Читать книгу Christmas Brides And Babies Collection - Rebecca Winters - Страница 21

ELLA’S CAR HAD frozen over during the night. With a sigh, she scraped the ice off the windscreen and climbed into the car. Fortunately she was on a late today so she could go home, have a cup of tea and a bath, then set her alarm and have a sleep before her shift.

As she drove back towards her flat, she noticed a car coming up to the junction of a side road on her left. To her shock, it didn’t manage to stop at the junction but slid on the ice and crashed straight into her. The impact pushed her right across the road into a line of parked cars.

She checked to see it was safe to get out of the car, then did so. She could see straight away that her car was undriveable and she’d need to call the insurance company to tow her car away.

The other driver came over to her. ‘I’m so sorry, love. The road wasn’t gritted and I just couldn’t stop,’ he said.

‘The roads are pretty bad. I guess we’d better swap insurance details,’ she said tiredly and reached into the car for her handbag. She took out a pen and notebook, but when she took out her reading glasses she saw that the coloured lenses had cracked during the impact. She didn’t have a spare pair with her, so now she was going to make a mess of this and probably get half the numbers in the wrong place.

‘Are you all right, love?’ the other driver asked, clearly seeing that she was close to tears.

‘I’m dyslexic,’ she said, gesturing to her ruined glasses, ‘and without these I’m going to get everything wrong.’

‘Let me do it,’ he said. ‘It’s the least I can do, seeing as it was my fault. You sit down in the warm, love, and I’ll sort it out.’

He wrote down all the information for her, called the police to inform them about the accident and her insurance company so they could arrange to pick up her car, and waited with her until the tow truck arrived. Thankfully it turned up only half an hour later, but by then Ella was shivering and desperately tired.

‘Are you sure you’re all right? You’ve not banged your head or anything?’ the tow truck driver asked.

‘No, just my reading glasses are wrecked,’ she said wearily. ‘I was lucky. It could’ve been an awful lot worse.’

‘We’ve had so many cars sliding off the road this morning—the gritters clearly didn’t think it was going to freeze this badly last night,’ the tow truck driver said. He took her car to the repair garage and then drove her back to her flat. ‘I’m only supposed to take you to one or the other,’ he said, ‘but I remember you. You delivered my youngest last year. My wife had a rough time and you were brilliant with her.’

Ella was really grateful. ‘Thank you so much. Do you want a cup of tea or something?’

‘That’s kind of you, but I’d better not. I’ve got half a dozen other crashes to go to,’ he said wryly. ‘Take care.’

Ella let herself into her flat, started running a bath and put the kettle on. Then, when she undressed, she realised there was blood in her knickers.

She was spotting.

Ice slid down her spine. She’d felt a sharp jerk across her shoulder and abdomen from the seatbelt when the other car had crashed into her, but her car’s airbag hadn’t gone off and she hadn’t banged herself against the steering wheel. She hadn’t thought the crash was bad enough to warrant going to hospital; she’d felt OK at the time, there had probably been dozens of other accidents on the icy roads and there were drivers more in need of urgent medical attention than her.

But now she was spotting, at eight weeks of pregnancy, and that wasn’t a good thing.

Oh, God. Please don’t let her lose the baby. It hadn’t been planned, but it was oh, so wanted.

‘Hang on in there, little one,’ she whispered, with one hand wrapped protectively round her bump.

With shaking hands, she rang Annabelle, but her best friend wasn’t answering her home phone or her mobile. Ella was sure that Annabelle was off duty today; but maybe she was out with Max somewhere and her phone was accidentally in silent mode.

Ella didn’t want to ring an ambulance, because she knew how busy the hospital was right now, and someone else could need to go to the emergency department more urgently. Maybe she should get a taxi in to the Royal Cheltenham?

But right now she was so scared. She really didn’t want to do this on her own.

Oliver.

Given how things were between them and that he’d been so fed up that she’d stayed with Georgina all night after her shift, worrying that she was overdoing things and putting the baby at risk, Oliver was the last person she wanted to call. But her brain was on a go-slow and she couldn’t think of anyone else. Plus he was the baby’s father—he had the right to know that there was a problem.

It took her three attempts before she managed to call his mobile.

‘Darrington,’ Oliver said absently, as if he hadn’t even looked at the screen.

‘It’s Ella,’ she said.

