Читать книгу Midwives On Call At Christmas - Fiona McArthur - Страница 12

THE ANTENATAL CLINIC opened at eleven a.m. seven days a week. That way the morning midwife had discharged any women and babies who were due to go home. Plus the ward was often less busy so the women booking in could look around. Except when there was a woman in labour.

Tara had ten women on her caseload at the moment in various stages of pregnancy and two who had already delivered on the six-week postnatal check programme.

The first visit at least would be held at the clinic but most visits she would do at the woman’s home. All the midwives took turns to carry the maternity phone in case one of the other midwives needed help in the birthing suite or two women went into labour at once on the same midwife’s caseload.

Maeve looked very interested in the running of the unit, judging by the way her head never stopped swivelling, and Tara smiled quietly to herself. She’d bet there’d be some thought about staying on after Maeve’s baby was born.

Even during the antenatal check Maeve was asking questions about the way they ran the caseloads, and the girls were firm friends by the time the official paperwork was completed.

Tara sat back. ‘Okay. So your blood pressure is slightly elevated and your baby is a little under the normal size for thirty-six weeks but all of those things could be normal. It’s nothing startling but we’ve done a couple of extra blood tests to rule out anything we need to watch for.’

‘You thinking my blood pressure could go up more? So watch out for toxaemia?’

‘We’ll both have a good look at the results. At the moment you feel well in yourself, and baby is moving nicely, but I wonder about the nausea and the itch.’ She looked at her. ‘Don’t you?’

‘Yeah.’ Maeve sighed. ‘Of course I’m thinking it could need watching. That’s why I’m glad we sorted out the caseload. In case Simon decided I was high risk and whisked me back to Sydney.’

‘If you got a lot worse we are a low-risk unit. But being thirty-six weeks helps so we don’t have to deal with a premature baby if things did escalate.’

‘Don’t tell Simon.’

Tara had wondered if this would come. ‘If Simon asks, I’m not going to lie.’

‘And if he doesn’t ask, don’t tell him.’

‘As long as the tests come back normal, there’s nothing to talk about. Sure.’

‘You wiggling out of that?’

‘You asking me for the impossible?’ Tara countered, and she saw the realisation in Maeve’s eyes that she wasn’t a pushover. She couldn’t be.

Maeve stood up and so did Tara. It was going to go one way or the other.

‘Fine.’ Maeve shook her head. ‘Sorry. I don’t know why Simon makes me so wild. He hasn’t done anything wrong. I guess it’s because I feel like I let him down when I made the choices I did.’

‘Choices are there to be made and who knows what the end result will be? But, boy, do I know that feeling.’ She handed Maeve her antenatal card. ‘I’m trying to learn that blame and guilt are useless emotions. So is resentment. It’s helped me. Hard to do but letting all that go has really made me start each day fresh.’

Maeve patted her stomach. ‘A bit hard when the reminder is poking out in front.’

‘Nah. Perfect time to be fresh with a new baby. I’ll be there for your birth, Louisa will spoil you rotten, and Simon will be a doting uncle.’ She looked at Maeve. ‘You say the baby’s father is out of the picture. Do you think he’ll try to find you when he gets out?’

‘I don’t think so. As I said before, a crazy, stupid, one-night stand with one of Simon’s old friends, a hunk I’ve always fancied, but he didn’t think to tell me he was going to prison. He hasn’t answered one of my letters. Or Simon’s attempts to talk to him. So that just makes me feel even more stupid.’

‘Nope. Silly would be if you were waiting for him with open arms and no explanations.’ Maeve made no move to go now they were finished and Tara glanced at her watch.

‘If you want to come and help me with the young mums’ class, it starts around one p.m. In the mothers’ tearoom behind the desk.’ Tara pointed.

‘Thanks. I’ll think about it. I might go for a walk now after sitting for so long.’

‘Sure. Or have lunch and come back. I’ll go home soon and grab a bite.’ One of the midwives signalled to Tara as they walked out the door and Maeve shooed her towards the midwife.

‘I’ll go for a walk and come back.’

Tara arrived back at the manse half an hour later and Simon was in the kitchen, making coffee. He’d been waiting for them to return and, to him, it seemed like they’d been gone for hours. Maybe Maeve did have something wrong. Maybe his niggling worries did have some foundation. By the time Tara arrived, minus Maeve, he could barely contain his concern.

He forced himself not to pounce on her and gestured to the pot. ‘You want one?’

‘Love one, thanks. Black.’

‘No sugar.’

‘How did you know?’

He had to smile at that. He’d asked Louisa yesterday. ‘So how did the antenatal visit go?’

‘Fine.’

‘So everything’s fine?’

‘I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.’

‘Come on. Reassure me.’

‘Sure. We did bloods for thirty-six weeks and baby is moving well.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Nothing else to tell until the blood results came back or we’d be speculating.’

‘Speculating about what?’

‘Nothing yet.’ She was squirming and he wanted to know why, though it warred with his sense of fair play, but then there was big brother mode.

He saw the way Tara straightened her back and he felt a pang of guilt. She shouldn’t have had to gird her loins against him.

She sized him up. ‘You know, you’re the one who said we should have a great rapport, and I’m just wondering how you think that will be built if I run to you with results and private information. I’m assuming you don’t discuss your pregnant ladies with their relatives?’

He paused. Looked at her. ‘No. You’re right. I take that on board.’ In fact, he was ashamed of himself for leaning on her but the niggling unease about his sister’s health was also a concern. ‘But if you’re keeping something from me about my baby sister, I won’t be happy.’

He couldn’t seem to stop himself.

Tara was up for the challenge. ‘Thanks for that. Didn’t pick you for a bully. Silly me.’

True, and he didn’t know what had come over him. Simon reached out, wanted to touch her briefly on her shoulder, but pulled back. ‘Tara, I’m sorry. I have no right to harass you. Please accept my apology.’

Her phone rang and she glanced at the number. ‘Now I know why you drive your sister mad. Good intentions and apologies. Would make anyone feel bad. But I’m not going there.’ She answered the phone. Listened and then said, ‘Okay.’

She glanced at Simon with a bland smile. ‘No problems. Gotta go.’ Pulled open the fridge and grabbed an apple before she sailed out the door. ‘See you later.’

Simon watched her walk away and he knew he’d been in the wrong—but she still hadn’t given him answers.

The problem was that the last few days he’d been aware that something was not quite right about Maeve. He hated it had been a month since she’d last been seen, and he couldn’t put his finger on the symptoms. But pressuring Tara was unlike him.

He guessed on Monday he’d be in a position to access his sister’s blood pathology files when he went to work but he’d try not to look. It wasn’t his practice to second-guess a colleague and he shouldn’t start now. But it would be challenging not to peek.