Caroline Anderson - Anyone Can Dream

That baby had felt so—oh, dear God, so tiny, so fragile, so precious in her hands——

‘You’ll learn more, faster, if you watch me instead of the clock,’ a dry voice said from just above her.

She glanced up. He looked serious, angry even, for some reason. She looked away.

The clock?’ she said blankly.

‘Yes—the clock. You were watching it as if you expected it to explode or drop off the wall or something.’

‘I didn’t even see a clock,’ she told him. ‘It was just …’

She felt his anger recede, and he dropped to his haunches in front of her. ‘Was it the operation itself? Did you feel queasy?’

She shook her head. ‘No, it was …’ She struggled to explain her confused feelings. ‘I’ve never taken part in a delivery before. It’s the first time in my life that my hands have been the first to touch another human being. It just—hit me.’

She looked up, meeting those shatteringly blue eyes, and was relieved to see his expression gentle as understanding dawned. His hand covered hers, hard and strong and warm—safe, as she had expected. His voice softened.

‘It’s wonderful, isn’t it? Your first baby—rather like your first kiss, or the first time you fall in love. No other delivery will be quite so special—the first time you do a straightforward vaginal delivery on your own without me around to take over and interfere will be pretty special, too.’

‘But that very first touch will never happen again,’ she said softly, and his fingers tightened, squeezing her hand in recognition of her tumbled emotions.

‘No. No delivery will ever be quite so significant again.’ He stood up. ‘OK, we’ve got a suture to remove now—a woman with an incompetent cervix who habitually aborts at four months. We’ve managed to keep her going this time, and she’s really excited.’

‘When will she go into labour?’

He laughed. ‘Probably before she leaves the theatre. She’s had the odd twinge in the last few days, so although she’s still not due for a fortnight we thought we’d take it out. It’s not her first full-term delivery—they’ve got a boy of seven—so her pelvic floor won’t hold her up for long, I don’t suppose!’

They scrubbed again, gowned up and went back into the operating-room. The lady was just being wheeled through the doors, her face slightly apprehensive. She smiled when she saw William, and he walked over to her and stood beside her head.

‘OK, Penny?’

‘Bit nervous.’

‘Don’t be. It may be a little uncomfortable—just do your breathing exercises and think of the baby.’

‘Oh, don’t,’ she said with a shaky laugh. ‘I hardly dare.’

‘What? Silly girl, you’ll be fine, and so will the babe.’

‘I wonder what it is?’ she said thoughtfully. ‘I’ve tried so hard not to think about it, just in case …’

‘Well, let’s get the suture out and you’ll soon know the answer, won’t you?’

The nursing staff positioned the woman in the lithotomy stirrups, and then William sat himself down between her legs and held out his hand.

The scrub nurse passed him a speculum liberally smeared with gynacological jelly.

‘This might be a bit chilly,’ he warned the patient, and then deftly inserted it and opened the jaws.

‘Here, Charlotte, can you see the end of the suture?’

She could, just about, by bending down and putting her head right beside his. She felt the slight scrape of his stubble against her cheek, and forced herself to concentrate. At the top of the vagina, right up where the cervix passed through the vaginal wall, she could just make out a little tail of thick silk.

‘It looks fairly inaccessible.’

‘Long instruments,’ he told her, then added with a chuckle, ‘Getting it out’s the easy bit. Getting them in there is much more of a challenge!’

The scrub nurse handed him a pair of forceps. He located them on the free end of the suture and tugged, then, using a pair of special scissors, he wriggled one blade under the knot.

‘Ooo, that hurts,’ the patient said tentatively.

‘Sorry. Just try and relax, Penny, we’re nearly there.’ He closed the handles of the scissors, and Charlotte saw the cervix slowly blossom as he drew out the thick piece of silk. ‘That’s it, all done.’ He checked the cervix again, then withrew the speculum and stood up. ‘OK?’

She smiled shakily. ‘Is that it?’

‘Yup. You can go and have your baby now, but give us time for a quick cup of coffee, eh?’

She didn’t. From the moment the suture was released her cervix was dilating rapidly, and when Charlotte and William went back down to the ward twenty minutes later they heard the squalling cry of a new baby coming from the delivery-room.

‘She can’t have done it that quickly,’ Charlotte said in amazement.

‘Unless we’ve had another admission during the time we were in theatre, she has,’ William said, and stuck his head round the delivery-room door.

‘Penny?’

‘Oh, Mr Parry—she’s a girl. Come and see!’

Charlotte followed him in, to see a tiny, delicate little baby cradled against the woman’s bare breast. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her husband beside her was fighting with his emotions.

Charlotte didn’t bother.

‘She’s gorgeous,’ she said, her voice choked. ‘Well done.’

William looked startled for a second, then grinned.

‘Well, well, well,’ he said softly, and Charlotte felt like kicking him. Why shouldn’t she share their happiness?

She watched as he stared down at the baby and smiled, and then ruffled the woman’s hair gently. ‘Clever girl,’ he murmured. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Wonderful.’

Her husband looked stunned. ‘We never thought we’d make it,’ he said, still choked. ‘But she’s here, alive and well—thanks to you.’

William grinned self-consciously. ‘We aim to please,’ he told them.

After a few more moments of admiration and praise, he opened the door for Charlotte and followed her out into the corridor.

‘Don’t say a thing,’ she warned, scrubbing the tears from her cheeks, and he laughed, his breath soft and warm against her neck.

‘Would I?’

‘I don’t know. Very probably.’

He chuckled. ‘Rumbled. Oh, well. How about some lunch and then we’ve got this clinic to do?’

They had just settled down to their lunch when his bleep squawked.

‘Oh, hell,’ he muttered, and, cramming a mouthful in, he stood up and crossed the room in a few quick strides. There was a phone on the wall and he picked it up, dialled the switchboard and spoke.

Charlotte watched him, fascinated by the play of emotions across his face, the way the light from the window highlighted the breadth of his shoulders and the straight, square set of his legs, feet planted firmly on the floor.

He was a very attractive man, and by his own admission seeing no one at the moment. A few years ago, Charlotte would have picked up on his interest, the mild flirting, the odd teasing remark, and she might have seen where it would lead them.

Now she felt oddly threatened by his attraction to her, and even more so by her attraction to him. That was much more dangerous.

Still, it was only a matter of degree and there was nothing that could persuade her to get involved with him, no matter how attractive.

Once bitten, and all that.

He was coming back towards her now, waving at someone and greeting them with a laughing remark.

Her heart twisted. What would it be like, she wondered, to be so universally popular? Everyone she had seen that morning had seemed to like him, from the ward sister through the theatre staff to every patient they had come across.