Maternal Instinct

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘So when do you pull the plug with a multiparous woman?’

  He shrugged. ‘Depends. I rely on gut feeling and the instincts of the midwife.’

  ‘Guts again,’ she muttered under her breath, and Hugh laughed softly.

  ‘Sorry. You hate it, don’t you? Anything you can’t find in a textbook.’

  ‘It’s just not quantifiable.’

  ‘No. Much of life isn’t. If you’d asked me at seventeen if I wanted to be a father, I would have said no. Ask me now, and, hell though they are, I couldn’t begin to imagine life without my kids. It’s like love. You can’t measure it, or define it, but you know when it’s there. And you know when it isn’t.’

  He paused outside the delivery room, washed his hands, gelled them and shouldered open the door a crack.

  ‘OK to come in?’

  ‘Hugh, sure. I was just about to bleep you. Annabel’s getting rather tired but things are going OK. I’d just like you to check her, make sure you’re happy.’

  He pushed the door open and Eve followed him, rubbing the last of the spirit gel into her hands.

  ‘Hi, there,’ he said, going over to Annabel and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘Remember me? Hugh Douglas.’

  ‘Of course I remember you. You told me you’d make sure I was all right. I hope you meant it.’

  ‘That’s why I’m here,’ he said calmly. ‘How’s it going? Molly says you’re getting tired but it’s going well.’

  ‘I’m just exhausted. It seems to be going on much longer than my first. I never knew it would be like this.’

  ‘It’s probably slow because the baby’s bottom doesn’t do as good a job of dilating the cervix as the head does, so it can sometimes drag a bit. Have you considered an epidural?’

  Her partner, perched on the bed beside the pillows, shook his head. ‘She wants a natural delivery. It was supposed to be a home birth this time.’

  ‘Well, to be fair, I think you have to allow her to decide now that things are changing,’ he said quietly. ‘A natural delivery is a lovely idea, but it isn’t always possible, and at the end of the day it’s the health of the mother and baby that matters.’

  It was the gentlest reprimand, but Annabel’s partner Andy coloured a little, sucked in a breath, looked away and then looked back and nodded, his eyes contrite. ‘Of course. I’m sorry. I wasn’t being obstructive, I was just trying to fight her corner, but I don’t know where it is any more.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’re onto it.’

  ‘Will it help?’ Annabel asked worriedly. ‘An epidural?’

  ‘Usually. It’ll certainly ease the pain, help to relax you so you aren’t fighting it, and if we need to proceed to Theatre you’ll be ready to go instantly. But before I can make any decisions I need to have a look at you and assess what’s going on.’

  He turned to Molly. ‘Can you fill us in on the case for Eve’s benefit?’

  ‘Sure. She’s had X-ray pelvimetry a week ago, and there’s no evidence of cephalopelvic disproportion and she’s well dilated. The baby isn’t big, there isn’t a placenta previa and so far the cord hasn’t prolapsed. Progress has been nice and steady.’

  ‘How many weeks gestation?’

  ‘Thirty-nine.’

  Hugh nodded and snapped on a pair of gloves. ‘Get gloved up, Eve, and see if you can feel what we’re talking about.’

  She did so, watching meanwhile as Hugh carefully examined Annabel, pressing down on her abdomen to push the baby down into the birth canal.

  ‘OK, there doesn’t seem to be any reason why that won’t work. Molly, can you whistle up an anaesthetist for an epidural, please? Annabel, are you happy for Eve to examine you? She’s my new registrar and she’ll be assisting me in Theatre if we need to change plans, so I’d like her to know what’s going on.’

  ‘Of course,’ Annabel said, nodding, but then a contraction came, and she rolled towards Andy, moaning softly.

  ‘Just breathe nice and light,’ Hugh said. ‘Don’t tense up, just pant lightly with your mouth open.’

  ‘I want to push,’ she said desperately, but he shook his head.

  ‘Not just yet. Give us a few minutes if you can, there’s a good girl.’

  ‘Why the delay?’ Eve asked quietly, while Annabel concentrated on panting and not pushing.

