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‘If you can't respect my privacy,' she went on, ‘I don't see how I can work for you.'

‘I can respect your privacy, Helen,' Myles said flatly. ‘I've respected it all along. Isn't that what this is about in the first place?'

She had nothing to say to that.

‘And I'll continue to respect your privacy,' he said in a level voice. ‘But I'm still glad this came out. I've said from the start that I want us to be completely honest with each other.'

‘Pity you didn't hold up your end of the bargain,' said Helen. ‘Do you have any idea how it feels to suddenly find out that people you trusted have been lying to you all along?'

‘Yeah, I do know how that feels, Helen,' he said seriously. ‘I was mad as hell with my mother when I realised she hadn't told us she was sick. I was losing her, we had so little time left, but I couldn't get over the anger. Until I realised she was only doing it to protect us.'

Something snapped inside Helen then. ‘Oh, my God, I don't believe this.'

‘What?' Myles frowned.

‘So you were only trying to protect me by not being honest with me, is that it, Myles?' she accused. ‘You couldn't save your own mother, or anyone else's mother, so you decided to take a stab at me, a poor wretched widow, who landed right on your doorstep. You must have been rubbing your hands together when Gemma told you about me. But I'm not a project, Myles. I don't need you to save me or to protect me. I don't want your charity, or your pity . . . or your job.'

Helen walked out of the office without another word. There was nothing more to say anyway. She felt raw and exposed and excruciatingly vulnerable. When people could see your wounds it was so much easier for them to hurt you. Better to cover them up.

She didn't want to be like this, but she didn't know any other way. She was racked with guilt that she still had a life, a life that was moving on and branching out and going in directions it never would have if David hadn't . . . but how could she even think like that? Let alone talk about it. Helen had the feeling that if she were to start talking about it, any of it, then all of it might come tumbling out, and she might say something she would not be able to live with.

Helen unlocked the front door and crept inside. The house was in total darkness; there wasn't even light coming from under Gemma's door. She walked quietly into Noah's room and over to his bed. He was sleeping soundly, the covers kicked askew. Helen straightened them, pulling them up snugly over his shoulders. She stroked his hair from his face. So peaceful, so beautiful. She'd always loved to watch him sleep. She and David used to creep in sometimes after they were sure he was asleep, just to stare at him. Helen felt tears welling again. She lifted the covers back and climbed in beside her little son, curling herself around him, waiting for sleep to overcome her so she wouldn't have to feel anything for a while.

*

‘Helen! Helen, are you there?'

She jumped, startled. She was still lying beside Noah. She must have fallen asleep. She heard a warbled cry and then ‘Helen' again.

It was Gemma. Helen slipped off the bed, careful not to disturb Noah, and hurried out into the hall, switching on the light. Gemma was standing in the doorway of Helen's room, gripping the architraves.

‘Gemma, what is it?'

She spun around. ‘Oh, thank God, I thought you weren't back yet.'

‘What's going on? Are you having contractions?'

‘I don't know,' she said fearfully. ‘It's not stopping and starting pain, it's kind of . . . dragging, I guess.'

‘Is it like a bearing-down sensation?' Helen asked her.

‘Maybe, yeah.' She grimaced a little. ‘It actually feels like I have to go to the toilet, really bad.'

That wasn't good. ‘Come on, let's get you back to your bed –'

‘I can't,' she winced. ‘It's soaked.'

‘Did your waters break?'

‘I was wondering if that's what it was.'

‘Okay,' said Helen calmly. ‘Go and lie on my bed instead. I'm just going to call for an ambulance.'

‘Don't leave me,' Gemma blurted, grasping hold of her hand.

‘I'm not going to leave you, Gemma. Come on, I'll help you onto the bed first.' She led her further into the room, but Gemma could barely walk. Helen had a feeling this baby was on its way, sooner rather than later. She hauled the doona off the bed and helped Gemma to lie back, propping pillows around her for support. Gemma groaned, and Helen could hear the pain in her voice.

‘I'm going to dash out quickly and get the phone,' she said. ‘I'll be right back, don't move.'

Helen ran out to the kitchen, turning on lights on the way, and grabbed the phone, racing back to the room as she dialled triple 0. ‘Ambulance,' she said clearly when prompted.

