The Night Before the Dawn

**The Night Before Dawn**

When Emilys contractions started, the clock read a quarter to three. The flat was dim and dampa fine rain tapped against the window, and the streetlights cast blurred reflections on the wet pavement. Thomas had been awake longer than her, fidgeting on the kitchen chair, checking the hospital bag by the door, then peering out into the darkness. Emily lay on her side, pressing a hand to her belly, counting the seconds between waves of pain: seven minutes, then six and a half. She tried to recall the breathing technique from the videoin through the nose, out through the mouthbut her breaths came unevenly.

“Is it time?” Thomas called softly from the hallway, his voice muffled by the half-closed door.

“Seems like it” She eased herself to the edge of the bed, her bare feet meeting the cold floor. “Theyre getting closer.”

Theyd spent the last month preparingpacking the big blue hospital bag with everything from the printed checklist: passport, NHS card, maternity notes, a spare nightdress, phone charger, even a chocolate bar “just in case.” Yet now, even that careful order felt fragile. Thomas rummaged by the wardrobe, shuffling through folders.

“Passports here NHS card Got it Where are the maternity notes? Did you take them yesterday?” He spoke quickly, quietly, as if afraid to wake the neighbours through the thin walls.

Emily hauled herself up and shuffled to the bathroomshe needed to at least splash some water on her face. The air smelled of soap and slightly damp towels. The woman in the mirror had dark circles under her eyes and tangled hair.

“Should we call a cab now?” Thomas called from the hall.

“Yes Just double-check the bag first”

They were both youngEmily twenty-seven, Thomas just past thirty. He worked as a design engineer at the local factory; shed taught English at a secondary school before maternity leave. Their flat was smalla kitchen-living room combo and a bedroom overlooking the high street. Everything spoke of change: the cot already assembled in the corner, still stacked with folded babygrows; a box of gifts from friends beside it.

Thomas booked a cab through the appthe familiar black icon appeared on his screen almost instantly.

“Cars seven minutes away”

He tried to sound calm, but his fingers trembled over the phone.

Emily tugged a hoodie over her nightdress and checked her phone chargereighteen percent battery left. She stuffed the cable into her jacket pocket along with a flanneljust in case.

The hallway smelled of shoes and Thomass slightly damp jacket, left drying after yesterdays walk.

As they hurried, the contractions grew stronger, closer. Emily avoided looking at the clockbetter to focus on her breathing and think only of the road ahead.

They stepped into the stairwell five minutes earlythe dim emergency light cast a pale glow by the lift, where a draught whispered up from below. The stairs were chilly; Emily wrapped her coat tighter and clutched the folder of documents to her chest.

Outside, the air was raw for Mayrain dripped from the awning above the door, the odd passer-by hurried down the pavement, hoods pulled low.

Cars were parked haphazardly in the estate; somewhere in the distance, an engine grumbledsomeone warming up before a night shift. The cab was already five minutes late; the dot on the map inched forward slowly, the driver winding through backstreets or dodging some unseen obstacle.

Thomas checked his phone every half-minute.

“Says two minutes away. But hes looping around the block Maybe roadworks?”

Emily leaned against the railing and tried to relax her shoulders. She suddenly remembered the chocolate bardug into the side pocket of the bagstill there. Small comfort, but something familiar in the chaos.

Finally, headlights swung round the cornera black Vauxhall slowed and pulled up neatly by the steps. The driver got out to meet thema man in his forties with tired eyes and stubble. He opened the door briskly, helping Emily in with their bags.

“Alright then? Maternity ward, yeah? Seatbelts on, please.”

His voice was steady, not too loud; his movements efficient but unhurried. Thomas slid in beside Emily; the door shut with a thudinside smelled of fresh air and faint coffee from a thermos by the handbrake.

The moment they turned onto the main road, they hit trafficflashing amber lights ahead where workmen relaid tarmac under portable lamps. The driver cranked up the satnav.

