“It’s not a problem, is it?”

“Problem?” Swinging around for the first time she managed to actually look at him, her eyes frowning as they met his.

“Me,” Rory looked back at her. “Being here. If it is a problem, you just have to say. I don’t want to…” For a second he faltered. “I mean, if your boyfriend’s going to be worried by my staying here then you just have to say.”

“Why would it be a problem, Rory?” She looked at him, and barely managed a thin smile. “I’ve got an old friend staying for a couple of weeks until he finds somewhere else. Why would anyone have a problem with that?” She walked to her car, and thankfully the door was unlocked. Ally slid inside. Her shaking hands pushed the key in the ignition, and she attempted a smart reverse, but failed miserably, instead doing bunny hops the whole length of her driveway.

She’d sit in the movies alone if she had to.

Watch the same film twice if it kept her out until midnight.

She’d do anything other than let him glimpse at the effect his return was having on her.

Dear Reader,

“You’ll get over him.”

Anyone who’s ever had their heart broken will recognize this line—maybe you’ve used it on your girlfriend on a few occasions. In theory it sounds good. But, what if you don’t get over him? What if ages later, even if you’ve moved on and life is good, there’s still that little piece of you that hasn’t quite got over him?

That was the scenario I pictured for my lovely heroine Ally. She has a great job, fabulous family and friends, and has even had a relationship or two since Rory came, broke her heart and left.

I loved writing this story. Cheering Ally on from the sidelines as girlfriends do, and telling her in no uncertain terms she’d be a fool to give him a second chance—another line that sounds good in theory. Nevertheless, as Ally finds out, putting this into practice is not easy!

Happy reading,

Carol Marinelli

The Midwife’s Special Delivery
Carol Marinelli

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

COVER

Dear Reader

TITLE PAGE

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

COPYRIGHT

PROLOGUE

‘HEY!’

Gripping the phone receiver in her hand, Ally Jameson closed her eyes as the call she had been both half expecting and half dreading came when—as all her horoscopes had said it would—she was least expecting it.

Well, not quite.

Since she’d heard that the new registrar starting on Monday at Bay View Hospital was none other than Rory Donovan, she’d been wondering if, after three years, he’d ring and say hi.

Or ‘hey’.

So far tonight she’d had the two very un-Australian voices bidding her ‘g’day’ and telling her they could solve all her financial woes if she would only fill in a quick survey; one lovely lady telling her that if she wanted to leave her unwanted clothing and furniture on the nature strip on Monday, she would send someone to pick it up; and a rather irate gentleman demanding to know why she didn’t want to subscribe to the fabulous once-in-a-lifetime gym subscription he was offering.

Tired, ratty and horribly fed up, Ally had put on a face pack and painted her toenails scarlet, poured a glass of wine and convinced herself she was a fool for even thinking Rory would ring to tell her he was coming back to Bay Side. After all, why would he? They’d only shared a house for a few years, shared the same social group. In their time together they’d been nothing more than friends, hadn’t even dated.

And then the phone had rung.

For a second Ally wondered if it would be rather more dignified to pretend she had no idea who was calling, to pretend, after all these years, to have no idea who the voice on the other end of the phone belonged to.

‘Hey!’ Face pack crumbling as quickly as her resolve, Ally’s face broke into a wistful smile. ‘Long time no hear.’

‘I know.’ A lot of muffled background noise ensued and Ally frowned into the phone.

‘Where are you?’

‘At the airport—not Melbourne airport,’ he added quickly, the phone line crackling as if it had been dipped in hot oil. ‘So don’t worry, I’m not ringing to ask for a lift.’

‘Makes a change.’Ally smiled, shouting to be heard. ‘Where are you, then?’

‘Bali…’ The line crackled again. ‘End of season footy trip. I get in tomorrow. Did you hear the news? I’m coming back…’

‘You start Monday!’ Ally broke in when the line crackled yet again. ‘I heard. Congratulations, Rory.’

‘Any chance of renting a room from my old landlady?’

And the silence this time had nothing to do with the appalling line, nothing to do with the fact he was at a call box in Bali, and everything to do with the fact she hadn’t seen him for three years. Everything to do with the fact that the last time she’d seen him, he’d literally broken her heart.

‘Look, no drama if I can’t,’ Rory carried on, clearly oblivious to the turmoil he’d created. ‘I’ve got a room at the doctors’ mess. I just thought I’d ask…’

‘I don’t take tenants any more,’ Ally said, then instantly regretted her rather prim tone—as if those years of laughter, parties and fun had been to do with money. ‘I mean, you’d be horribly bored, it’s nothing like it was—there’s just me here now. I don’t need the rent or anything.’ She was blabbering now, horribly so, trying to sound casual and somehow trying to keep him at arm’s length.

‘If it makes it easier for you, I won’t pay rent!’ He started to laugh, and it sounded the same as she remembered, so much so that Ally closed her eyes, pictured that smile on his face, his laid-back humour, his take-it-or-leave-it jokes, and could scarcely believe that after all this time she was talking to him. That Rory was on the other end of the phone, asking to move back in. Rory would be working with her from Monday. ‘Don’t worry about it.’ She could hear the pips going on the phone, knew that his money was running out. That ever sensible part of her brain was telling her to just let it go, let his money run out, let him hang up—the same way he’d hung up on them all those years ago.

So why was she shouting into the phone?

‘Sure—no drama. If I’m at work when you get here, the key’s still in the same place!’

‘You don’t mind?’ Rory checked. ‘It’s just for a couple of weeks until I…’

His money must have run out, or maybe, Ally thought as she hung up, Rory Donovan had got what he wanted, sorted out his accommodation and moved on to something more important: his footy mates and a glass of beer.

‘That was Rory!’ Ally said, staring into the somber, cloudy eyes of Sheba—the oldest, smelliest Labrador in Australia. ‘It sounds like he’s coming home.’

Home?

There wasn’t much of her face pack left to peel off but, unnerved now, Ally headed to the bathroom and rinsed off the remains and brushed her teeth, before finally lifting her face and staring in the mirror, trying to envisage somehow what Rory would see.

The dark short curls were long now, way past her shoulders, which sounded far better than it looked, Ally decided, holding up the rather frizzy ends and vowing to book herself in for a very overdue trim.

Her skin had cleared up at least.

Thanks to an appallingly delayed adolescence, the last time he’d seen her she’d had a T-zone you could drive a car down. She’d been sure that she’d end her days in a nursing home and, instead of a glass jar for her teeth, she’d have a bottle of acne lotion by her bed, but at twenty-seven years of age her skin was finally, after the longest time, spot-free. Her eyes were still boringly brown, of course, and her lashes, despite nightly rubbing with Vaseline and the most expensive eyelash curler, were still short and spiky.