  Hugh’s eyes were on the foetal heart monitor as he replied. ‘Because I want her cervix as effaced as possible, and there’s still a little posterior lip around the back of the baby’s bottom. Once that’s gone, she can push like hell, but bottoms don’t dilate the cervix like heads do, so I want the best possible chance. The longer she can hang on, the better.’

  ‘OK, makes sense. Is the baby coping?’

  ‘At the moment. All right now?’ he asked as the exhausted mother sagged against the pillows, her eyes closed.

  ‘Mmm,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Right. Eve, see if you can feel a little rim of cervix at the back, high up, or if the baby’s descending now. I’ll press down to bring it into reach, then let you do it.’

  She slipped her fingers past the baby’s little bottom, feeling for a band of muscular tissue around its back, but there was nothing.

  ‘I can’t feel it.’

  ‘I think it’s probably gone, then. That’s good. I think we’ll let Molly give it a go.’

  But it wasn’t to be that easy. The baby’s body was delivered easily, but despite Annabel’s massive efforts, with Molly encouraging her and Andy supporting her body while she tried to kneel and let gravity help, the baby’s heartbeat suddenly dropped to seventy with a contraction and stayed there.

  Hugh watched the monitor, gave it ten seconds to recover after the contraction and shook his head.

  ‘Sorry, Annabel, your baby’s distressed and I can’t leave you any longer. I’m going to have to use forceps to get her out fast.’

  And he was fast. Fast, neat, efficient and within moments, it seemed, the baby was born and the neonatal team were dealing with her.

  ‘She’s a little flat—Apgar score six—but she’s pinking up nicely. Come on, little one.’

  Right on cue, she let out a feeble wail, took a trembling breath and bellowed.

  ‘I never thought I’d be so pleased to hear a baby cry,’ Andy said, tears streaming down his cheeks, and Annabel was laughing and crying and desperately trying to see her little daughter.

  ‘OK, she’s fine,’ Josh Lancaster, the paediatrician, said with a broad grin. ‘Here—your little bundle of joy, I think.’

  And he laid the baby, still screaming indignantly and covered in blood and vernix, nature’s very own moisturiser, on her mother’s soft, warm abdomen.

  ‘Oh, baby,’ Annabel said reverently, and, reaching out her hands, cradled the tiny body to her breast.

  ‘Let me help you,’ Molly said. Turning the baby’s head, she latched her onto the nipple with ease of practice, and the room descended into a blissful silence, broken only by the sound of her ferocious suckling.

  ‘Not much wrong with that,’ Josh said with satisfaction, and clapped Hugh on the shoulder. ‘Nice work. See you.’

  ‘Thanks. Didn’t we do well? I reckon Molly deserves a rest, and I’ve done the cavalry thing. Eve? Your turn. Fancy doing some needlework?’

  So for her sins Eve spent the next half-hour carefully repairing the episiotomy incision that Hugh had made to facilitate the baby’s delivery, while Molly gave her step-by-step instructions on what kind of suture she liked to use for each layer and why.

  ‘Lovely job,’ Hugh said over her shoulder, popping in a few minutes into the repair. ‘That should heal really well. Come and find me when you’ve finished, I’ve got something for you to do.’

  The something turned out to be another cup of coffee, but by the time Eve had finished her suturing she was more than ready for it.

  It was her last chance for a break for the rest of that day, but she wasn’t alone. Molly, having finished the delivery Hugh had been called to assist with,
then ended up taking a group of mums and tots around the maternity unit.

  Eve, bumping into her while she was checking one of the post-ops, found her trailing her little brood like the Pied Piper, and couldn’t help grinning.

  ‘Looks fun,’ she remarked, and Molly rolled her eyes.

  ‘Great fun,’ she said. ‘It’s one of our toddler parties. It helps the older siblings understand what’s going on a little, and takes some of the strangeness away when they come to visit Mum and the baby. I must admit, though,’ she said in a quiet aside, ‘I could do without it today. I’ve been on my feet since eight.’

  Eve looked at her more closely. ‘Are you OK?’

  She nodded. ‘I’m fine. It’s now my last day today, and I have to say, I’m glad. I had another ultrasound earlier, and Hugh thinks my dates are wrong, so I’ve brought my maternity leave forward a week. It seems I’m more likely to be thirty-eight weeks, not thirty-five, and I think I’ve worked late enough into this pregnancy if that’s the case!’ She turned back to the little group behind her who’d all caught up now. ‘OK. Who wants a ride on one of the beds?’

