Unwrapping Her Italian Doc
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‘So you will be going tonight?’ Anton checked. ‘Even though you’re not feeling well?’
‘Of course I’m going,’ Louise said. ‘I worked there for five years.’ She opened her eyes and gave him a very nice smile, though their interlude was over. Concerned Anton had gone and he was back to bah, humbug as he stood. ‘I’ll see you tonight, Anton.’
Stop the drip! Anton wanted to say as he went in to check on Hannah, for he would dearly love a reason to be stuck at the hospital tonight.
Of course, he didn’t stop the drip and instead Hannah progressed beautifully.
‘Louise, would you be able to go and work in Delivery after lunch?’ Brenda came over as Louise added the finishing touches to her nativity scene during her lunch break. She’d taken her chicken and avocado salad out with her and was eating it as she arranged all the pieces. ‘Angie called in sick and we’re trying to get an agency nurse.’
Louise had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. While she loved being in Delivery for an entire shift, she loathed being sent in for a couple of hours. Louise liked to be there for her patient for the entire shift.
‘Sure,’ Louise said instead.
‘They’re a bit short now,’ Brenda pushed, and Louise decided not to point out that she’d only had fifteen minutes’ break, given the half-hour she’d taken earlier that morning. So, instead, she popped the cutest Baby Jesus ever into the crib, covered him in a little rug and headed off to Delivery.
She took the handover, read through Hannah’s birth plan then went in and said hello to Hannah and Luke. Hannah had been a patient on the ward for a couple of weeks now so introductions had long since been done.
Hannah was lying on her side and clearly felt uncomfortable.
‘It really hurts.’
‘I know that it does,’ Louise said, showing Luke a nice spot to rub on the bottom of Hannah’s back, but Hannah kept pushing his hand away.
‘Do you want to have a little walk?’ Louise offered, and at first Hannah shook her head but then agreed. Louise sorted out the drip and got her up off the delivery bed and they shuffled up and down the corridor, sometimes silent between contractions, when Hannah leant against the wall, other times talking.
‘I still can’t believe we’ll have a baby for Christmas,’ Hannah said.
‘How exciting.’ Louise smiled. ‘Have you shopped for the baby?”
‘Not yet!’ Hannah shook her head. ‘Didn’t want the bad luck.’ She leant against the wall and gave a very low moan and then another one.
‘Let’s get you back,’ Louise said, guiding the drip as Luke helped his wife.
Hannah didn’t like the idea of sitting on a birthing ball—in fact, she climbed back onto the delivery bed and went back to lying on her side as Louise checked the baby’s heart, which was fine.
‘You’re doing wonderfully, Hannah,’ Louise said.
‘I can’t believe we’re going to get our baby,’ Hannah said. ‘We tried for ages.’
‘I know that you did,’ Louise said.
‘I’m so lucky to have Anton,’ Hannah said. ‘He got me pregnant!’
Louise looked over at Luke and they shared a smile because at this stage of labour women said the strangest things at times, only Louise’s smile turned into a slight frown as Luke explained what she’d meant. ‘Anton was the one who put back the embryo …’
‘Oh!’ Louise said, more than a little surprised, because that was something she hadn’t known—yes, of course he would deal with infertility to a point, but it was a very specific specialty and for Anton to have performed the embryo transfer confused Louise.
‘He was a reproductive specialist in Milan, one of the top ones,’ Luke explained further, when he saw Louise’s frown. ‘We thought we were getting a fill-in doctor when Richard, the specialist overseeing Hannah’s treatment, got sick, but it turned out we were getting one of the best.’ He looked up as Anton came in. ‘I was just telling Louise that you were the one who got Hannah pregnant.’
Anton gave a small smile of acknowledgement of the conversation then he turned to Louise. ‘How is she?’
‘Very well.’
Anton gave another brief nod and went to examine Hannah.
Hannah was doing very well because things soon started to get busy and by four o’clock, just when Louise should be heading home to get ready for tonight, she was cheering Hannah on.
‘Are you okay, Louise?’ Brenda popped her head in to see if Louise wanted one of the late staff to come in and take over but instead Louise smiled and nodded. ‘I’m fine, Brenda,’ Louise said. ‘We’re nearly there.’
She would never leave so close to the end of a birth, Anton knew that, and she was enthusiastic at every birth, even if the mother was in Theatre, unconscious.