Not that he’d notice.

Not that he’d ever noticed.

Except for once. Firmly pushing that thought out of her mind, Ally peeled off her T-shirt and, pulling on a bigger, baggier one, crawled into bed. Reaching for the alarm clock, she wondered if she should set it, tried to work out the flying hours from Bali to Melbourne and gave up.

She damn well wasn’t going to be standing at the door welcoming him and she sure as hell wasn’t about to put clean sheets on the spare bed and make a mad dash to the bakery for rolls.

He could take her as he found her.

Twenty-seven years old with a beautiful home, a great career and a fabulous group of friends.

Rory Donovan could take her as he found her…

Instead of where he’d left her…

CHAPTER ONE

SO MUCH for fresh rolls!

Pulling on her uniform, Ally cut off a piece of cheese and rammed it into the offending article, furious with herself that despite her stern promises she’d awoken at the crack of dawn and headed straight for the baker’s, furious with herself that she’d made up Rory’s bed and put on some coffee, not to mention five hundred coats of mascara—furious because she’d expected more from herself.

It was midday!

Midday and, even allowing for delays, even allowing for customs and a massive queue at the taxi rank he should have been here hours ago.

Well, what had she expected?

Exactly what Rory had expected, Ally realised.

To walk straight back in to the accommodating, friendly girl he’d so easily said goodbye to.

Well, she wasn’t that girl any more.

Throwing the jug of coffee down the sink didn’t really help, but a full carton of milk and the remains of the sugar did—picturing his face when he went to make his regular, disgustingly strong, disgustingly sweet brew, he could damn well walk to the grocer’s. Ripping the sheets off his freshly made-up bed, Ally shoved them in the washing machine and turned it on the longest, hottest wash the dial could summon, writing a massive note in black text and leaving it on the kitchen bench.

Sheets in the machine

Feel free to use the dryer

Ally

Not that that would stop him, Ally realised—knowing Rory, he’d either crash on the bare mattress or deviate straight to her room!

A mischievous smile played on her lips.

Heading to her bedroom, she rummaged through her knickers drawer, rummaged right to the very bottom where a pair of leopardskin knickers and bra lay—courtesy of a hen night party—still in their Cellophane. No doubt they’d crumble to dust once she opened them, but in an act of defiance Ally ripped open the pack, slung the two triangles that called themselves a bra over the chair in her bedroom and threw the G-string on the floor.

If only she had a packet of condoms to leave by the bed.

Instead, she exchanged her midwifery manual for a steamy romance she’d been meaning to read, sprayed half a bottle of perfume to scent the room, hid all her acne creams, razors and hard-skin removers and closed the door on the temporary brothel she’d created, feeling great, in control, on top of things…

Until she heard the unmistakable purr of a taxi.

Until she heard that deep, throaty voice, laughing and chatting with the driver.

Standing far back enough from her window so that she could see and hopefully be seen, Ally stared as three long years were erased in a single moment.

In an effort to keep going, in an effort to just keep breathing some days, Ally had managed to convince herself that the images that played over and over in her mind didn’t actually match the reality—that if ever Rory Donovan stepped back into her life she’d be hard pushed not to throw her head back and laugh at the thought he’d once affected her so much. Had convinced herself that he wasn’t really that good-looking, that loud, that big…That six feet seven could somehow shrink into normal-sized proportions!

Rory was huge—and that wasn’t just according to Ally. Everyone—everyone—commented on his size, because Rory was a generous touch more than the average tall guy—he literally towered over everyone. He looked more like a rugby player than a doctor—minus the cauliflower ears and broken nose, though, Ally conceded, watching as he pulled his wallet out of his shorts and paid the driver. Rory had a very nice straight nose and a wide, generous, very white-toothed smile. Minus the scruffy hair, too. Ally sighed, watching his dark, neatly cut, very straight hair gleaming in the midday sun. Apart from his height he was also incredibly well built. His massive wide shoulders meant he had to have his suits custom made, huge feet meant his shoes had taken up half the cupboard in the hallway, but somehow in the three years he’d been gone, Ally had forgotten just what an impressive sight he was. She’d even convinced herself that he was fat, that that huge frame would have gone to seed by now, but there he was, literally larger than life and twice as good-looking. A backpack was being unloaded out of the boot now, but so was a suit holder, and despite the shorts and T-shirt there was an air of authority about him she’d never truly noticed before. Rory had clearly done a lot of growing up in the last three years and here he was, about to walk back into her door.

Tanned.

Toned.

And tomorrow he’d be her new boss!

But the fact she’d soon be working alongside him wasn’t what was causing Ally’s heart to trip into overdrive. Neither was it the fact he was looking even more divine that she remembered. It was all she’d forgotten that terrified her most. Forgotten how just the sight of him flamed her senses, forgotten the agony of loving him from a distance, being a friend when she had wanted so much more.

But no matter how she’d tried, there was one thing time could never erase, one memory that, no matter how hard she’d fought it, simply couldn’t be banished from her mind—the fleshy weight of his lips on hers the night they had said goodbye for the last time, the heady, weightless feeling of being held by him, the decadent luxury she had briefly sampled of gazing into those dark green eyes. For one moment in time she had felt like the only woman who mattered but that was followed by the utter devastation the next morning when she had woken up in an empty bed, and realized that the man she’d secretly loved from a distance, the man she’d given her all to just a few hours before, had so easily walked away.

‘Rory!’ Pulling open the front door, she smiled widely as he dragged his bags up the garden path. ‘How are you?’

‘Worn out! They kept us for six hours.’ Dragging his bag into the hallway, he did a double-take. ‘I don’t remember the floorboards.’

‘They were under that disgusting carpet all along—I found them last year and had them polished up.’

‘It looks great. Don’t tell me she’s still here!’ Rory’s eyes were practically on stalks as Sheba came waddling down the hall to see what all the noise was, her pink tongue lolling out of her tired mouth, but her old ears pricked up and her tail was definitely wagging as she clearly recognised a very old friend. ‘Hey, girl.’ Rory dropped down to his knees. ‘Hardly a girl, though. How old is she now?’

‘Fifteen,’ Ally replied, hating the question and all it implied. ‘But she’s going really well.’

Rory didn’t say anything, clearly not convinced by Ally’s falsely cheerful voice. Sheba was literally on her last legs, her massive, overweight body barely able to hold her weight, the once gorgeous brown eyes clouded by cataracts now. And deep down Ally knew that, but it was more than she could bear to admit it to herself, let alone anyone else.

‘Look, I hate to dash off, but I’m on duty at twelve-thirty…’

‘No problem.’ Rory smiled, for the first time looking at her, taking in the navy culottes and white shirt, her long dark curls held back in a navy scrunchy, purple epaulettes on her shoulders.

