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Tilly couldn’t believe it. ‘After all our work? What’s to assess? New South Wales Health said, “Make pain relief in water an option.”’
Gina sighed. ‘I hear you, Tilly. Just make sure your women have been well informed, have signed consent, and agree to a land birth before they get in. We don’t want that option of pain relief taken away until we can change his mind about the actual birth.’
That double-sucked. The last thing most women about to give birth wanted was to move, especially out of a warm, buoyant bath into a cool room and a hard bed.
Tilly chewed her lip and as the meeting broke up Gina drew her aside. ‘This probably affects you most, Tilly. I know you put a lot of work into the fundraising. You have the same passion and instincts as your mother and all I can say is go slow.’
Tilly sighed and accepted she’d have to pull back. ‘Doesn’t sound like he’d appreciate Mum’s philosophy.’
Gina smiled. ‘Perhaps not that enlightened yet. We’ll work on him.’
It didn’t occur to Tilly not to grind her teeth. Control was overrated. ‘It’s offensive that we have to work on any body. Back to being handmaidens. We should all be here for the women—including him.’
‘Give him time.’ Gina was always the voice of reason—a woman aware that passion needed nurturing and sometimes steering into less controversial paths. ‘We’ll show him we can provide safety and support as well as an optimal environment. Then he’ll understand.’
The shift passed quietly, two normal births who arrived at the last minute, no time for excessive monitoring or to call for medical help, Tilly thought with satisfaction, and no sight of the new head of obstetrics.
Tilly went home consumed with curiosity and not a little disappointment. She wanted to see this man that had everyone quaking in their boots but she’d just have to wait.
The next morning, like most mornings since she’d moved into Hill Street, Tilly headed for the ocean. She couldn’t help her glance up at the guest-bedroom windows in Mrs B.’s house.
Her dreams last night had been populated by a particular tall, dark and dark haired policeman who seemed to catch her speeding every time she drove onto a particular country road. No doubt there was something deep and meaningful in there somewhere but Tilly had been left with a feeling of anticipation and the wish that she actually owned a car to give her the chance of it coming true. Shame he wasn’t younger than she was and she could try for a fling.
Maybe she should just paint the hallway. And refix the falling picture rail. That would keep her mind where it should be.
As Marcus jogged back up the hill after his run he saw three young women leave the house next door. The annoying one wasn’t with them.
The crash and muffled scream happened as he passed her gate and the repeated swear word, not a bad one in the scheme of things, floated out the window towards him. He sighed.
Obviously she was alive, but his Hippocratic oath demanded he at least check she wasn’t about to do more damage. ‘Hello?’
The swearing stopped.
He called out again. ‘It’s Marcus from next door. Just checking. You all right?’ Marcus tilted his head and listened at her front door, which he could see was unlocked. Typical. Why’d she do that? Didn’t she read the papers? Foolish woman.
‘Um. I’m okay. Thanks.’
She didn’t sound it. In fact, if he wasn’t totally mistaken he had the feeling she was almost in tears. ‘Can I come in?’
He heard the scrape of furniture and a muffled sob. Nothing else for it, he had to check.
‘I’m coming in.’
She was sitting on the floor, the ladder was on its side and the annoying one was sitting beside it with her foot in her hand. He hoped to hell she hadn’t fallen off the ladder.
He crouched down next to her. ‘Matilda, isn’t it?’ As if he didn’t remember. ‘What happened? Did you hit your head?’
‘Hello, Marcus.’ She brushed a long tangled spiral of hair out of her eyes and his hand twitched at the unexpected desire to catch a tendril she’d missed. How did it spring all over like that and still be so soft?
‘No. I wasn’t up the ladder when it fell. But the hammer was. It landed on my toe.’ She bit a decidedly wobbly lip.
He looked away, not because he wanted to gather her up in his arms and comfort her, certainly not. He looked away to professionally assess her injury and saw one already bruising big toe. He glanced at her woebegone face then back at her toe.
Her gaze followed his. ‘It throbs.’
‘I imagine it would. I won’t touch it until you get a bit of relief.’ He glanced around the open room towards a doorway that looked like it led to the kitchen. ‘Do you have any ice?’
She almost smiled and he almost melted. ‘Always.’
