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The room emptied of all but their red-haired student.
‘I’m really sorry,’ she said again.
‘Thank you,’ said Ronan, faultlessly polite as ever.
‘No, I mean, I’m really sorry, but we need to clear this room for another delivery.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘I’m really sorry. I’ve been told to move you.’
‘Move us where?’
‘Just down the corridor, to Recovery. I’ll just take Baby while we get you into a wheelchair and .?.?.’
‘No,’ Claire interrupted the nurse without taking her eyes off the child in her arms.
‘Don’t worry, it’s only for .?.?.’
‘No.’
The nurse looked to Ronan. He gave her a quick, negative shake of his head.
‘I’ll be right back,’ she said, and she scuttled away, only to be replaced seconds later by Sergeant Major, who must have been standing guard outside the door. Ronan stood up when he saw her, but she waved him back to his place at Claire’s back.
‘Claire, Ronan,’ she said. ‘I’m Bridget.’ She put a hand on the baby’s head. ‘She’s beautiful, Claire. Tell me,’ she said, ‘what’s her name?’
Claire looked up. ‘Mabel.’
‘Mabel. That’s a lovely name. Let’s write that down now.’
Bridget took the chart from the end of the bed and filled in the space allowed for the baby’s name. She stood reading the chart for a moment.
‘She weighed in at 3.24kg – that’s 7lb2oz in old money.’
Wasn’t there some theory about the weight of the human soul? Claire wondered whether they’d weighed Mabel before or after her soul left.
‘Now, Claire.’
‘She’ll get cold,’ said Claire, and it occurred to her as she heard the words leave her mouth that they’d think she was delusional. She wasn’t. But the bundle in her arms was soft and warm, and once they took her away – she gasped for breath – once they took her away, that would end. And they’d bring her back a cold, stiff little corpse. And she was afraid, petrified, that she wouldn’t be able to bring herself to even look at it. And then .?.?.
‘Claire, listen. I’m going to carry Mabel in my arms while we move you to Recovery, and then, when you’re ready, you and I will get her dressed, and you can take some pictures, and you can hold her for as long as you want. Alright?’
‘She’ll get cold.’
‘I’ll take her,’ said Ronan. He looked to Bridget, and she nodded. ‘Let me take her, Claire. I’ll keep her warm, I promise.’
He thinks I’ve lost the plot, she thought, keeping her eyes fixed on the sleeping baby girl. Her little ear was so pretty. And her hair, Claire was certain, had a tint of gold to it.
Ronan wrapped his arm over hers and then slipped it down so that he could slide Mabel away. Instinctively, Claire’s hand tightened its grip.
‘Claire, let go.’
* * *
‘Claire.’
Ronan was leaning over her. She hadn’t heard him coming. She must have drifted off for a minute.
