Maternal Instinct

by Caroline Anderson

  He sighed and scrubbed long fingers through his sleep-rumpled hair. ‘Yes. No.’

  ‘No?’ she said, staring at him in confusion. ‘How can it not?’

  His laugh was ragged and full of frustration. ‘I don’t know. You’re right, it’ll be complicated, but so be it. We’ll deal with it.’

  ‘So what are we going to do, Hugh?’ she asked softly. ‘Are we going to pretend that nothing’s happening, or—?’

  She broke off and he waited, his eyes locked with hers, and she could see his jaw tensing, his Adam’s apple working as he swallowed.

  ‘Or what, Eve?’

  She bit the bullet. ‘Or are we going to go to bed and get it over with?’

  His tea lurched, slopping over onto his fingers, scalding him. He shook them, sucked his index finger ruefully, wiped them on his T-shirt. ‘Hell, Eve…’

  She shook her head, laughing softly at him. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘No, I’m not OK,’ he growled quietly. ‘I’m aching with frustration. I want to be alone with you, to make love to you, and my daughter’s in the next room and my son’s right opposite. How the hell am I supposed to be OK?’

  Her heart thumped, but she knew what she was going to do. Her mind might disagree, but it was still asleep, and her heart and her body knew exactly what they wanted. ‘I’ll get my keys back this morning,’ she pointed out. She didn’t say any more, but she didn’t have to. There was nothing more that needed saying.

  His eyes widened, then dropped, fastening on her chest with a hunger that she could almost taste. ‘That’s my favourite T-shirt,’ he said, his voice strangled. ‘I’ll never be able to look at it again without thinking of you in it.’

  She opened her mouth to apologise, then thought better of it. He didn’t look exactly sorry after all, and she felt suddenly filled with feminine satisfaction. There was something amazing about being able to put that look on his face, and although she couldn’t quite believe it was happening, she wasn’t going to knock it. It had been a very long time since anyone she found attractive had been attracted to her. Mutuality seemed almost a foreign concept.

  So, no, she wasn’t going to knock it, or walk away from it.

  Neither was she going to think about it too much, because if she did, if she allowed herself to think too much about the complications, she’d run a mile, and for once in her life she didn’t want to do the sensible thing.

  At all.

  So she smiled, and shifted slightly so that the T-shirt pulled tighter across her breasts. His eyes flared and then shut, a ragged chuckle dragged from his chest.

  ‘You are going to pay for that,’ he growled, but before she could reply, he swore softly and stood up, his dressing-gown catching on the bed and pulling open. ‘Phone,’ he muttered, and walked out, leaving her smiling.

  If she’d had any doubt about her effect on him, she’d just had ample proof. Those soft jersey boxers hid absolutely nothing…

  Seconds later he was back. ‘That was Sam. Molly’s in labour, he’s taken her to the hospital. I promised I’d get there straight away.’

  ‘Can I come?’

  ‘Sure, if you’re quick.’

  Without thinking, she threw back the covers, and Hugh’s eyes widened and then slammed shut.

  ‘Get dressed,’ he muttered hoarsely. ‘I’ll see you downstairs in five.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SAM was pacing the floor like a wild man when they arrived, and he pounced on them.

  ‘Find out what’s happening,’ he demanded. ‘She’s got a transverse lie and I want to know what they’re planning. They threw me out.’

  ‘They?’

  ‘Oliver and Sue. Said I was in the way. Said if I couldn’t shut up I had to leave.’ His ferocious growl was rendered completely harmless by the concern in his eyes, and Hugh just slung an arm around his shoulders, told him not to worry and went through the door into the delivery suite, taking Eve with him.

  Molly was on the bed, Oliver and Sue each side of her, and a monitor was keeping track of what looked to Eve like a nice steady heartbeat.

  Hugh kissed Molly on the cheek and scanned the monitor. ‘Hi, trouble. How’re you doing?’

  ‘I’m livid,’ she said fiercely. ‘I can’t believe it, Hugh, the baby’s turned! It’s an oblique transverse lie and I’m dilating really slowly as a result, and it hurts like hell, even though I’m getting nowhere fast. If my waters break, I’m going to be right out of options. Damn, I really, really didn’t want this, and I’m going to end up with a section, I just know it. I haven’t even packed a case yet. I’m not ready for it!’

