It shouldn’t be happening yet. It was too soon. She was sure it was. Or maybe it wasn’t. She didn’t know anymore. She had no idea how long she’d been here. The entire contents of her body from the waist downwards was vying for a space between her legs. The contractions were getting closer together. Marie was sleeping in the bunk beside her. She would have to wake her soon, but she really didn’t want to. All she could think of was how exhausted Marie was, how her clean nightie was smeared with blood at the back, level with the top of her thighs. How Marie had cried and willed herself to die.
‘If I get sick,’ she’d said, ‘then maybe there will be no more officers. The way they ram themselves at me. Maybe I will not be used as a baby machine. If I die then my “good blood” will not be of any
