The Doctor's Outback Baby

by Carol Marinelli

  Clara gave a puzzled frown as Ross continued.

  ‘He read me the Riot Act his first week here when I insisted that you take care of Eileen. He’d stand by you, Clara.’

  ‘Exactly.’ She blinked. ‘And the very last thing I’ll need is a reluctant partner.’

  ‘He has to be told.’

  ‘No, he doesn’t,’ Clara responded fiercely. ‘Lots of women bring up children on their own these days. There’s lots of single mums. Shelly managed on her own.’

  ‘Shelly managed,’ Ross said gently, ‘but managed just about sums it up. There was no time to enjoy motherhood, no one to share Matthew’s milestones with—just endless responsibility and angst. Shelly will tell you the same herself. It would be so much easier for you to share this with someone.’

  ‘Not if he doesn’t love me,’ Clara responded. ‘I know he’s a nice guy, so nice that no doubt he’ll do the right thing, give up all of his dreams of being a surgeon and come back and support me, but I can’t live like that, Ross. Timothy said on the day he left that he didn’t want to settle for second best and, frankly, neither do I. If he didn’t love me enough to stay, I don’t want to force him to come back.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Clara,’ Ross sighed. ‘I really tried to change his mind. When I first offered him the job I thought he was going to take it. He raced back to the house, said he was going to talk things over with you. I had a bottle of champagne ready, I really thought he was staying, then suddenly he changed his mind. Said the outback wasn’t for him.’

  ‘That’s not what Timothy said.’ Clara frowned. ‘He made it sound as if you didn’t really want him, as if you were just offering him a job because you felt you had to.’

  ‘Clara!’ Ross’s eyes were wide. ‘I’d have given anything to keep Timothy here. He’s going to be a great doctor. I even explained that once the clinic moved up a stage and we had a few more doctors on board, he could do a formal rotation here or we’d second him to go the city and get some more courses under his belt. I’d have given anything to keep him.’

  ‘So would I,’ Clara managed, turning her face to the wall, eternally grateful when Ross flicked off the machine and pulled the curtain quietly around her, leaving her alone with her thoughts and a little black-and-white photo of the life inside her which she stared at for an age.

  ‘So would I,’ she sobbed.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘YOU’RE supposed to be putting on weight,’ Shelly admonished gently as Clara stepped off the scales. ‘Not losing it.’

  Clara gave a tired shrug. ‘And you’re supposed to be at home with your children, Shelly. I feel awful dragging you out. One of the others could have seen me.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Clara, you’re my one and only patient, I’m hardly slaving away. Anyway, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.’ When Clara didn’t smile back Shelly steered her to the small examination couch. ‘Ross wants to come and talk to you, Clara.’

  ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘He’s concerned that you’re doing too much and, frankly, so am I. You’re twenty-eight weeks now, it’s time to be cutting down your workload.’

  ‘I’ve cut right back,’ Clara argued. ‘I only see a handful of patients now.’

  ‘All the difficult ones,’ Shelly pointed out. ‘Look, Clara, the baby’s a nice size, all your obs are fine, your urine’s as clear as a bell, but it doesn’t take a nursing degree to know that a pregnant woman’s weight is supposed to go upwards. You haven’t put an ounce on for four weeks now. You have to learn to delegate a bit more, let the new staff take over some of the load. In a few short weeks you’re going to be on maternity leave and, as much as you don’t believe me now, this little one is going to take up every last piece of what’s left of your brain.’

  ‘I can’t stop seeing Eileen now,’ Clara moaned. ‘She’s just finished her last round of chemo and you know how rough it’s been for her. She’s got an MRI next week and she’s terrified.’

  ‘Then go and see her with a cake instead of your nurse’s bag. Just because you’re not working, it doesn’t mean you can’t be her friend.’

  But Clara shook her head. ‘I promised I’d be there for her. I’m heading over there after here.’ Seeing Shelly frown, Clara got in first. ‘OK, I’ll talk to her,’ she sighed. ‘Maybe Jenny could take over, she seems really nice.’

  ‘She is really nice,’ Shelly said firmly. ‘Anyway, with a bit of luck Eileen will get the all-clear and then you really won’t have an excuse not to put your feet up.

