CRISIS OF LOVE

Chapter 2

We lost our mother shortly after we were born.

She was walking back from the beauty salon, talking to our father on her mobile phone, telling him to put the kettle on as she would be home in a minute. Thanking him for treating her to the manicure and pedicure she knew they couldn't afford; but he knew she desperately wanted.

Everything had to be perfect for the birth included her nails in the pictures when she first held us. She joked about how glamorous her toenails would look in the stirrups and that she had pushed the boat out and got a full body wax for good measure.

Our father teased that he would inspect all areas when she got home and hoped she had her moustache done too. She teased that she had it tinted black instead and resembled Inspector Poirot. Laughing uncontrollably at her own joke.

He loved that laugh. It was his favourite thing about her. He could picture her walking down the street with tears of laughter in her eyes, trying not to wet herself as the babies pressed on her bladder... then everything changed.

It was a strange noise. Not a crash. Not a thud. It was laughter abruptly silenced, followed by the sound of people panicking. For a moment he thought she had laughed herself into premature labour. That could happen with twins. He pictured her stood in the street with a pool of water at her feet and people rushing to help. He was overwhelmed with a mixture of excitement that it was finally here, the babies were coming, and fear for what lay ahead as our mother didn't have a very high pain threshold.

He reminded himself of his promise to hold her hand through every contraction, mop her brow, feed her crushed ice, rub her back and accept any name calling as momentary madness, because she loved him of that he was sure. That was their agreement. The only birth plan they needed. To bring their children into the world surrounded by love and tranquillity... oh and good nails.

He rushed to grab his coat and bolted out of the door to meet her. He continued to call her name through the phone and tell her he was on his way, telling her not to panic, but she didn't answer so he hung up and ran as fast as he could. He knew she would be stood there in the street, frozen in shock, crying tears of joy and he wasn't going to miss of minute of it. This was it... they were becoming parents. Mummy and Daddy. Hold on babies. Daddy is coming!

He heard the sirens a few streets away, but it was not uncommon as they lived near the hospital and he hoped someone had called it for them so they could get there quicker.

As he ran in the direction of the salon, he noticed passers-by comforting each other and saw the flashing lights ahead. An overwhelming feeling of dread struck him. His heart stopped and his breath left his body, but at the same time he continued forward through the crowd, somehow knowing what was on the other side.

"She's my wife," he said over and over, trying to get through. Some people moved aside, but others tried to stop him. He knew it was to protect him, but he didn't care, he had to get to her.

"Babe! I'm here, I'm coming! Please, just let me through, she needs me. We're having twins, she could be in labour. Babe, I'm here! Can you hear me?"

The crowd parted and there she was. Almost unrecognisable surrounded by medics, her clothes cut from her body. Her domed stomach in the air for all to see.

The blood drained from his face, his heart stopped dead as something inside told him she was already gone but the doctors continued to work, so there had to be hope.

Hope that she would live to complain that they cut up her favourite coat. He would buy her another if she pulled through.

She had to pull through. Their babies... he was struck to his very soul with the realisation that his entire family lay on the ground with paramedics fighting to save their lives. This couldn't be happening. They were going to be parents. What was going on? What had happened?