‘Ella? Is everything all right?’

Her teeth had started to chatter and she could hardly get the words out.

‘Ella, what’s happened?’ he asked urgently.

‘A c-car crashed into me on the way h-home, and now I’m s-spotting.’

‘Are you at home?’

‘Y-yes.’

‘I’m on my way to you right now,’ he said. ‘Try not to worry. I’ll call you when I’m in the car so you’re not going to be on your own while you’re waiting, and I’ll be with you very, very soon, OK?’

Ella had had a car accident and she was spotting. That wasn’t good.

Please, please don’t let her lose the baby, Oliver begged inwardly.

The shock of her news had made him realise just how much he wanted the baby.

He headed out to Reception and was really grateful that Annabelle was there; she’d changed duty at the last minute to help cover sick leave.

‘Is everything all right?’ she asked.

‘No. Ella’s been in an accident. She just called me and said she’s spotting. I’m going to get her now, so please can you make sure the portable scanner’s in one of the rooms and keep it free? I’m bringing her straight in to Teddy’s.’

‘Got you. Give her my love and tell her not to worry,’ Annabelle said. ‘Drive safely.’

‘I will.’

As soon as he was in the car, Oliver switched his phone over to the hands-free system and called Ella as he drove to her flat. He could hear the tears in her voice when she answered; it ripped him apart that she was crying and right now he couldn’t comfort her properly or do anything to fix this. But until he’d done the scan and knew what was going on, he couldn’t give her the reassurance he really wanted to give her.

‘Ella, I’m on my way now,’ he said. ‘Teddy’s is on standby and Annabelle’s there—she sends her love.’

‘But Annabelle’s off duty.’

‘No, she swapped duty yesterday to help me out with sick leave cover,’ he said.

He heard a sob. ‘I’m meant to be on a late today.’

‘Don’t worry about that right now,’ he soothed. ‘We can sort it out later.’

‘I never meant for this to happen when I stayed with Georgie,’ she said. ‘I would never, ever put the baby at risk.’

‘I know and you did the right thing—the kind thing,’ he said. ‘You’d have been worrying yourself silly about Georgie and the quads if you’d just gone home.’ Because that was who Ella was: dedicated to her job.

‘The crash wasn’t my fault, Oliver. It really wasn’t. The other driver just couldn’t stop at the junction and ploughed into me.’

Why did she seem to think he was angry with her? ‘Ella, I’m not going to shout at you.’

‘You were near shouting at me yesterday.’

She had a point. He’d gone into overprotective mode when she’d suggested working a double shift. ‘I’m sorry. I’m a grumpy sod and you have the right to tell me to shut up when I start ranting,’ he said.

To his relief, he heard what sounded almost like a wry chuckle. But then there was another muffled sob. ‘Hold on, honey. I’m going to be there very soon,’ he said. ‘And, Ella, I’m glad you called me.’

‘Really?’ She didn’t sound as if she believed him.

‘Really,’ he said firmly.

He kept her talking all the way from his house to her flat. When he got there, he didn’t bother about a parking permit—he’d willingly pay a dozen parking fines if he had to—but just ran over to her door and rang the bell. When she opened her door, he pulled her straight into his arms and held her close. ‘Everything’s going to be all right, I promise.’

‘I don’t want to lose the baby.’ Her shoulders heaved.

‘You’re not going to lose the baby, not if I have anything to do with it,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’ He locked the front door behind her, held her close all the way to his car, helped her in and then drove to the Royal Cheltenham, holding her hand between gear changes. She was trembling and he desperately wanted to hold her; but he knew that if he stopped to comfort her it would be that much longer before he could give her a scan and see what was going on. ‘We’re not going to the Emergency Department. I’ll do the scan myself at Teddy’s so you don’t have to wait.’

‘I’m so scared, Oliver. I want this baby so much.’

‘Me, too,’ he said. More than that, he wanted Ella as well. Whatever had caused her to back off from him since the party, they could fix it—because she was more important to him than anything or anyone else. ‘It’s going to be OK, Ella. I promise you.’

She was crying silently, and he hated the fact that he couldn’t do anything more to help; but, at the same time, he needed to get her to hospital safely.

It seemed to take for ever to get to Teddy’s, even though he knew it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes. But at last they were there and he parked as close to the entrance as possible, then grabbed a wheelchair from the entrance.