  ‘You still haven’t heard from Timothy, I take it?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Clara sighed. She slipped up her top and Shelly gently probed her abdomen.

  ‘It’s only been a couple of weeks since you wrote and it’s not as if you’ve got an address. If Timothy’s having his mail redirected, it could take ages for him to get the letter.’

  ‘Has Ross had any luck?’ Clara asked hopefully, but Shelly shook her head.

  ‘We’ve only got his parents’ address and phone number in England. Maybe you should ring them. We’ve tried every diving school in the phone book and got nowhere. Perhaps he headed home after all.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Clara shrugged, swallowing back the familiar lump in her throat as Shelly pulled down the maternity top then perched herself on the couch beside her. ‘But from the little Timothy told me, he’s not exactly on great terms with his parents. I don’t want to make things more awkward for him and I’m sure a pregnant ex-girlfriend isn’t the kind of holiday memento he was hoping to collect. I’d rather try and find him myself before I resort to getting his parents involved.’

  ‘Ross could ring them.’ Shelly grinned. ‘Say we’ve underpaid him, that there’s this huge cheque here with his name on it—that should get a result.’ When that didn’t even raise a smile Shelly’s voice softened as she pushed a touch further. ‘How come you changed your mind, Clara? You were so adamant you didn’t want him involved before.’

  ‘I’d love him to be involved,’ Clara corrected, ‘but only if that was what he really wanted.’ Taking a deep breath, she stared down at the mound of her abdomen and ran a hand over it. ‘I was lying in the bath and suddenly the baby moved. Not just a little bit, mind, my whole stomach seemed to flip over…’

  ‘Amazing, isn’t it?’

  Clara nodded. ‘I just lay there watching it, and for the first time I actually realised there was a person in there, not just a baby, not just my bump, but a person. And I figured Timothy deserved to know about it.’

  ‘He does,’ Shelly said softly. ‘You know Ross isn’t Matthew’s real father?’ She gave a soft laugh. ‘Or rather you know that Ross isn’t Matthew’s biological father?’

  Clara nodded.

  ‘Neil, my ex-husband, didn’t want to know about Matthew, figured a special needs child was just too dammed hard for the life he’d lined up. Now Matthew will never know any different, he adores Ross and that’s enough for him.’ Her hands moved to Clara’s bump, resting her hands there softly for a moment. ‘God willing, this little one won’t have any of Matthew’s problems. God willing, this little person will grow up to be a nosy, inquisitive, intelligent child and you’re going to have to answer some difficult questions. Imagine how hard it would be to look this person in the eye and say you didn’t even tell their father they existed. It’s easy to make choices now but eventually you’ll have to face them.’

  ‘I know,’ Clara gulped. ‘And if I don’t hear from him in the next week I’ll ring his family.’ Accepting Shelly’s hand, she hauled herself of the couch, blowing her nose loudly on a tissue before turning to face her friend.

  ‘Thanks, Shelly.’

  ‘I haven’t finished yet. Our house at six. Roast and veggies and extra-thick gravy.’

  ‘It’s forty degrees outside,’ Clara moaned.

  ‘I don’t care. You need some calories. I might even make a chocolate cake if you’re lucky.’

  ‘With custard?’ Clara checked, her glittering, tear-filled
eyes all the thanks Shelly needed.

  ‘Chocolate custard.’ Shelly smiled. ‘And if I have a glass of wine I might even ring Timothy’s parents myself!’

  Pulling the Jeep to a halt outside Eileen’s, Clara reached over to the passenger seat for her bag, her mind totally focused on the meeting ahead, mentally preparing herself, the sight of Eileen’s bald head, her painfully thin, emaciated body still a shock after all this time.

  The strength of the contraction that gripped her was another shock.

  Breathing out through her mouth, leaning back on the driver’s seat, Clara waited for it to pass, her hands instinctively moving to her stomach, feeling the firm mass of her uterus tight against her palms, her eyes flicking to the dashboard clock, counting the seconds then breathing a sigh of relief when it ended.

  Braxton-Hicks’ contractions.

  With a rueful laugh she scooped up her bag and climbed out of the Jeep, the hot midday sun scorching the back of her neck as she walked towards Eileen’s home. How many first-time mums had rung her, terrified they were about to go into labour, sure that the irregular false contractions they were experiencing were the real thing?