He stood up. Quickly. ‘I’ll grab some from the freezer then.’ Marcus stepped around the ladder and righted it before heading for the kitchen. He couldn’t help a little peek around as he went. The house was very tidy.
He guessed that was one thing in her favour, though he supposed it could be any of the girls who had the clean fetish. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want to stack up good things in Matilda’s favour and refocussed on the task at hand.
Freezer. He saw the unopened bag of frozen peas and decided it would mould better around her foot. He grabbed a tea towel that was folded on the bench.
When he crouched back down beside her she looked more composed and he mentally sighed with relief. He mightn’t have coped with her tears. ‘I’ve brought the frozen peas. Less square.’
She took them and lowered them gingerly onto her bruised toe. They both winced. ‘Ow-w …’ she murmured as the green plastic bag settled around her foot.
‘Where would you like to sit? Somewhere comfort able, maybe. With your leg up?’ She couldn’t stay there on the floor, which was cold tiles.
Her big green eyes, still shiny with unshed tears, so completely captured his attention he wasn’t sure what she was talking about when she answered. ‘Um … I’ll try for the sofa.’
So far? So far so good? Sofa. Right. Move somewhere more comfortable. What the heck was wrong with him this morning? She lifted the ice and he helped her up and he saw her grit her teeth to take a step.
This was crazy. ‘Here.’ He picked her up easily in his arms and took the few strides to the three-seater lounge. She felt decidedly pleasant against his chest and it was with strange reluctance that he put her down.
Not sensible. He knelt down and looked quickly at her toe again as she prepared to replace the ice. The bruising was mainly below the start of the nail and he ran his finger along her slender, cute phalanges. He cleared his throat. ‘I don’t think anything’s broken. Just bruised.’
She nodded then looked away from him and he suddenly realised he was still holding her foot. He almost dropped it in his haste to stand up. ‘Well, if nothing else is hurt, I’ll be on my way.’ He unobtrusively wiped his hand on his trousers to rid himself of that warm and tingly feeling.
Big, solemn eyes looked up at him. ‘Thanks for checking on me.’
The sooner he got out of here the better. ‘My aunt would kill me if I didn’t.’
She nodded. ‘Of course. Thanks anyway.’
Marcus left. Quickly.
Tilly watched him go, her toe a dull throbbing ache that was being replaced by a dull throbbing ache from the cold peas, but the rest of her was still dazed from being picked up and carried as if she were a baby.
Scoop and go with no effort at all from him. It had been a very strange feeling to be held against that solid, manly chest and one she would have liked to have savoured for maybe a little while longer just for interest’s sake.
Only to see why women liked it, of course. She al most got the reason. She could still smell the faint scent of virile man. Maybe guys did have some short-term advantages.
She glanced around at the flat-headed copper nails that had spilled out of the box and the hammer lying beside them. No more repairs this morning. Her toe was feeling better already and she’d be sensible to keep it up before work that afternoon.
She needed to remind herself that this guy qualified as an ‘older man’ and he pressed too many of her attraction buttons to be anywhere near safe as a platonic friend.
CHAPTER THREE
TILLY‘s toe wasn’t too bad by afternoon, probably that quick packet of peas, because she squeezed into her shoe with only a little tenderness before she caught the bus up the hill to work, rather than walk.
Tilly, along with the rest of the afternoon staff, had just finished their walk around the ward to meet the patients and for clinical handover when the phone rang.
Gina picked it up, listened, and then waved. ‘There’s a patient with foetal distress, first baby, coming in by ambulance.’ Gina assessed the staff on duty. ‘Home birth. Probable emergency Caesarean. You take her, Tilly.’
‘Yep. Thanks.’ Tilly felt the clutch of sympathy in her stomach and glanced at her watch. ‘How far away?’
Gina looked at the wall clock. ‘Ten minutes. Josie Meldon’s the mum, from Randwick, and the midwife is Scottish Mary.’
Tilly was already moving. ‘Who’s the doctor on call?’
‘The new consultant.’
So she’d get to meet the man. ‘I’ll page him and get the papers ready for Theatre.’ More than anyone, Tilly understood the efficiency and reliability of home-birth midwives. And Mary was one of the best.
Tilly’s mother and grandmother had both been heavily involved in the home-birth movement all their lives and Tilly had been born at home, naturally, as well as growing up holding placards at dozens of home-birth rallies.