‘What do they mean?’

‘Associate Charge Nurse.’ Ally gave a tight smile. ‘Which means I really shouldn’t be late.’

‘No worries. I’ll just grab a coffee and something to eat, and then I think I’ll crash.’

‘There are coffee beans in the cupboard, but you’ll have to grind them.’ She gave a tiny wince. ‘And I don’t think I’ve got any milk.’

‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘Or sugar.’ Ally grimaced. ‘And if you want bread, you’re going to have to go to the shop, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I’d have company.’

‘Not a problem.’ Rory smiled. ‘To tell you the truth, all I want to do is stretch out and sleep.’

‘Oh.’ Picking up her keys and placing them in her bag, Ally gave what she hoped was a suitably apologetic smile. ‘I’ve just put some washing on. I put some sheets in for you—they shouldn’t take too long, you’ll just have to whiz them through the dryer.’

‘That’s great, Ally, thanks.’ A tiny wave of guilt licked at her as she watched his tired face force a smile. She attempted to hide her blush. She looked down at her watch—and Rory got the unvoiced message. ‘You’d better get to work, then. We can catch up tonight, and I’ll ring out for take-aways….’

‘I’m out tonight!’ She hadn’t even planned to say it, but the lie slipped out so easily it caught even her by surprise. ‘But there’s some numbers on the fridge if you want to get something to eat…’

‘Anywhere nice?’

‘Sorry?’ Turning at the door, Ally blinked back at him.

‘Tonight—are you going anywhere nice?’

‘Just out.’ Ally shrugged, trying to feign nonchalance, trying so hard just to walk away, but even as she did, a question stilled her.

‘It’s not a problem, is it?’

‘Problem?’ Swinging around for the first time, she managed to actually look at him, her eyes frowning as they met his.

‘Me.’ Rory looked back at her. ‘Being here. If it is, you just have to say. I don’t want to…’ For a second he faltered. ‘I mean, if your boyfriend’s going to be worried by my staying here, you just have to say.’

‘Why would it be a problem, Rory?’ Still she looked at him, even managed a very thin smile. ‘I’ve got an old friend staying for a couple weeks until he finds somewhere else. Why would anyone have a problem with that?’ She turned and walked to her car. Thankfully the door was unlocked and Ally slid inside. Shaking hands pushed the key in the ignition, and she attempted a smart reverse but failed miserably, instead doing bunny hops the whole length of her driveway.

She’d sit in the movies alone if she had to!

Watch the same film twice over if it kept her out till after midnight.

Anything other than letting him glimpse the effect his return was having on her.

‘Let the poor woman rest!’ Rinska moaned, and Ally smothered a smile as the throaty Polish accent sighed into the phone. ‘I’ll be there when I can.’

‘Problem?’ Ally checked.

‘According to this very eager student, Mrs Williams isn’t progressing as she should. He wants me to do another internal to see how far along she is.’

‘But she’s doing well.’ Ally frowned. ‘I was only in there a moment ago.’

‘How did you find her?’ Rinska asked, clearly valuing Ally’s opinion.

‘Nervous, excited—a typical first-time mum. I told Jake—the student—to suggest a deep bath. She’s got ages to go yet.’

‘She’s only one centimetre dilated.’ Rinska rolled her glittery blue-eyeshadowed eyes at Ally. A consultant in Poland, Rinska was now relegated to working as an intern in Australia until her qualifications were approved and, though it must be hellish for Rinska to be such a tiny cog in a big wheel, Ally was delighted to have such a knowledgeable doctor on the shop floor. ‘She’ll still be labouring when we come back tomorrow morning. She’s hoping to do it without analgesia.’ A rather loud moan coming from delivery suite two had both women grimacing a touch—well aware that there was a lot of pain still to come! ‘Well, at least she’s got a chance of making a natural delivery—tomorrow it will be a different story. ‘

‘Tomorrow?’Ally frowned.

‘Mrs Williams is already ten days over her due date—from what I’ve heard, the new registrar that is starting doesn’t believe in letting nature take its course. She’d have been put on a Pitocin drip and strapped to a monitor a couple of days ago if he were already here.’

‘Are you talking about Rory Donovan?’Ally checked. ‘I’ve worked with him—I guess he tended to err on the side of caution but I always thought that he was really good.’

‘He is.’ Rinska shrugged. ‘At least, according to his stats, all his mothers and babies do well—but his Caesarean rate is way higher than mine.’ She gave a tight smile. ‘Or rather, what mine was. He’s a great doctor, I’ve no doubt about that, but I doubt he’d have let Lucy go so overdue—that’s all I’m saying.

‘Do you know him well?’ Rinska asked, taking in Ally’s rather bewildered frown. Ally gave a sort of vague, noncommittal nod, not particularly sure it would be appropriate to tell Rinska that at this very moment he was probably tucked up in her heavily scented bed! ‘We used to share a house.’

Rinska’s glittery eyeshadow stretched just a touch further.

‘With about three others. I bought a house on the beach when I was a student and over the years I’ve had more doctors and nurses as housemates than I can count. Rory was one of them.’

‘You bought a house on the beach when you were a student—how?’ Rinska asked, filling in a patient’s notes in her massive flamboyant scrawl as she happily chatted. ‘I couldn’t afford a beach box, let alone a house.’

‘Believe me; it had nothing to do with making an astute investment. A few of us were looking to rent and all the places were absolute bombs. My grandmother had left me some money, not a fortune but enough for a deposit. I saw this house for sale and fell in love with it—it was a bomb as well.’ Ally grinned. ‘But it was a bomb that was sitting right on the beach, with views to die for! I worked out that if everyone chipped in the rent it would cover the mortgage, and the next thing I knew I was standing at an auction.’

‘It would be worth a fortune now.’

‘Probably.’ Ally shrugged. She had no intention of selling and, anyway, she was far more interested in what Rinska had to say about Rory. ‘So what else have you heard about the new reg?’

‘Just what I told you. He’s more than happy to intervene if nature isn’t progressing as quickly as he’d like it to. I wonder how he’s going to fit in here?’

‘Well, he fitted in fine before.’

‘Ah, but he was an intern then.’ Rinska gave a dry smile. ‘And we all know that an intern isn’t allowed to have a single independent thought. I think you should brace yourself for a whole new doctor.’

‘Well, we’ll soon find out,’Ally answered as casually as she could, scarcely able to believe that in a matter of hours she’d be working alongside Rory again. ‘But he surely knows that Bay View isn’t exactly high-tech or a high-intervention hospital. If he wants that type of thing he should be working in the city, not at some suburban bayside hospital.’

