The Midwife's Special Delivery

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘I never intended to hurt you,’ Rory tried, but Ally just laughed, a spiteful, mirthless laugh that didn’t suit her.

  ‘I believe you, Rory. In fact, I think you’re so used to doing it that you don’t even have to try.’

  ‘I thought I could do it. I came back because I really thought I was ready to make a commitment—’

  ‘I don’t want to hear it, Rory.’ Ally shook her head. ‘I really don’t want to stand here and listen as you attempt to justify what you just did to me.’

  ‘You’re the one who said this morning that you shouldn’t judge until you’re armed with the facts.’

  ‘Thanks for reminding me,’ Ally snapped. ‘Thanks for reminding me that I was already angry with you before Fiona was taken ill.’ She swallowed the bile that seemed to be choking her. ‘Where are you going—the doctors’ mess?’

  Rory shook his head. ‘I’m going to stay in some serviced apartments—I need to get my head around a few things.’

  ‘How’s Fiona?’ Ally asked, because, despite all that was happening in her life, today Fiona mattered more. ‘And, please, don’t tell me “critical”. I can find that much out by myself.’

  ‘That’s about all I know—she’s on a ventilator, they’re trying to control her temperature and bring her blood pressure down. Apparently she could even have another crisis.’

  ‘God!’ Ally ran a weary hand through her hair, her own problems not exactly fading into insignificance but for now at least taking a back seat. ‘This shouldn’t have happened.’

  ‘I know.’ Rory’s lips barely moved as he spoke. ‘Maybe you were right. Maybe I should have tried the external version, given Fiona a chance for a normal delivery.’

  ‘Rory?’Ally shook her head as if to clear it, frowning at the self-doubt in his usually confident voice. ‘I never suggested an external version to Fiona—she’s the one I was telling you about who was panicking in antenatal class—that’s when I mentioned it. I didn’t say anything this morning to her, because I knew it wasn’t possible. The baby had to be born, you had no choice but to operate.’ Two vertical lines were deepening on the bridge of her nose as realisation started to strike. ‘Rory, when I said that it should never have happened, I meant in the greater scheme of things. In no way was I blaming you—surely you know that this wasn’t your fault! Maternal death is everyone’s worst nightmare. Of course you’re feeling awful, but you cannot blame yourself.’

  ‘When the coroner might do it for me?’

  ‘You did nothing wrong,’ Ally said. ‘You know that.’

  ‘All I know is that I can’t do it.’ Rory stared back at her and despite his bulk he looked as lost and helpless as a little boy. ‘I can’t go back there, Ally.’ And it dawned on her then that he wasn’t just walking out on her but on his job, on his life—Rory was walking away from everything. ‘I’ll ring Mr Davies and tell him tomorrow.’

  ‘Ring him?’ Ally checked.

  ‘I don’t want to set foot in the place again.’

  ‘Rory, you’re overreacting,’ Ally attempted, but it only seemed to enrage him.

  ‘A woman’s lying at death’s door, that little baby probably isn’t going to have a mother, so don’t try and tell me that I’m overreacting. Ally, I came into obstetrics to prevent this type of thing, to ensure that…’ He swallowed whatever it was he’d been about to say and rammed the palms of his hands against his temples. ‘I’ve got to go.’

  Ally knew there was no point trying to reason with him, knew that in this mood he wasn’t going to listen. And even if he was breaking her heart all over again, it didn’t mean she could suddenly stop caring, so as he picked up his bags and made to leave Ally halted him.

  ‘Will you do one thing for me?’ If he hadn’t been walking out on her for the second time, if he hadn’t deep down known how appallingly he was treating her, Ally was sure that Rory wouldn’t have even listened to her request. But instead he put down his bags and listened as Ally picked up the phone and offered it to him. ‘Can you ring Mr Davies and tell him that you’re sick—that you won’t be able to come in tomorrow?’

  ‘Another day isn’t going to change things, Ally. I know how I feel.’

  ‘Then it’s no big deal to do as I ask, is it?’ Ally said. ‘Surely you can do that much for me at least?’

  But he couldn’t even give her that. Ignoring the phone she was holding out and picking up his bags, he headed for the door.