“Bloody hell. Said theyd finish by midnight. Lets cut through the side streets.”

Then Emily remembered.

“Wait! The maternity notesI left them at home! They wont admit me without them!”

Thomas went pale.

“Ill run back. Were not far.”

The driver glanced in the mirror.

“Easy. How longll it take? Ill waitplenty of time yet.”

Thomas bolted from the car, rainwater splashing from his hurried steps. Four minutes later, he returned breathlessnotes and keys in hand, having left them jammed in the door. The driver had just watched the road, silent. As Thomas slumped back in, the man gave a quick nod.

“Sorted? Right, lets go.”

Emily clutched the folder tighter as another contraction hitstronger this time. She breathed through gritted teeth. The car crawled past the roadworks; through fogged glass, the neon signs of all-night chemists blurred.

The cab was tense and quietjust the satnav rerouting, the heater clicking softly.

After a while, the driver spoke.

“Got three kids myself. First one came at night toothough we walked to the hospital back then, snow up to our knees. Makes a good story now.”

He half-smiled.

“Dont fret yet. Long as youve got your papersand each otheryoull be right.”

Emily realised, for the first time in hours, she felt a fraction lighter. His calm cut through better than any online advice. She glanced at Thomashe gave her a tight, fleeting smile.

They reached the hospital just before five. The rain had eased to a lazy patter. Thomas spotted the first pale streak of dawn. The driver pulled up neatly by the entrance, avoiding puddles. Two ambulances idled nearby, but there was space.

“Here we are,” he said, turning. “Ill help with the bag.”

Emily straightened with effort, gripping the folder. Thomas was out first, steadying her elbow as she stepped onto wet tarmac. Another contraction made her pause, breathing slowly. The driver hoisted the bag and strode ahead.

“Mind the stepsslippery,” he tossed over his shoulder. His voice held neither novelty nor routinejust the quiet rhythm of city life.

The hospital entrance smelled of damp earth from flowerbeds and something sterileantiseptic mingling with rain. Droplets gathered under the awning, occasionally landing on a sleeve or cheek. Thomas glanced aroundonly a nurse behind the glass door and two uniformed men further down.

The driver set the bag down, then hesitated, suddenly awkward.

“Right then Best of luck. Long as youve got each other, restll fall into place.”

Thomas wanted to speak, but words stuck. Instead, he shook the mans handfirm, grateful. Emily nodded, managing a faint, flustered smile.

“Thank you. Really.”

“Ah, dont mention it.” He waved it off, already stepping back. “Youll be grand.”

The doors creaked opena nurse assessed them in one glance.

“Come in. Have your documents ready. Dads wait outside unless its urgent. Youve got your folder?”

Emily nodded, handing it over. The bag was taken next. Thomas stayed under the awning, rain drumming his hood unnoticed.

“Wait here. Well call if needed,” the nurse added.

Emily turned brieflytheir eyes met through the glass. She flashed a weak thumbs-up before being led away.

Alone, Thomas checked his phonetwo percent left. Hed need to find a socket soon.

The driver didnt leave immediatelyfiddling in his seat, headlights on. Their eyes met once more through the windowwordless, solid.

Thomas raised a thumb. The man nodded, grinned wearily, and drove off.

The street felt abruptly empty. For a moment, all was quietjust rain on metal and the distant hum of the waking city.

Thomas waited. Through the glass, Emily sat at reception, filling forms. She looked calmerthe nights tension dissolving like the rain.

For the first time, he felt lightas if hed been holding his breath underwater and finally surfaced. Theyd made it. Documents, safe hands, dawn ahead.

The sky paled to pearl; the air smelled clean. Thomas breathed deepno reason, just because.

For now, anything seemed possible.

Time dragged. He paced the path outside, avoiding his dying phone.

An hour and a half later, it buzzed. Emily.

“Congratulations,” she said, voice tired but bright. “Youve got a soneight pounds, everything