‘I can walk,’ Ella protested.

‘I know, but this is faster. Let me do this, Ella. Please. I won’t smother you in cotton wool, but I want to get you in there for that scan.’ His voice cracked and he wondered if she’d heard it and realised that he was as emotional about the situation as she was. And, actually, maybe she needed to know it. ‘Not just for you. For me. I need to be sure you’re both all right.’

He was almost breaking into a run by the time they got to Teddy’s.

‘Later,’ he said to the nurse on the reception desk, who looked at Ella in shock as he wheeled her through. ‘I’ll explain later.’

Annabelle had texted him to say that Room Three was reserved for him, if she wasn’t there when he brought Ella in. Oliver wheeled Ella into the room, scooped her out of the wheelchair and laid her on the bed. The fact that she made no protest this time really scared him.

‘Can you bare your tummy—?’ he began, but she was already doing it.

Please, please, let the baby be all right, he begged inwardly, and smeared the gel over her stomach.

His hands were actually shaking as he stroked the head of the transceiver across her abdomen.

But then he could see the little bean shape, and the heart was beating strongly.

Thank you, he said silently, and moved the screen so Ella could see it, too. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘It’s going to be OK. There’s a really strong heartbeat, not too fast and not too slow. Everything’s going to be fine, Ella.’

Her shoulders heaved, and then she was crying in earnest. He held her close, stroking her hair, and realised that tears were running down his cheeks, too.

He wanted this baby. So did she, desperately. Surely there was a good chance that they could make a decent life together—the three of them, because now he realised how much he wanted that, too.

Finally Ella was all cried out—and then she realised that Oliver was still holding her. And she’d soaked his shirt. And was it her imagination, or were his eyes wet, too? She’d been so frightened that she hadn’t been able to focus much on what he’d said to her, but had he said that he was scared, too?

She wasn’t sure, and her first instinct was to back away in case she was making a fool of herself again. ‘We ought to—well, someone else might need this room.’

‘I want to admit you now and keep you in overnight,’ he said, ‘for observation.’

She shook her head. ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘You’re on bed-rest. Don’t argue,’ he said, ‘and there’s no way in hell you’re working your shift today, so don’t even suggest it.’

‘But someone else might need the bed on the ward more than I do.’

‘Ella, you’re pregnant and you were in a car crash.’

‘A minor crash. At low speed.’

‘Bad enough that they had to get a tow-truck for your car,’ he said. ‘And you were spotting. If any of your mums came in presenting like that, what would you say?’

‘Go home and rest,’ she said, ‘and come back if you’re worried.’

‘And if it was a mum you knew damn well didn’t know the meaning of the word rest?’

‘Then I’d suggest staying in,’ she admitted.

‘I know you think I’m wrapping you up in cotton wool,’ he said, ‘and I know that drives you mad—but what I don’t get is why you won’t let anyone look after you.’

‘It’s a long story,’ she said.

He shrugged. ‘I’ve got all the time in the world.’

He really expected her to tell him? Panic flooded through her. ‘I don’t know where to start.’

‘Try the beginning,’ he said. ‘Or the middle—or anywhere that feels comfortable—and you can take it from there.’

She knew where to start, then. ‘The baby. I didn’t try to trap you.’

‘I know. You’re not Justine.’

She frowned. ‘Justine?’

‘It’s a long story.’

What was sauce for the goose… ‘I’ve got time,’ she said. ‘And maybe if you tell me, it’ll give me the courage to tell you.’

He looked at her for a long moment, then finally nodded. ‘OK. I’ll go first. Justine was the daughter of my parents’ friends. They’d kind of earmarked her for me as a suitable future wife, even though I wasn’t ready to settle down and I wanted to get all my training out of the way first so I could qualify as an obstetrician. They fast-tracked me and I was just about to take my last exams when Justine told me she was pregnant.’

Ella went cold. So this wasn’t the first time Oliver had been faced with an unexpected baby; it also went some way to explaining why Oliver’s mother had been so disapproving about the baby, if the Countess had been in that position before. But as far as Ella knew Oliver didn’t have a child. What had happened?

‘I really wasn’t ready to be a dad,’ Oliver said. ‘I’d been so focused on my studies. But I did the right thing and stood by her.’

‘Like you’re standing by me?’ she couldn’t help asking.