Gemma was writhing about on the bed. ‘I'm going to be sick,' she wailed, as Helen heard the operator come onto the line.
She could only watch helplessly as Gemma threw up all over a pillow.

‘Hi, I have a woman here who's about to give birth –'

‘I can't have the baby here!' Gemma shrieked.

‘Shh, Gemma, it's going to be all right. They're going to send an ambulance right away, aren't you?' Helen said into the phone.

‘As soon as you give me the address.'

She rattled off her address as she dashed into the bathroom and grabbed a couple of facewashers, dousing them under the running tap.

‘Now I'm going to stay on the line with you and talk you through,' the operator was saying as Helen hurried back to the bedroom.

‘I don't think that'll be necessary.' She dragged the vomit-soaked pillow off the bed. ‘I'm a nurse.' She leaned over Gemma to wipe her face down with the wet cloth.

‘Oh, that's great. What's your name?'

‘Helen Chapman.'

‘Okay, Helen, the call has gone out: there should be an ambulance there in five to eight minutes. How far apart are the contractions coming?'

‘I think we might have passed that stage. Her waters broke while she was sleeping; when she got up she felt like bearing down, and it looks like she might be going into shock as well,' she added, noticing Gemma's legs had begun to shake.

‘It's coming on fast,' said the operator. ‘Is she full-term?'

‘Close enough.'

‘Do you know if the head's crowning?'

‘I haven't been able to check yet.'

‘Okay, I'll stay on the line, Helen, but put the phone down somewhere close. I'll be here if you need me. My name's Lyn, by the way.'

Helen raced around to the other side of the bed and placed the phone on the bedside table.

‘What's happening?' Gemma wailed.

‘You're going to have a baby,' said Helen calmly as she lifted Gemma's nightie up and over her belly. ‘I'm just taking your pants off, Gem.'

‘Why are you doing that?'

‘So your baby doesn't come out wearing your undies on his head,' said Helen. ‘It's not a good look.'

Gemma suddenly howled. ‘Shit! It hurts!'

‘What did you expect? Now stick your feet up here on my shoulders,' she said, taking hold of Gemma's ankles and doing it for her.

‘I didn't ask for this, you know,' Gemma whimpered.

‘You took the risk every time you had sex.'

Gemma glared at her. ‘What, are you going to give me a safe-sex talk now?'

‘It's a bit late for that: your baby's on its way.'

‘Oh fuck!' Gemma cried. ‘Can't you stop it?'

Helen shook her head. Nothing's going to stop it now.'

‘This can't be happening!' Gemma was frantic. ‘I can't have the baby here – I have to get to a hospital. I have to have drugs!'

‘Gemma, millions of babies are born all over the world nowhere near a hospital –'

‘Yeah, and you said they all die.'

‘I did not say that,' she chided.

But Gemma wasn't listening any more; she let out a deep, shuddering bellow, which sounded not unlike a cow mooing, it occurred to Helen.

‘Gem, we have to get you back up the bed a little,' said Helen. ‘Can you use the post to push against with your foot?'

It was mostly Helen heaving and hoeing to get Gemma into a better position, but at least now she could see what was going on. Or coming out, rather. There, plain as day, was the bulging crescent of the baby's head, pushing through into the world. Helen snatched the phone up.

‘Hi, Lyn, the baby's head is definitely crowning,' she reported. ‘How far away is that ambulance?'

‘They're saying three minutes, if you can get her to breathe through it –'

They were interrupted by a piercing scream as Gemma hoicked herself up on her elbows. ‘Helen, get this fucking thing out of here,
it's killing me
!'

‘Gotta go,' Helen said, dropping the phone.

She'd never delivered a baby before, but she'd watched enough being delivered. They really did it themselves; Helen knew as long as the baby turned itself sideways after the head was out, the shoulders would be able to pass through okay, and the rest should all take care of itself. Nonetheless she said a silent prayer, to a God she didn't believe in, that the cord was not wrapped around the neck or the baby didn't come out blue, or any one of a number of complications that she would not dwell on right now. The ambulance would be here any minute – they could deal with any emergency. She looked up at Gemma's face; she was straining so hard her eyes looked as though they were going to pop right out of her head.