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  Maybe your brain decided when it had had enough, Ally decided, waking the next morning after an amazingly good sleep and stepping into the shower. Maybe your brain knew when it was completely overloaded and just switched off.

  She’d rung the hospital around eight p.m. only to be greeted with the same ‘critical’ line, but thankfully the word ‘stable’ had been added. Ally tried not to read too much into it, but it was the most encouraging thing she’d heard since things had gone so drastically wrong for Fiona. Lying on top of her bed, hoping to close her eyes for five minutes to get rid of the most appalling headache, Ally had woken up some nine hours later—an hour before her alarm would have gone off, had she thought to set it. Unable to get back to sleep, she decided to use the precious hour for a slow walk along the beach.

  And it helped, just as it always had, just as it always would.

  Watching the sun come up, just as it always did.

  She’d miss Rory for ever. Picking up a handful of stones and tossing them into the water, Ally knew that for once she wasn’t being over-dramatic. She’d miss him for ever because she loved him.

  But she loved herself more.

  Loved herself too much to put herself through it again, to spend endless days and nights in angst over what had gone wrong, trying to decipher what she could have done differently to make him want to stay.

  Rory hadn’t wanted to stay and that was reason enough to let him go without a fuss.

  She wished Sheba was there, as she watched a dog bounding along the shoreline, wagging his tail, a massive stick in his smiling mouth. How she wished she had her friend by her side just long enough to see her through this next bit of her life.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE ward was a bit subdued but running pretty normally. The patients were a touch quieter, asking how Fiona was, the staff gathering for a brief update on her progress. But on the whole it was business as usual, hospital being the one place where in the face of tragedy it was used to carrying on.

  ‘Where’s Rory?’ Rinska asked, looking crisp in her white coat, waiting for morning rounds to start, and Ally looked up as Vivien answered.

  ‘He called in sick this morning and spoke to Mr Davies. Apparently he’s got some gastro bug—hopefully he’ll stay away till it’s completely cleared. Gastro sweeping the ward is the last thing I need. Right.’ Vivien nodded as Mr Davies arrived. ‘Let’s get the ward round out of the way.’

  Ally was more than happy to be out of the delivery ward today. Maybe Vivien did have a heart, Ally decided, because she’d put her in the nursery where the pace was pretty gentle. She supervised the mums while they bathed their infants, a couple of babies were under phototherapy lights to correct their jaundice and, of course, there was baby Anderson to feed and cuddle.

  ‘How’s his mum?’ Win finally asked after she’d cleaned around his cot for what must have been the fiftieth time, waiting till the place was quiet so she could talk with Ally, who was feeding one of the sleepy jaundiced infants.

  ‘Still no more news.’ Ally gave an apologetic smile as the old lady’s face fell. ‘Mr Davies is going to ring after lunch and speak to the consultant and hopefully we’ll know a bit more then.’

  ‘Has his dad been in?’

  ‘No.’ Ally didn’t really want to discuss it, but she knew Win’s concern was genuine. ‘He’s staying at his wife’s bedside for now—he’s rung a few times to see how his son is, though.’

  ‘Poor man,’Win sighed, gazing at the babe as she practically dug
a hole in the floor around his crib with her mop.

  ‘Win.’ Ally tutted at her own thoughtlessness. ‘With all that happened yesterday, I completely forgot to ask. How did your meeting go with your supervisor?’

  ‘Really well.’ The old lady beamed. ‘I didn’t want to say anything yesterday, it seemed wrong somehow to be singing about my good news with this poor little pet’s mum so sick, but they’re letting me drop my hours.’

  ‘Really?’ A smile broke out on her face, but then she frowned, worried for Win that she’d somehow misunderstood, because when Ally had last spoken with Vivien, the result had been a forgone conclusion. ‘You mean here, not down in Emergency.’

  ‘Here!’ Win was still beaming. ‘One day a week, either a Saturday or Sunday. They even said that they were sorry for all the worry they’ve caused me.’

  ‘Good for you!’ Ally said.

  ‘They didn’t mean a word of it.’ Win laughed. ‘But at least they said it and I know who I’ve got to thank for it—I’ve been looking for him all morning. Where’s Dr Rory?’