‘Tell him when you see him,’ Rinska said as Ally clicked off her pen and closed the patient folder she was writing in. ‘What time are you due to finish?’

‘In half an hour,’ Ally answered. ‘I’m just going to check on Mrs Williams’s progress and then I might pop in and see Kathy before I give handover.’

‘How is Kathy this evening?’ Rinska asked, and Ally could hear the tense edge to Rinska’s usually confident voice.

‘The same,’ Ally sighed.

‘Still blaming me?’

‘She’s blaming everyone now—from the porter who wheeled her to Theatre, to the nurses, the consultant who came in and, yes, to you.’ Ally gave a sympathetic smile. ‘Rinska, you didn’t do anything wrong.’

‘I know that.’ Rinska gave a tired nod. ‘But try telling that to Kathy. Maybe she’s right,’ Rinska sighed. ‘Maybe I didn’t make myself clear enough, but I was honestly trying not to scare her too much. I thought she understood how serious the situation was.’

‘She didn’t want to understand,’ Ally said wisely, because even if Rinska was highly qualified, she still needed her colleagues’ support.

Kathy Evans was well known to everyone on the maternity ward. She had delivered a healthy baby boy three days earlier but, despite the fact that both mother and baby were doing well, Kathy was bitterly disappointed with how her labour had turned out and was making her feelings known to anyone who cared to listen—and extremely loudly!

Kathy had come in for an attempted VBAC—a vaginal birth after a Caesarean section. When she’d had her first child, the baby had been too large to negotiate the pelvis and an urgent C-section had been performed, much to Kathy’s disappointment. A staunch advocate of natural delivery, she had been disappointed that she hadn’t been able to achieve one and had been determined that her ‘mistake’ wouldn’t be repeated again. Previously it had been considered that ‘once a Caesarean always a Caesarean,’ but over the last few years, when appropriate, women had been offered a trial of labour. Things didn’t always work out as planned and often women still ended up requiring surgery to deliver their baby, but statistics were encouraging and the tide was starting to turn. Kathy had been determined that she would be successful in her quest to have a natural delivery, had done extensive research in her library and on the internet and was convinced that it was more a question of mind over matter than anything else. But even though her second baby was a much smaller one, Kathy’s uterus hadn’t contracted efficiently, and after a prolonged labour with minimal progress Rinska had become concerned by some rather ominous signs in Kathy’s and the baby’s observations and had called in Mr Davies, who had performed an emergency Caesarean section.

‘Rinska, you had no choice but to call in Mr Davies to perform a Caesarean section. And that’s coming from me—one of the strongest supporters in the unit for natural birth and minimal intervention. It would have been considered negligent if you hadn’t intervened when you did. You know that!’

‘I do know that.’ Rinska gave a small tired smile, obviously grateful for her colleague’s support. ‘I just guess I need to keep hearing it. Over and over in my mind I’ve gone through Kathy’s labour and I really cannot think of anything that I could have done differently, except perhaps explain things a little more clearly to her.’

Ally gave a dubious frown. Rinska, despite her heavy accent, despite the fact English wasn’t her first language, always spoke eloquently to the patients, always found the time, even in the most dire of circumstances, to keep her patients informed, and now here she was doubting herself.

Checking that no one was nearby, Rinska spoke in low tones. ‘I think she’s going to make a formal complaint.’

‘Then let her,’ Ally said with a confidence that belied how she really felt—even if Rinska was in the right, a formal complaint and the ensuing investigation was a horrible thing for anyone to go through. ‘Anyone who looks at her charts will know that you had no choice but to call in Mr Davies, and at the end of the day Mr Davies is the one who operated…’

‘I know,’ Rinska sighed. ‘But it’s me she’s really against. She was already in Theatre by the time Mr Davies arrived. She says that I panicked and overreacted, that I dramatised the situation just to get him to come in.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘It’s also the last thing I need right now. Ally, please, don’t say anything, but I’m actually applying for a consultant’s position.’

‘Here?’ Ally beamed and Rinska nodded.

‘It’s early days, my paperwork isn’t quite through yet, but hopefully in a few weeks I can start doing the job I’ve trained so hard for. It’s not that I mind being a resident and having to double-check everything with a registrar who knows less than me…’ Rinska gave a low laugh at her own bitter voice. ‘Well, a little, perhaps, but it has helped me to learn about the hospital system from the bottom upwards, which can only be good. But it’s still been a tough year. And now just when there’s an end in sight I’m going to have this complaint to deal with. It’s not going to look good for me.’

‘You’ll be fine,’ Ally said firmly, and she meant it. ‘When does your shift end?’

‘Half an hour ago,’ Rinska said wryly. ‘I might head over to the social club afterwards. Do you want to come?’

Ally was about to shake her head. The hospital social club wasn’t really her scene but the prospect of a drink and a chat with Rinska was rather more inviting than sitting in the movies alone just so that she could avoid Rory, so instead she nodded. ‘Sounds good.’

Lucy Williams gripped Ally’s hand tightly as Ally rested her hand quietly on the young woman’s stomach.

‘They really hurt!’ Lucy gasped. ‘I mean really, and the doctor told me that I’ve got ages to go. Maybe I came in too soon. It’s just they were coming so regularly I thought I should be here, and now I find out that I haven’t progressed at all!’

‘Another one?’Ally checked as she felt Lucy’s uterus tighten beneath her fingers. ‘OK, don’t hold your breath, Lucy. Remember how we taught you to breathe in class…’ Her voice was calm and gentle, encouraging Lucy to take some slow deep breaths, talking her through the pain and waiting until the contraction had abated before offering her some much-needed encouragement.

‘You have progressed,’ Ally said firmly. ‘I saw you yesterday when you came in for monitoring and you’ve come a long way since then.’ Because Lucy’s baby was more than a week overdue, she had been coming into the unit for regular monitoring to ensure that the baby was still active and Ally was telling Lucy the truth—in twenty-four hours she had come a long way. ‘The baby is in a great position, and your cervix has thinned out beautifully. Now it’s just a matter of letting your body do its job. Remember how I told you that for the baby it’s like trying to push its head through a tight jumper?’

Lucy nodded.

‘Well, that’s what’s happening now. I know it can seem disappointing to hear that you’re only one centimetre dilated, but this isn’t a numbers game. You could dilate quite rapidly from here, or then again the contractions might abate for a while and give you some much-needed rest—but, whatever happens, you’re in labour, Lucy, and if you feel you needed to be here, then you’re in the right place.’

‘So what now?’

‘What do you want to do?’ Ally asked, not wanting to force her own opinions on her patient. But when Lucy just stared back helplessly Ally offered a couple of suggestions. ‘Why don’t you go for a gentle walk around the ward—let gravity help things along a bit?’