  Her eyes filled with furious tears, and without thinking Eve went over to her and hugged her friend. ‘Molly, it’ll be OK.’

  ‘I want a normal delivery,’ she wailed. ‘I’ve only had one off-the-peg pregnancy. I’ve had IVF, I’ve given two babies away—I don’t need to add a section to the list!’

  ‘Look on the bright side,’ Sue said comfortingly. ‘Think of your pelvic floor.’

  Molly snorted at her colleague. ‘I don’t have a pelvic floor any more,’ she said bluntly. ‘Bonnie took care of that. Hugh, tell me you can turn it.’

  Hugh was checking her over while she ranted, feeling her abdomen, listening to her baby’s heartbeat, checking the lie with his hands and the portable ultrasound.

  Oliver was filling him in. ‘She woke at five with contractions every three minutes, and came straight in. I’ve done an ultrasound, which revealed nothing abnormal, and we’ve monitored the baby and it’s doing fine. But I didn’t want to do anything else until you go here. Do you still need me,’ he added, ‘because I’ve got a woman in Gynae who needs my attention, if you’re happy to take over.’

  ‘I’ll take over. You go. Thanks, Oliver.’ He sighed, hitched a hip up on the edge of the bed and took Molly’s hand. ‘Well, you’re right, of course. It’s a slightly oblique transverse lie. Luckily, it’s the head end that’s down a bit, but the baby’s quite happy and your abdomen’s nice and flexible between contractions. I can try and turn it for you, if you like, and that’ll only work if you’ve got enough fluid, but I want you prepped for Theatre, I want an epidural in first and I don’t want any arguments if I have to do a section in a hurry.’

  Molly stared at him. ‘You think you can do it?’

  He shook his head. ‘I think I can try. That’s all. And Sam will want to interfere and try and turn it himself, because he can’t delegate for nuts, you know that, and then he’ll be yelling for a section if I don’t do it first go. This has to be your call.’

  She nodded. ‘Go for it, Hugh. I really, really don’t want a section. And you’d better let Sam back in before he blows a fuse. I’ll keep him under control.’

  He chuckled and stood up, squeezing Molly’s shoulder comfortingly. ‘Good girl. We’ll get you all set up as quickly as possible. I take it you want an epidural and not a GA if it comes to that?’

  She nodded. ‘I don’t want either, really. Can’t we keep an eye on the baby and do an epidural if we have to?’

  ‘We could run out of time.’

  ‘Try turning it once first, Hugh—please? Just in case.’

  He sighed, shook his head and winced. ‘Sam’s going to give me some strain about this,’ he muttered, and headed for the door, leaving Molly alone with Sue and Eve.

  She flopped back against the pillows, closing her eyes. A tear dribbled out of the corner of one of them, and Eve tutted and sat on the bed, putting her arms round Molly and rocking her gently. She’d grown really fond of the cheerful, unflappable midwife in the past ten days, and she couldn’t bear to see her so upset.

  ‘It’ll be fine, Molly,’ she said, not at all sure that it would, because she’d never seen Hugh do this and she wasn’t convinced it would work. From the sound of it, neither was Sam. He came in with Hugh moments later, still arguing, and she moved out of his way as he gathered Molly up against his chest and hugged her hard.

  ‘God, why did this ha
ve to happen to you? You should have stopped work earlier. You’re a crazy woman,’ he said, his voice choked.

  ‘I know—but I’ll be fine. I’ve seen Hugh do this loads of times. I know it can work. Dammit, you’ve done it, too, just as often.’

  ‘Yeah, but I won’t get the chance to do it, will I? And what if he fails?’

  ‘Hugh won’t fail.’

  Sam snorted, and Hugh rolled his eyes.

  ‘Such touching faith. Never deliver a colleague’s baby,’ he said drily to Eve. ‘They know far too much for their own good. That’s why it’s always the consultants that get suckered into it—because that’s where the buck stops, and everyone else legs it for the hills. Nightmare stuff.’

  ‘I’m going nowhere, I want to see you do this,’ Eve said firmly, and Hugh grinned.

  ‘You just want to see me louse it up,’ he teased. ‘Right, where’s Peter? Let’s get this epidural set up ready to go if necessary, and have a shot at turning young master Gregory round.’

