Читать книгу Knave of Hearts - Caroline Anderson - Страница 6

‘ROSS HAMILTON’S wife Lizzi has just been admitted in early labour,’ Sister told Anne as she arrived on the ward in answer to her summons. ‘I’ve put her in the first single, next to my office. I wonder if you could clerk her for me, Anne?’

‘Sure.’

She tapped on the door of the little room and entered, smiling a welcome to the slender but extremely pregnant woman perched on the bed.

‘Hello, there. I’m Anne Gabriel, Alex Carter’s SHO. I’ve just come to check you in.’

Lizzi smiled. ‘Check away.’

‘OK.’ Anne ran through the list of questions, receiving prompt, precise and intelligent answers.

‘You’ve done this before,’ she accused with a laugh.

‘Several times—I was a ward sister until maternity claimed me. That’s how I met Ross.’

Recognition dawned. ‘You were the ones with the cartoons—sorry, perhaps I shouldn’t mention them.’

Lizzi laughed. ‘They were only meant in fun. We collected them all and Ross had them framed for his study at home.’

Anne nodded as it came back. Apparently there had been a long series of hilarious cartoons following their budding romance, pinned on the bulletin board in the canteen, and by all accounts some of them had been pretty close to the knuckle. ‘It was his registrar, wasn’t it?’

‘That’s right—he’s now doing freelance cartoons for medical magazines, and earning a fortune, so he tells us. Never mind, we’ll get our own back on him—he’s doing Ross’s list this afternoon!’

Anne laughed.

‘Right, let’s have a look at you and see how you’re doing—have you had an internal yet?’

‘No, we’ve only just arrived.’

Behind them the door opened and closed, and Anne glanced over her shoulder. A tall, good-looking man had come in, dressed in typical consultant’s uniform of grey suit and sober tie, but most remarkable for the shock of prematurely silver hair above his lively grey-green eyes.

‘I’ve sorted Mitch out for this afternoon. How’re you doing?’ he asked his wife, the soft Scots accent adding a gentle lilt to his concern.

‘OK. This is Dr Gabriel—I think she’s just going to do an internal. Are you staying or going?’

He laughed. ‘Staying. I’m too old to shock!’

‘Poor old man—what it is to be nearly forty,’ Lizzi teased gently.

Anne hung the chart back on the end of the bed and smiled. ‘OK, how frequent are the contractions?’

‘Every twenty minutes or so? I had one just before you came in.’

‘Still widely spaced, then. How about your waters? Have they broken yet?’

Lizzi spluttered and tried to hide her laughter.

Ross heaved a great sigh. ‘I really think she hates my car. The first time she clapped eyes on it she rammed it in the side, and now this, the final indignity!’

Lizzi pretended to be wounded. ‘I think your car hates me,’ she countered. ‘Every time I go near it it causes a row. Actually,’ she told Anne with a twinkle, ‘I think it’s jealous of me.’

Ross snorted. ‘I’m going to sell the damn thing and buy a Land Rover, I think. It’s the only vehicle tough enough to withstand Lizzi’s attention!’

Anne laughed, and turned back to Lizzi. ‘Perhaps you could slip out of your clothes and put on a gown while I go and find a midwife, and then we’ll give you a thorough check and see how you’re getting on.’

She pulled a face. ‘Do I have to wear a gown?’

‘No, I don’t suppose so. Do you have an alternative in mind?’

‘I brought one of Ross’s old shirts—Jo said something about the birthing-room, and I was hoping …’

‘OK, that’s fine. You can do whatever you want. This is your labour, after all. Just pop it on so we can have a look at you, and then you can have a shower. I’ll just go and find your notes.’

She left them with a smile, and went back to the nursing station.

Opening the notes, she flicked through them, and groaned.

Under pelvic assessment, Jo had written, ‘Possible disproportion—induce 40/40 latest, trial of labour—?android pelvis.’

So Jo had been worried enough not to want her to go past term, and by the sound of it she wasn’t confident that Lizzi would deliver normally.