‘What about when I get a contraction?’

‘Lean on Dean.’ Ally smiled, looking over at the anxious husband.

‘People will think I’m mad! I’m not exactly dignified when I get a contraction.’

‘No one will turn a hair—we’re all completely used to that sort of thing here. This time tomorrow you’ll be watching some other woman doing exactly the same while you’re holding your very own baby and thinking, The poor thing. But walking around can help speed things along. After that it might be nice to have a deep bath, which can help relax you and take the edge off the pain.

‘Does that sound like a plan?’ she asked.

Lucy nodded, and as she heaved herself up out of bed, Ally helped her into a dressing-gown.

‘How long are you here for?’ Lucy asked.

‘I’m off duty soon, but I’ll be back at seven in the morning and by then I’m sure that you’ll either have your baby or you’ll be on the home run!’

‘God, I hope I’ve had it,’ Lucy sighed. ‘Did I really say I didn’t want any drugs?’

‘You really did.’ Ally grinned. ‘But nothing’s set in stone in the labour ward!’

Nothing in life was set in stone, Ally decided as two minutes after midnight her car pulled up in her driveway, her head still spinning from an evening in Rinska’s company. The house was in darkness. Fumbling in her bag for her keys, Ally opened her front door. The first thing to hit her was the smell of cold pizza, the second the deep vibrations of Rory snoring, the third the horrible sting of tears as she slumped on the bottom stair and put her head in her hands.

Rory didn’t often snore—but when he did, the house vibrated with each and every agonising breath. So much so that on occasions, when poking and pleading hadn’t helped, Ally had sat on this very step playing cards with his latest girlfriend, explaining that this wasn’t the norm. Rory only snored when he was seriously exhausted, perhaps after a full weekend on call or on the very rare occasion when he’d had too much too drink. Despite the fact Rory was very much a bloke’s bloke, he didn’t drink that much, too mindful of his patients to let loose. Rory invariably hit the diet cola, but every now and then he handed over his pager—when his rugby team won the final, which was almost never, and if he wasn’t rostered on for New Year and once or twice on his birthday.

She’d sat on these steps with Rory’s girlfriends for other reasons too—when Rory had decided to up stumps and move on! Box of tissues in hand, Ally had sat and shivered, listening as a pretty mascara-streaked face had begged Ally to tell her where she’d gone so wrong, attempting to explain that it wasn’t them that had the problem—that there wasn’t a thing they could change that would make him stay. Rory had told them from the very start that he didn’t want to settle down, that he was here for a good time, not a long time.

Her eyes caught on a duty-free bag on the hall table. Frowning, Ally picked it up and read Rory’s scruffy unmistakable writing that told her he’d given up and gone to bed, but thought she might like this. Peering into the bag, Ally started at the familiar purple packaging of what had once been her favourite perfume.

Once been, because the day Rory had left, she’d never worn it again.

Pulling open the lid, she aimed a squirt on her wrist, inhaling the heavy fragrance, closing her eyes and dragging it in, the husky, seductive tones evoking memories too dangerous to recall…Rory holding her, the strong, infinitely safe cradle of his arms wrapped around her slender body, the weight of his lips as he slowly explored every flickering pulse point, speaking to her for the first and last times in the intimate tones that were saved for the bedroom, telling her how her perfume drove him crazy, whispering dangerous words as he drove her to a higher place, telling her how the lingering scent of her long after she’d left a room could hold him there a moment longer…

And she couldn’t do it, couldn’t go there. Rubbing her wrists on her shirt as if she were contaminated, Ally tried to escape the heady smell, tried to slam shut the window of memories he had opened, but the blast was too strong, every recall painful, every memory tainted by his departure—multiplied by his re-emergence. Burying her head in her hands, Ally let out a tiny low moan, shook her head and willed it all to stop, but her mind was stuck in some vengeful replay, forcing her to remember the past, forcing her to gaze once again into those green eyes and recall his words.

‘You’d be so easy to stay for.’

‘Then stay.’ Two words uttered in the glowy dew of their first love-making, and even with his bags packed in the hall, the taxi booked to take him away, surely the love they had shared that night and the two words she had uttered should have revealed to him how much he meant to her.

But he hadn’t stayed.

Ally could still hear the sound of the shower in the en suite that horrible morning as he’d washed away every trace of her fragrance. She could still recall lying in bed and facing the curtains, pretending to be asleep as he awoke, sensing the regret that had drenched his body as he’d replayed the events of the previous night. Quickly, silently he’d dressed and an audible sigh of relief had come from him as the taxi had tooted in the driveway and he’d placed one final kiss on the swell of her shoulder.

Sitting on the stairs, head in hands now, it felt as if for three years she’d been playing some grown-up version of snakes and ladders. Elation at their closeness followed by devastation at his departure—and then the horrible process of regrouping, living in a world where he didn’t exist any more. The occasional postcard had been nowhere near enough to sustain her, so she’d focused instead on her work—climbing her career ladder in record time, placing a tentative toe into the murky single world she inhabited, dating even when she hadn’t felt like it, clawing her way to the top, where now it was Ally turning down dates, Ally who could pick and choose where she went on a Saturday night. Only for Rory to appear again, only to roll a six and find herself sliding down that appalling slippery slope and arrive back at the beginning.

And suddenly all the game looked was daunting—the thought of starting over incomprehensible.

Two weeks!

He could stay for two weeks and then he’d damn well have to find somewhere else. There was no way she could keep this up, no way he could expect to walk back in and take up their easy-going friendship, to stroll back into her life and take up where he’d left off.

An ironic smile twisted her mouth.

He’d left her naked in bed.

Showering in record time, Ally pulled on a T-shirt and for reasons she couldn’t quite fathom she bypassed the G-strings and pulled on the biggest, comfiest, ugliest pair of knickers she could find—knickers her great aunt had sent her one Christmas, knickers that she had meant to throw out, knickers she wouldn’t be seen dead cleaning the windows with! Sliding into her cold sheets, she pulled the blankets up to her chin, closing her eyes on this turbulent day, willing sleep to come so that she could function tomorrow. Pulling a pillow over her head, she tried to drown out the noise, then gave in and stared at the ceiling, admitting the truth: it wasn’t Rory’s exhausted snoring that was keeping her awake—the house could be in silence and she’d still be lying here awake.

It was the overwhelming fact that he was here.

CHAPTER TWO

WAKING up before her alarm, Ally washed and dressed in record-breaking time, layered her lashes with mascara and headed down to the kitchen. Berating the fact she’d flung all the sugar and milk down the sink, and loath to grind beans at this hour, Ally settled instead for a cup of black tea and a slug of honey as she stared at her ancient toaster and willed it to get a move on so that she could hopefully get out before Rory appeared.

