Free The New Samurai by Jane Harvey-Berrick

other diners looked up in surprise.
    “Fine,” said Sam, also more loudly than usual. “Just me, then. But Sylvie needs me and I have to go.”
    “You’re not going anywhere!” said Elle, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper. “What does she need you for? You’re not a midwife! Do you know how hard it is to get a booking at this restaurant?”
    Sam stared at her in disgust. “Well, enjoy your meal. I’m going.”
    He pulled away from her and collected his jacket.
    “You walk away now and don’t even think about coming back,” she said, her voice loud again.
    Several diners tittered and the maitre d’ hovered nervously.
    “Whatever,” said Sam.
    “Don’t you dare leave!” she shouted to his back.
    He carried on walking.
    Her screech of anger carried across the entire room.
    “Fuck you, Sam!”
    “Not anymore,” he said, as he strode from the restaurant.
    Sam ran to his car and accelerated out of Islington at top speed. He fumed at every red light, every pedestrian crossing, and his fingers drummed impatiently on the steering wheel at every junction.
    Twenty minutes later the car screeched to a halt outside Sylvie’s house and Sam crossed the pavement in one stride. She was standing at the door, tears coursing down her face, her hospital bag packed and ready by her side.
    “Where’s the ambulance?” said Sam, his throat constricting painfully.
    “They said I’m not a priority,” whimpered Sylvie. “They say it’ll be at least an hour, but I mustn’t worry because the baby won’t come that quickly! But it is! I’m sure it is. Sam, what do I do?”
    Sam looked around him in a panic. He was way out of his depth. Tearful pregnant women were definitely not in his lesson plan. His sister’s birth had been mounted with military precision – there’d been nothing left for him to do. But Sylvie…
    “I’ll… I’ll drive you to the hospital,” said Sam. “Just don’t have the baby until we get there, okay?”
    Sylvie whimpered and clutched her stomach.
    “What’s happening?” choked Sam, his face ashen.
    “Contrac…tions!” gasped Sylvie. “I think you’d better hurry!”
    Sam tossed Sylvie’s overnight bag onto the rear seat, scattering his Valentine cards like confetti. Then he opened the passenger door and gingerly helped Sylvie climb in. He leaned across her, doing up her seatbelt as she wheezed and gasped.
    He practically vaulted over the bonnet in his desire to get the hell out of there, hands shaking.
    His eyes were wide with terror as he raced through the busy London streets. Sylvie’s contractions were coming faster now and it was obvious, even to Sam’s inexperienced eyes, that they didn’t have long.
    He overtook a line of cars outside the hospital, ignoring their furious honking, and abandoned the car at a rakish angle in front of A&E.
    “I’ll be back!” he shouted at Sylvie, his eyes wild.
    He charged through the hospital doors and flung himself at the receptionist.
    “My friend’s having a baby!” he yelled, pointing behind him. “I think she’s having it now!”
    “Is she booked to have a baby in our maternity unit?” asked the receptionist calmly.
    “Yes! It’s not due for another month but she’s having contractions now!”
    The fact that the baby was early spurred the receptionist into a rapid and practised routine. Seconds later two nurses ran past with a wheelchair and Sam could hear the receptionist paging the midwife on duty.
    Sam sprinted after the nurses and watched anxiously as they helped Sylvie out of the car. He tried to follow them but a severe-looking security guard told him to move his car or it would be clamped.
    “I’ll be alright, Sam,” said Sylvie, her voice tight with pain. “Just find me as soon as you can.”
    Swearing under his breath, Sam ran back to the car and raced it round to the car park. He fumbled in his pockets for change: he didn’t care about getting a ticket, but he couldn’t afford for it to be clamped or