‘Gemma,' she said loudly, getting her attention. ‘Push towards me, don't strain, put some oomph behind it.'

Gemma panted for a few moments, and then started to push again.

‘Towards me, Gem, towards me.' Helen watched as the head began to emerge. ‘That's great, you're doing great!' she said, slipping the perineum down over the baby's chin till the head was completely free. ‘You did it! The head's all the way out!'

Gemma collapsed back flat on the bed. ‘Is it a girl or a boy?'

‘Can't tell yet,' Helen laughed, looking at the squashed, angry little face as the baby turned itself sideways, just like it was supposed to do. ‘But I'm looking at a pretty gorgeous face, and a head full of black hair.'

Gemma laughed weakly, and then she was up on her elbows again, the resolve plain on her face. She gave one last tremendous push and all of a sudden the body slithered out, whole and pink and perfect. Helen scooped up the baby and popped it on Gemma's stomach as the lights of the ambulance flashed through the windows into the room. Gemma was lying flat on her back, laughing and crying and feeling for her baby. Helen glanced at the clock. ‘It's 4.07, Gemma. Congratulations.'

‘What's the date?' she asked.

‘It's the fifth,' said Helen, a smile breaking on her lips. She took a breath. ‘It's my birthday.'

Gemma looked at her. ‘Helen,' she said warmly, ‘that's so great!
You have the same birthday . . . Oh my God, I don't even know if I have a son or a daughter.' Her voice was drunk with joy and sheer relief.

Helen grabbed a couple of pillows that had drifted down the bed and propped them up behind Gemma. ‘Here, look for yourself.'

Gemma gazed down at the beautiful, wriggling little alien lying on her tummy. She cradled one arm around the baby, her baby, and shifted slightly.

‘She's a girl, Helen,' she said staring up at her as tears streamed down her face. ‘I knew it all along.'

In the commotion that followed, Noah finally woke up and was dazed and delighted to see the brand-new baby, but, it had to be said, much more impressed to see a real ambulance, flashing lights and the whole bit. As they wheeled Gemma out on the stretcher, she reached out to grab hold of Helen's hand. ‘You're coming with me to the hospital, aren't you?'

‘I won't be far behind,' said Helen. ‘I'll get cleaned up and I'll be in as soon as I can.'

‘You promise?' she said, still grasping tight onto Helen's hand.

‘Of course. And I'll call Phoebe straightaway.'

‘And Charlie, you have to call Charlie. Call Charlie first.' Helen stood with Noah perched on her hip as the ambulance trundled off slowly up the street.

‘Why isn't the ambalints going ee-aww, Mummy?' Noah wanted to know.

‘Because it's not an emergency,' said Helen. ‘Gemma and the baby are both fine, absolutely fine.'

Noah insisted he wasn't tired and he didn't need to go back to bed, but Helen talked him into just lying down while she got ready. He drifted off to sleep barely a few minutes later. Helen phoned Charlie and then Phoebe, waking them both, but it hardly mattered once she told them the news. It was quite a wonderful thing to be the bearer of good tidings. And she was glad to hear they both intended to make their way to the hospital directly; in fact, the way Charlie had responded, she had a feeling he might beat the ambulance there. Helen would have to
get out of her clothes and have a shower before she went anywhere, and she had to clean up the beds before that.

She started in Gemma's room, stripping off the sodden sheets and liner and putting it all through the hot cycle in the washing machine. Helen's bed did not get off so lightly. It was a mess, and Helen decided that the sheets would have to go. She fetched a garbage bag from the kitchen and bundled all the linen inside, even the mattress liner.

Down on the floor she noticed the vomit-soaked pillow. Helen knelt beside it. It was David's pillow, still in the same case, the one she'd never been able to change. Tears welled, spilling over her lashes and running down her cheeks as she pushed the pillow into the garbage bag, drawing the ties together tight. She sat there on the floor and sobbed and sobbed, aware of a huge weight lifting off her. A baby had been born here today, a new life had come into the world, right here, in Helen's bedroom. This house had been so choked with grief and death, but it was as though this new life, this one little baby girl, had cleared the air, scattering the ghosts in her wake.