The doctors normally started arriving on the ward around eight, an hour after Ally’s shift started, but, given it was his first day, no doubt Rory would be keen to make an early appearance. But Ally was determined to be in her car before Rory even hit the shower. Collecting up her pens and stethoscope and slinging her identity tag around her neck, Ally wondered if she shouldn’t give him a quick knock before she left. There were no signs of life coming from his bedroom. Normally, or at least a few years ago, Rory would have been up like a lark, noisily hogging the shower, breakfast radio blaring, and Ally wondered if he’d thought to set his alarm clock before he’d gone to sleep.

Of course he had, Ally assured herself. After all, he’d managed to work his way through two pizzas and had written her a note to go with her perfume before he’d gone to bed, It wasn’t as if he’d slept round the clock since she’d left him at lunchtime the previous day. And anyway, Ally decided, if he couldn’t remember to set his own alarm clock, it was hardly her problem. Closing the front door behind her at a quarter to seven, guilt caught up with her and she re-opened the door, this time slamming it with rather more force than she’d intended, causing her neighbour to frown as he picked up his newspaper from the nature strip and starting every dog in the vicinity yapping as if the postman was about to arrive.

Surely that would shift him!

‘I told you that you’d be on the home run!’ Walking into the delivery room after handover, Ally took a very agitated Lucy’s hand.

‘You told me I’d have had it by now!’ Lucy shouted, her face red from exertion. ‘I can’t do this! I want an epidural. Where the hell’s the anaesthetist?’

Ally had actually been rostered on for the postnatal ward this morning but, hearing how agitated and upset Lucy had become, it had been decided to do a hasty swap with the nursing allocations—continuity of care was always preferred and in some cases, such as this, essential. Lucy was starting to lose control, her high expectations of her labour—a quick natural birth—hadn’t apparently eventuated. Because Ally had seen Lucy on a number of occasions in Antenatal and on her arrival yesterday evening, it had been considered appropriate that she be present for Lucy’s delivery in the hope a familiar face might calm her.

‘It’s too late for an epidural, Lucy.’ Ally kept her voice firm, checking her patient’s observations and the latest CTG recording and noting that everything was progressing completely normally, though maybe not as quickly as Lucy would have liked. ‘You’ve already started pushing. Your baby’s going to be here very soon.’

‘It hurts,’ Lucy shrieked, fighting the contraction that overwhelmed her.

‘Lucy, take a deep breath and push.’ Ally’s voice overrode her patient’s scream. ‘Don’t waste your energy. Come on, push over the pain…’ For a second or two Lucy listened, pushing hard as Ally encouraged her. ‘That’s it. Come on, push down into your bottom.’

‘I can’t,’ Lucy gasped, lying back on the bed and shaking her head.

‘The harder you push, the sooner your baby will be here.’

‘It hurts.’

‘Because the contractions are working,’ Ally said. ‘Lucy, nothing we give you now for pain is going to have time to take effect. Your baby is nearly here, and if we give you drugs now it won’t help with your pain but it could make the baby drowsy at birth. What about trying the gas?’

‘I hate the gas!’ Lucy roared, but thankfully as another contraction came, this time she gritted her teeth and bore down as Dean, clearly thankful that things seemed a touch more in control, encouraged his wife to keep on pushing as Ally slowly counted to ten. ‘And again,’Ally said. ‘You’re doing marvelously. Take a big breath and push again!’

She was doing marvellously! In fact, just as Ally was debating whether to give the on-call a ring and let them know they’d be needed in the next hour or so, things started looking rather more imminent. Lucy’s shouts were getting louder and her language was getting more colourful as she struggled to get off the bed. The timid woman Ally had got to know was gone now as her baby prepared to make a rapid entrance.

‘Get me the bloody anaesthetist!’ Lucy roared. ‘Or I’m going home this very minute.’

‘Good morning!’

So calm and polite was Rory’s welcome, so huge his presence as he quietly made his way into the delivery room, that for a minute Lucy literally seemed to forget that she had a baby coming. Her angry face swung towards him, her bulging eyes struggling to focus as he walked over to the delivery bed.

‘Lucy Williams, I’m Rory Donovan.’

‘The anaesthetist?’ Lucy demanded. ‘About time!’

‘Afraid not.’ He gave an apologetic smile. ‘I’m an obstetrician. I thought about doing anaesthetics for a while, but I decided that I prefer my patients awake.’

‘Well, Lucy’s awake,’ a terrified Dean said, nervously shaking Rory’s hand. ‘No doubt the whole ward is now.’

‘From what I hear, she’s doing great.’ Rory gave Lucy a very nice smile and Ally could only blink in wonder as the roaring banshee that had been lying on her back suddenly sat up a touch and even managed a small smile back. ‘And if you carry on pushing the way you have been, you’ll have your baby in time for breakfast. I saw Win loading up her trolley as I walked past—I can’t believe she’s still here.’ The second part of his comment had been directed at Ally as she opened up a delivery pack but it was put on hold as Lucy bore down again, only this time it was with a rather more concentrated effort, and as she finished he easily resumed the conversation, this time including Lucy and Dean. ‘Win’s the domestic. She’s been here since they put the first coat of paint on and rumour has it that if you deliver before breakfast, she makes the lucky parents toast and eggs any way they want them. Sound good?’

‘Sounds great,’ Lucy gasped, gesturing for Dean to hand her some ice chips. In the momentary lull Ally headed over to the other side of the delivery room and started to pull up some drugs for the delivery and check the baby warmer.

‘Thanks for waking me.’ Rory’s sarcasm was delivered good-naturedly. ‘If your neighbour hadn’t had a dog barking the street down, I’d still be asleep.’

‘You should have set your alarm.’ Ally shrugged, refusing to take any responsibility. After all, she hadn’t seen him for three years—it was hardly fair for him to swan back into her life and expect her to suddenly start looking out for him! ‘I’m not your mother.’

And as quickly as that the light-hearted banter faded, Ally instantly regretted her words. Rory didn’t have a mother; in fact, Rory didn’t have any relatives. An only child, his mother had died when he’d been small and his father had lost his battle with cancer just before Rory had left to go to America. Ally had no idea of the circumstances of his mother’s death. Rory had only referred to it a couple of times and had always been horribly awkward with her afterwards, insisting that he was well over it, that it had all happened years ago. But, still, her thoughtless comment had clearly hurt and that had never been her intention.

Lord, how she wished somehow that she could take it back!

‘I’m sorry.’ Her apology was as embarrassed and as wooden as his response. ‘I should have known better—I just didn’t think…’

‘It’s no big deal.’ Rory shrugged those wide shoulders as if the words had barely registered, but his eyes told her otherwise. ‘I’ll go and see how Lucy’s doing.’

