The afternoon heat bore down upon the midwife’s back as she went about her work. She’d never delivered a baby in a more disgusting environment, but she knew it was unavoidable under the current circumstances.

“C’mon miss, push tha’ bugga out!” The midwife tried to encourage Miss Crutten, but it wasn’t working.

“Piss off, ‘e ain’t comin’ out!” Shouted Miss Crutten, tears smudging the eyeliner she’d applied earlier that morning. “If ‘is father ain’t ’ere in two goddam seconds…”

Pain shot through her abdomen, and she cried out in anguish.

Father Morris burst in, saw Miss Crutten, and went pale, as if he’d seen a ghost. “Oi, I’ve bad news, miss.”

“That’s not th’ bloody father I’s talkin’ about!”

“Miss, tha’ father’s dead.” The priest’s eyes betrayed the honesty of his words.

Miss Crutten screamed, louder than she’d ever screamed in her short life. A short while later, the newborn’s screams joined her own, a chorus of sorrow.

Crutten’s voice went silent, awestruck.

“Well, he’s a cute lil’ bastard…”