He didn’t answer that, and she went colder still.

‘So we found a nice flat, moved in together, and sorted out a room for the baby.’

Oliver definitely wouldn’t have abandoned the baby. This must have ended in tragedy—or maybe Justine had refused him access to the baby and that was why the Countess had been adamant that Oliver should have custody.

His grey eyes were filled with pain and she squeezed his hand. Clearly the memories hurt him, and she didn’t want that. ‘You don’t have to tell me anything more.’

‘Yes, I do,’ he said. ‘I don’t want there to be any more secrets between us. I should’ve told you about this a long time ago.’ He dragged in a breath. ‘We’d planned to get married after the baby was born. But then one day she accidentally picked up my phone instead of hers and went out. I assumed that the phone on the table was mine and was about to put it in my pocket when a text came through.’ He grimaced. ‘Obviously I didn’t set out to spy on her and read her texts, because I trusted her, but the message came up on her lock screen and I read it before I realised it was a private message for her.’ He looked away. ‘It was from another man, and the wording made it clear they were having an affair. I tackled her about it when she got home and she admitted the baby was his, not mine.’

‘So that’s why—’ She stopped abruptly. Now wasn’t the time to tell him that his mother wanted her to have a paternity test.

‘Why what?’

‘Nothing. I’m so sorry, Oliver. That was a vile thing to do to you. But why would she lie to you like that?’

He shrugged. ‘You’ve been to Darrington Hall and met my family. I guess it was the kind of lifestyle she wanted and the other guy couldn’t give her that.’

Now Ella could understand his mother’s comments about gold-diggers. But did Oliver think she was a gold-digger too—despite the fact that she’d told him she wasn’t? He’d been in that situation before. And now she realised why he’d been so controlling with her when she’d told him about the baby, because Justine had taken all his choices away. Ella had reacted by being stubbornly independent, and they’d been at cross purposes when it needn’t have been like that at all.

‘It’s still horrible for you. And not all women think like that, you know.’

‘I know.’ His fingers tightened round hers. ‘You don’t.’

She was relieved that he realised that. ‘Was the—was the baby all right?’

‘Yes. I moved out and the other guy moved in—but from what I hear it didn’t last.’

And then a really horrible thought hit her. Was Oliver still in love with Justine? Was that why he couldn’t move on? She didn’t want to ask him, because she was too scared that the answer might be ‘yes’.

As if he’d guessed at her thoughts, he said, ‘You’re not Justine, and I don’t have a shred of doubt that this baby’s mine. I’m just sorry I haven’t been able to get my head round things properly and support you the way I should’ve done.’

Relief made her sag back against the bed. ‘Now you’ve told me what happened to you before, I can understand why you reacted the way you did.’

‘Though I did wonder if you were lying to me,’ he said, ‘when you said it was safe and I assumed you were on the Pill.’

‘I thought it was safe,’ Ella said. ‘I honestly never thought I’d ever get pregnant.’

‘That’s what I don’t understand. I haven’t found the right way to ask you because…’ He grimaced. ‘Ella, I didn’t want to fight with you over it. But, once you’d told me you were pregnant, I couldn’t work out why you were so sure that I didn’t need contraception and yet you weren’t on the Pill. I knew there was something, but asking you straight out felt intrusive and as if I was accusing you of something, and I didn’t want that.’

He’d been honest with her, so now she needed to be honest with him. At least she wouldn’t have to explain the medical side too much because it was Oliver’s speciality and he understood it. ‘I have endometriosis. It caused a lot of scarring on my Fallopian tubes over the years, and then I had an ovarian cyst that ruptured during my training. The doctors in London told me that I was infertile.’

‘So that’s why you said I didn’t…’

‘…need a condom,’ she finished. ‘Yes.’

‘I’m sorry. Endometriosis is pretty debilitating, and to get news like that when you’re so young…’

‘Yes.’ She’d cried herself to sleep for weeks afterwards. ‘Worse was that it disrupted my studies.’

‘Didn’t you tell your tutors? They would’ve understood.’

She grimaced. ‘You’ve read my file, so you know I’m dyslexic.’

He nodded.