  Eve shook her head in disbelief at Molly’s cheerful tone and left her to it. She was exhausted already and, unlike Molly, she wasn’t even slightly pregnant! But she still had the resus refresher course to get through—and then, if she could stay awake long enough to do it justice, Hugh was taking her out to dinner.

  Suddenly she didn’t feel so tired any more.

  ‘Wow. Amazing what you can forget.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Eve agreed, turning to Hugh as they left the resus course a minute after eight. ‘It’s not that long since I was in A and E, but it seems light years away.’

  He grunted. ‘Tell me about it! It’s years longer since I was there. Julia was right, we needed that refresher. I thought I could still intubate. Apparently not.’

  ‘You got it on the second try,’ she reminded him. ‘That’s pretty good.’

  He grunted again. ‘Not good enough. We shouldn’t allow skills like that to fade, and I’m going to make sure we don’t in the future. But in the immediate future—’

  ‘I need to go home and shower and change, and so do you,’ she completed for him. ‘I’ll see you as soon as you’re ready. Do you want me to meet you there to save time?’

  He shook his head. ‘It’s just near you. I’ll pick you up on the way. Go on, you’re wasting time. Go and get gorgeous.’

  Eve laughed. ‘Gorgeous? I don’t have that long,’ she said, but he just looked at her, his eyes stroking over her like a lover’s fingers.

  ‘You’ve got more than enough,’ he murmured, and pushed her gently towards the door. ‘Go on, go. I’ll see you shortly.’

  She went, feeling the caress of his eyes all the way home, through every touch of the soap on her skin, the slither of her skirt as she eased it over her head—all of it, every touch, she felt as if it was his.

  She realised without doubt that she wanted it to be, and if she’d had the slightest lick of sense she’d have run screaming.

  CHAPTER SIX

  HE PRESSED the doorbell without any real hope that Eve would be ready, but she answered the intercom instantly.

  ‘I’ll be down in a moment,’ she said, and sure enough she appeared in the hallway only seconds later, dressed in a floaty, flirty skirt and a pretty top that clung in all the right places and did terrible things to his resolve. And she was wearing ridiculously high heels, ankle-breakingly high that made her legs go on for ever…

  ‘Gorgeous enough?’ she asked teasingly, doing a twirl so he could see her, and he nodded, his tie almost strangling him and his tongue so huge he was in danger of choking on it.

  ‘Absolutely,’ he said, wanting to make a teasing remark but finding his wit deserting him in favour of truth.

  For a moment she looked startled, then she smiled, soft colour touching her cheeks.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, then glanced at her watch. ‘It’s nearly half past. We’ll be late.’

  Hugh took her coat from her, holding it out so she could put it on. ‘No, we won’t, it’s only round the corner. Can you walk in those crazy shoes or do you want to take the car?’

  She laughed softly. ‘I’m a woman. I can walk in anything.’

  They fell into step, her long legs keeping up with his easily if he shortened his stride just a little, and amazingly he ushered her through the door of the little bistro early.

  ‘Oh, how lovely. It’s smaller than I was expecting—cosy,’ she murmured, looking around, her lively and curious eyes taking it all in.

  ‘I like it,’ he replied, and smiled at the maître d’ who appeared at his elbow. ‘Hugh Douglas—reservation for eight forty-five.’

  ‘Of course. Your table’s ready for you, Mr Douglas, if you could come this way?’

  He took their coats and seated them next to the window overlooking a floodlit courtyard. Immediately a jug of iced water appeared at the table, followed by a basket of bread, a bowl of oil and some marinated olives to nibble on while they contemplated the menu.

  ‘Any recommendations?’ she asked, but Hugh just shook his head.

  ‘I’ve eaten here a few times, and nothing’s ever missed the mark. I think you’re safe whatever you choose.’

  ‘So what are you having?’

  He studied Eve. He knew quite well what he wanted, but unfortunately she wasn’t on the menu. He tried to concentrate on food but, with her looking so gorgeous, it wasn’t easy.

  ‘How hungry are you?’ he asked. ‘Are you a pudding person, or a savoury person, or a finicky little eater?’

