The night before dawn
When Poppys contractions started, the clock read threeminusquarter. The flat was a damp halfdarkness: a fine drizzle fell outside, streetlights smeared blurry halos on the pavement. James had risen from the sofa before herhed been up almost all night, slumped on the kitchen stool, flipping the bag at the door, peeking out the window. Poppy lay on her side, hand pressed to her belly, counting the seconds between the waves of pain: seven minutes, then six and a half. She tried to recall the breathing technique from a videoinhale through the nose, exhale through the mouthbut it came out ragged.
Already? James asked from the hallway, his voice muffled behind the bedroom door.
Looks like it She gingerly sat up on the edge of the bed, feeling the cold floor under her bare feet. The contractions are getting more frequent.
Theyd spent the last month prepping for this: bought a big blue maternity bag, packed everything from the checklist printed off a NHS sitepassport, NHS card, spare nightgown, phone charger and even a chocolate bar just in case. Now even that order felt precarious. James fidgeted by the wardrobe, shuffling through folders of paperwork.
My passport is here NHS card wheres the exchange card? Did you grab it yesterday? he muttered quickly and quietly, as if fearing to wake the neighbours through the thin walls.
Poppy rose heavily and shuffled into the bathroomshe needed to splash some water on her face. The room smelled of soap and slightly damp towels. In the mirror stared a woman with dark circles under her eyes and hair in a wild tumble.
Should we call a cab now? James called from the hallway.
Sure but doublecheck the bag first.
Both were young: Poppy was twentyseven, James a little over thirty. He worked as a design engineer at a local factory, she taught English at a secondary school before maternity leave. Their flat was compact: a kitchenliving area and a bedroom overlooking the high street. Everything hinted at the upcoming changethe baby cot was already assembled in the corner, surrounded by a stack of nappies; a box of friends toys sat nearby.
James ordered a black cab through an appthe familiar yellow icon turned into a sleek black silhouette on his screen almost instantly.
The driver will be here in ten minutes he tried to sound calm, though his fingers trembled over the screen.
Poppy slipped a hoodie over her night dress and fished for her charger: the battery read eighteen percent. She tucked the cable into her jacket pocket with a face toweljust in case.
The hallway reeked of shoes and Jamess slightly damp coat, still drying from their walk the night before.
As they prepared, the contractions grew stronger and a touch more frequent. Poppy avoided looking at the clock, preferring to count breaths and picture the road ahead.
They stepped out of the flat five minutes before the appointed time. The hallway light cast a pale patch by the lift, where a draft drifted upward. The stairwell was cool; Poppy pulled her coat tighter, clutching the folder of documents.
Outside, the air was crisp and damp even for May; rain droplets streaked the awning, a few hurried pedestrians scurried past, pulling their collars up or tucking their hoods deeper.
Cars were parked haphazardly in the courtyard; somewhere distant a muffled engine rumbled as if someone was warming it up for a night shift. The cab was already five minutes late; the arrival dot on the map crawled forward: the driver was clearly looping around backstreets or navigating an obstacle.
James checked his phone every halfminute:
Two minutes, it says. But hes taking the long way roadworks? he muttered.
Poppy leaned on the railing, trying to relax her shoulders. She remembered the chocolate bar, slipped her hand into the side pocket of the bag, and felt itsmall comfort amid the chaos.
At last a white Renault emerged from around the corner, eased up to the foot of the stairs and stopped. The drivera tiredlooking man in his midforties with a trimmed beardhopped out, opened the rear door and helped Poppy into the seat, luggage in tow.
Good evening! Maternity unit? Got it, buckle up, he said cheerfully, not too loud. His movements were efficient but unhurried. James settled beside Poppy behind the driver; the door slammed a tad louder than usual, and the cabin smelled of fresh air mixed with the lingering scent of coffee from a thermos by the handbrake.
They were immediately caught in a minor jam: ahead, flashing lights of roadwork vehicles as crews repaved the street under flickering lamps. The driver cranked the navigation speaker up:
Right, they promised to finish by midnight. Well cut through the side lane
At that moment Poppy remembered the NHS card:
Stop! I left the card at home! They wont let me in without it!
James went pale.
Ill run back! Were not far!
The driver glanced in his mirror.
Take your time. Ill waitstill got a few minutes left.
James sprinted out, splashing puddles as he raced down the steps. Four minutes later he returned, breathless, the card clutched in his hand along with the key ringhed forgotten them in the lock and had to climb back up. The driver kept his eyes on the road, nodding briefly when James hopped back in.