‘How much longer?’ Hannah begged.
‘Not long,’ Louise said. ‘Don’t push, just hold it now.’ Louise was holding Hannah’s leg and watched as the head came out and Anton carefully looped a rather thin and straggly umbilical cord from around the baby’s neck.
She and Anton actually worked well in this part. Anton liked how Louise got into it and encouraged the woman no end, urging her on when required, helping him to slow things down too, if that was the course of action needed. This was the case here, because the baby was only thirty-five weeks and also rather small for dates.
‘Oh, Hannah!’ Louise was ecstatic as the shoulders were delivered and Anton placed the slippery bundle on Hannah’s stomach and Louise rubbed the baby’s back. They all watched as he took his first breath and finally Hannah and Luke had their wish come true.
‘He’s beautiful,’ Hannah said, examining her son in awe, holding his tiny hand, scarcely able to believe she had a son.
He was small, even for thirty-five weeks, and, having delivered the placenta, Anton could well see why. The baby had certainly been delivered at the right time and could now get the nourishment he needed from his mother to fatten up.
Anton came and looked at the baby. The paediatrician was finishing up checking him over as Louise watched.
‘He looks good,’ Anton said.
‘So good,’ Louise agreed, and then smiled at the baby’s worried-looking face. He was wearing the concerned expression that a lot of small-for-dates babies had. ‘And so hungry!’
The paediatrician went to have a word with the parents to explain their baby’s care as Louise wrapped him up in a tight parcel and popped a little hat on him.
‘How does it feel,’ Louise asked Anton, ‘to have been there at conception and delivery?’ She started to laugh at her own question. ‘That sounds rude! You know what I mean.’
‘I was just saying to Hannah this morning that it has never happened to me before. So this little one is a bit more special,’ Anton admitted. ‘I’m going to go and write my notes. I’ll be back to check on Hannah in a while.’
‘Well, I’ll be going home soon,’ Louise said, ‘but I’ll pass it all on.’ She picked up the baby. ‘Come on, little man, let’s get you back to your mum.’
She didn’t rush home then either, though. Louise helped with the baby’s first feed, though he quickly tired and would need gavage top-ups. Having put him under a warmer beside his parents, she then went and made Hannah a massive mug of tea. Anton, who was getting a cup of tea of his own, watched as she went into her pocket and took out a teabag.
‘Why do you keep teabags in your pocket?’
‘Would you want that …’ she sneered at the hospital teabags on the bench ‘… if you’d just pushed a baby out?’
‘No.’
‘There’s your answer, then. I make sure my mums get one nice cup of tea after they’ve given birth and then they wonder their entire stay in hospital why the rest of them taste so terrible after that,’ Louise said. ‘It’s my service to women.’ She went back into her pocket and gave him a teabag and Anton took it because the hospital tea really was that bad. ‘Here, but that’s not the drink I owe you for this morning. You’ll get that later.’
He actually smiled at someone who wasn’t a patient. ‘I’ll see you tonight,’ Louise said, and their eyes met, just for a second but Anton was the one who looked away, and with good reason.
Yes, Anton thought, she would see him tonight but here endeth the flirting.
CHAPTER THREE
LOUISE LIVED FAIRLY close to the hospital and arrived at her small terraced home just after five to a ringing phone.
She did consider not answering it because she was already running late but, seeing that it was her mum, Louise picked up.
‘I can’t talk for long,’ Louise warned, and then spent half an hour chatting about plans for Christmas Day.
‘Mum!’ Louise said, for the twentieth time. ‘I’m on days off after Christmas Eve all the way till after New Year. I’ve told you that I’ll be there for Christmas Day.’
‘You said you’d be there last year,’ Susan pointed out.
‘Can we not go through that again,’ Louise said, regretting the hurt she had caused last year by not telling her parents the truth about what had been going on in her life. ‘I was just trying to—’
‘Well, don’t ever do that again,’ Susan said. ‘I can’t bear that you chose to spend Christmas miserable and alone in some hotel rather than coming home to your family.’
‘You know why I did, Mum,’ Louise said, and then conceded, ‘But I know now that I should have just come home.’ She flicked the lights of her Christmas tree to on, smiling as she did so. ‘Mum, I honestly can’t wait for Christmas.’
