Read Online Bridesmaid Blitz by Sarah Webb - Free Book Online Page B

to messages every time. I stare down at my phone. I’m so cross I feel like hurling it against the wall. Why is my family so useless? Why can’t they answer their phones for a change? I blink back my angry tears and look over at Shelly. She’s rocking backward and forward, her eyes fixed on a spot on the wall in front of her. She seems to be mumbling something under her breath. It sounds like “I’m not going to die; I’m not going to die.” Oh, dear God, I really, really have to get her to the hospital. Right now.
    “Shelly, that’s it. I have to —”
    Just then my mobile rings. Trembling with relief, I go out onto the landing to answer Clover’s call.
    “Hey, Beanie, what’s up?” she says breezily. “I have heaps of missed calls from you.”
    Thank you, God. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m so pleased to hear her voice I burst into tears. “Finally!” I blubber. “Clover, where are you?”
    “In the car park at Dublin Zoo, about to visit the new baby elephant twins. What’s going on? Everything hunky-D?”
    “NOOOOO! How quickly can you be at Dad’s?”
    “Shelly being painful? I’d love some company if you want to join me.”
    “No! The baby’s on the way and Shelly won’t let me ring an ambulance.”
    “Where’s Art?”
    “At some big-deal golf tournament in Wexford.”
    “Typical. Hang in there, Bean Machine — don’t panic at the disco. I’m on my way. ETA: ten minutes. Over and out.”
    I click the phone off and go back into my room. Shelly’s stopped rocking now and is staring at me, her baby-blue eyes wide and frightened.
    “Clover’s on her way,” I say gently. “She’ll take you to the hospital, and I’m sure Dad will be here before you know it.”
    “Good, because I think I’m dying,” she wails.
    “You’re not dying, Shelly. Concentrate on deep breathing.”
    “Oh, shut up about the breathing,” she snaps. “I don’t know what you’re on about.” She takes several short, shallow breaths, which I know won’t do her any good.
    I ignore her rudeness — being in all that pain can’t be easy — and, sitting down on the bed next to her, I squeeze her hand until I hear a car screech to a halt outside.
    “Clover!” I cry, dashing down the stairs two at a time and yanking open the door. “Boy, am I glad you’re here,” I gabble. “The contractions aren’t that far apart now, which means the baby’s on its way. But don’t tell her that, or she’ll have even more of a knicker attack.”
    Clover smiles and ruffles my hair. “Don’t worry, Beanie. We’ll just drop her to the hospital and the doctors will deal with everything. She’s not due for yonks — it’s probably just one of those false alarms. Braxton Hicks, I think they’re called.”
    We climb the stairs. Clover seems very calm until she spots the damp patch under Shelly, then I notice she is biting her lip as she whispers, “You didn’t tell me about her waters breaking, Beanie. Better get her into the hospital ASAP.”
    Clover’s concern makes me even more worried. Shelly does look pretty bad: her face is now gray, and she seems to be having difficulty breathing. Clover grabs my arm and takes me aside. “She looks brutal. We have to keep her calm, Beanie. Pretend everything’s fine, OK? This baby’s going to be very premature. It needs all the time inside it can get.”
    I nod. “I’ll do my best.”
    “Attagirl,” she says, and then walks toward Shelly, smiles, and gives a little bow. “Hi, Shelly. Taxi’s here. Which hospital, m’lady?”
    Shelly manages a smile, which is a bit of a miracle. “Parnell Street,” she says.
    “Excellent. It’s only down the road. We’ll get you there lickety-split. Can you walk?”
    Shelly looks anxious. “I’m not sure I can even get up.”
    “We’ll help you.” Clover crawls onto the bed and, kneeling behind Shelly, puts her hands just above Shelly’s waist. “Amy, you grab Shelly’s hands and pull while I push. One, two,