  ‘He’s off sick,’ Ally answered.

  ‘Sick!’ Win tutted. ‘Not Dr Rory—he’s as strong as an ox.’

  ‘He’s got a touch of gastro,’ Ally said quickly, torn between revealing too much and keeping Win quiet. Anyway, it wasn’t as if she was breaking a confidence, Ally consoled herself. Rory didn’t have gastro and, Ally realised as the domestic carried on talking, Win thought the same.

  ‘He’s upset about yesterday! He’s got himself all worked up about Mrs Anderson.’

  ‘He hasn’t,’ Ally snapped, wishing Win would just put a lid on it. ‘He’s got nothing to feel guilty about.’

  ‘I never said he felt guilty,’ Win huffed. ‘Just that he was upset. It would have really affected him.’

  ‘It’s affected us all,’ Ally said, attempting to drag the conversation back to safer territory ‘Anyway, what has Rory got to do with you being able to change your hours?’

  ‘He told them a few home truths!’ Win checked they had the place to themselves before speaking in a dramatic whisper. ‘My friend was cleaning in the next room…’

  ‘With a glass to the wall.’ Ally grinned.

  ‘Probably, knowing Ethel! Anyway, Rory apparently told them that he’d just stopped the hospital appearing on this evening’s news show and if they didn’t sort out my contract, he’d be going on the show himself to tell them how badly they were treating me…’

  ‘He said that!’

  ‘And more.’ Win’s smile almost split her face. ‘Anyway, the bottom line is that I’m staying right here on Maternity and I’ve got the hours I wanted. I’m so lucky.’

  ‘No, Win, we’re lucky to have you.’ And Ally was speaking the truth—as annoying and immovable as Win could be at times, she was a part of this ward and could be leant on in difficult times. Only yesterday, when the ward had been in chaos, Win had taken it on herself to do an extra tea round, chatting and reassuring anxious mums. She’d even answered a couple of call bells, and when it was all over had made sure that every doctor and nurse involved in the drama had had a cup of coffee in front of them as one by one they’d collapsed in the maternity staffroom.

  No job description that Admin drew up could define what she did.

  ‘He’s fretting for his mum, Ally,’ Win said, as baby Anderson started to cry.

  ‘He’s just hungry, Win,’ Ally answered. ‘I’ll just finish off this little guy and then I’ll be with him.’

  ‘OK.’ Win peered into the cot. ‘Is there anything I can do for you, Ally?’

  ‘I’m fine, Win,’Ally answered. ‘I’ll just take this one in to Mum for a quick cuddle before I put him back under the lights.’

  Which was easier said than done. The baby’s mother was just coming out of the bath, and naturally Ally waited as she dressed, chatting to her about her son’s progress, and on the way back to the nursery was waylaid by Rinska who needed her to hold a nervous patient’s hand as she put in an IV. Wishing Rinska would speed things along, Ally glanced anxiously at the clock, relieved when finally the IV was taped in and she could race down the corridor. As she did, Ally was half expecting to hear the infant wailing from the nurses’ station. Normally babies’ tears didn’t faze her, they were part and parcel of working on a maternity ward, but everyone on the ward felt an added responsibility towards Fiona’s baby, and the last thing Ally wanted was to leave him crying—for his mother’s sake.

  The only sound to greet her was one of contented silence. Win had her back to her, sitting in one of the nursing chairs and rocking the baby boy, gazing out at the ocean view and talking happily to him. Maybe it wasn’t appropriate for a domestic to be nursing a baby, but neither was it appropriate for a newborn’s mother to be lying critically ill in Intensive Care, and Win had put on a clean nurse’s gown and Ally was completely confident that she’d washed her hands.

  ‘I’m sorry I was so long.’ Ally slipped in quietly, gesturing for Win to relax as she shot Ally a guilty anxious look.

  ‘I washed my hands and put on a gown,’ Win flustered. ‘He was crying his eyes out and I thought what I’d want me to do if I was his mother…’

  ‘It’s fine, Win,’ Ally said, knowing that Win wasn’t going to make a habit of it. ‘It would be great if you could hold him for me while I warm his bottle.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Win said. ‘Poor little duck.’