She’d known Mary for years and if Mary said Caesarean, which she hated with a passion, that was what was needed.
She dialled the pager number for the new consultant then scooped a pile of preprepared theatre papers from the drawer on her way to the filing cabinet.
The cabinet held all the bookings of pregnant women in their catchment. Eastern Beaches Maternity Wing, or EB as it was known, had great rapport with the local independent midwives and in the last six months since Tilly had graduated she’d made extra efforts to liaise between the two areas of maternity care.
Tilly’s goal had been to increase the mutual respect between hospital and private midwives, and while not missing, rapport hadn’t flourished either.
Gina, a progressive manager and long-standing friend of Tilly’s mother, had encouraged her. Now EB had brief admission papers of even the home-birth clients in case of emergencies such as this to streamline unexpected admissions. This benefited everybody, especially the incoming mums.
As Tilly lifted Josie Meldon’s file the phone rang and Tilly picked it up. ‘Maternity, Tilly. Can I help you?’
There was a brief pause and Tilly glanced at the light on the phone to check the caller was still on the line. Then a voice. ‘Dr Bennett. You paged?’
‘Yes.’ She frowned at the fleeting illusion that she recognised the voice and then shrugged it off. ‘We’ve a woman in need of emergency Caesarean coming in from home. Full-term baby. Foetal distress and her midwife is with her. I’m about to ring Theatre.’
‘A failed home birth?’
The thinly veiled scepticism in the new doctor’s response scratched against Tilly’s nerves like a nail on a blackboard and she wouldn’t have called the words back if she could have.
‘Not really the time for labelling, do you think?’
He ignored that. ‘She hasn’t arrived for assessment yet? Hold the alert to Theatre until I assess her.’
Tilly frowned fiercely into the phone. ‘That’s your call but I’ll still prepare the theatre notes.’
Another pause while he digested that and Tilly’s flushed face glared at the phone. She wanted to get Theatre going.
‘Who gave you permission to instigate a theatre call?’
‘The midwife in charge of the case has called it. We’re all working for the mother and baby, but just a moment,’ she said sweetly, ‘I’ll put you onto the midwifery manager.’
Tilly held the phone with the tips of her fingers as if she’d just discovered it was covered in horse manure. No wonder everyone detested this guy. She carried it at the end of a straight arm and handed it to Gina. ‘I think this is for you.’
To Tilly’s surprise Gina smiled wryly as if she’d seen this coming. Gina shooed her away to other preparations and Tilly gave no apologies for possibly upsetting the consultant. It was her job to help protect the women in her area. Thank goodness Gina knew that.
Marcus put the phone down after the brief discussion with Gina. He measured his steps to the door because what he really wanted to do was swoop down to birthing and shake his nemesis.
He couldn’t believe the gnome thrower from next door was a midwife in his ward but he had no difficulty believing she’d champion home birth.
Home birth. The taste of it was metallic in his mouth, his least favourite association with his job, but even he could see that was personal and he shouldn’t let it colour his judgement.
But he’d sort that after he assessed the new admission. ‘Page my resident and registrar to meet me immediately on labour ward, please, Sheryl.’ He spoke as he strode out the door and his new secretary nodded at his back. She was used to obstetricians in a hurry.
He briefly considered the shock he’d received when Matilda had been on the end of the phone. He tried not to think about the fact she would have told them all about the incident at his aunt’s house. He was above out-of-school gossip and could ignore that the staff would snicker at the idea of him being hit by a gnome. And that he’d picked her up from the floor that morning.
Tough. He had more important things to think about.
The midwife in charge, thank goodness, was a sensible woman, but he wouldn’t tolerate lack of respect from anyone, no matter how many windows she’d fixed for his aunt.
Marcus didn’t wait for the lift and loped down the stairs two at a time, each step more forcible than the last, until he realised what he was doing. Calm. Control.
Tilly didn’t give Dr Bennett another thought. She used a different phone to get a gurney over for her patient to transfer immediately to Theatre as soon as she had ‘his’ permission.
The ambulance arrived with her patient a minute later and Tilly directed them into the empty birthing room where she had the set-up for a catheter and IV ready to go.
