The Midwife's Marriage Proposal. Sarah Morgan

      Tom frowned. ‘How dilated was she when she went into the pool?’

      ‘Four centimetres.’ Sally examined her carefully and then straightened up. ‘Obviously all that warm water and relaxation did the trick. You’re fully dilated, Angela, and the baby is nicely positioned. You can push whenever you like.’

      She looked at Tom expectantly, wondering whether he intended to deliver the baby himself, but he gave a shake of his head.

      ‘Your delivery,’ he said softly, a faint smile on his hard mouth. ‘Obstetricians only get involved if they have to, and everything is looking fine from my point of view. But I intend to hang around and watch.’

       Just in case something went wrong.

      Ignoring that smile, Sally turned her attention back to Angela just as Emma popped her head round the door.

      ‘Do we have action?’

      Angela gave a gasp and her husband stepped forward and took her hand.

      ‘Go on, abuse me,’ he groaned. ‘This is all my fault.’

      Angela gave a tired laugh. ‘You can say that again. You and your stupid ideas. “Wouldn’t it be great to have another child?” were your exact words.’

      ‘Next time I say that you have full permission to hit me,’ her husband said, his tone full of remorse as he stroked Angela’s hair away from her damp forehead. ‘What can I do?’

      ‘Just be there.’ Angela closed her eyes and screwed up her face as another contraction hit and she pushed. ‘Oh—I never thought it would hurt this much!’

      Sally showed her how to use the gas and air properly and Angela breathed in steadily.

      Emma was by her side. ‘Do you need me, or are you staying, Mr Hunter?’

      ‘I want him to stay,’ Angela said quickly, her breath coming in pants. ‘Please, Mr Hunter. If something goes wrong, I want you to be there.’

      ‘Nothing is going to go wrong,’ Tom said, his voice deep and reassuring. But he didn’t leave the room. Instead, he lifted an eyebrow at Sally and Emma. ‘Well, if I’m becoming a midwife, you’d better give me some instructions.’

      ‘You can take the baby,’ Sally said stiffly, looking away from his disturbingly intense blue gaze and turning her attention back to the mother. ‘Well done, Angela. Won’t be long now.’

      Angela gave a gasp. ‘Do I need to lie down? I don’t want to make it awkward for you.’

      ‘You can deliver in any position that feels comfortable to you,’ Sally assured her, adjusting her own position so that she could see what was happening more clearly.

      ‘I’ve got another contraction coming …’

      ‘It’s crowning,’ Sally said softly. ‘You’re doing so well, Angela. Try not to push now. I just want you to pant. Pretend you’re blowing out a candle, that’s it—great.’

      Moments later Sally had safely delivered the head. She checked that the cord wasn’t around the baby’s neck and shifted her position slightly. ‘We’ll wait for the next contraction, Angela,’ she said, ‘and then this baby will be born.’

      But it wasn’t.

      The contraction came and Angela pushed again, but nothing happened.

      With a feeling of unease, Sally encouraged Angela to change position but still nothing happened and she was aware that Tom had pulled on a pair of sterile gloves.

      He nudged her to one side.

      ‘I want you to change position one more time for me, Angela.’ His voice was confident and reassuring as he explained what he wanted her to do. ‘I need you more upright—that’s it. It widens your pelvic outlet. And now I’m going to see if I can give this baby a hand.’

      He worked his fingers carefully inside, did something that Sally couldn’t quite see and the baby came slithering out into his hands with an outraged yell.

      ‘You have a son, Angela.’ His voice was calm and relaxed. ‘Congratulations.’

      ‘Oh.’ Angela plopped down onto the bed, her expression dazed and delighted. ‘What happened then? What did you do?’

      ‘I didn’t do anything,’ Tom said easily, handing her the baby carefully. ‘You did it all yourself. You were brilliant. Does it feel good?’

      Angela stared down at the tiny baby in her arms and her eyes filled. ‘Yes.’ Her voice was a whisper. ‘It feels great.’

      Sally blinked back tears and then cursed to herself as Tom gave her a searching look.

      Bother. She always found childbirth emotional but the last thing she wanted to do was show that emotion in front of Tom.

      An hour later, having handed Angela and her baby son over to the nurse from the ward, Sally went and picked up her bag and coat from the staffroom.

      She felt totally exhausted.

      It had been a long day, but she knew that it wasn’t the work that had left her feeling drained.

      It was seeing Tom again.

      She found deliveries emotional at the best of times, and having Tom working shoulder to shoulder with her on her very first day had left her shaken and tense. What she really needed was to climb. Climbing always relaxed her. It was the degree of concentration required, the knowledge that to allow the mind to wander for one second might result in a fall.

      She stared out of the window, acknowledging the dark. It was too late to climb.

      So she would need to find another way to escape. She needed to look elsewhere for relaxation and distraction from Tom.

      She slid her arms into her coat and made for the door, her whole body tensing when she saw him standing there.

      Her defences rose and her chin lifted. ‘Excuse me.’

      ‘No.’ He walked in and closed the door behind him, standing with his back to her only escape route. ‘I won’t let you avoid me, Sally.’

      ‘I can hardly be accused of avoiding you,’ she said lightly. ‘I’ve been working side by side with you for most of the day.’

      ‘And it’s been torture, hasn’t it?’ His voice was harsh and he breathed in deeply. ‘We need to talk about the past. About what happened between us. And we need to move on.’

      ‘It was seven years ago. And I’ve already moved on.’ She clutched her bag in front of her like a shield. ‘There is absolutely nothing to talk about. I can barely remember it.’

      She shot him a look of pure indifference, one of the many looks that she’d been practising.

      ‘Is that so?’ His voice was soft and his blue eyes narrowed as he surveyed her. He was trying to penetrate that shield but her armour was strong, forged from the burning fires of pain and betrayal.

      ‘The past is just a memory,’ she lied smoothly, ‘and memories are easily forgotten over time.’

      ‘Well, you may have nothing to say on the subject, but I have plenty.’

      ‘Then that’s your problem, not mine. And now I’m going home. It’s been a long day.’ She walked up to him and lifted her chin, her eyes flashing into his. ‘Excuse me.’

      There was a tense moment when she thought he was going to reach for her, but then the door behind him opened and he was forced to step aside.

      Emma stuck her head round. ‘Oh, great, you’re still here.’ She smiled at Sally. ‘Bryony is on the phone. She said to tell you that she’s in the car park if you want a lift home.’

      ‘Thanks.’ Without glancing in Tom’s direction, Sally