Dr Parker’s coat flapped open, but he didn’t notice. Nor did he feel the warm breeze in the air, or see those he was hurrying past, or hear the squeal of a tram’s brakes. His mind was elsewhere. Never before had he experienced such an overpowering urge to act on what he knew was a fabrication of his own mind.
‘Watch yerself, mate!’
Dr Parker stopped dead in his tracks.
‘Sorry,’ he apologised as the man, grumbling, carried on his way.
He’d argued with himself that any self-respecting doctor would know that a dream is simply the subconscious uncovering the wishes that the conscious mind has learnt to repress.
That was Freud’s take on it anyway.
That was what Claire believed.
Claire!
What on earth was he doing? Claire was lovely. Intelligent. Funny. Attractive. They got on like a house on fire. He liked her. A lot. She liked him. A lot.
So, why was he striding like a mad man towards another woman? A woman who, until recently, he really did not think loved him. She’d hardly bothered with him much of late, rarely returning his phone calls. He hadn’t thought she was remotely interested in him …
That was – until this dream. This damnable dream that had changed everything. That had caused him to go a little insane.
But this dream didn’t feel like wishful thinking. It felt different. As though it was giving him a message. One that said, loud and clear:
Helen loves you.
She wants to be with you.
And he so wanted to be with her.
He turned right, down to the yard.
It was time to find out the truth.
The first person Dr Parker saw when he walked into the main office was Helen.
She looked up the moment he stepped through the main doors.
His heart felt as though it really had missed a beat. She looked exactly as she had in his dream. Those green eyes looking straight at him—
But then he heard a familiar sound.
A very real and familiar sound.
Someone was in pain.
He tore his attention away from Helen and looked over to see Polly, hunched over in agony, sitting, or rather perching, on one of the wooden chairs.
‘Thank God you’re here!’ Helen shouted across the office. She was by one of the desks. She banged the handset she was holding back into the cradle.
Dr Parker looked around – taking in the scene for the first time.
Bel was ushering the office workers out, telling them all to grab their bags and gas masks and leave.
‘Don’t worry about coming back,’ she told them, looking across to Helen for confirmation.
‘Yes, yes! Go!’ Helen agreed, before looking around for her secretary.
‘Marie-Anne!’ she ordered. ‘Go and make sure the young timekeeper – God, I always forget his name …’
‘Davey,’ Marie-Anne said.
‘Tell Davey to expect the ambulance – make sure the gates are open and the way clear,’ Helen commandeered.
Dodging the flow of workers hurrying towards the door, Dr Parker strode over to Polly. He bobbed down in front of her as Marie-Anne rushed past him.
‘Tell me what’s happening?’ he asked, keeping his voice calm.
Polly’s face was flushed, and she was scrunched up in agony.
‘Pain,’ she said, puffing out air. ‘Contractions …’ more puffing ‘… I think.’
‘She’s gone into labour,’ Helen said, walking towards him as Bel herded the last of the workers out of the main office and shut the door.
Dr Parker turned his attention back to Polly.
‘Has Dr Billingham taken your stitch out?’
She grabbed Dr Parker’s hand and instead of crying out in pain, squeezed it with such strength that it was John who thought he might shout out in agony.
‘No, he hasn’t!’ Polly said, panicked.
‘All right. That’s all right,’ Dr Parker reassured. ‘When are you due?’
Polly didn’t answer; instead, she sucked in air.
‘Oh my God, here’s another,’ she gasped, before bending over and squeezing his hand again. Dr Parker thought this time his circulation had been cut off.
‘She’s due in two weeks,’ Helen said, her eyes holding John’s attention, speaking her fear.
‘Is it too early? Is the baby going to be all right?’ Polly blurted out as she lifted her head up. Her face was covered in sweat and was blotchy red.
Bel hurried around to Polly’s right side and took hold of her other hand.
‘Don’t worry,’ Dr Parker said. ‘It’s not too early. Your baby’s going to be fine. But we do need to get you to the hospital … and quick.’
He looked back up at Helen, who was wringing her hands, her face white with worry.
‘I’ve called the ambulance,’ she said. ‘It should be here any minute.’
Just then the doors swung open and Marie-Anne came rushing in.
‘Has it arrived?’ Helen shouted out.
‘Not yet,’ Marie-Anne said, her eyes glued on Polly.
‘Go and stand by the window!’ Helen barked. ‘Tell us as soon as you see it.’
‘Oh no …’ Polly said, staring down at the floor.
Everyone followed her gaze.
There was a pool of water.
Dr Parker looked around the office and then up at Helen and Bel. ‘Can you clear that table over there?’ He cocked his head at the large wooden table that was used to sort the mail.
They both hurried across the office.
Helen pushed piles of letters, papers and files off the table with both hands. Bel picked up what she could and put it on a neighbouring desk. They both lifted the table into the middle of the room.
Polly looked at it and then at Helen, Bel and Dr Parker.