  ‘He might be a girl.’

  He grinned at Molly. ‘Very likely, as she’s changed her mind about the presentation. Right, I’m going to put on scrubs. Eve, are you coming to change?’

  And then everyone looked at her, taking in the pretty skirt, the fitting, slinky top, the high heels, and she felt colour bloom in her cheeks.

  ‘Good idea,’ she said hastily, and headed for the door.

  Damn. He really, really wasn’t looking forward to doing this. Molly’s faith in him was just a burden, and while he was confident that he had a chance of turning the baby, he couldn’t guarantee it.

  And Molly wanted guarantees. Molly, of all people, who had to know there could be no guarantees.

  Well, he could only do his best, and he’d just have to hope it was good enough. It was a routine enough procedure, to try an external version in early labour in a multiparous woman, but Sam was going to be standing over him, interfering with every breath.

  Lord, he hated having to deliver colleagues. It was every doctor’s nightmare, and to have a patient who was not only a colleague but also the wife of another colleague, and with this complication chucked in just to liven things up—

  ‘Hugh? It’ll be OK.’

  He looked at Eve, standing there in her scrubs, looking every bit as desirable as she had in the flirty skirt and slinky top, and knew he was in trouble.

  Deep trouble.

  No time to think about that now. He summoned a smile. ‘I wish I had your faith.’

  ‘You don’t have to have faith. You just have to do your job. Leave the faith thing to the rest of us. You can do it. I know you can.’

  ‘How?’

  She smiled wryly. ‘Because Molly said so. She said she’s seen you do it lots of times.’

  ‘It can fail.’

  ‘She knows that, too. She’s not being unrealistic. At least she knows what’s going to happen.’

  He hoped so. Knowing something and having it happen to you were two very different things, as he well knew. ‘I’ll need your help. I want you to push one end of the baby while I push the other, so we spin it about the centre. Make sense?’

  She nodded. ‘Just tell me where to push and how hard.’

  ‘And don’t let Sam get in the way.’

  She laughed at that. ‘You think he will?’

  ‘I know he will. I know I would.’

  ‘We’ll keep him out of the way. Right, shall we get this show on the road?’

  He closed his eyes, centred himself for a moment then nodded. ‘OK. Let’s go for it.’

  They found Peter, the anaesthetist, on standby but on Molly’s instructions holding back from giving the epidural. Sam was trying to overrule her and getting nowhere.

  ‘Now, now, children, don’t fight,’ Hugh said calmly. ‘I’ll give it one try, then you have the epidural, as agreed. Are you ready, Molly?’

  She nodded, but he could tell she wasn’t looking forward to it. It could be painful, certainly very uncomfortable, but it would be less painful than recovering from a section, and she’d had time to prepare herself.

  Sam, however, was a different matter, and he was pacing restlessly and twitching.

  ‘Sam, go and stand over there by Molly’s head and talk to her and be supportive,’ Hugh said firmly. ‘You’re just another father now, you’re not a doctor, and if you can’t remember that I’m going to duct-tape you to the wall outside and leave you there till it’s all over. OK?’

  Sam opened his mouth, shut it again and nodded, his mouth twisting into a crooked grin. ‘Sorry. I’m used to running the show. I make a lousy voyeur.’

  ‘I forgive you.’ Molly chuckled, and he gave her a strained smile and hugged her.

  ‘I’m sorry this has happened, sweetheart.’

  ‘Don’t be, it’ll be fine. OK, Hugh, I’m ready when you are.’

  He was never going to be ready—not with Sam threatening to break out of his box at any moment and Molly pinning everything on him, and Eve—No. Don’t think about Eve. Eve’s for later, when this was over.

  He smiled encouragingly at Molly. ‘OK. Let’s do it.’

  It was amazing.

  One moment the baby was stuck sideways, resisting all their efforts, and then Hugh gave one last shove, grunting with effort, and Eve felt the little bottom under her hands shift across and slip neatly under Molly’s ribs.

  ‘Got it,’ he said, grinning victoriously, and Sam tipped back his head, opened his mouth and let his breath out on a long, ragged sigh.

