It's Impossible
The Loggerheads pub
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Angela stood on the stairs, holding hard to the banister and shouting. ‘Harry!’ Why wasn’t he coming? She could hear echoes and bangs below, the sound of something being hit or dropped. Had he fallen over? ‘Harry!’ she shouted again. She’d have to go down to him. She hoped she wasn’t about to find him passed out on the floor of the lounge bar and smelling of whisky, like she had one morning a few weeks ago. She took each step carefully, slowly. Her legs and feet were covered in the fluid that had come gushing out of her and it made the stairs slippery.
Halfway down the second flight she heard footsteps coming her way. ‘Oh, Harry, thank God. My waters’ve broken!’ She leaned over the rail, glancing down. Then she stopped still. It wasn’t Harry
