Page 43 of Christmas Chaos
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,’ she muttered.
‘A saviour who is Christ the lord or lady, and you will find him or her wrapped in bandages like a freaking mummy or something—’
‘In a manger!’ screamed Brad.
‘I was just getting to that bit!’
The choir started singing ‘While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks’ as the sheep alternated between baaing and emptying their bowels. The noise was loud enough to drown out Zoe’s frantic swearing.
Rory pulled the cows past the shepherds as her dad called out to her, ‘See you in a bit, love!’
She managed to wave before being hit with another freight train of a contraction. What had Fiona told her? Labour usually went on for days and wasn’t serious unless she couldn’t talk? At the moment she could still formulate a sentence, however, every word appeared to be ‘fuck’. As the pain passed, she caught her breath. Rory turned.
‘You enjoying yourself?’ he asked with a smile.
She gave him two thumbs up and managed a manic grin. He looked so happy. She wasn’t going to ruin his surprise by making a fuss about nothing.
The choir continued singing as they proceeded down the high street towards the post office. Outside, dressed as if they’d been attacked by velour curtains from the seventies, stood Zoe’s mum, Fiona, and Fiona’s mum, Morag. The choir segued into ‘We Three Kings’.
When the carol finished, Morag spoke. ‘We are three wise women who have been following a star.’
Brad leapt in front of them, wearing glow bands around his neck, head and wrists, looking like an over-medicated raver who’d crashed into a school disco.
‘That’s me, baby! I’m the star!’
The crowd whooped and clapped, their attention thankfully away from Zoe as she braced against the carriage, moaning in pain.
‘We bring gifts of gold,’ said Zoe’s mum.
‘Frankenstein,’ added Morag.
‘And Prosecco and spiced shortbread!’ finished Fiona.
Everyone cheered.
As another contraction smacked into her, she caught Sam’s eye.
Her friend frowned and mouthed, ‘you okay?’
Zoe nodded, her nails digging into her thigh. It was all getting too much. She’d never experienced pain like this before. It was so intense and all-consuming she wanted to throw up. She needed to get through this nativity, then get to Raigmore hospital. She didn’t care if she was days or even weeks away from giving birth. She needed pain relief right now. That, or sudden death.
She ran the nativity story through her head. Hopefully they would skip Herod and the massacre of the innocents. What was still left? Brad was now telling everyone how Mary and Joseph had survived the journey to Bethlehem and were trying to find somewhere to stay. The procession stopped outside The King’s Arms and Rory knocked on the door.
Clive opened it.
‘Kind sir,’ Rory started. ‘My wife is heavy with child and we need a place to stay.’
‘There’s no room at the inn,’ said Clive.
A contraction slammed into Zoe and she screamed with pain.
‘See?’ declaimed Rory, dramatically. ‘The baby draws near.’
‘Sorry, mate. No can do,’ Clive replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
The crowd booed and Bandit barked. Zoe was now panting to stay conscious.
‘Not even a lowly stable?’ asked Rory.