  ‘When you’re toes are curling it’s the real thing,’ Clara had always said, popping them on to the CTG monitor to prove beyond doubt that all they’d been feeling had been mother nature’s warm-up run. Even as she walked she closed her eyes for a second. One day in the not too distant future her toes would be curling, her baby—their baby—would be coming into the world, and not for the first time Clara felt a wave of panic at the inevitability of it all. The journey she had unwittingly embarked on, one that until now she had chosen to travel alone. But as the weeks had passed into months, reality had started to hit, and now more than ever she needed Timothy beside her, needed him with her.

  Missed him so much.

  ‘Only me.’

  The days of knocking and politely waiting on the doorstep had long since gone. Instead, Clara pushed open the fly screen as she called out and made her way straight through to the living room, smiling at her friend who lay supported by a mountain of pillows on the sofa, a brightly coloured scarf wrapped around her head, a splash of lipstick out of place on her thin, pale face, but Clara was thrilled to see it all the same. Thrilled that Eileen was making an effort, taking a pride in her appearance.

  Still hanging in there.

  ‘I’ve done my fingernails.’ Eileen smiled, replacing the lid on her bottle of nail varnish and holding up her hand as Clara admired her handiwork. ‘But I haven’t the energy to do my toenails.’

  ‘I know the feeling,’ Clara groaned, ‘though in my case I can barely reach them. I can do them for you.’ Settling herself down, she undid the lid and set to work, glad for the small distraction, the chance to talk without her words sounding horribly rehearsed. ‘So, how are you doing?’

  ‘What version do you want to hear?’ Eileen sighed.

  ‘The truth will do,’ Clara said, without looking up. ‘Are you scared about next week?’

  ‘Terrified,’ Eileen admitted. ‘Last night I took one of those sleeping tablets that Timothy prescribed me. I hadn’t taken even one before, the bottle’s just been sitting there in the medicine cupboard along with the hundred others.’

  ‘That’s what they were prescribed for,’ Clara responded matter-of-factly, but even the mention of Timothy’s name had a tiny blush dusting her cheeks. ‘It’s important that you get your rest after all you’ve been through.’

  ‘I know,’ Eileen sighed. ‘I just wish it was this time next week, wish I knew if all this treatment had worked.’ She gave a low laugh. ‘Then again maybe I don’t.’

  With ten toes painted Clara finally looked up. ‘Let’s just wait and see, shall we? Whatever the results, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Focus on the positives.’

  ‘What positives?’

  ‘Heidi’s at school,’ Clara said gently, ‘and, as hellish as the treatments been, you’ve had six more months.’

  ‘I want more.’ Eileen’s voice was hoarse and her request was so basic, so much her entitlement, Clara simply didn’t know what to say.

  ‘I’d better do your bloods,’ she said instead, reaching down to her bag. ‘The results will come to Ross, but they’ll also go to your oncologist in Adelaide in time for your appointment next—’

  ‘Are you all right, Clara?’

  She didn’t answer straight away. Bent over her bag, she stilled for a moment, and then looked up, smiling assuredly. ‘Next time an anxious mum rings me about Braxton-Hicks’ contractions I won’t be so blasé. They’re actually quite strong, aren’t they?’

  Eileen gave a small frown. The question in Clara’s voice hadn’t gone unnoticed. The slight shift in tone told her that Clara was asking for reassurance, but Eileen wasn’t sure she could give it. ‘They can be strong,’ Eileen started slowly, ‘but I don’t think they should stop you talking!’ She gave a nervous laugh. ‘Mind you, it could just be me. Nothing ever stopped me talking, not even childbirth. I was roaring at Jerry the whole way through. Even after two rounds of chemo I was still cursing loudly, albeit with my head down the toilet…’ Her voice trailed off as Clara sat back in the sofa, her hand moving protectively to her bump, her eyes closing as another spasm gripped her. ‘Do you want me to ring Ross?’

  Eileen waited , waited for Clara to look up, to smile reassuringly and say ‘Don’t be daft’, but when her troubled blue eyes finally opened, when Clara gave a small, nervous nod, her stiff upper lip actually trembling, Eileen pulled herself up.

