What about some of yours?"

"I don't know..."

"Well, she liked what she'd read before."

I raised the priority of getting a car. I was fed up with catching the bus to the Northern General anyway, and I thought we'd need it. I found one quite quickly, a two-year old Corsa, low mileage and so on.

The hospital kept her in for a week, then let her home, saying they couldn't understand how she'd improved so much. They warned us to be very careful and to call for help if she had any more symptoms, but that she could get some gentle exercise.