Then
‘How did you get in?’ Ruth asked her mother, who was waiting for her in the flat.
‘Mark. He’s gone out with a friend for the evening.’ Marian took a sip from a bottle of soda.
‘What do you want?’ Ruth was tired from her walk back from The Rainbow Centre.
‘Where were you?’ Marian hated not knowing what was going on in her daughter’s life.
Ruth replied, ‘It is not your business any more, Mother.’
A flash of anger flew across Marian’s face. She did not like this version of her daughter. Insolent. More than that. Independent.
‘Be careful Ruth. I’m here to give you the chance to apologise. And then you can come home. You are not equipped to live on your own. You need me.’
Ruth said, ‘You might be surprised by how well I am coping without you. And I am not alone. I have friends. And right now, I need to rest. So please leave.’
Marian moved towards her daughter and waved her bottle at her as she said, ‘You will come back home to me. With your tail between your legs.’ Then she walked out, closing the hall door behind her.
Ruth closed her eyes and started to count, right up to eighty-seven, when she heard the slam of the front door at the foot of the stairs. But she could not rest until she was sure that Marian was gone.
For someone who spent most of her time looking at the ground, it was perhaps the cruelest trick of fate that in this very moment Ruth’s eyes were facing straight ahead when she walked onto the landing. She didn’t see the puddle of soda at the top of the stairs. Her legs slipped from under her. She hit the floor hard and rolled down the stairs, one, two, three times until she finally landed with a thud at the bottom.
A pain shot from the bottom of her spine and made her cry out loud.
My baby!
Her abdomen became hard and a dull ache began to form in her back, followed by an uncomfortable pressure in the pelvis. She had read about these. Contractions.
She lost track of how long she lay on the floor, hoping that they would go away, that she was not in labour, that soon she could get to her feet and go back upstairs to rest.
But they did not stop. They got stronger and closer together. She felt panic threaten to overtake her, but remembered Dr O’Grady’s question: Can you be a good parent? This was her first test. She had to save her baby. She scrabbled into her coat pocket and pulled out her mobile phone. She knew who to call. Dr O’Grady had given her his mobile number for emergencies and she believed this to be a perfect example of one.
He must have driven ever so fast, because he got to her before the ambulance did, kicking in the front door with one of his converse runners.
‘I can feel the baby’s head and this hall is most unsanitary,’ Ruth cried.
‘I’m here now. It’s going to be OK, Ruth. Trust me. I shall take care of you both.’
Dr O’Grady calmly delivered DJ into the world. He pulled his sweatshirt off and wrapped the tiny infant in it before placing him into Ruth’s arms.
‘I was not on my own after all. You were with me,’ Ruth sobbed.
She looked in wonder at her son and felt emotion unlike anything she had ever felt before. Love, tenderness, joy and, most of all, hope.
As the baby took his first breath, cried his first cry, a connection formed between the three of them. And even though they did not know it right then, it would last for ever.