  ‘She might be OK,’ Ally ventured.

  ‘I hope to God she is,’ Win replied. ‘In all the years I’ve been here, I’ve only ever see it happen once, and I prayed that I’d never see it again. Thirty-one years ago it happened, almost to the very day…

  ‘You always remember those sorts of dates,’ Win carried on as Ally checked the bottle on her wrist. ‘The same way you remember your kids’ birthdays.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Ally took the babe from Win, and settled herself in a seat, popping a cloth nappy under his chin and giving the hungry babe what he wanted.

  ‘Not just your kids, mind,’ Win added, taking off her gown and pushing her mop and bucket out of the nursery. ‘It could be anyone you care about.’

  ‘Sorry?’ Ally frowned up at Win, not sure that what she was supposed to have missed here.

  ‘I was just saying that you always remember certain dates—February the twenty-seventh—will stay in my mind for ever.’

  It would stay in her mind too, but for different reasons entirely, Ally thought as Win finally shuffled off. February the twenty-seventh was Rory’s birthday—Win was right—it was one of those dates you always remembered. Rory the Pisces, another star sign she automatically checked.

  ‘Need a hand?’ Jess was at the door. ‘It’s pretty quiet out there.’

  Ally was about to wave her away, to tell her there was nothing that needed to be done, but like tiny hailstones on a tin roof tiny snippets of information were raining in her mind, impossibility drenching her as she struggled to shrug it all off—to convince herself that, not for the first time in her life, where Rory was concerned, she was overreacting.

  ‘Can you feed Baby Anderson for me?’ Clearly upset, she appealed to Jess, who took the babe without question. ‘There’s something I need to know.’

  Win was nowhere in sight and, glancing at her watch, Ally guessed she was down in the canteen right now, enjoying her coffee-break and sharing her good news with her colleagues. Ally was just about to head down there, to find Win and ask her to tell her what she knew, but as she passed the storeroom Ally knew that she didn’t need to, knew she could find out the truth as she would prefer to—in private.

  She’d organised the admission records carefully—each book filed according to date—and it only took a couple of moments to locate the book in question. Balancing on the ladder, Ally hauled it down, but her hand was shaking so much it took for ever to turn the dusty old pages, looking at the neat inscriptions, row after row of names written in navy or black.

  Except one.

  Stari
ng at the neat red writing, the words seemed to blur before her and Ally rummaged in her pocket for a tissue, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose and bracing herself to face the truth.

  Lola Donovan, age 25

  Admitted Feb 27th

  Deceased Feb 27th

  Live male infant

  Beside her name, a nurse or doctor, or whoever the initials A.S. belonged to, had written ‘RIP’ and Ally knew, because of yesterday, the pain that was etched within them, how much the staff that had nursed Lola that day would have been touched for the rest of their lives by the tragic outcome when they had unwittingly signed up for that shift. And if Rory’s reaction hadn’t made sense before, it made a little bit now—losing a mother was what every one of the obstetric team dreaded most, but for Rory it must have been hell.

  And, yes, she felt sorry for him, yes, it was appalling, but as she sat there, staring at the neat writing and reading a little bit of Rory’s history, unexpectedly Ally felt anger—anger that he had placed himself in such a vulnerable position, almost set himself up for this possible fall, given himself an opportunity to walk away…

  Closing the book, feeling like an intruder, Ally put it back in its place and stared at the neat row of books that were mainly filled with joy, but occasionally marred by a pain that touched everyone.

  For ever.

  Stumbling out into the corridor, her face ashen in the fluorescent light, Vivien’s concerned face was the one that greeted her first.

  ‘Jess said that you seemed upset. I’ve been trying to find you to tell you that we’ve heard from the Women’s Hospital. Fiona Anderson is still very sick but the word is she’s going to pull through.’ It was the news Ally had scarcely dared hope for. She’d never seen someone as close to death as Fiona actually live, had never in her career seen someone beat such appalling odds and come through, but, then again, Fiona had a lot to live for. ‘I thought you might like to be the one to let the baby know!’