Gently he examined her, sitting down on the bed beside her and talking comfortingly as he performed the rather uncomfortable procedure. Ally watched as the rapport he had so easily created with his patient the moment he had walked into the room grew. Lucy was clearly comfortable with her doctor and that was incredibly important—Ally knew that more than most. In the public health system, rarely did patients get much of a say in what doctor would deliver them. Often, as the doctor arrived for the delivery, there wasn’t even time for more than the briefest of introductions. This matter had been addressed at Bay View by the midwifery team, a group of midwives allocated to each patient, looking after the mother during her pregnancy, so that in most cases a familiar face was present at the delivery. But even if Rory’s face wasn’t familiar, this morning it was very welcome. Dean was listening carefully as Rory explained his wife’s progress.

‘She’s almost there, Dean. Just encourage her to keep pushing. You’re both doing a great job.’

‘Don’t go too far.’ Ally smiled as Rory stood up, no doubt realising there was a good half-hour’s work before the baby came and ready for a bit of TLC and catching up with Win. ‘We might be needing you soon.’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Rory said easily, picking up a newspaper Dean had bought from the mobile trolley, sitting down on the two-seater sofa in the corner and turning directly to his horoscope. ‘Do you know what you’re having, Lucy?’

‘A baby,’ she gasped, ‘hopefully.’

‘A Pisces,’ Rory corrected, ‘which is the same star sign as me—so you can’t go wrong.’

And of all the things she’d remembered, this was one thing Ally had almost forgotten. Forgotten that unlike most doctors Rory didn’t just arrive for the grand finale but actually enjoyed the last act. It could have been annoying, a doctor peering over his newspaper every now and then and telling a labouring woman to push over the pain, but somehow it was comforting. That a doctor was here made Lucy feel safe, that he hadn’t dashed off and told her the end was in sight. It helped Dean, too, because if Rory thought this display from Lucy was absolutely fine, then maybe, just maybe, it was.

‘Time to get dressed.’ Standing up, he pulled on his gown and gloves but didn’t intervene, just stood behind Ally’s shoulder observing quietly as she attempted to deliver a rather large shoulder. At that moment, Ally was grateful for his calm presence. She felt a tiny beat of panic as she wondered if maybe this baby was too big, if this shoulder was ever going to free. ‘Finger behind,’ Rory murmured, and it wasn’t an instruction, more encouragement when so many doctors would have taken over. ‘Got it.’

She could almost feel his smile shining over her shoulder as the baby’s shoulders were delivered and the baby uncurled, crying before the rest of its body was even out.

‘What is it?’ Lucy cried, as Ally placed the tiny bundle onto its mother’s stomach. She was grateful that Rory didn’t answer, just rubbed the babe’s back as mum and dad had the pleasure of finding out. ‘A girl,’ Lucy gasped. ‘We’ve got a girl.’

‘Congratulations.’ Rory smiled as the baby’s body pinked with each and every lusty breath, angry fists flailing as Lucy pulled her in closer. ‘She’s beautiful.’

She really was.

Ally felt her eyes fill as they always did as a new life gave a bewildered blink at the world it had entered. She relished those couple of moments of naked beauty before she wrapped up the babe. Dark strands of hair were plastered to the infant’s head, round blue eyes fixed on her mother’s, and Ally was in no rush to break the spell. Taking a blanket from the warmer, she wrapped it around mother and daughter as Dean held them both close. She quietly got on with her work, the placenta being delivered easily as the baby suckled.

‘I’ll come back in a while,’ Rory said, slipping away, dimming the lights as he left.

Even that small gesture touched her. Clearly he remembered how she liked to work: the curtains were still drawn and that was exactly how Ally liked it for morning births—the woman had laboured all night, and for a little while the darkness was still welcome. Later either she or Dean would welcome the new day in for the new arrival. Ally tidied up as best she could, recording her two patients’ observations as unobtrusively—completely happy with the newborn’s progress. Her skin was a healthy pink, her eyes wide as she vigorously suckled. All too soon Ally would have to weigh her, measure her, check her over, then call the paediatrician to do the same. All too soon, the babe would be bathed, the hair that was plastered to her head would become soft and fluffy, the creamy vernix—mother nature’s version of cold cream—that covered her now would soon be washed away, but for now she was as new as a newborn got and Ally wasn’t about to break this very special moment.

‘How are you doing, Lucy?’ Ally checked, smiling at the tired, delighted new mother who was too mesmerised by her daughter to even look up.

‘She’s OK?’

‘She’s perfect,’ Ally said softly, answering every mum’s question. ‘We’ll check her over properly later, but for now she looks wonderful. How are you feeling, Lucy? That’s important, too.’

‘Tired,’ Lucy admitted, then gave an almost apologetic grin. ‘I’m starving, actually.’

‘Why don’t I give Win a call and get the pair of you some breakfast? While you have that, I can weigh and check over this gorgeous girl of yours.’

‘Can I hold her for a moment longer?’

‘You can hold her for as long as you want.’ Ally smiled. ‘Win’s not as fast as she used to be, so breakfast might take a while!’

Win, as always, timed it perfectly! Just long enough to give Mum and Dad that first long cuddle and just short enough for them not to feel guiltily relieved when Ally took their precious baby off for its myriad of tests while they tucked into tea and toast Win-style—although the eggs Rory had promised were no longer on the menu. Since Rory had last been here, things had changed. Meals were delivered directly from the kitchens, and even though the fridge groaned under the weight of the free-range eggs Win brought in from home, for health and safety reasons they could only be eaten by the staff. As Ally headed into the staffroom for a well-earned cuppa, she found Rory doing just that!

‘How are they?’ Rory looked up from his mountain of eggs and toast.

‘Great. Hugh, the paediatrician, is in looking at the babe now.’ Heading for the kettle, Ally’s tone was dry. ‘I’d hate to know your cholesterol level, Rory. It must be through the roof.’

‘Actually, it’s very low.’ Rory laughed.

‘I doubt it,’ Ally said, pouring herself a drink and picking up the newspaper—deliberately not turning to the horoscope section, even though she normally did every other day. ‘I cleared away two pizza boxes last night.’

‘Life’s bloody unfair like that sometimes.’ Rory rained more salt on his eggs as he chatted. ‘When I hit the big three-o I decided to take my own advice and get myself checked over properly. I kind of braced myself for a life of salad and steamed fish once I heard the result, but guess what?’ Looking up from her paper, Ally rolled her eyes as he continued, ‘I’m so healthy I’m almost unhealthy. My blood pressure and pulse rate are both so low it comes as a bit of a surprise that I’m not fainting all over the place, my iron level’s great, LFT’s completely average, cholesterol low…’

‘Lucky you.’ Ally poked her tongue out at him then carried on reading her paper.