  She laughed. ‘Not finicky. Never that. I’m starving. I could manage three courses, unless they’re too huge. I guess I’m an everything person.’

  He felt his mouth kick up in reply to her smile. ‘Me, too. Let’s go for a starter and main course and see if we’ve got room for the desserts. I reckon we’ve earned it.’ He dragged his eyes off her smile, studied the menu for a moment and snapped it shut. ‘Anything take your fancy?’ he asked, and she looked up and met his eyes, her own rueful.

  ‘Most of it. Deciding what to leave out’s the hardest bit.’

  He laughed. ‘You’re going to eat it, not marry it,’ he reminded her, and she chuckled and shut the menu.

  ‘You’re right. I’ll have what you’re having.’

  ‘The mussels and the venison?’

  She scrunched up her face. ‘Mussels? All that grit and garlic—yuck.’

  She gave an exaggerated shudder, and he felt the laughter bubbling in his chest. ‘You don’t have to follow my lead. What about the pâté with onion marmalade? And the sea bass is wonderful here. It’s wild, not farmed.’

  She handed him her menu, picked up a little slice of French stick and tore it up, dipping it in the oil and popping it in her mouth. Desire hit him like a freight train. ‘Sounds great,’ she mumbled round the bread. ‘Like I said, I could eat it all, but sadly not all on one night.’

  ‘We’ll have to come again, then,’ he said, and she looked up, eyes laughing.

  ‘I’ll be the size of a house.’

  ‘So eat lettuce in between,’ he said, catching the waiter’s eye.

  ‘Ready to order, sir?’

  ‘I think so.’ He ordered the pâté and sea bass for Eve, then abandoned the mussels in favour of something that wasn’t calculated to give him killer garlic breath. Just in case.

  ‘Any wine, sir?’

  He cocked an eyebrow at Eve. ‘Wine?’

  She shrugged. ‘Whatever. I only want one glass. I’m a lightweight, remember?’

  And he was driving, so he ordered two glasses, a red for him and a white for her, and settled back to watch her indulge her senses.

  Amazing. He’d never seen anybody eat with such sheer delight. There was nothing greedy or over-indulgent in the way she tackled her food, just a single-minded dedication to the art of the chef, and no chef could fail to be flattered by her response.

  T
hey shared a dessert, though, neither of them quite up to the challenge of a whole one, but in fact he only had a couple of dips into the gloriously soft and astonishingly chocolate tart before he gave up and just settled back to watch her.

  It was one of the most erotic experiences of his life.

  The expression of bliss on her face was enough to drive him crazy, but then she picked up the fanned strawberry by the stalk and bit it off with her teeth, and he thought he was going to disgrace himself. Hell’s teeth, she was going to kill him if she went on like this…

  ‘Oh, wow, that was fabulous,’ she said, finally setting down her dessert spoon with a look of regret.

  ‘Sure you’ve finished?’ he teased, eyeing her scraped plate with a smile nudging at his mouth.

  She gave a rueful chuckle and chased the last taste of chocolate from her lips with the tip of her tongue, sending heat crashing through him all over again. ‘Sorry,’ she said with a contented smile. ‘I’ve been a complete pig, haven’t I?’

  He shook his head slowly, wondering how on earth he was going to keep his hands to himself while he walked her home. ‘Not at all,’ he said, wondering if his voice sounded in any way normal. ‘You’ve done it justice. What more could anyone ask for?’

  ‘Dignity,’ she said with a self-deprecating laugh. ‘Still, I’ve got an excuse. I’ve hardly eaten all week, except when you’ve dragged me to the canteen. I’ve been too busy, and today’s been no exception. The last thing I had was a biscuit at eleven-thirty.’

  ‘We’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen again, then,’ he said, and wondered how he could engineer feeding her every night for the next year.

  Should she invite him in?

  It seemed silly not to, but they’d just had coffee at the bistro, and it was such a short walk that even he couldn’t need coffee again yet, so there was only one reason she’d ask him inside, and that was a lousy idea.

  Her mind and her mouth seemed disconnected, though, as usual, and without thinking she turned to him at the outer door, her mouth open to issue the invitation, but before she could speak he laid a finger on her lips and shook his head.