Josie Metcalfe - A Marriage Meant To Be

It felt as if a giant vice was being tightened inexorably around Callie’s heart. She could remember all too clearly her own terrified joy when she’d seen her baby’s heart beating, and for the first time had allowed herself to hope that she and Con would finally have their miracle.

‘Would you like a picture to keep?’ the technician asked.

The intense look of longing that swept across the youngster’ s face was a far cry from the resigned defensiveness she’d worn as a shield when Callie had first met her. Her ‘Yes! Please,’ was every bit as fervent as Callie’s had been, and she had no doubt that it would be evidence of a precious memory, as her own early scans had been.

Then, she’d been amazed how different it had been to look at the scan of her own child rather than that of a patient. With professional distance between them, she’d been able to look at the images analytically; when it had been her own baby, she’d demanded, ‘Is the baby all right?’ every bit as anxiously as any other expectant mother.

‘Everything looks fine so far,’ the voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘No sign that your accident did any damage to the baby or to the placenta.’

‘So that means I can go?’ Steph said, although Callie thought she could detect a little less eagerness in the words than before. Perhaps the young girl was actually feeling the reassurance of having so much professional help around her.

‘Not until the morning,’ the midwife who had been assigned to Steph said firmly. ‘Although it was brief, you did suffer some loss of consciousness, so we’d like to keep you under observation for a while just as a precaution. In your case, that’s more important because of the baby. Anyway,’ she added cheerfully, ‘it will give you a chance to look us over and get to know us before you come in for the real thing.’

It was another half an hour before Steph was settled in the small four-room ward with two heavily pregnant companions, and Callie was glad to see that both of them were so eager for the novelty of a new person to talk to that they weren’t about to let her young friend’s defensive prickles put them off.

Callie had almost forgotten about contacting Marian Keeley until she was leaving the antenatal side of the department. She’d turned into the reception area and couldn’t help glancing through the safety glass panel in the doors that divided the mothers with babies from those without.

Right at the other end of the corridor she caught sight of a bustle as several people in theatre scrubs were rushing towards the door with the sign for the delivery room hanging above it.

‘Jess’s baby?’ she murmured aloud, and wondered if there was any way she could find out without asking the staff to break patient confidentiality. If the baby had already arrived, she might have missed her chance to meet the woman she hoped would have a suitable place for Steph. If Jess was still in labour, she might still be able to speak to her.

‘Can I help you?’ said the young midwife, who emerged from the room just the other side of the doors and pushed one of them open to speak to her. ‘It’s husbands only at the moment. General visiting hours don’t start until seven, after the evening meal is over.’

‘It was one of your visitors I was hoping to catch,’ Callie said with a smile. ‘I’m looking for Marian Keeley. She came in with Jess…’

‘Ah, you’re one of Marian’s new volunteers, are you?’ she said with a sudden welcoming smile. ‘Come in and have a cup of coffee while you’re waiting for her. She shouldn’t be long now. Jess is already pushing and…’

At the far end of the corridor there was the sound of a faint wail and her smile grew even wider.

‘Oh, I do love that sound!’ she exclaimed as she beckoned Callie into the room behind her. ‘I’ve delivered dozens already, but it still gives me a thrill. I’m Jenny, by the way. How do you take your coffee? Milk and sugar? I’ll make one for Marian as soon as she’s settled Jess onto the ward.’

‘I’m Callie,’ she offered distractedly, her innate honesty urging her to confess that she wasn’t one of Marian’s volunteers, but what could she say? That she’d never met the woman? That might not be true if she was the same Marian Keeley she’d met nearly two years ago. ‘Milk with just the tiniest bit of sugar would be perfect,’ she said in the end, deciding that explanations could wait until she came face to face with the refuge’s owner.

‘Surely you’re not watching your weight. You certainly don’t need to,’ chatted the young woman as she spooned instant coffee into two mugs and waited for the kettle to boil.

‘Trying to cut down on my coffee intake by making it less palatable,’ Callie admitted wryly. ‘At one time I was drinking it black and nearly thick enough to stand a spoon up.’ It had been one way of getting through the brutal regime that doctors put themselves through to qualify and she’d virtually become addicted to the stuff. Then she’d heard that it could be a factor for couples experiencing difficulty in conceiving and was definitely frowned on for pregnant mums and had completely cut it out of her diet.

Even though it had been nearly five months since she’d lost her precious baby she hadn’t returned to her former coffee intake, feeling as if it would be some sort of admission that she’d given up all hopes of motherhood.

‘How do you stand on the subject of biscuits—chocolate biscuits, to be precise?’ Jenny asked as she held up a rather posh tin. ‘A gift from some very happy parents.’

‘Biscuits are definitely one of the major food groups and chocolate is essential for the existence of civilisation,’ Callie declared solemnly, then grinned as she beckoned the tin closer.

‘Is this a private party or is there room for one more?’ said a voice at the door. ‘I’m gasping for a cup of tea.’

‘Marian!’ Jenny said as she leapt to her feet, but Callie hadn’t needed the unintentional introduction. The woman in the doorway was someone she’d never forgotten even though she no longer resembled the grief-ridden fury she’d last encountered.

She saw the moment that the bereaved woman recognised her and braced herself for another tirade.

‘Dr Lowell!’ she gasped and stared at her open-mouthed for several startled seconds before hurrying into the room. To Callie’s utter amazement the woman bent to throw her arms around her for a fervent hug. ‘Oh, Dr Lowell, I’m so glad to see you. I tried to contact you at the hospital but they said you weren’t on Maternity any more and I’ve felt so guilty…so guilty for what I said to you that day…And it wasn’t your fault…I knew it wasn’t your fault…That you’d done your best to save Lisa…That it was my fault if it was anyone’s that she’d gone off like that, and—’

‘Hey, Marian, slow down,’ said Jenny, clearly stunned by the woman’s unexpected reaction to her visitor. ‘What’s going on here? Callie said she was one of your volunteers.’

‘Actually, I didn’t…’ Callie began, unhappy with the implication that she’d lied, even though she knew she hadn’t corrected the midwife’s mistaken assumption. Marian’s voice overrode hers easily.

‘I should be so lucky!’ she exclaimed with a dramatic roll of her eyes as she slumped into the nearest chair, clearly well at home in the room. ‘Jenny, I don’t know whether she’s said anything, but this is the doctor I was telling you about a little while ago. She was there when my Lisa died. She and her husband were the ones who saved my granddaughter’s life.’

‘I’M SORRY, sir, but there’s nothing I can do,’ said the policeman in a world-weary tone totally at odds with his youthful appearance. ‘From what you’ve told me, your wife left home of her own accord and—’