‘What time do you finish?’

‘Three,’Ally said, without thinking.

‘I’m off at five.’

‘Good for you.’

‘We could have dinner.’

‘I can’t.’ Ally didn’t even look up. ‘I’ve got an antenatal class at six.’

‘Congratulations!’ Rory grinned. ‘You should have told me the news!’

‘I’m teaching an antenatal class at six,’ Ally said through gritted teeth. ‘A mature parents’ antenatal class.’

‘Which means it will go on for ever,’ Rory groaned in sympathy. ‘Why is it that the older they get, the more questions they have?’

Ally gave a very reluctant smile at his insight. It was a question she’d pondered many a night when she’d packed up after a class that had run way overtime.

‘And they always have a list,’ Rory carried on, warming to the subject as he registered her reaction. ‘One father-to-be waylaid me in the corridor at work the other week to ask about perineal massage to stop his wife from tearing.’

‘So?’ Ally frowned.

‘He had a list of oils and asked me to choose the one that was most appropriate.’ Rory gave her a wide-eyed look. ‘I told him to save his money and that a pair of scissors—’

‘You didn’t!’ Shocked, she interrupted, then glared as he laughed.

‘No, of course not. I told him that the hundred-dollar oil on the top of his list sounded great, and then I used the sterile scissors a couple of weeks later.’

‘Perineal massage works,’ Ally retorted. ‘You’re so anti anything remotely alternative.’

‘No, I’m not,’ Rory said, mopping up the last of his egg yolk with his toast. ‘In fact, perineal massage is way up on my list of recreational activities…’ Green eyes met hers but it was Ally who looked away first, Ally who blushed purple before he continued, ‘for parents-to-be. It creates intimacy, gives the mum some much-needed pleasure, but I’m not convinced it reduces the episiotomy rate.’

How had he done that? As Win came into the staffroom, flustered, Ally flicked through the paper and stared unseeingly at an ad for a flash new sports car. Just one pause, one flash of his eyes and a safe medical topic had bordered on dangerous—or at least it had for her. Rory, it would seem, was completely unfazed, his generous grin aimed at Win now as she came to collect his plate.

‘I’ll wash it, Win,’ Rory feebly argued as she replaced his empty mug with a full one and took his eggy plate. ‘It’s the least I can do. That was the best breakfast I’ve had for ages.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ Win chided, but her beaming face said otherwise. ‘It’s great to see you back here, Dr Rory.’

‘Great to see you too, Win.’ Rory smiled back, clearly delighted to see her again. ‘What’s all this nonsense I hear that you’re thinking about retiring?’

‘It’s true.’ Win’s resigned voice had Ally looking up and she silently prayed that Rory would tread carefully. Win had been the maternity unit’s domestic for more than three decades and had run the place with utter devotion over the years. Widowed at a young age and the mother of five children, she had worked a mix of morning and evening shifts to earn enough to raise her children. And in the thirty-five years she had worked on the unit the entire place had remained spotless under her care. Win looked after the patients and staff of the maternity unit way and above the call of duty, cups of tea appearing at busy times, a piece of home-made cake coming out during quieter ones. But way more valuable than the tea and cake was Win’s insight: on more occasions than Ally could recall, she had found Win chatting to an anxious mum, somehow putting a woman at ease in the way only the voice of wisdom could. Many times the powers that be had tried to get Win to sign a new contract, to schedule her hours in line with the rest of the health network, but she had stood firm, keeping to the old rules. But now Win couldn’t do it any more. She couldn’t manage the forty-hour weeks, and reducing her hours would mean signing the dreaded contract, which could see her allocated to any ward in the hospital.

‘I need to cut down my hours. I was hoping to just do one shift a week—you know, to keep my hand in—but if I do, my supervisor has told me that they won’t be able to guarantee that I’ll be rostered here on the maternity ward. She’s spoken with management and they said I’ll have to go to wherever I’m needed most if I’m only working one shift a week. I could end up on A and E perhaps or maybe even Intensive Care, and that’s the last thing I want.’

‘A change is as good as a rest,’ Rory offered, and Ally just wished he’d drop it, sucking in her breath as he pushed on. ‘But if you don’t want to go to another ward, just tell them that you belong here,’ Rory said, as if it was that easy. ‘The ward will back you. After all, you’ve been here longer than I’ve been alive. Surely the hospital should bend over backwards to accommodate you, shouldn’t they?’ He looked over at Ally, clearly expecting her support. ‘Have you spoken to Win’s supervisor about this?’

‘Of course I have,’ Ally answered, but her eyes were warning Rory to drop it. Ally, along with most of the senior staff on the maternity ward, had been vocal in her efforts to keep Win, but the sad fact of the matter was that she was considered too old and too inflexible for the job. The truth, though Win didn’t know it, was that the powers that be knew full well that Win couldn’t bear to work anywhere other than her beloved maternity ward, and that was the very reason they weren’t offering it—they wanted her to leave! It had been left to Vivien, the maternity unit manager, to soften the blow a bit, to explain to Win that despite the staff’s protests, if she signed the new contract, there was no guarantee she’d be working on maternity.

Once Win had gone, Ally half expected Rory to pick up the conversation where it had been before Win had come in—to tease her a little bit more—but Rory had other things on his mind.

‘Did you really speak to her supervisor?’ Rory checked.

‘I just said so, didn’t I?’ Ally answered abruptly.

‘So why can’t she stay?’ Rory pressed.

Ally wished he would just leave it. ‘Rory, I did speak with her supervisor, so did Vivien, so did Mr Davies, the consultant, but, as much as we all adore Win, that’s not the issue.’

‘Win’s been here—’

‘Win’s been here for more than thirty years,’ Ally broke in. ‘Which is exactly the problem. Win runs the ward as she did when she started. She refuses to change her routine.’

‘Why should she,’ Rory answered, ‘when clearly her way works?’

‘It doesn’t any more, though,’ Ally snapped. ‘Take the eggs! The days are gone when you bring food in from home and give it to the patients. As nice as it is to spoil the mums, there are health regulations that have to be followed, and for ages Win refused to abide by them. Over and over the staff tried talking to her, telling her that she couldn’t keep cooking for the patients, but she refused to listen. It took two written warnings—’

‘Written warnings!’ Rory’s voice was incredulous. ‘Over eggs on toast! You know when I applied for the registrar’s position here, I was sent a load of stats, and one of the things that stood out was the infection control rate. This may be a relatively small suburban hospital but the infection rates in this ward are second to none. That has nothing to do with luck, you know, Ally.’

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