‘I wasn’t diagnosed with dyslexia until I was fifteen. Everyone just thought I was a bit slow because I had trouble reading and I’m clumsy. I was always the last to be picked for the netball team in PE lessons, because I could never catch a ball, and you really don’t want to see me trying to throw one.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, the September I turned fifteen we all knew I wasn’t going to do well over the next two years, so I wasn’t going to get good grades in my exams. But I was good with people and had the gift of the gab, so everyone thought I ought to go and work in the local pub, at first in the kitchen and then in the bar when I was old enough.’

‘Right.’

‘Except I had a new science teacher that year, and she took me to one side after the first week and asked me all kinds of questions. She was the first teacher ever at school who seemed to think I wasn’t slow.’ And it had been so liberating. Suddenly it had been possible to dream. ‘She said she thought I had dyslexia, because I was fine at answering questions on stuff we’d talked about in class but when she looked at my written work it wasn’t anywhere near the same standard, and my writing was terrible. Nobody had ever tested me for dyslexia—they’d never even considered it. So my teacher talked to my parents and the Special Needs department at school and they got me tested.’

‘And it turned out she was right?’

She nodded. ‘They gave me coloured glasses and got my test papers printed on pastel colours instead of bright white, and suddenly bookwork wasn’t quite so much of a struggle any more.’ She smiled. ‘I’d always wanted to be a midwife like my Aunty Bridget, but nobody ever thought I was clever enough to do it. But I got through my exams, I stayed on at sixth form and I actually got accepted at uni. I was already getting help for my dyslexia, because they let me record all my lectures to help me revise, so I didn’t feel I could go to my tutors and say there was another problem as well. It felt like one excuse too many.’

Now Oliver began to understand why Ella was so independent. She’d had to fight hard to get where she was, and she’d no doubt been wrapped in cotton wool as the child who always underachieved—as well as being told that she was stupid by people who should never have judged her in the first place.

‘And I guess,’ she said, ‘there was a part of me that didn’t want to admit it because then I’d have to admit I wasn’t a real woman—that I’d never be able to give my partner a child of his own.’

‘Ella, being infertile doesn’t make you any less of a woman,’ Oliver said.

‘That’s easy for you to say, being a man,’ she said softly. ‘I knew my parents were desperate for grandchildren and I’d let them down, too.’

‘That’s seriously what they believe?’

‘No, of course not! They said it didn’t matter if I didn’t have children,’ Ella said, ‘but I’ve seen my mum’s face whenever she talks about her great-nieces and great-nephews. Just for a second there’s this wistfulness. She couldn’t have any more children after me, so me not being able to have children meant that she’d never have grandchildren. So she and Da were thrilled to bits when I told them about the baby.’

Oliver was shocked. Hadn’t they agreed to wait to tell their family until she’d got through the first trimester? ‘You’ve told them already?’

‘I’m sorry. I just couldn’t wait,’ she said simply. ‘I know things are tricky for you with your parents, but mine aren’t like that—they’re so pleased.’

She’d thought she was infertile but, because of him, she was having a baby. It was almost like the Justine situation again except there wasn’t any cheating, this time. Justine had wanted the lifestyle and not him. Did Ella want the baby and not him?

He shook himself. But he wanted this baby, too. And, before the Hallowe’en Masquerade Ball, he and Ella had been friends. So maybe they could make this work, the way it hadn’t with Justine.

‘My parents are dying to meet you,’ Ella said.

‘So do I need to ask your father officially for your hand in marriage?’ Oliver asked.

She blinked at him. ‘What?’

‘It’s the practical solution,’ Oliver said. ‘We both want this baby. We get along well, for the most part. So we’ll get married and give the baby a stable home.’

We both want this baby… Get married… A stable home.

But Oliver hadn’t said a word about love. Or actually asked her to marry him.

And all Ella could think of was what Sienna had said about it being better for a baby to have one parent who loved it to bits than two parents who fought all the time. Given the situation with Oliver’s parents, there was a good chance that she and Oliver would fight. A lot.

Marrying her meant he’d get custody of the baby: exactly what his mother wanted.

Even though Ella understood now what might have driven the Countess to take that view, she also didn’t want her life taken over by the Darringtons—to have to give her baby the name they chose, send the baby to the school they chose, and give up her job to take on the role they chose.

If Oliver had said one word to her about love, it would’ve been different.

But he hadn’t. And she couldn’t marry someone who didn’t love her. It wouldn’t be a real relationship. That wasn’t what she wanted.

‘No,’ she said.