And so, three hours later, Gab walked. By seven o’clock in the evening, the contractions were coming faster, lasting longer, no more than four minutes apart. Saanvi had stayed on speaker phone the whole time.

Gab called the hospital to let them know they were coming. And then Freya shouldered Gab’s backpack, labour-plan stuffed right at the top, and took Gab’s arm.

“Are you sure, Gab?”

“It’s fine,” said Gab. She just wanted to walk. “Between the contractions, I’m fine.” And she would be very good at hiding her pain from strangers.

Step-step-step-step-step. Pause. Breathe. Hold onto Freya. Wait. Step-step-step-step-step. One step at a time and she was getting closer. Each step, a step closer to motherhood, to her baby. It wasn’t busy, but there were enough people about. Strangers stopped to ask Freya if her friend was alright when they saw her double over. The young ones were entirely shocked, panicked when Freya said that Gab was on her way to hospital to have a baby. Some of the older passersby were more knowing; three women who were out together for dinner decided to accompany the girls to the hospital to make sure they arrived safely. They buffered Gab and Freya as they walked on, with words of encouragement and gentle confidence in Gab.

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And finally, Freya and the three women and Gab made it to the maternity ward of the hospital. Contractions were barely three minutes apart now; walking had sped things up. But Gab still had the presence of mind to ask Freya to take the three shepherding women’s phone numbers, so that they could be given baby news.

They had made it this far. Gab was in safe hands now.