‘Neither can I. I’ve ordered the turkey,’ Susan said, ‘and I’m going to try something extra-special for Boxing Day—kedgeree …’
‘Is that the thing with fish and eggs?’ Louise checked.
‘And curry powder,’ Susan agreed.
‘That’s great, Mum,’ Louise said, pulling a face because her mother was the worst cook in the world. The trouble was, though, that Susan considered herself an amazing cook! Louise ached for her dad sometimes, he was the kindest, most patient man, only that had proved part of the problem—the compliments he’d first given had gone straight to Susan’s head and, in the kitchen, she thought she could do no wrong. ‘Mum, I’d love to chat more but I have to go now and get ready, it’s the theatre Christmas night out. I’ll call you soon.’
‘Well, enjoy.’
‘I shall.’
‘Oh, one other thing before you go,’ Susan said. ‘Did you get the referral for the specialist?’
‘Not yet,’ Louise sighed. ‘She says she wants me to have a full six months off the Pill before she refers me …’ Louise thought for a moment. She really wasn’t happy with her GP. ‘I know I said that I didn’t want to go to The Royal for this but it might be the best place.’
‘I think you’re right,’ Susan said. ‘I didn’t like to say so at the time but I don’t think she took you very seriously.’
Louise nodded then glanced at the clock. So much for a quick chat!
‘I have to get ready, Mum.’
‘Well, if you do go to The Royal, let me know when and I’ll come with you …
‘I will,’ Louise said, and then there were all the I love yous and Do you want a quick word with Dad?
Louise smiled as she put down the phone because, apart from her cooking, Louise knew that she had the best mum and possibly the best family in the world.
Her dad was the most patient person and Louise’s two younger sisters were amazing young women who rang Louise often, and they all got on very well.
This was part of the reason why she hadn’t wanted to spoil Christmas for everyone last year and had pretended that something had happened at work. At the time it had seemed kinder to say that they were short-staffed rather than arrive home in such a fragile state on Christmas morning and ruin everyone’s day.
Her sisters looked up to her and often asked her opinion on guys; it had been hard, admitting how badly she had judged Wesley. Even a part of the truth had hurt them and her dad would just about die if he knew even half of what had really gone on.
Louise lay on her bed while her bath was running, thinking back to that terrible time. Not just the breakup with Wesley but the horrible lonely time before it.
Louise’s wings had been clipped during their relationship. Seriously clipped, to the point that she had given up her modelling side job, which she loved. Somehow, she wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, her hems had got lower, her hair darker until her sparkle had almost been extinguished.
At a work function Wesley had loathed that she had chatted with Rory, an anaesthetist who was also ex-boyfriend of Louise’s from way back.
She and Rory had remained very good friends up to that point.
Louise had given Wesley the benefit of the doubt after that first toxic row. Yes, she’d decided, it wasn’t unreasonable for him to be jealous that she was so friendly with her ex. She had severed things with Rory, which had been hard to do and had caused considerable hurt when she had.
It hadn’t stopped there, though.
Wesley hadn’t liked Emily, Louise’s close friend, either. He hadn’t liked their odd nights out or their phone calls and texting and gradually that had all tapered off too.
Finally, realising that she had been constantly walking on eggshells and that she’d barely recognised herself any more, Louise had known she had to end things. It had been far easier said than done, though, knowing, with Wesley’s building temper, that the ending would be terrible.
It had been.
On Christmas Eve, when Wesley had decided that her family didn’t like him and perhaps it should be just the two of them for Christmas, Louise had known she had to get the hell out. An argument had ensued and the gentle, happy Louise had finally lost her temper.
No, he hadn’t taken it well.
It would soon be a year to the very day since it had happened, and in the year that had followed Louise had found herself again—the woman she had been before Wesley, the happy person she had once been, though it had taken a while.
Louise’s confidence had been severely shaken around men but her dad, her uncles, Rory, Emily’s now-husband, Hugh, all the people Wesley had been so jealous of had been such huge support—insisting that Wesley wasn’t in the regular mould men were cast from. Finally convincing her that she should simply be her sparkling, annoying, once irrepressible self.
Without her family and friends, Louise did not know how she’d have survived emotionally.
She’d never turn her back on them again.