She decided to call Jake—at least in his posh New York practice he would have had plenty of experience with Caesarean sections!

She picked up the phone, called the switchboard and asked them to page Mr Hunter. Seconds later she heard the sound of a bleep on the ward, and Jake appeared at her side.

‘Excuse me,’ he murmured, and reached past her for the phone.

‘It was me—I need you,’ she told him.

‘I never thought I’d hear you say that,’ he said under his breath, and then told the switchboard operator that he’d been found while Anne dealt with the flush rising on her cheeks.

‘So, what’s the problem?’ he asked, his eyes tracking laughingly over her still-pink face.

‘Apart from your innuendoes?’

‘I was only teasing.’

‘And downstairs with Maggie and Ben? God knows what they think.’

He smiled wolfishly. ‘They think we were lovers—which we were.’

‘Once,’ she retorted repressively. ‘We have a patient. Consultant’s wife, nursing sister—here are the notes. Looks like one for the big shots.’

He ran his eye over the notes and winced. ‘Ouch. Rather her than me. OK, let’s have a look. Have you examined her yet?’

Anne shook her head. ‘I thought I’d check the notes first, but in any case I’d rather you handled it.’

‘Chicken,’ he said softly.

She shook her head. ‘No, just deferring to your experience. I know my limitations.’

He snapped the notes shut and tucked them under his arm, and then, accompanied by the midwife who would be monitoring Lizzi during her labour, they went into the little side-ward.

Lizzi was sitting up cross-legged on the bed, dressed in a voluminous old cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up and leg-warmers round her ankles. Her husband was perched on the edge of the bed, and they were laughing softly at something he had said.

Jake introduced himself, shook hands with both of them and then perched on the bed himself.

‘Right,’ he said to Lizzi, ‘what did Jo Carter tell you?’

‘That I might have problems and shouldn’t go over term. Ross’s other children by his first wife were fairly hefty, I gather.’

Jake nodded. ‘OK. Well, as you must know, you’re very slightly built, although you’re tall, so before this goes any further we need to be fairly sure that you’re going to be able to complete the delivery.’

Lizzi sighed. ‘I had hoped it would be all right—in fact I’m not due for another twelve days. Jo even rang me at home and said she’d be back in time, and I’d be first on her list.’

Jake smiled. ‘Well, you beat her to it, but it’s probably just as well. The smaller the baby is, the easier it’ll be, and it’s plenty old enough now. This is your first, isn’t it?’

She nodded.

‘Is there a recent scan? I wonder if it would be a good idea to do one this morning if not.’

‘I had one at thirty-six weeks.’

‘Mmm.’ Jake pursed his lips, thoughtfully, and then put down the notes with a decisive snap. ‘Let’s have a look first before we make any decisions—how are the contractions?’

‘The last gap was ten minutes,’ Ross said quietly.

Jake nodded. ‘Good, they’re picking up.’ He washed his hands thoroughly, pulled on a pair of gloves and began to examine her.

‘Well, your cervix is dilating nicely, about six centimetres, and the head’s certainly well down. I just want you to relax as much as you can, Mrs Hamilton. I’m going to try and push the baby down to see how snug the fit is. It may be a little uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t hurt.’

With one hand on the smooth curve of the baby’s bottom, he pushed steadily down, his brow creased with concentration. After a few seconds, he released the pressure, straightened up and stripped off his gloves.

‘Well,’ he said, as he rewashed his hands, ‘it’s certainly going to be close, but the presentation is excellent, and I think you should manage it.’ He dried his hands and smiled reassuringly at Lizzi. ‘I’ll order a scan now, just to be on the safe side, but I’m pretty confident you’ll be all right.’

They left Lizzi with the midwife, and a few seconds later Ross followed them out.

‘Could I have a word?’ he asked Jake.

‘Sure—let’s have a cup of coffee. Coming, Annie?’ They went into Sister’s office, and Jake poured three cups of coffee from the jug in the corner.

‘Ifs and buts?’ Ross asked without preamble.