The Midwife's Special Delivery

by Carol Marinelli

  “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

  CONTENTS

  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

  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 tha
t 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.