  ‘That was bloody lucky,’ he growled, but Hugh was grinning still and Molly’s silent tears of pain and worry were turning to tears of laughter and relief. She was gently stroking her abdomen, wiping off the ultrasound gel they’d used to prevent her skin from getting pulled during the very physical manoeuvre and murmuring softly to her baby.

  And Eve—well, Eve was just hugely relieved for Molly that it was over and that the baby had turned without the need for an epidural or any surgical intervention.

  But then suddenly things hotted up without warning. Molly’s eyes widened, she said, ‘Oh, OK, guys, my waters have gone.’ There was a sudden rushing of amniotic fluid pouring off the bed and hitting the floor in an impressive stream.

  ‘Wow. Lots of fluid. No wonder it could turn so easily,’ Sam said, eyeing it worriedly.

  ‘Is it clear?’ Molly was asking, but Sue had other things on her mind, and as she shifted position Eve could see what it was, and her heart lurched.

  ‘It’s clear, but, Hugh, the cord’s prolapsed.’

  Sam leapt forward, but Hugh elbowed him out of the way and took one quick look, swearing softly.

  ‘Right, Molly. You’re fully dilated, and you’ve got two minutes to get this baby out. Do you think you can do it, or do you want to go for a section?’

  ‘Section,’ Sam said instantly, but Molly was shaking her head and struggling up off the pillows.

  ‘I can do it,’ she said, determination clear in her eyes. ‘Sam? Help me up. I need to kneel—now!’

  And in the time it took Sam to lift her and turn her so she was draped over the pillows and hanging onto the head of the bed, the baby’s head had crowned and Sue was telling her to pant, Hugh was checking that the cord wasn’t round the baby’s neck. Without waiting for any further instructions, the baby slid into Hugh’s hands, yelling his lusty little head off and clearly none the worse for his speedy arrival.

  ‘It’s a boy and he’s fine,’ Hugh said.

  Sam turned away, his shoulders heaving, and Eve found herself wrapped in a very hard and very male hug.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, sniffing hard, and she laughed and handed him a tissue and turned him back towards his wife and baby, who was now settled noisily at her breast, the pulsing cord trailing across Molly’s soft abdomen. ‘Hello, little one,’ he said unevenly, and, leaning over, he wrapped Molly in a firm and very loving one-armed hug, the other hand hovering over his son in a gesture so tender it brought a huge lump to Eve’s th
roat.

  ‘Oh, damn,’ she whispered, and with a muttered, ‘Come here,’ she found herself against Hugh’s hard, reassuringly solid chest.

  ‘Well done, you,’ she mumbled, and he laughed softly.

  ‘A lucky break,’ he replied, hugging her close again before releasing her. He turned back to Molly, checking the placenta after Sue had scooped it into a bowl, and nodding with satisfaction.

  ‘That’s fine—a bit on the small side, but, then, we expected that as the baby’s a bit small for dates.’

  ‘Is he?’ Molly said, peering at him. ‘They all look smaller than they feel, believe me!’

  ‘Just be grateful he was small. A big baby might have made things much more complicated.’

  ‘A big baby might not have been able to turn so easily,’ Molly pointed out with some truth.

  The door swung open, and Josh Lancaster walked in, taking in the scene at a glance and rolling his eyes.

  ‘You might have waited for me, Molly,’ he said with a grin.

  She looked up from the baby with a welcoming smile for the paediatric consultant. ‘You were too slow. You shouldn’t have had that extra coffee.’

  ‘Ha-ha. Very funny. I’ve left skid marks on the road all the way from home.’ He bent over and kissed her on the cheek, shook Sam by the hand and ran a gentle finger over the baby’s cheek. ‘So who’s this, then? Anyone going to introduce me?’

  ‘Noah, I reckon, judging by the amount of amniotic fluid.’

  Josh cocked an eyebrow at Sam. ‘Noah?’

  ‘No,’ Molly said with a laugh, slapping Sam on the hand. ‘He’s Max.’

  ‘Well, little Max, I hate to do this to you, mate, but I need to have a look at you and make sure you’re going to be able to count to ten without getting in a muddle. Come to Uncle Josh. Anything I should know?’

  ‘Apart from a prolapsed cord and a very precipitate delivery, buckets of amniotic fluid and an external version? Not really.’