Mary looked calm as usual but her hand shook slightly as she handed over her patient. ‘This is Josie. We spoke about having a Caesarean on the way in, and that we’ll have to put in a drip and catheter before surgery.’ Mary’s lilt was more pronounced with worry.
‘Hi, Josie. I’m Tilly. One of the midwives here.’ Tilly handed Mary the pre-jellied sensor from the electronic foetal monitor so they could all hear how Josie’s baby’s heart rate was.
The monitor picked up the clop-clop of the baby, a little faster than average rate but as soon as Josie started to get a contraction it slowed quite dramatically and Tilly looked at Mary. ‘I’ll just pop the drip in while we wait for the obstetrician. Dr Bennett is our new consultant and he’ll be taking over Josie’s care while she’s here.’
Tilly smiled sympathetically at the worried woman and her husband, and they all listened as Josie sighed heavily at the end of the contraction. When it was completely gone and her baby’s heart rate had slowed even more they all waited with held breath until the rate slowly picked up and finally returned to the rapid rate of a compensating baby.
Okay, baby was coping and doing a good job of conserving energy, but not for long.
Tilly went on. ‘It’s rotten luck this has happened to you, but we’ll try and keep you up to date as we go, and Mary and your husband can stay with you whatever happens.’
The door opened and a group of three doctors swarmed in like big white moths. Tilly didn’t think it was fanciful to think they seemed to shrink the room.
The tallest moth was more like an avenging angel. An archangel she’d met before. ‘I’m Dr Bennett. Fill me in, please.’
Mary stepped forward. ‘I’m Josie’s midwife.’ That was all Tilly heard for the first frozen second or two because she was staring at the disaster that stood in front of her.
She felt like slapping her forehead. Dr Bennett. Mrs Bennett. Gnome man. This was a pearler. Wait till she told the girls at home. He didn’t even look at her but somehow she knew he knew she was there.
Mary’s voice drifted back in and Tilly listened distractedly as she went back to hanging the IV flask.
‘Josie was doing beautifully, seven centimetres dilated, when we had a sudden dive of the fetal hearts with a good recovery the first time and then a repeat with a slower response.’
The chief white moth didn’t say anything and Mary hurried on. ‘Then the foetal tachycardia you can see on this graph. I’m not sure why, the response isn’t dependent on position, but in case it was a true knot or something sinister we opted to come in. Each contraction has seen a slower recovery of the deceleration in heartbeat.’
‘Of course.’ His voice gave nothing away. ‘What time did you notice the first deceleration?’
Mary glanced at her watch nervously. ‘Maybe twenty minutes ago.’
He didn’t say anything but inexcusable delay was the message everyone in the room heard. He looked away from Mary and his face softened into a reassuring smile as he leaned down and met Josie’s eyes.
‘You did the right thing, coming in.’ He nodded and rested his hand on Josie’s as she clutched the sheet. ‘We’ll have your baby out very quickly. Hang in there.’ He glanced around at the rest of the people in the room. Tilly included. ‘I want Josie on the table in ten minutes.’
Tilly felt the tiny slip of her leash and gave up on her silence. Didn’t he have any idea how attuned Mary was to her women? She struggled, but thankfully her voice came out mildly, for her, as she gave in to defence. She waved the catheter in her hand. ‘Thanks to Mary’s pre-warning, the gurney’s here and Josie’s almost ready now, Doctor.’
His glance barely acknowledged her existence as he swept out.
‘Holey dooley, thanks for the bat.’ Mary caught Tilly’s eyes and rolled them as she regathered her composure. ‘Now I know what court feels like.’
‘You do an amazing job, and have better statistics than a dozen hospitals, Mary. I don’t mind telling people. He’s new and doesn’t understand but my manager says he’s one of the best,’ she said to Josie with a grin, ‘and we’ll have you there in under ten, Josie, so bear with us.’
Josie was in Theatre in eight minutes, once she was there a very quick spinal injection that numbed her took five, and her son was born ten minutes later.
Marcus peered over the green drape that separated Josie’s upper chest from the operation site. ‘A true knot in the cord, slowly pulling tighter as he descended the birth canal.’
At least he had the grace to nod at Mary, Tilly thought. ‘You were right. Well done.’ Then he looked back at Josie. ‘A bit too dangerous for baby for a normal birth this time but he looks great now. He’ll be with you in a sec.’