Anton had appeared at The Royal around March and the jolt of attraction had been so intense Louise had felt her mojo dash back. Possibly because he was so aloof and just so unobtainable that it had felt safe to test her flirting wings on him.
Anton never really responded, yet he never stopped her either. He simply let her be, which was nice.
It was all for fun, a little confidence boost as she slowly returned to her old self, yet in the ensuing months it had gathered steam.
Nope!
Louise got of the bed and looked around her room. It was a sexy boudoir indeed, thanks to a few freebies from a couple of photo shoots. There was a velvet red chair that went with the velvet bedspread, and it made Louise smile every time she sat in it. She smiled even more at the thought of Anton in here but she pushed that thought aside.
In the flirting department he was divine but his arrogance, the way he double-checked everything Louise did at work, rendered him far from relationship material.
Not that she knew if he even liked her.
To Louise, Anton was a very confusing man.
Still, flirting was fun!
Not that she felt particularly sparkly tonight.
After her bath, Louise did her make-up carefully, topped it off with loads of red lipstick and then started to dry her hair.
It still fell to the right, even after nearly a year of parting it to fall to the left.
Louise examined the shiny red scar on her scalp for a moment. She could still see the needle marks. Thanks to her delay in getting sutured, the stitches had had to stay in for ten days. Unable to deal with the memory, she quickly moved on and tonged her hair into wild ringlets. She put on the Christmas holly underwear that she’d modelled a couple of months ago, along with the stockings from the same range, which were a very sheer red with green sprigs of holly and little red dots for berries.
They were fabulous!
As were the red dress and high-heeled shoes.
Hearing Emily blast the horn outside, Louise pushed out a smile, determined to enjoy all the celebrations that took place at her very favourite time of the year, however unwell she felt.
‘God help Anton!’ Hugh said, as Louise stepped out of her house and waved to him and Emily.
‘Why haven’t they got it on?’ Emily asked, as Louise dashed back in the house to check that she’d turned off her curling tongs.
‘I don’t know,’ Hugh mused. ‘Though I thought that Louise had sworn off men.’
‘She’s sworn off relationships,’ Emily said, ‘not joined a nunnery.’
Hugh laughed. No, he could not imagine Louise in a nunnery.
‘Is Anton seeing anyone?’ Emily asked, but Hugh shook his head.
‘I don’t think so—mind you, Anton’s not exactly friendly and chatty.’
‘He is to me.’
‘Because you’re six months pregnant and his patient,’ Hugh pointed out, as Louise came down her path for the second time. ‘Maybe you could ask him if he’s seeing someone next time you see him.’
‘That’s a good idea.’ Emily smiled. ‘I’ll just slip that question in while he examines me, shall I?’
She turned and smiled as Louise got into the back of the car.
‘Hi, Emily. You make a lovely taxi driver—thank you for this,’ Louise said. ‘Hi, Hugh, how lucky you are to have a pregnant wife over Christmas!’
‘Very lucky,’ Hugh agreed, as Emily drove off.
‘You look gorgeous, Louise,’ Emily said.
‘Thank you, but I feel like crap,’ Louise happily admitted. ‘I’ve got the worst period and I can only have one eggnog as I’m working in the morning.’
Hugh arched his neck at Louise’s openness and Emily smiled.
They both loved her.
As they arrived at the rather nice venue, Louise got her first full-length look at Emily.
‘You look gorgeous and I want one …’ she said, referring to Emily’s six–months-pregnant belly, which was tonight dressed in black and looking amazing.
‘You will soon,’ Emily said, because Louise had shared with her her plans to get pregnant next year.
‘I hope so.’
Louise’s eyes scanned the room. It had been very tastefully decorated—there were pale pinkish gold twigs in vases on the tables and pale pinkish gold decorations and lights that twinkled, and there was Anton, talking to Alex, who was Hugh’s boss, and Rory was with them as well.
Perfect, Louise thought as the trio made their way over and all the hellos began.
‘Aren’t the decorations gorgeous?’ Emily said, but Louise pulled a face.
‘Some colour would be nice. Who would choose pink for Christmas decorations?’ As a waiter passed with a tray, she took a mini pale pink chocolate that the waiter called a frosted snowball but even the coconut was pink. ‘They have a theme,’ she said, and smiled at Anton, but it went to the wall because he wasn’t looking at her.
