Nativity Scene

Claire's son arrived at dawn, fit and healthy. I settled down in an armchair to sleep.

The nurse who'd given me that first cup of coffee woke me by shaking my shoulder.

"James? James?"

"Yes?" I said blearily.

"We've got another mother stuck in the floods. Could you?"

"Where?"

She explained. I thought I had a better chance of getting there and back than of going home. I was on my way through a light drizzle that the wipers could handle. The water in the way of the expectant mother was only three feet deep. I was through it, loaded her and her husband, and back the other side within five minutes. Another ten minutes and we were at the maternity unit.

About eleven in the morning I went in to see Claire and her son. She looked happy, tired but happy. Danny told me that they hadn't decided on his first name yet, but his second name would be James, to remind them of the help I had given. I was touched.

I rang Helen at noon and told her that I would try to get back. Danny would be staying in the husband's suite at the unit. I didn't need to tell her about Claire's son. Claire had rang herself, and had been effusive about what I had done.

The journey back, in daylight, was much easier. I could see the water, the wind was behind me, and the water was receding. At the deepest it was only a couple of feet. The truck roared into our road and I switched the engine off with relief.

As I walked in Helen flung her arms around me.

"Thanks, hero," she said, kissing me. "You've helped our friends and..."

She kissed me hard again.

"...I'm pregnant!"

She was. That Christmas Day Claire's son was born and the pregnancy that eventually produced our son was confirmed.

It was a good Nativity Scene.