- -
- 100%
- +
Beth could see Elias working away in Resus as she was wheeled past.
She was taken out into the night and loaded into an ambulance where she could hear the controller speaking over the radio.
It was a ten-minute ride through dark streets and soon she was being taken through corridors and then in an elevator up to the maternity ward. As she was wheeled along a corridor she could see signs for the NICU further along and knew her baby was there.
‘How is she doing?’ Beth asked as she was moved onto a bed.
‘As soon as we hear anything, we’ll come and let you know.’
She was told that over and over again.
Beth had never felt more scared and helpless in her life.
Neither had Elias.
At times he had questioned if he was a good doctor or there by default.
He had, of course, had the very best education at a top English boarding school.
And after his time in the military he had studied medicine at Oxford.
Everything had been, his friends had ribbed him at times, handed to him on a plate.
Tonight Elias had found out that he was a doctor.
A real one.
And a very good one at that, because somehow he’d just shoved his personal torment aside.
Delivering a premature infant when it wasn’t your specialty was scary at best.
But delivering that infant when you were sure it was your baby had had his heart racing so fast it had surely matched the baby’s rate at times.
Having then to tear himself away, having to focus on work when everything precious to him was in that room had proved agony.
Yet Elias knew that the neonatologist, even if he received a devastating personal call, would carry on working on the baby until a replacement arrived.
That was the position he had found himself in.
Oh, had Elias declared a personal interest in these two patients then the staff might have understood him stepping back.
But that would have helped no one tonight so he had pushed through as best he could.
His head felt as if it was exploding and he felt sick in his guts as he walked into Resus, where a mother was sobbing as her two-year-old convulsed.
Elias gave that two-year-old his focus.
He administered the right medication and asked all the right questions.
‘He was sick last night when he went to bed,’ the child’s mother said. ‘I thought that it was just a cold...’
‘He has a very high fever,’ Elias told her.
The little boy had stopped convulsing and now lay crying and confused as Elias sat down on the resuscitation bed.
‘Hello,’ he said to the little boy, who was disoriented and fretful. ‘Your mum is here...’ He nodded for her to come around the bed so that the little boy could see her. ‘My name is Elias, I’m a doctor at the hospital...’ And then he said what was important again. ‘Your mum is here.’
And he needed to be over there.
With his baby’s mum.
Yet he thoroughly examined the child, carefully looking at his throat and ears and listening to his chest.
He did what he had to do.
He was peripherally aware that his baby had been transferred because as Valerie came into Resus to get some equipment the doors had opened and he had seen an incubator being wheeled out.
He took some bloods and then filled out the forms for the blood work and ordered a chest X-ray for the child as he thought that he might have pneumonia.
And then he went to speak with the paediatrician but when he saw Roger, Elias asked if he could have a word.
‘I’ve just been informed about a family emergency,’ Elias told him.
Roger could see how pale Elias was and didn’t doubt that he was struggling to hold it together. ‘I’ll call in Raj,’ Roger said immediately.
He picked up the phone and did just that. ‘He’s on his way but it might be half an hour until he arrives.’
Elias nodded. ‘Thanks.’
He would have to stay until Raj got there.
The department was busy and Elias could not wait idly. He went and examined an overdose case that had just arrived.
He mixed up some activated charcoal for the patient to drink but then he saw Mandy running through an IV.
‘How’s the baby?’ he asked, and she made a wobbly gesture with her hand.
‘They sped her off to St Patrick’s.’
‘And how’s the mother?’
‘She went in a separate ambulance. Poor woman, she was down in London for work. It must be terrifying to be so far from home.’
Mandy looked at Elias and saw his grey complexion. ‘I’m sorry to hear that you’ve had bad news but you’ll still have to fill out paperwork for them before you go. They’ll need a number for the baby.’
‘Sure,’ Elias said, because the little girl would need to be added to the system quickly as she had been transferred to another hospital.
He gave the overdose the activated charcoal to drink. Her boyfriend was with her and Elias explained the importance of finishing the bottle.
‘It looks awful, I know,’ he said, ‘but it doesn’t really taste of anything. Make sure she drinks it all. Any problems, press this bell. The medics should be down soon to admit her.’
Elias moved to the nurses’ station and took out the other paperwork that was waiting to be filled in.
Elizabeth Foster.
He saw that she was now twenty-three and that she lived in Edinburgh, though when he had met her Beth had lived in Dunroath, a small fishing village on the east coast of Fife.
And she had put Rory as her next of kin.
He knew that was her ex.
Maybe they were back together?
Perhaps the baby wasn’t even his.
Elias knew that she was, though, and not just from the dates.
Beth had made a comment on the night they had met about being a ‘daughter of the manse’.
He hadn’t known what it had meant then.
He knew what it meant now—her father was a minister and very strict.
Elias guessed that these past months would have pretty much been hell for her.
He wrote up his patient notes.
Presented to Accident and Emergency department at 29/40 gestation.
And he wrote about the rapid delivery and all that had happened and that she had been transferred to St Patrick’s for postnatal care.
And then he went to the other patient that required a signature.
There were rather a lot of forms to fill in when it came to a new life.
Baby Foster.
Born 29/40 weeks gestation.
Precipitate labour, rapid delivery.
One-minute Apgar score: 7
His hand was shaking as he wrote because the ramifications were just starting to hit him.
Not just that he had become a father.
The second in line to the throne had just delivered the third in line to the throne.
The palace always announced the delivering doctor.
He could see the headlines and the chaos the press would make of the circumstances tonight.