‘I can’t have the baby here!’ she said, aghast. ‘I’ve got to go to hospital.’
Her face scrunched up in agony again.
‘Dr Billingham …’ was all she managed to say before the iron fist gripped her insides again. The pain was unbearable. She’d never known such agony in her entire life.
‘Don’t worry,’ Dr Parker said. ‘We’ll get you to the hospital as soon as the ambulance turns up …’ He looked over at a grave-looking Marie-Anne, who shook her head. ‘In the meantime, we just need to get you on the table and have a look at what’s going on.’
Polly tried to stand but was hit by more pain.
‘My back’s killing me,’ she said, looking at Dr Parker.
‘That’s normal too,’ he said.
‘Let’s try and get her onto the table.’ John glanced at Helen. She caught his look of concern and returned one of her own.
‘I’ll take this side,’ Helen said, as Bel took hold of Polly’s right arm. They both tried to heave Polly onto the table, but she was a ton weight.
‘Martha?’ Helen suggested.
‘Good idea,’ Bel agreed, letting go of her sister-in-law’s hand and hurrying off.
Seeing Bel go, Polly panicked. She desperately wanted to shout for her to come back. But she didn’t. She thought of Tommy. She had to be brave.
‘The baby’s coming!’ Bel shouted at the top of her lungs. The sound of her voice seemed to get lost in the hammering of metal and the pneumatic thumping of the rivet guns.
The women saw her before they heard her.
‘Oh. My. God,’ Dorothy said, pushing up her mask. She nudged Angie, who was concentrating on a vertical weld. Turning and seeing Bel, she tugged hard on Martha’s sleeve.
‘It’s Polly!’ Bel shouted as she finally reached them. ‘She’s gone into labour!’
‘What? She’s having the baby? Here?’ Gloria said.
Bel nodded. She felt as though she had just ripped a few vocal cords.
‘Martha …’ She stepped across a welding machine to get to the group’s gentle giant. ‘They need you up there to help move Pol,’ she shouted into her ear.
Martha immediately dumped her rod and mask on the ground with a clatter, and without a second glance she strode off across the yard, breaking into a lumbering jog so she wouldn’t have to wait for a crane to pass.
‘Can we do anything?’ Gloria shouted.
Bel nodded again.
‘The ambulance,’ she hollered. ‘Meet it at the gates – tell the driver where to go.’
Rosie, Dorothy and Angie did exactly as Martha had just done; they downed their tools and masks and made a beeline across the yard.
Polly watched as Dr Parker spoke a few words to Helen before shaking off his coat and rolling up his sleeves. She saw Helen take the coat and gently squeeze his arm before hurrying off and out of her line of vision.
She heard the door crash open and Martha appeared. Her face was serious. Martha disappeared from view again and then she felt herself being gently lifted onto the table.
She turned her face and saw that Helen had brought Dr Parker a bowl of water and a bar of soap. They were talking quietly. Dr Parker seemed to be reassuring Helen, whose face was tense and angst-ridden. She passed him some paper towels and he dried his hands quickly, chucking them on the floor.
For a split second Polly thought she was in the hospital – before she heard the klaxon sound out.
End of shift.
Dr Parker suddenly came into view.
‘I’m going to give you a very quick examination.’
Polly craned her head up and nodded her acquiescence before being hit by another contraction.
Dr Parker looked at Helen, who hurried to her side and took Polly’s hand.
‘It’s all right,’ Helen said, trying her hardest to sound reassuring before turning to look at Marie-Anne.
‘Can you see anything?’ she shouted.
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘What do you mean, you don’t think so?’ Helen yelled, anger replacing anxiety.
‘I can’t see!’ Marie-Anne shouted in return.
The pain ebbed and Polly again craned her neck. Marie-Anne had half her body hanging out the window; one slight push and she’d be gone.
‘The entrance’s blocked!’ she turned back and shouted over at Helen.
‘Bloody hell,’ Helen hissed through clenched teeth.
Polly caught the look of despair Helen threw Dr Parker, who was now back in her line of vision.
‘What? The ambulance can’t get in?’ Polly asked, looking from Helen to Dr Parker.
The doors suddenly banged open.
It was Bel. She hurried over to Polly. ‘How’re you feeling?’
‘Like I’m dying,’ Polly spluttered. Another contraction.
‘Don’t worry,’ Bel said in earnest. ‘That’s totally normal.’
Polly spluttered, laughed, then cried out in agony. It was the first time she had vocalised her pain.
‘It’ll be worth it,’ Bel assured.
Polly caught sight of Dr Parker at the end of the table. He had blood on him.
‘Oh, God,’ she gasped.
‘Remember, the same happened with Gloria …’
Polly heard Martha’s reassuring voice behind her.
‘It’s fine, Polly. Everything is going exactly as it should. All of this is perfectly normal,’ Dr Parker said with the utmost authority.
Polly suddenly exploded into semi-hysterical laughter.