  ‘Tell him to come straight away.’ Her voice was trembling as she spoke. ‘Tell him to bring Shelly and the emergency delivery pack. Tell them to ring the Flying—’

  ‘They’ll know what to do,’ Eileen said bravely. ‘You just stay there and try to stay calm.’ She patted Clara’s shoulders, ignoring her aching body’s protests she raced into the hall, returning moments later and joining Clara on the sofa, where she put her arms around her. And suddenly it wasn’t a nurse and patient any more, it wasn’t even about two friends.

  Just two scared women, staring out of the window as they held each other.

  Two women, quite simply praying for time.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘THREE centimetres dilated.’ Ross fixed Clara with a reassuring smile as Shelly pulled the duvet back around her. ‘That’s good.’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ Clara sobbed. ‘It’s way too soon…’

  ‘Three centimetres,’ Ross carried on over her, ‘and your membranes are intact and the contractions seem to be easing off a bit by themselves. We might be able to stop the labour at this stage. Even if we can delay it for twelve hours, that will mean the steroids I’ll give you will have time to take effect, they’ll help to mature the baby’s lungs, but with a bit of luck we’ll be able to stop the labour altogether. Now, I’m going to radio through this information and see what the Flying Doctors say. They should be here soon, but it’s probably better that we get these drugs started.’ He gave a thin smile and Clara knew what was coming.

  ‘You’ll need an IV and a catheter.’

  ‘I’ll do it.’ Shelly shooed him out. ‘You get on the radio.’

  ‘Thanks for both of you coming,’ Clara said when they were alone. ‘Are the kids outside with Eileen?’

  ‘They’re back at the house,’ Shelly said lightly—too lightly, Clara realised. ‘June’s watching them for me.’

  Lying back on the pillow, Clara knew then that she was loved.

  Neither Matthew nor Kate had been more than two feet away from Shelly since Matthew’s disappearing act, and the fact she had jumped into the Jeep and raced to get here for her told Clara the true depth of their friendship.

  Shelly was very gentle as she inserted the catheter, talking away to take away the sting of embarrassment, and also very professional, but Clara could see the sparkle of tears in her eyes as she flushed the IV.

  ‘This isn’t your fault, Shelly,’ Clara said gen
tly. ‘You know as well as I do that these things happen sometimes. I was fine earlier, not even a twinge, there was nothing to suggest—’

  ‘I know,’ Shelly sniffed, ‘but two can play at that game, so if it isn’t my fault it most certainly isn’t yours. I don’t want you beating yourself up, wondering if there was something you could have done to prevent this.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ Clara sighed. ‘You’ve no idea how many women I’ve said the same thing to, but it’s not so easy to be objective when it’s your own baby.

  ‘Shelly.’

  Something in Clara’s voice made Shelly look up.

  ‘Ross told me Timothy had a go at you both once, that he said just because someone doesn’t have children it didn’t mean they didn’t get upset.’

  Shelly nodded. ‘He was right to say something. I used to get annoyed about the same thing when I worked on the children’s ward before Matthew came along. Other nurses would bang on, saying I didn’t know how the parents felt because I’d never had my own. It was the same when I did my midwifery, as if I couldn’t possibly know what I was talking about because I’d never had a baby.

  ‘I was being selfish,’ Shelly finished.

  ‘You were being truthful,’ Clara said softly. ‘I’ve never been more scared in my life, never really knew what it was all about until now. I love this baby and I can understand where you were coming from. Timothy shouldn’t have said anything.’

  Shelly said simply, ‘He was just sticking up for you.’

  But there was no time for introspection because suddenly the room was filled with personnel and equipment. Dr Hall strolled in, managing to roll his eyes and wink at the same time as he saw Clara lying pale and terrified on the bed.

  ‘My wife’s going to love you,’ he joked. ‘She’s after a new kitchen and this one will push me into overtime.’ His voice softened as he parked his huge frame on the bed beside her, one rough yet tender hand gently on her stomach as he quietly studied his watch. ‘The old way’s the best way.’ He looked up and held her terrified eyes. ‘The medication we’re giving you will hopefully slow things down. Now, Ross has already examined you and taken swabs so I’m not going to disturb things while they’re quiet as, no doubt, they’ll want to check you again at the hospital.’