At the other end, waiting to take the baby, Tilly had to admit his technique was amazing. Swift, yet sure, and by far the most gentle Caesarean she’d seen since she’d started her training.
Sometimes the tugging at the end of the operation, that time as baby’s head and body were removed after opening the uterus, could look almost brutal, but this baby had been scooped seamlessly and with a birth almost as serene as vaginal birth in water.
Tilly had to grin under her mask. No doubt another tussle she’d be having with this man.
Now that baby was safe, just waiting for his cord to be clamped and cut, Tilly could allow herself a little flutter of anticipation for the ongoing battle as she waited for Marcus to pass across their patient.
He looked calm. Calmer than he had when she’d taken him out with a gnome. Calmer than when the police car had rolled up. And to be fair, he’d been very calm and concerned and even kind when he’d come to her rescue that morning.
The surgical team had been quietly courteous and extremely efficient. The scrub sister was smiling her heart out at the pleasure of scrubbing in with him. And Tilly couldn’t help notice his eyes glance Sister’s way with a twinkle when she spoke. The silly woman was blushing over a smile and a few curling hairs at the V of his loose scrubs.
Marcus ignored the fact that he knew Matilda was watching him. He reached across and carefully laid Josie’s baby on the sterile sheet on the resuscitation trolley and stepped away from the risk of contamination as she leaned forward.
It was Marcus’s turn to watch. From the safety of his sterile field he watched the little boy wriggle on the sheet as she wiped him dry and murmured to him. It seemed she was good at her job. How annoying. He frowned at himself. That was ridiculous. That was a good thing.
He watched her as she assessed heart rate and breathing, along with colour and tone as she finished drying him.
Baby looked perfect, not distressed and she gathered him up with a deftness that spoke of experience and well-founded confidence. As she carried him around the screen to his mother, Matilda’s pleasure shone and lit up the room. He glanced away because he’d almost smiled himself.
He saw the home-birth midwife’s eyes mist as she sat beside Josie’s head on the other side of the screen, not something he would normally have noticed, and he was left with a little disquiet at how abruptly he’d dealt with her. Hopefully he’d have a chance to reassure her before she left the hospital. Had he been insensitive? At least she’d known when to call it.
The next time he looked up it was because the little boy had begun to cry loudly as Tilly unwrapped him and draped him across his mother, baby chest to mother’s breast, skin to skin. Tilly tucked one of his hands in under his mother’s armpit and settled a warmed bunny rug over both of them.
He’d got over his shock and wasn’t feeling quite as annoyed with her. But he’d have a word later. She was a militant little thing. He’d picked that up from the one comment she’d made in the birth suite. He should probably tell her he wasn’t a fan of home births.
‘Hello, my little darling. You scared us.’
Marcus heard the words as he began to suture the uterus back together. Such heartfelt relief, and he caught the moment when Josie’s husband kissed his wife’s cheek with a shuddering sigh. This was why he did this job. To keep families safe.
Half an hour later they were almost done. Baby had just let out a roar. ‘Good set of lungs,’ Marcus said as he looked over the top of the screen again and smiled warmly at the new parents, then his gaze skimmed Mary and settled on Tilly.
Tilly saw his eyes rest on her. We’ll talk later, the look said. Now baby and mum were safe he appeared to be thinking of a little discussion about her phone manner perhaps. Good.
Tilly couldn’t help the flutter under her rib cage, the flickering nervousness of a battle of wits and practice preferences, and she turned her head away from him. She looked forward to the challenge but perhaps it would be wise not to let him know.
On the return to the ward, Tilly sponged and settled Josie and her baby so Mary could go home much relieved. The rest of the ward was so busy Tilly didn’t have a chance to wonder when Marcus would come to find her.
Which was just as well because he didn’t get a chance that night, and apart from a few over-the-shoulder glances that came up empty Tilly went home with unfinished business lying between them.
Marcus woke at dawn. He didn’t know what had woken him, but he knew it was hopeless to attempt further sleep.
He rolled out of bed and stretched, seeing the sun was tinging the horizon of ocean with pink and the promise of another beautiful day. The lure of the salty tang of a sea breeze had him swiftly change into his trainers and let himself out of his aunt’s house at a slow run towards the beach.