“Almost done, love?”
She nodded but it quickly morphed into a frown as she felt a twinge low down in her abdomen. At almost seven months pregnant, she’d become used to strange aches and pains, but this was different. Sharper.
“All right?” Sally, the owner of the daycare, sashayed across the room, her expression instantly curious.
“Yeah,” Imogen nodded, but her expression showed worry. “I’ve probably just pushed it too much today.”
“Mmm,” Sally nodded with disapproval. “Playing tag with the children wasn’t such a good idea, I’d say.”
Imogen winced. “Perhaps not.”
“You need to go onto light duties. You’re getting to the business end of things now.”
“I know.” She dropped the blocks into their box and straightened. Her stomach twinged again. “I’d better get going. Thanks, Sal.”
Her handbag was by the door; she lifted it off the hook and pulled her phone out in one swift motion. She hesitated for less than a second before dialing Theo’s number. It rung three times before he answered, and Imogen was outside, flagging down a passing cab.
“St Leewards Hospital,” she said as she sat down, her breath hard to catch now.
“Imogen?” She heard noises. The rustle of fabric, the jingle of keys. “What is it?”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” she said, a hand on her stomach, her eyes squeezed shut. “Just something a bit strange. I just thought I should let you know that I’m going to get checked out. But I’m sure you don’t need to worry.”
There was a moment of silence and she could see Theo’s handsome, intelligent face assessing her information and instantly disputing her claim. “I’ll meet you there.”
Imogen disconnected the call and stared out the window as the taxi driver turned towards the hospital. It was perhaps a ten-minute drive away, but it seemed to take forever on that afternoon. A lorry pulled out in front of them and then laboriously, pain-stakingly slowly, reversed into a driveway, holding up traffic in both directions for several minutes, but finally, cars began to move once more.
She arrived at the hospital and stared at it with relief.
“Y’all right?” The driver spun in his chair, his eyes latched to hers.
“Uh huh. I’m…” She grabbed her stomach once more as another pain spread through her.
“Right.” He nodded, pushing his door open and stepping out quickly before wrenching her door open. “Me missus had us a lad four weeks ago,” he explained, putting a hand under her elbow and then reaching for her handbag, swinging it over his shoulder. “She’d never forgive me if I didn’t at least see y’in.”
“Thank you,” Imogen said, truly grateful for the support as the large glass doors swished open and the linoleum floor spread before them. Last time she’d been to the hospital, Theo had been with her and they’d been excited about a routine check-up. Now, fear lodged in her chest.
“Got a chap I can call?”
“I’ve spoken to him,” she said with a nod, making her way to the desk. But the taxi driver had apparently taken Imogen’s care as his highest priority and he side-stepped to grab a vacant wheelchair.
“I’m fine,” she demurred, but he gave her a look of gentle insistence, so that she sat in it with a small smile.
“You remind me of him.”
“Is he a robust, strapping lad like me?”
“He’s bossy,” she said, grunting as another pain radiated through her.
He pushed the chair forward, towards the Admit desk.
“Can I help you?” A portly woman with orange hair and a pale face stared down at them.
“I’m registered here. Imogen Harper. Something weird is happening.”
“I see,” the woman nodded, returning her attention to the papers in front of her. “Fill out a form and we’ll get right to you.”
“A form?” The cab driver interjected. “A bleedin’ form? Are those things in your face decorative? Can’t you see she’s in pain?”