Having her baby on the sorting table in the admin department of Thompson’s shipyard was not what she would call ‘perfectly normal’.
‘I want to go to hospital!’ she demanded. ‘I want Dr Billingham!’ Polly glowered at Dr Parker.
‘I don’t think this baby’s going to wait,’ Helen said, throwing Dr Parker another worried look.
‘But—’ Another contraction stopped Polly from saying any more.
‘Are you all right giving me a hand?’ Dr Parker asked Helen.
Polly heard Helen’s heels clip-clopping on the vinyl flooring before she appeared next to Dr Parker.
‘Pol,’ Bel said, drawing her attention away from Helen and John, who had started to talk in hushed tones, ‘just keep a hold of my hand.’
Polly turned her head to see her sister-in-law.
‘And mine.’
She turned her head a hundred and eighty degrees to see Martha, who was now where Helen had been.
She grabbed both their hands as though her life depended on it.
Rosie, Gloria, Dorothy and Angie were halfway across the yard when the klaxon blared out. In total synchronicity, the workforce stopped dead. It had been another hot day. Most had been counting the minutes until the end of the shift. Now it was a race to either the pub or home.
All of a sudden, the women found themselves in a tide of bodies, their progress slowed down as everyone headed for the gates, creating the usual bottleneck at the timekeeper’s cabin.
‘Move!’ Angie bellowed at the top of her lungs. She was at the front of the women’s vanguard.
‘Fire!’ Dorothy screeched. She had heard that if you needed people to move, you had to pretend there was a fire; apparently, people then scattered like rats. She had been falsely informed. A few of the men turned their heads, but seeing it was Dorothy, returned to their chatter.
‘Davey!’ Rosie shouted over to the young lad, but he couldn’t hear. His little face flushed as he grabbed the clocking-off cards that were being waved up at him impatiently.
Finally, they made it to the main gates. Rosie stood on her tiptoes, straining to see if the ambulance was anywhere in sight.
‘There it is!’ she shouted.
But any joy immediately died when she saw that its progress was even slower than their own.
Ten minutes later, Marie-Anne swung her head round.
‘It’s here! It’s here!’ she screamed. ‘The ambulance is coming through the gates!’
‘Too late,’ Dr Parker said. ‘The baby’s coming.’
As if on cue, Polly suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to push.
After the ambulance finally made it through the throng of workers to the main gates, Rosie jumped into the passenger seat, squashed herself up against the nurse and directed the driver to the outside of the admin building.
‘A woman called Polly Watts has gone into labour,’ Rosie explained, trying to stay calm and convey as much information as possible in the shortest time possible.
‘She’s not due for another two weeks and she’s had some sort of stitch put in her cervix because she nearly lost the baby when she was about three months gone.’
Rosie looked at the nurse’s face; she clearly had no idea what she was talking about. She also looked very worried.
‘Luckily, there’s a doctor with her,’ Rosie said. ‘Dr Parker.’
The nurse’s face instantly showed relief.
The driver pulled over and Rosie opened the door and jumped out.
The young nurse grabbed her bag and followed.
‘This way!’
It was Gloria.
She took the nurse to the entrance, where Dorothy was holding open the door.
As the nurse followed Gloria up the stairs, Dorothy saw Angie coming out of the drawing office with Hannah and Olly.
‘Come on! Hurry up!’ she shouted across, waving her free hand at them before screeching in excitement at the top of her lungs.
‘Polly’s having her baby!’
For the next twenty-five minutes, Polly’s world became a blur of faces, noises and voices.
The nurse who had arrived with the ambulance looked terrified as she hurried to and fro, carrying towels or bowls of water. Polly was glad that Helen had remained second in command to Dr Parker.
She listened as John told her very matter-of-factly that her baby was in the right position, ‘head down and face towards the spine’. The stitch had worked its way loose.
This, he explained, was excellent news and meant the birth shouldn’t take long – or be too painful.
Polly wanted to scream that it was already too painful, but the words never made it out of her mouth as another contraction again took away her ability to sound anywhere near coherent.
Bel and Martha stayed exactly where they were. They had no choice. Polly’s grip was like a vice.
Polly was vaguely aware of what was happening around her. She caught glimpses of Marie-Anne bobbing in and out of the admin doors, but it was only when she heard Dorothy shriek that she realised the women welders were waiting at the top of the steps outside the entrance to the office.
She tried hard to obey Dr Parker’s commands, reiterated by Helen, telling her to push or to stop pushing.
But then Dr Parker gave her the go-ahead for one last almighty effort.
‘Do it!’ Helen commanded.
The pain was off the Richter scale. There were a few seconds of silence. And then she heard her baby cry. And she, too, started crying.
‘It’s a boy!’ Dr Parker declared.
‘You’ve got a baby boy!’ Helen said, her voice choked.
Polly watched through a blur of tears as Dr Parker cut the cord and brought her baby straight to her.
And that’s when she fell in love for the second time in her life.