Women of Iron [antikvár]

Chapter 11830'My God, this child will be born with or without its mother's help! I swear it will! Push, I said!' the doctor urged her. 'You must push when I say so. You must.' He turned his tired, lined face to Grace. 'Help her, woman! Tell her what she must do. She will listen to you!'The girl let out an anguished protracted scream as another wave of grinding torture seared through her body. She clutched at Grace's hand and begged her to stop the pain, to stop the infant, to stop her life. The bed, once smooth and white, was now tumbled, stained and rank with the smell of childbirth. Grace supported the young mother's shoulders and mopped her flushed, damp face with a torn piece of linen. The coals, banked as high as possible in the grate, gave out a fierce heat and a flickering light that danced shadows across the girl's frightened eyes.'Keep breathing like I told you, miss,' Grace murmured