‘No Jennifer?’ Hugh checked with Alex, because normally his wife Jennifer accompanied him on nights such as this.
‘No, Josie’s got a fever.’ Alex explained things a little better for Anton. ‘Josie’s our youngest child. You haven’t yet met my wife Jennifer, have you?’
‘Your wife?’ Anton said. ‘I have heard a lot of nice things.’
Perhaps because Louise was close to PhD level in Anton’s facial features, Anton’s accent, Anton’s words, oh, just everything Anton, she frowned just a little at his slightly vague response. Still, she didn’t dwell on it for long because he simply looked fantastic in an evening suit. Her eyes swept his body, taking in his long legs, his very long black leather shoes and then, when her mind darted to rude places, she looked up. His olive complexion was accentuated by the white of his shirt and he was just so austere that it made her want to jump onto his lap and whisper in his ear all the things she wanted him to do to her for Christmas.
Oh, a relationship might not be on the agenda but so pointed was his dismissal of her tonight that they were clearly both thinking sex.
‘Is that holly on your stockings?’ Rory asked, and everyone looked down to examine Louise’s long legs.
Everyone, that was, but Anton.
‘Yes, I got them free after that shoot I did a couple of months ago,’ Louise said. ‘I’ve been dying to wear them ever since. Got to get into the Christmas spirit. Speaking of which, does anyone want a drink?’
‘No, thank you,’ Alex said.
‘I’ll have a tomato juice,’ Emily sighed. ‘A virgin bloody Mary.’
‘Hugh?’ Louise asked.
‘I’d love an eggnog.’
‘Yay!’ Louise said. ‘Anton?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘Are you sure?’ Louise said. ‘I thought I owed you one.’
‘I’m fine,’ he responded, barely looking at her. ‘I think Saffarella is getting me a drink. Here she is …’
Here she was, indeedy!
Rippling black hair, chocolate-brown eyes, a figure to die for, and she was so seriously stunning that she actually made Louise feel drab, especially when her thick Italian accent purred around every name as introductions were made.
‘Em-il-ee, Loo-ease.’
On sight the two women bristled.
It was like two cats meeting in the back yard and Louise almost felt her tail bush up as they both smiled and nodded.
‘Sorry, I didn’t catch your name,’ Louise said.
Saffarella was already getting on her nerves.
‘Saffarella,’ she repeated in her beautiful, treacle voice, and then was kind enough to give Louise a further explanation. ‘Like Cinderella.’
With a staph infection attached, Louise thought, but thankfully Rory knew Louise’s humour and decided to move her on quickly!
‘I’ll come and help you with the drinks.’ Rory took Louise’s arm and they both walked over to the bar.
‘Good God!’ Louise said the second they were out of earshot.
‘No wonder you’ve got nowhere with him.’ Rory laughed. ‘She’s stunning.’
‘Oh!’ Louise was seriously rattled, she was far too used to being the best-looking woman in the room. ‘What sort of name is Saffarella? Well, there goes my fun for the night. I thought I’d at least get a dance with him. I don’t have anyone to fancy any more,’ Louise sighed. ‘And I’m going to look like a wallflower.’
‘Don’t worry, Louise.’ Rory smiled. ‘I’ll dance with you.’
‘You have to now,’ Louise said. ‘I’m not having him seeing me sitting on my own. I was so positive that he liked me.’
Louise returned with Emily’s virgin bloody Mary but then she caught sight of Connor and Miriam and excused herself and headed over for a good old catch up with ex-colleagues. It was actually a good, if not brilliant night—Rory was as good as his word and midway through proceedings he did dance with her.
Rory was lovely, possibly one of the nicest men that a woman could know.
In fact, Rory was the last really nice boyfriend that Louise had had.
There was absolutely nothing going on between them. Their parting, three years ago, had been an amicable one. Though most people lied when they said that, in Rory and Louise’s case it had been true. Just a few weeks into their relationship Louise had, while undergoing what she’d thought were basic investigations for her erratic menstrual cycle, received the confronting news that, when the time came, she might not fall pregnant very easily.
It hadn’t been a complete bombshell, Louise had known things hadn’t been right, but when it had finally dropped Louise had been inconsolable. Rory had put his hands up in the end and had said that, as much as he liked her, there wasn’t enough there to be talking baby, baby, baby every day of the week.
They were far better as exes than as a couple.