Grandad was minding the children, while upstairs mother laboured to bring a new baby into the world. Gran hurried into the room.
“Bert, babby’s presented wrong. We needs to turn ‘n.”
The old man went and scrubbed his hands.
Dad came and crouched at the fireside. His face was sober and worried.
Alice laid her hand on his leg.
Dad’s face grew greyer and more worried, and when they heard a thin cry his grip on Benjamin’s shoulder grew vice tight. It may have been minutes, or hours, until Gran came in.
“You can go up. They’m both doin’ fine…”
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