All this he was starting to envision but not quite, because all he could really see in his mind’s eye was the sight of the baby. Her tiny head and flaccid limbs. The little tufts of red hair and that she had been struggling to breathe. How her eyes had closed and her nostrils had flared as her tiny mouth had blown bubbles.
What the hell was he doing here?
Elias was closer to tears than he had ever been in his life and panic was building as he placed his head in his hands.
‘Are you okay?’ Roger checked.
He too knew how hard it was to work when you had just been informed of a personal crisis.
‘Not really,’ Elias said, and he took a steadying breath and told himself that Beth and the baby were in good hands—but he needed to see that for himself.
Then came the words that he had waited to hear.
‘Raj is here.’
‘Thank you.’
The department was covered.
Elias walked briskly around to the on-call room and pulled off his scrubs and runners and changed into black jeans and a jumper and pulled on his boots and jacket.
Then he turned off the white-noise machine and walked out.
The man was still singing ‘I Belong to Glasgow’ as he walked through the observation room and then stepped out of the fire exit and into the night.
His baby would belong to Medrindos.
If he told his family what was happening huge wheels would be set in instant motion. There would be lawyers and background checks immediately commenced on Beth. He would be told to step back and let the palace handle things from here.
A princess had just been born and Beth didn’t even know that he was royal.
Elias had chosen not to tell her that night.
He knew it was his baby.
Not because of some instant connection or primal instinct that the child was his.
But because he had got to know Beth that night.
Whatever the palace or her family might make of their encounter, no matter how they might deem it a one-night stand, he knew what a rare gift it had been.
For both of them.
CHAPTER FOUR
IT HAD ALL gone perfectly.
George and Voula Costas had just celebrated their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary on the Greek island where they had grown up and married.
The surprise party had been organised by Beth.
Months of preparation had come together and as Beth walked into her villa and closed the door behind her she was smiling as she kicked off her sandals.
The waiter had sent her home with a large cocktail in a plastic glass and she was looking forward to simply unwinding after an exhausting couple of days.
It was a hot night and she turned the fan on above her bed. She peeled off the smart linen shift dress she had worn tonight and let down her hair, shaking it loose, happy with how the night had gone.
She was just about to lie down when the phone rang.
She had known that it would soon ring.
It would be her father, calling to check how the night had gone. Or rather he would use that as an excuse to check she was safely home.
For a moment Beth had considered not answering it.
She was twenty-two years old after all.
England was two hours behind Greece and she could imagine her father pacing and waiting to make the call. If she didn’t answer, he and her mother would stress and try again. It was easier all round to answer, and, she told herself, it was no big deal, so she picked up the receiver.
‘Hi, Dad,’ Beth said.
‘How did you know it was me?’ Donald sounded surprised.
She could have answered that it had to be him because it was too late for Housekeeping and anyone else would have called her on her mobile!
Of course her father would say it was too expensive to make an international call on the mobile but Beth knew he had called her on the landline to check she was safely in for the night.
‘Just a good guess,’ Beth answered as she rolled her eyes.
She tried not to be cross. After all, it was her first time overseas and she had recently broken up with her long-term boyfriend, Rory, which had caused a lot of upset all around.
‘Your mother and I just wanted to know how the night went. Was Voula surprised?’
‘She certainly was.’
‘You don’t think she’d guessed what George was planning?’
‘No.’ Beth shook her head and found she was smiling. ‘She really didn’t have a clue.’
They chatted for a few moments and Beth actually enjoyed doing so.
Her father knew the Costases and many of the people who had attended tonight. While he might not be happy that his daughter was overseas, it didn’t mean that he wasn’t interested in how things had gone.
The call ended very amicably and Beth lay on the bed but the happy buzz that had followed her into the villa had dispersed.
She loved her parents a lot but she felt stifled by them.
Her father was a minister and, growing up, it had never proven much of a problem for Beth.
She’d had a wonderful childhood.
Seriously wonderful.
She was an only child and had been a late arrival into her parents’ lives. The manse where they lived was a happy home and had a constant flow of visitors. They often had guests from overseas stay with them, which Beth especially loved. Holidays had been spent exploring rugged beaches or camping, and her father’s position in the village hadn’t been an issue then.
Oh, she’d been warned, many times, that her actions reflected on her father and that she was to always behave. But, even during teenage years, her strict upbringing hadn’t been much of an encumbrance. Beth had enjoyed school and there had always been something to do in the evenings and at weekends.
She’d loved to read and her friends occasionally slipped her books that would have caused the most terrible row had they been found.
They hadn’t been found, though.
She’d had a close circle of friends and as for boys, possibly had she been taken with anyone there might have been a clash, but she hadn’t been particularly attracted to anyone.
Oh, there had been the occasional stand-off between her and her parents. Beth was stubborn and her temper matched her hair colour, and as a little girl she had fired up easily but she had learnt to choose her battles.
It was as she’d entered adulthood that the problems had started and small whispers of discontent had made themselves known.
In her final year of school her parents had steered her towards nursing or maybe teaching.
Beth had been excited at the prospect of studying in Edinburgh and had been hoping to share a flat with her great friend Shona.
Her father had had other ideas.
There was a close colleague of his who had been more than happy to offer her board, and naturally she would come home during the holidays and on weekends and days off.
A big row had ensued when Beth had stated she wanted to share a flat with her friend. But in the months that had followed Beth had realised that it wasn’t nursing or teaching she really wanted.
They had been a chance to leave home and that didn’t seem a very sensible reason to make a career choice.
And so she had fought to pursue the career she now loved but she still lived at home.
It was nice to get away.
Beth climbed off the bed and walked to the window, but before she pulled back one of the shutters she wrapped herself in a sarong she had bought at a market.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.