All good? Lets carry on, he said.
Poppy pressed the documents to her chest as another contraction hit harder than before. She tried to breathe evenly, teeth clenched. The car inched along a construction zone; through the fogged window she could see wet signs for 24hour pharmacies and the occasional silhouette of pedestrians under umbrellas.
The cabin was tense quiet, broken only by the navigator announcing new detours and the soft hum of the heater warming the windshield.
After a few minutes the driver spoke up:
Ive got three kids myself one was born at night, we had to walk to the hospital in kneedeep snow. It turned into an adventure, though! He smiled faintly.
Dont worry about the early part; just keep those papers handy and hold each others hands tight, he added.
Poppy felt a slight ease settle over herhis calm tone worked better than any online forum or support group. She glanced at James, who gave her a tiny smile through his strained expression.
They arrived at the maternity unit just before five in the morning. The rain was still falling, now more lazy than relentless, tapping the roof of the car. James was the first to notice a pale pink band of light on the horizon as the city began to blush with dawn. The driver steered into a spot with the fewest puddles. Two ambulances were parked nearby, but there was still room for a quick unload.
Here we are! the driver said, turning around. Ill help with the bag, no worries.
Poppy, clutching her belly and the folder, managed to get up slowly. James was out first, grabbing her elbow and ushering her onto the slick pavement. A fresh contraction hit her so hard she had to pause and take a couple of slow breaths. The driver deftly lifted the blue bag and placed it just ahead of the entrance.
Watch your step, its slippery, he called over his shoulder. His voice sounded like hed seen this a hundred times, yet it still felt oddly novel.
At the entrance, the air was a mix of damp earth, fresh-cut flowers, and antiseptica perfume of rain and medicine. Drops collected on the canopy, sometimes landing on a sleeve or cheek. James looked around; the only people were a nightshift nurse behind a glass door and a couple of men in scrubs along the far wall.
The driver set the bag down, straightened up and, a little embarrassed by his own initiative, shrugged.
Good luck! Remember each other, and everything else will sort itself out.
James wanted to say more, but words got stucktoo much had piled up over the night. He simply shook the drivers handfirm, genuinely grateful. Poppy nodded, offered a shy smile and whispered, Thank you really.
No trouble at all! the driver replied, eyes darting away as he headed back to his car. Everything will be fine.
The maternity unit doors creaked open; the night nurse peered out, assessed the scene with a quick glance and gestured them in.
Come in! Have your papers ready men arent allowed in unless its an emergency. Got the folder?
Poppy nodded, handed the folder through the slightly ajar door, the bag following. James stayed under the canopy, rain drumming on his hood, barely noticing it.
Hold tight. If you need anything, well call you, the nurse called from inside.
Poppy glanced back at James through the glassa quick upthumb, a faint smile. Then she was ushered down a corridor; the door shut softly behind her.
James lingered alone under the morning sky. The drizzle eased, the dampness seeped into his collar but no longer irked him. He checked his phone; the battery was down to a couple of percenthed have to hunt for a socket later.
The driver didnt pull away straight away; he fiddled with the cars interior, turned the lights on and looked out the side window at James. Their eyes met againbrief, wordless. In that silence was more support than any long speech could offer.
James gave a thumbsupa simple thank you. The driver returned the gesture, smiled a weary, wide grin and finally rolled away.
When the car vanished around the corner, the street seemed unusually empty. For a moment it was so quiet you could only hear the rain pattering on the awning and the distant murmur of a city still waking.
James stayed under the shelter. Through the glass he could see the reception desk where Poppy was seated, filling out forms with the nurse. Her face looked calmer; the tension of the past hours seemed to dissolve with the rain.
He realized, for the first time that night, a lightness in his chestlike hed been holding his breath underwater and could finally surface. Theyd made it on time, the documents were in hand, Poppy was in safe hands, and a new morning stretched ahead.
The sky above the city gradually turned a pearlescent dawn; the damp air smelled fresh after the nights shower. James inhaled deeply, just because.
In that moment anything felt possible.
Time seemed to crawl for James as he paced the path by the maternity unit, deliberately avoiding his phone screen so it wouldnt die completely.
About an hour and a half after Poppy entered, Jamess phone buzzed. It was her.
Congratulations, youre a dad now. Weve got a little ladhero 4200, all good!
